ÇA IRA
I
Up to this time Jefferson had been fighting under a disadvantage. In the
field of finance he was unable to cope on equal terms with his great
protagonist. The mass of the people were not consciously concerned with
the Hamiltonian policies, few comparatively had been swindled by the
speculators, and, while they resented their neighbors’ sudden
acquisition of wealth, it was not easy to capitalize their discontent.
Then the French Revolution entered a more dramatic stage, captivating
the imagination of the multitude. As the real significance of the
struggle began to take form, with the crowned heads of the Old World
marching in serried ranks under the leadership of Brunswick on the
French frontier, the excitement was electric; and when they were turned
back by the gallant resistance of the Revolutionists the floodgates of
enthusiasm broke. One prolonged, triumphant shout went up from the
masses. The ‘people of no particular importance’ somehow felt that the
victory was theirs. They had been a little indifferent, these men of the
shops, taverns, wharves, and the frontier, over the disputed financial
and economic policies of their country, but they could understand the
meaning of ‘liberty, equality, fraternity.’ It meant democracy. Thus the
news of the French victories shook the bells in the New York steeples,
Tammany celebrated with song, shout, and speech in her wigwam, and the
bung was knocked out of the barrel of illiterate oratory in the beer
saloons. These ‘people of no importance’ had been inarticulate, and they
were moved to eloquence. They had found a cause they believed their
cause--the cause of the people against privilege.[746] The enthusiasm
swept over the country, and the scenes of riotous joy at Mr. Grant’s
fountain tavern in Baltimore[747] were imitated at Plymouth, Princeton,
Fredericksburg, Norfolk, Savannah, Charleston, Boston, Philadelphia.
In Boston there was a salute of cannon at the castle, and a picturesque
procession moved, fluttering French and American flags, bearing a
roasted ox of a thousand weight for the barbecue and a hogshead of punch
to wash it down, while girls and women waved from the windows, boys
shouted from the roofs, and the frenzied throng roared approval to the
eloquence of Charles Jarvis, the Jeffersonian leader, and to the
Revolutionary poem by ‘Citizen’ Joseph Croswell.[748] The cheers of
Boston were echoed back from Charleston, where the artillery boomed in
the day, mingling its thunder with the bells of Saint Michael’s. Only
‘the pen of a Burke could describe the scene on State Street’ packed
with exultant humanity, with men looking down from the chimney-tops,
while ‘bevies of amiable and beautiful women’ blessed the marchers with
their smiles from the balconies of the houses.[749] On to Saint Philip’s
tramped the crowd for religious exercises, for these men were not
anarchists or criminals, but decent citizens, moved to the depths by the
defeat of the persecutors of France.[750]
And observing the unprecedented enthusiasm from his quiet corner, Thomas
Jefferson rejoiced. At length the masses were politically awake, and the
enemies of democracy had their answer.
II
The issues precipitated by the French Revolution had everything to do
with American politics--inevitably so. There were sentimental reasons
for the popular enthusiasm for the nation that had served America with
men and money; and there were economic reasons for the opposition in the
fact that the great merchants operated on English credit. But the
political significance of the divisions soon to appear have been
persistently written down, where they should be written up.
With some exceptions the Hamiltonian leaders were hostile to the
purposes of the French Revolution from the beginning. Here was a rising
of the people with a claim to power, and the keynote of Federalist
policies was distrust of the people; here was defiance of ‘authority,’
and they were sticklers for constituted authority; here was a
challenging of privilege, and they honestly believed in privilege; here
was democracy, and they hated it. They were against it, just as Burke
was against it, because it was an iconoclastic movement, a trampling on
tradition. The death of the King, the slaughtering by the guillotine,
the stupidity and infamy of Genêt, the intemperance of the American
‘Jacobin clubs,’ the defiance of Washington’s proclamation--on these
they were to seize to neutralize or destroy the popularity of the
Revolution, but it was the proclaimed principles of the Revolution that
they hated.
In the Senate, where the Hamiltonians were dominant, this was evident
from the beginning. As early as December, 1790, when the resolutions of
condolence adopted by the National Assembly on the death of Franklin
were submitted to the Senate, Adams, in reading the letter from the
President of that body which accompanied them, referred sarcastically to
the writer’s titles, apropos of the action of the Assembly in abolishing
titles of nobility.[751] A few weeks later Oliver Ellsworth and Rufus
King, the ablest Federalists in the Senate, openly denounced the French,
and ridiculed their claims upon American gratitude, and when Maclay made
indignant protest, Ellsworth, taking snuff, pretended not to hear, Adams
talked audibly with Otis the secretary, and other Senators gathered in
groups to talk aloud. As early as February, 1791, the Hamiltonians in
the Senate were in no mood to listen to a defense of France.[752] Even
the concession of a constitution by Louis XVI was resented by the
senatorial fathers of the Federalist persuasion. The more democratic
House adopted a reply praising ‘the wisdom and magnanimity’ shown in its
formation and acceptance, but when it reached the Senate, George Cabot
objected to the word ‘magnanimity,’ Ellsworth supported him, the
Federalists voted accordingly, and it was stricken out. ‘Too many
Frenchmen, like too many Americans, panting for equality of persons and
property,’ grumbled Adams as early as April, 1790.[753] ‘We differed in
opinion on the French Revolution,’ wrote Adams in retrospect to
Jefferson many years later.[754] Adams and Hamilton, King and Ellsworth,
Cabot and Ames, Jay and Bingham, looked with mingled cynicism and alarm
upon the Revolution from the moment it began to take on a popular
character and to aim at the destruction of privilege.
Jefferson was just as ardent in its support. He knew the miserable state
to which the feudalistic institutions of the Bourbons had reduced the
masses of the people. He had seen justice bought and sold in France on
the auction block, the operations of the hideous game laws that threw
open the peasants’ fields to the trampling of the horses of the
aristocracy, the bestial poverty of the poor, the insulting of their
wives and the debauching of their daughters, with justice open-eyed and
leering. He knew the wantonness of Versailles, the drunkenness of the
King, the profligacy of the Queen, and he had no illusions as to the
dignity of the law or the righteousness of the authority in France. He
had sat at the table with some of the noblest minds in that country
planning the regeneration of a society that was rotten to the core.
But, more important to him, he was persuaded that the fate of the
American experiment was bound up with the success of the French
Revolution. From this opinion he was never to deviate one hair’s
breadth.[755] In January, 1792, he had instructed the American Minister
in Paris that, if circumstances forced an expression as to the French
Government, it should be ‘in conformity with the sentiments of the great
mass of our countrymen, who, having first in modern times taken the
ground of government founded on the will of the people, cannot but be
delighted at seeing so distinguished ... a nation arrive on the same
ground and plant their standard by our side.’[756] A little later he
reminded the American Minister in London that ‘we certainly cannot deny
to other nations that principle whereon our government is founded, that
every nation has a right to govern itself internally under what forms it
pleases, and to change these forms at its own will.’[757]
Thus, Jefferson was in sympathy with the purposes of the French
Revolution, and the Hamiltonians were hostile. To Jefferson it meant
republicanism, democracy, the end of privilege--and he wished it well;
to the Hamiltonians it meant democracy--and they wished it ill. When the
despots of Europe combined to crush it and force a degenerate king and
court on the bowed backs of the people, Jefferson’s heart was with the
untrained boys rushing to the defense of the frontiers; the heart of the
Hamiltonians was with the combination of the kings. And because the
masses of the American people were in sympathy with the French,
Jefferson rode on the crest of the wave in the closing days of 1792.
III
With the execution of the King, the political enemies of the Revolution,
simulating shock, ventured into the open. Fenno eagerly seized upon the
more graphic stories of the execution in the London papers and published
them in full, and soon he was printing sympathetic poems on the
event.[758] But the friends of the Revolution were not easily moved to
compassion, and one of the theaters in Philadelphia revived the play
‘Cato’ to the noisy acclaim of frenzied partisans. The actors appeared
before the curtain to sing ‘La Marseillaise,’ and the audience rose to
join lustily in the chorus. Night after night this was repeated. The
Pittsburgh ‘Gazette’ published a brutal pæan under the caption, ‘Louis
Capet has lost his Caput,’ and this was copied throughout the
country.[759] But these more savage bursts of glee did not meet with
general approval, for when the news of Louis’s fate reached Providence
the people ‘fell into an immediate state of dejection, and in the
evening all the bells of the churches tolled.’[760] Many put on
mourning, and ‘Cordelia’ announced her purpose to wear, in mourning for
the martyred King, a black rose near the left breast, and ‘entreated her
dearly beloved sisters ... to follow her example.’[761] For a time the
reaction was so pronounced as to threaten the popularity of the
Revolution, and it seemed that half the Nation had turned monarchists
overnight.
The Democrats were infuriated to find that the reaction was not confined
to the fashionable houses, but extended to the people in the streets.
Even from New Bedford came the protest that ‘the advocates of monarchy’
and ‘crocodile humanity defenders’ were insisting that ‘the succors from
France ... proceeded wholly from Louis,’ and that he had really wished
Frenchmen to be free.[762] A citizen of Charleston was disgusted to see
how ‘the death of one man’ could ‘so affect the generality of the
people’ of his city. ‘They burst forth in the most vehement invectives
... against the whole French nation--forgetting the thousands that said
king had directly or indirectly been the cause of their death.’[763] An
‘Old Soldier’ in Philadelphia was shocked to find that ‘beer houses,
taverns and places of public resort are filled with panegyrics upon the
measures of the British administration, and our good allies, the French,
are branded with every felonious epithet.’[764] And why all this fuss?
Had not letters been received from one who had witnessed the execution
with the assurance that ‘everything was conducted with the greatest
decency,’ and had not the writer, traveling over France ‘found the
people quiet and generally approving of the public measures?’[765] Thus
the debate raged in drinking-places, on the streets, in the highways, in
the counting--and drawing-rooms--the enemies of the principles of the
Revolution perking up and taking heart and seeming in the ascendant for
a few days.
Meanwhile what of the leaders?
The Federalists were delighted with the reaction. Jefferson observed
that the ladies of Philadelphia ‘of the first circle are open-mouthed
against the murder of a sovereign, and generally speak those sentiments
which their more cautious husbands smother.’ Tennant, the French
Minister, at length ‘openly hoisted the flag of monarchy by going into
deep mourning for his prince,’ and discontinued his visits to Jefferson,
who interpreted it as ‘a necessary accompaniment to this pious duty.’
More significant to the keen-eyed politician was the observation that ‘a
connection between him and Hamilton seems to be springing up.’[766]
Without indecent manifestations of pleasure over the King’s death,
Jefferson found some satisfaction with the tendency to render ‘monarchs
amenable to punishment like any other criminal.’[767] Madison was quite
as unresponsive to pity. ‘If he was a traitor he ought to be punished
like any other man,’ he wrote Jefferson.[768] If these clever
politicians were not impressed with the cries of commiseration, it was
due to their appraisement of the noise. It was the first plausible and
safe opportunity for the enemies of French democracy to denounce the
movement they despised, and they made the most of it. Even so, for a few
days the Hamiltonians were riding the crest of the wave.
Then another sea change.
IV
George III had joined the Coalition of the Kings, and the familiar
redcoats were marching with the rest to crush the Revolution, and
democracy. Here was something the masses could understand--monarchy
against republicanism, autocracy and aristocracy against democracy,
kings against people. The plain man of ‘no particular importance’ looked
about to see the effect. Yes, the old Tories who had hobnobbed with the
British officers while the ragged Continentals walked barefoot through
the snows of Valley Forge were partisans of England--against France. The
duty of the patriot was clear--France against England. The cry was
spontaneous with the masses, and rent the heavens. Even then we owed a
debt to Lafayette. Poor imbecile Louis was forgotten, the guillotine
faded from the view. ‘Ça Ira!’ Even the children of Philadelphia had
learned enough French to sing ‘La Marseillaise,’ and they sang it right
lustily even before the windows of the Binghams. Did we not have a
treaty with France that we had been glad to sign? Was not our own
existence involved in the European struggle now? The Republic of France
crushed by the allied monarchs to-day--our turn to-morrow.
And the partisans of England--who were they? The old American Tories,
the rich merchants operating on English capital, the crooked speculators
fawning on the money-lenders of Europe, the aristocrats kow-towing to
the roués of a degenerate nobility in the homes of the moneyed
aristocracy, the politicians who excluded the poor man from the polls.
The effect of the English declaration of war was magical. Again the old
‘rabble’ that precipitated the American Revolution poured into the
streets, swarmed into the saloons, formed into processions and marched.
And why not? England was still our enemy, impressing our seamen,
retaining our western posts in defiance of the treaty, playing havoc
with our commerce. Were the pioneers on the fringe of the western
forests in daily danger of the tomahawk? England was responsible--so
most of the argument ran. Now was the time to stand up and be
counted--for the two republics or the Coalition of the Kings. Thus the
reasoning, and it caught on and flashed and flamed like a conflagration
sweeping the sun-parched grass of the plains.
To Hamilton this new burst of frenzied friendship for the French was
alarming. Washington was at Mount Vernon. His immediate presence in
Philadelphia was imperatively needed. He and he alone could stem the
rising tide. It was setting in heavily against the English. On April
8th, Hamilton sat at his desk writing his chief a confirmation of the
war between England and France with the sly comment that ‘the whole
current of commercial intelligence ... indicates thus far an
unexceptionable conduct on the part of the English Government toward the
vessels of the United States.’ This, he added, ‘is received here with
very great satisfaction as favorable to the continuance of peace ...
which may be said to be both universal and ardent.’
As his pen traveled over the paper the ‘rabble’ was shouting for war in
the streets, and Jefferson was expressing the hope that the English
interference with our vessels would ‘not force us into war.’ If he could
only have looked over his rival’s shoulder as he wrote!
Washington hastened back to Philadelphia.
V
He immediately gathered his Cabinet about him for a momentous decision.
Genêt, young, dashing, audacious, had arrived in Charleston and would
soon present his credentials as the Minister of the French Republic. He
might even refer to the treaty in which we had pledged ourselves to
guarantee the French possessions in the West Indies, and to throw open
the ports of America to the prizes of the privateers of our ally while
closing them to her enemies. It was a treaty we had been delighted to
get, and now it rose to plague us--but there it was. Worse still, the
people in the streets understood the nature of the pledge.
It was not Hamilton’s way to concede to Jefferson a primacy where
foreign relations were involved, and he had not been inactive while
awaiting the return of Washington. Jay and King had been consulted
particularly as to the receiving of Genêt. Neither could find any
pretext for refusing to receive him; both thought he should be received
with qualifications. Uppermost in the minds of all three was the
treaty--the necessity of evading its obligations.[769] Having decided on
the policy of Jefferson’s department, Hamilton took no chances, and
prepared the list of questions to be submitted to the Cabinet, which
Washington copied in his own handwriting, but Jefferson was not deceived
as to the authorship.[770] There were no illusions on Jefferson’s part
as to his position that April day in the room in the Morris house. There
was Hamilton, eager, not a little domineering, who had prepared
Washington’s questions on which the Secretary of State had not been
consulted; and Knox, big, pudgy, a bit flamboyant, complacent, and proud
of his utter subserviency to Hamilton; and Randolph, with a legalistic
mind capable of refining away any position he might take.
Should Genêt be received?
Yes, said Hamilton, with qualifications. Yes, said Jefferson,
unqualifiedly. Yes, with qualifications, said Knox, dutifully echoing
Hamilton, and, says Jefferson, ‘acknowledging at the same time, like the
fool he is, that he knew nothing about it.’[771] Randolph agreed with
Jefferson.
Let him be received, said Hamilton, with the distinct understanding that
we must reserve for future consideration the binding force of the
treaties. There was no proof that Louis had been guilty, and evidence
that the republicans in France had actually premeditated a plan to get
rid of monarchical power.[772] There was no proof that the execution was
an act of national justice, and all the courts in Europe held a
different view.[773] In truth, ‘almost all Europe ... seems likely to be
armed ... with the intention of restoring ... the royalty in the
successor of the deceased monarch.’[774] If our treaty obligations
proved disadvantageous, we should have the right to renounce them.[775]
Respect the right of a nation to change its form of government? Yes.
Receive its ambassador? Yes. But to throw our weight into the scale for
the new republic might be lacking ‘in national delicacy and
decorum.’[776] As to our obligations under the treaty, there were none,
for France was waging an offensive war. The coalition of the monarchs to
crush the republic forced the war? Perhaps--but France made the first
formal declaration of hostilities.[777]
Jefferson approached the question from a diametrically opposite point of
view. ‘The reception of the Minister at all,’ he said, ‘is an
acknowledgment of the legitimacy of their government; and if the
qualifications meditated are to deny that legitimacy, it will be a
curious compound which is to deny and admit the same thing.’ The
abrogation of the treaties? ‘I consider the people who constitute a
society as the source of all authority in that nation,’ he said: ‘as
free to transact their common concerns by any agents they think proper;
to change these agents individually, or the organization of them in form
or function whenever they please; that all the acts done by these agents
under the authority of the nation, are obligatory to them and inure to
their use, and can in no wise be annulled or affected by any change in
the form of government.... Consequently the treaties between the United
States and France were not treaties between the United States and Louis
Capet, but between the two nations of America and France; and the
nations remaining in existence, though both of them have since changed
their forms of government, the treaties are not annulled by these
changes.’[778] All the Cabinet agreed to a proclamation forbidding
Americans from participating in the war, to the unqualified reception of
Genêt while holding the treaties in abeyance, and to the issuing of a
proclamation.
With the appearance of the proclamation, the storm broke.
VI
This had seemed inevitable to Jefferson from the beginning.[779]
Madison, then in Virginia, wrote that the proclamation ‘wounds the
national honor by seeming to disregard the stipulated duties to France,’
and ‘wounds the popular feeling by a seeming indifference to the cause
of liberty.’[780]
The party issue was made. The Hamiltonians were sympathetic toward
monarchical France, hostile to revolutionary France, friendly to
England; the Jeffersonians were friendly to revolutionary France,
hostile to the Bourbons, and unfriendly to the policy of Pitt in
England. The heart of the Hamiltonians beat in tune to the martial steps
of the Coalition of the Kings marching on the French frontier; that of
the Jeffersonians was with the French peasants hurrying to defend their
soil and revolution. And the overwhelming sentiment of the Nation was
with Jefferson.
Instantly the Democratic masses saw in the coming of Genêt the
opportunity for the manifestation of their feelings. There was much in
the personality, appearance, and background of this ardent diplomat of
the Gironde to explain the fervent enthusiasm with which he was
received. Washington had been warned in advance by Morris, the Minister
to France, that he was an ‘upstart’--not a bad estimate, as it turned
out, but the President had abundant proof that all the French
republicans were upstarts.[781] He was not an upstart, however, in that
he did not belong in the great world of high politics and society. For
almost half a century his father had been in the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs, and his celebrated sister, Madame Campan, had been one of the
ladies of Marie Antoinette, of whom he had been a prime favorite. A
familiar figure among the fashionable young dandies of Versailles, he
had served for a while as the secretary of one of the brothers of the
monarch. An extraordinarily brilliant youth, he had translated the
‘History of Eric XIV’ at the age of twelve, with historical notes of his
own. Entering the diplomatic service, with the blessings of the Queen,
he had served as attaché at the courts of Berlin, Vienna, London, and
St. Petersburg. He spoke several languages with the fluency of a native.
A romantic figure, this young man, handsome, elegant in manner, eloquent
and entertaining in conversation, gracious, friendly, impulsive, with
the virtues to neutralize the vices of his years.
If the reception he received in the aristocratic city of Charleston was
enough to turn his head, it was nothing to the continuous ovation
accorded him as he proceeded slowly on his month’s journey to
Philadelphia. Farmers flocked to the rough roads to cheer him and offer
him produce at a loss. In every town he was a conquering hero, and
everywhere he was greeted with the strains of ‘Ça Ira’ and orators paid
tribute to France and the principles of its Revolution. The ringing of
bells, the shouting of the multitude wearing liberty caps and waving
French flags--such the sights and sounds that greeted him everywhere.
Nor was this charming young diplomat pleasing to the Democratic rabble
alone. At Baltimore, Justice Iredell of the Supreme Court was impressed
with his ‘fine open countenance, and pleasing unaffected manner.’[782]
Federalist Iredell failed to find the ‘upstart’ who was so conspicuous
to Federalist Morris.
As the reports of the continuous ovation dribbled into Philadelphia,
Hamilton and the Federalists were alarmed and disgusted, Jefferson
delighted. Here was proof that the people were sound in their
republicanism. Better still, here were the masses making themselves felt
in public affairs for the first time. Even better, they were casting
aside the spirit of humility, and standing erect with their sovereignty
under their hats. While Genêt was proceeding to the capital, Jefferson
was writing joyously to Monroe of the ‘old spirit of ‘76 rekindling the
newspapers from Boston to Charleston’ and forcing ‘the monocrat papers
... to publish the most furious philippics against England.’[783] And
Madison was quite as pleased. He had hoped for a reception that would
make ‘the cant of the cities’ and the ‘cold caution of the Government’
less offensive.[784]
Meanwhile, as Genêt approached, the Democrats in Philadelphia,
suspecting that the Government hoped ‘to prevent a joyful reception,’
were determined to disappoint that hope. ‘An Old Soldier,’ in a stirring
reminder of French services in the American Revolution, declared that
‘if after such recollections you will hesitate to welcome their
ambassador, I will mourn over the departed virtue of my country.’[785]
The appeal was not made in vain. Freneau and Bache in their papers were
arousing the emotions of the people. The former was publishing Grey’s
speech in Parliament against going to war with France. ‘A shining
character,’ thought the editor.[786] He was also informing his readers
that the news of our neutrality ‘gave much satisfaction to the English
nation.’[787] Meanwhile, the ‘rabble,’ embracing such characters as
Rittenhouse, Dr. Hutchinson, and A. J. Dallas, was making preparations.
The Minister would be met at Gray’s Ferry, and every one who possibly
could should go. The cannon on _L’Ambascade_ would roar the
announcements of the hero’s approach early enough to permit all who
wished to reach the Ferry in time.[788]
It was at this time that a strange rumor was floating about the streets,
taverns, and beer-houses of the city. Count de Noailles had arrived in
Philadelphia at nine o’clock on the night of May 3d, commissioned as
Minister by the former Princes at Coblentz, and at a very late hour at
night had been received by Washington at the Morris house where the two
‘were in private conversation until near morning.’ The Count had
arrived--every one knew it. What sort of treachery was this? So this was
the reason the Government was trying to discourage the reception to
Genêt.[789] The people would see to that.
Thus, Genêt was met at Gray’s Ferry by an immense throng with thunderous
cheers--cheers that accompanied him all the way to the City Tavern. The
streets packed, throbbing with joy. Looking out over the excited
multitude, Genêt ‘was quite overcome with the affectionate joy that
appeared on every face,’ according to a lady of Philadelphia who shared
it. ‘It is true,’ she said, ‘that a few disaffected persons did try to
check the ardor of the people, but they had the mortification to find
all their efforts blasted and were obliged themselves to join the
general torrent and affect a cordiality ... contrary to the feelings of
their hearts.’ A truly inspiring spectacle. ‘It would be impossible, my
dear, to give you any idea of the scene.’[790] Then followed the formal
welcome. Resolutions were prepared at the home of Charles Biddle, were
adopted enthusiastically at an immense meeting in the State House
yard--then on in a body to the City Tavern, Biddle leading the way and
setting a merry pace. Ever and anon he received a frantic plea from Dr.
Hutchinson, ‘fat enough to act the character of Falstaff without
stuffing,’ to slow up, and with sardonic humor Biddle hurried on. The
corpulent doctor reached the hotel in a state of complete exhaustion.
But it was worth it. ‘Ça Ira!’ Long live the French Republic and
damnation to its foes![791] Then the dinner at O’Eller’s, the finest the
city had ever seen, at four dollars a plate, with Genêt thrilling the
diners by singing the French fighting song, the audience roaring ‘Ça
Ira,’ liberty caps passing around, toasts fervent and fiery. ‘What
hugging and rugging!’ grumbled a Philadelphian a quarter of a century
later. ‘What addressing and caressing! What mountebanking and chanting
with liberty caps and the other wretched trumpery of sans-culotte
foolery!’[792] When Genêt called on Jefferson, he was cordially
received, but there was a drop in temperature when he presented his
credentials to Washington, whose sober and restrained manner seemed cold
to the Frenchman after the reception from the people. Worse still, he
found portraits of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette in the room. Enough,
quite enough, had been done to turn the head of a stronger character
than he. But the Philadelphia lady was right--many who hated the
Revolution simulated enthusiasm, and one day Knox, Bingham, and other
leading Federalists might have been seen going aboard _L’Ambascade_ with
Genêt to partake of a fraternal dinner.[793]
VII
Thus the popular protest against neutrality between England and France
rose in a crescendo to a scream. Be patient with England? scoffed a
Boston writer. What, with the western posts still held, the Indian wars,
the impressment of American sailors on the sea?[794] The country’s
grievances against the English were mobilized and marched to the
accompaniment of hisses. A resident of Pittsburgh wrote an open letter
to Washington against neutrality. ‘I doubt much whether it is the
disposition of the United States to preserve the condition you enjoin.
It may be the disposition of those who draw from funds but from no one
else.’[795] Thus encouraged, ‘Veritas’ grasped his pen. ‘I am aware,
sir, that some court satellites may have deceived you’--not difficult to
impose on a ruler ‘particularly if so much buoyed up by official
importance as to think it beneath his dignity to mix occasionally with
the people.’[796] Freneau, who began to print a series of satirical
poems attacking Washington, sardonically sent two copies of each issue
to his desk. The great man fumed, fretted, occasionally burst into rage.
‘Civic’ launched his thunderbolts against ‘incendiaries ... who have
lately outraged decency ... by insulting Washington,’[797] and Fenno
rushed to the defense with stupid denunciations of all critics as
anarchists and traitors. The men in the streets jeered their
disapproval.
Thus, the summer of 1793 was one of utter madness. Mechanics were
reading the speeches of Mirabeau; clerks were poring over the reports of
revolutionary chiefs; college students were finding Paine preferable to
Virgil; and even the women were reading, with flushed cheeks, Barlow’s
‘Conspiracy of Kings.’ Others too illiterate to read were stalking the
narrow streets like conquerors, jostling the important men of the
community with intent, and sneering at the great. Men were equal. The
people’s day had dawned. Down the streets swaggered the mob looking for
lingering relics of royalty to tear or order down. A medallion enclosing
a bas-relief of George III with his crown, on the eastern front of
Christ’s Church, caught its eye. Down with it! The church officials did
not hesitate, but tore it down. On swept the mob in search of other
worlds to conquer. Occasionally the lower element, drinking itself
drunk, staggered out of the beer-houses to shout imprecations on a
government that would not war on England.
Not wholly without provocation, these outbursts. Fenno’s fulsome
snobbery was disgusting to people of sense, and the English sailors in
Philadelphia did not help. When four of these jolly tars attacked and
all but murdered a lone French sailor without a rebuke from the city
officials, Bache’s paper warned that the friends of the French would
‘take signal vengeance on such infamous banditti.’ When, in New York,
the aristocrats of the ‘new and elegant coffee-house’ and the exclusive
Belvedere Club were ‘swallowing potent draughts to the annihilation of
liberty,’ notice was served that unless suppressed ‘a band of Mohawks,
Oneidas, and Senecas will take upon themselves that necessary duty’--for
Tammany was the very heart of the French movement in New York.[798] ‘Ça
Ira!’ The people were the masters, and even in the theaters they went to
dictate to managers and actors. When Hodkinson, a favorite actor,
appeared, as his rôle required, in the uniform of a British officer, he
was hissed. ‘Take it off!’ shouted the crowd; but when the quick-witted
actor smilingly explained that he represented a bully, the jeers were
turned to cheers.[799] On then with the play. The orchestras played ‘La
Marseillaise,’ the galleries sang ‘Ça Ira,’ the managers shunted
Shakespeare and Sheridan aside for ‘Tyranny Suppressed,’ ‘Louis XVI,’
and ‘The Demolition of the Bastile.’ In Boston, where the Federalists
were firm, the Boston Theater continued to cater to their tastes, but
even there the Haymarket drew the greater crowds with drama for the
Democrats.
Everywhere liberty caps were worn and liberty poles were raised, and men
and women became ‘Citizen’ and ‘Citizeness,’ while the Federalists
roared their glee to keep up courage, making merry in their letters and
through their papers at the expense of the ‘citness’:
‘No citness to my name, I’ll have, says Kate,
Though Boston lads so much about it prate;
I’ve asked its meaning, and our Tom, the clown,
Says darn it ‘t means “woman of the town.”[800]
From Hartford the witty Chauncey Goodrich wrote Wolcott that ‘our
citizenesses quite execrate their new name,’ and that while ‘they will
have no objection to being called biped in common with men, if it can
clearly be shown that term denotes nothing above the foot or ankle, but
as it comes so near they are suspicious of mischief.’[801] What a world!
What a world ‘agog to be all equal to French barbers.’[802]
Then, suddenly, these Federalists ceased to grin, when Democratic Clubs,
suggestive of those of Paris, appeared like magic everywhere, differing
according to the community and character of their leadership. It was not
riff-raff in Philadelphia where David Rittenhouse was president, but it
was sinister enough with its bold assertion that free men should ‘regard
with attention and discuss without fear the conduct of public
servants.’[803] That at Norfolk summoned patriots to a courageous
expression of their sentiments in answer to ‘the tyrants of the world’
united ‘to crush the infant spirit of freedom’ in France.[804] Strangely
enough, they were nowhere so extreme as in Charleston where the ‘Saint
Cecilia Society’ scorned the membership of plebeians or men in trade;
and where Robert Goodloe Harper, fresh from the country and poor, rose
rapidly to fame as the vice-president of the Jacobin Club, wearing a
‘red rouge with great grace and dignity.’[805] And nowhere did they mean
so much to the Jeffersonians as in New England where they were giving
political importance to the masses. Even the Germans of Philadelphia
organized to serve liberty and equality in their native tongue.[806]
The shrieks of protest from the Federalists against these clubs is
inexplicable to the twentieth century. Like innumerable clubs for public
purposes to-day, they were composed of the wise and foolish, the vicious
and virtuous, but their purpose was to discuss and disseminate
information on public affairs. Some then, as now, passed asinine
resolutions, but that which alarmed the Hamiltonians was that they
created power for the masses. Had not Fenno preached and preached that
the masses were to be ruled and satisfied? The merchants should have
their Chambers of Commerce; the financiers and even speculators could
organize to influence public action--but what right had the ‘man of no
particular importance’ to interfere?
In brief, these clubs were vicious because democratic. These ‘demoniacal
societies,’ as Wolcott preferred to call them, were ‘nurseries of
sedition’ because ‘they are formed for the avowed purpose of a general
influence and control upon measures of government.’[807] It was
‘sedition’ in those days for people of no special significance to hold
views in opposition to the policies of their rulers. It was the kind of
sedition that Jefferson liked. From his home on the river he watched
their organizations multiply and grow with a fond, hopeful interest.
They were his Citizens’ Training Camps where the army he was to lead to
victory was being trained for political war.
VIII
Meanwhile, how fared neutrality on the part of England and France? On
the part of Genêt, badly enough. Week by week some outrage was
committed; and, worse still, the young fanatic was persuading himself of
the propriety of his actions. The cheers in the streets convinced him
that he could defy the President and appeal with safety to the people.
He could hear the comparatively few extremists because they shouted
loudest. Day by day he was becoming more intolerable. Devoted to the
cause of revolutionary France, Jefferson sought to curb the impetuosity
of its Minister in the interest of the cause, but toward the latter part
of June he was plainly worried.[808]
The British were as arrogant and impudent. Outrages on American ships
and the impressment of American seamen were almost daily occurrences,
and protests to the Government in London brought no response.[809]
‘Ships stopped, insulted, searched; cargoes confiscated; seamen seized,
impressed, and thrown into jails; until Thomas Pinckney, the American
Minister in London, was overwhelmed with his correspondence with Newgate
Jail--for the poor wretches there were begging him for succor he could
not give. He was met with a courteous smile and contemptuous
indifference.’[810]
In American waters British as well as French were arming and equipping,
and into American ports sailed English vessels with prizes taken in
direct violation of the treaty with France. Then came the Orders in
Council of June 8th ordering British ships to capture and take to
British ports all vessels with foodstuffs destined for France.
On the day before this Order went into effect, a goodly company of
English sympathizers met at Richardet’s Tavern in Philadelphia to
celebrate the birthday of George III. An elegant dinner, unmarred by the
presence of any part of the ‘rabble,’ with a guest list reading like a
page from a Social Register. Enthusiasm bubbled, and ‘Ça Ira’ was not
sung. The orchestra played ‘God Save the King.’ That monarch was
toasted, and they toasted the Queen, and Hammond the British Minister,
and Phineas Bond, the British Consul. They toasted Washington once and
‘Neutrality’ twice. And they brought a perfect evening to a close with
another toast: ‘The Red Coats and Wooden Walls of Old England.’[811]
Fenno in the Federalist organ published a sympathetic account which was
read with varying emotions from Mrs. Bingham’s library to the beer
saloon on Front Street. Even the soberest began to wonder if neutrality
was one-sided. Nowhere was neutrality appealing to the masses as just,
wise, or fair.
One June morning, Washington drove out of Philadelphia in a phaëton and
pair for a fortnight’s visit home,[812] and six days later the first of
a brilliant and powerful series of articles by ‘Pacificus’ began to run
in Fenno’s paper. By the light of the candles, Hamilton was rushing into
the breach with a pen that was mightier than a sword.
IX
No one doubted the identity of ‘Pacificus.’ None but the man in the
Pemberton house was capable of such brilliancy, audacity, and dash in
controversy. His purpose was twofold--to justify the Proclamation of
Neutrality, and convince the people that they had greatly exaggerated
the services of France in the Revolution. In the first paper he defended
the constitutional right of the President to issue the Proclamation
without a consultation with Congress. In the second he released the
country from all treaty obligations on the ground that France was waging
an offensive war. In the third he appealed to fear with the assertion
that if we sought to serve our ally we should be forced to wage war on
the sea against the combined fleets of the coalition. In the fifth he
treated the claims of France on American gratitude as trivial and
absurd.[813] In the sixth he paid a tribute to the stupid Louis,
attacking the French people for executing their king. In the last he
urged the timeliness and necessity of the Proclamation. Brilliant
letters, mingling truth and sophistry, but readable--and they were read
with mingled emotions. Society was enchanted, the ‘mob’ roared, and even
Jefferson, who never made the Hamiltonian mistake of underestimating a
foe, was concerned.
When ‘Pacificus’ was appearing, Jefferson was summering under his plane
trees near Philadelphia, Madison was sweltering in his Virginia home,
wishing nothing better than a release from political duties. As
Jefferson sat under the trees with Fenno’s paper before him, he
instantly appreciated the necessity of a reply, and he ordered Madison
to the task. Nothing could have been more distasteful to the mild little
man suffering ‘a distressing lassitude from the excessive and continued
heat of the season,’ and with avowed reluctance he undertook the
task.[814] But in August, Madison’s replies were running in all the
papers--forceful, spirited, rapid in reasoning, making telling points
with citations from Hamilton’s articles in ‘The Federalist.’[815] He
denied the power of the President to declare a treaty no longer
operative. Proof? The best--Hamilton’s Number 75 of ‘The Federalist.’
Challenge the right of a nation to abolish an old government and
establish a new? Why, it ‘is the only lawful tenure by which the United
States hold their existence as a nation.’
But the two sets of letters merely served to keep the discussion going.
The papers were doing their part. ‘This discussion must cease,’ wrote
Fenno. ‘The Government has said we must be neutral and the people have
no right to question its wisdom.’ Freneau sniffed and snorted forth
satirical articles on the infallibility of rulers.[816] No writer
presuming to castigate the democrats was spared. ‘Justice’ was pouring
forth indignant eloquence against them. Ah, sneered Freneau--
‘Because some pumpkin shells and lobster claws
Thrown o’er his garden wall by Braintree’s Duke,[817]
Have chanced to fall within your greedy jaws--
* * * * *
Because some treasury luncheons you have gnawed
Like rats that play upon the public store ...’[818]
The bitterness intensified with the heat of the summer. A satirical
letter ascribed to a Tory in Philadelphia to one in London rejoicing
over the turn American affairs had taken, went the rounds of the
Democratic press. Washington was not spared. He ‘is well surrounded,
well advised.’ Hamilton moved the correspondent to rapture--‘that great
prop of our cause, that intrepid enemy of liberty.’ Just read the third
of the ‘Pacificus’ letters ‘and judge ... if there is anything criminal
which honest Pacificus has not undertaken to defend.’[819]
‘A blessed situation truly,’ exclaimed ‘Consistent Federalist,’
referring to the recent Orders in Council. ‘Camillus and Pacificus come
forward and vindicate the lenity of Britain; continue to blast the
French, and vent their spleen on the only nation that seems disposed to
befriend us.’[820] ‘Go on, then, Pacificus,’ wrote ‘Ironicus,’ ‘traduce
the French nation and the combined powers of Europe will thank you for
your assiduity.’[821] Soon the Democrats were grinning over the
satirical announcement of the forthcoming book ‘collected from the
immortal work of Pacificus’ on how to destroy free government by
‘aristocracy and despotism.’[822]
X
But Hamilton could afford to disregard the attacks--he had Genêt working
on his side. Never had conditions seemed so promising to the
light-headed and hot-headed young diplomat than on July 4th, when he had
licked his chops over the opportunity to decline an invitation to dine
with the Cincinnati on the ground that he would not sit down at the same
table with the Viscount de Noailles.[823] There were other celebrations
in Philadelphia more to his taste.
It was at this moment that the brig _Little Sarah_, a French prize, was
being rapidly converted into a privateer with the view to sending it to
sea regardless of neutrality. Governor Mifflin sent his secretary, A. J.
Dallas, scurrying through the midnight streets to Genêt’s residence to
order him to keep the vessel in port. The young fire-eater raved and
ranted, and said strange things about appealing over the head of the
President to the people. Jefferson, hearing of the incident, hurried in
on Sunday from the country, listened to Genêt’s cocky talk, attempted to
reason with him without success, but left with the feeling that the ship
would not be sent to sea before Washington’s return from Mount Vernon.
The Cabinet met on Monday at the State House. Hamilton and Knox proposed
establishing a battery on Mud Island and firing on the vessel if it
sought to reach the sea. Hamilton vehemently denounced the French.
Jefferson, having in mind his representations to England, was not at all
sure that the violations of neutrality were on one side. He stoutly
protested against any measure that might lead to war without a
consultation with Washington.
Three days later the _Little Sarah_ was still in Philadelphia and
Washington returned. Hamilton and Knox were instantly on his neck.
Jefferson, ill with fever, had prepared all the papers in the case for
the President’s use, marked them for ‘instant attention,’ left them on
his desk, and retired to his home. Glancing at the papers, Washington
sent a peremptory summons to Jefferson’s office. Learning then of his
absence, a note was sent to the sick man’s home sizzling with
indignation over Genêt’s threat, and requiring Jefferson’s opinion on
procedure ‘even before to-morrow morning, for the vessel may be gone.’
Jefferson kept his temper--unless it is betrayed in the brevity and cold
dignity of the reply: ‘T. J. is himself of opinion that whatever is
aboard of her of arms, ammunition, or men, contrary to the rules
heretofore laid down by the President, ought to be withdrawn.’
It was after this that the _Little Sarah_ put to sea.
The lunatic caperings of Genêt had been maddening to Jefferson, who
instantly sensed the inevitable reaction against his party, and the ease
with which the sophisticated reasoning of the Federalists could confuse,
in the public mind, the cause of the French Revolution with the
insolence of its Minister. Wherever his influence could be successfully
exerted, he divorced his followers from the addle-brained diplomat who
had become raving mad. To Madison he complained of the continued
adherence of Freneau and Greenleaf to Genêt.[824] Dr. Hutchinson had
informed him that ‘Genêt has totally overturned the republican interest
in Philadelphia.’ Referring to the threat to appeal to the people over
Washington’s head, he added: ‘I can assure you it is a fact.’[825]
Justifications for the fears of the leader under the plane trees were
soon reaching him from Madison in Virginia, who had a plan afoot for the
complete divorcing of Genêt from the Jeffersonian Party and from the
cause of the French Republic. He prepared resolutions and arranged for
their adoption in various county meetings in Virginia. One copy was sent
to Edmund Pendleton of Caroline; Monroe was sent with another copy to
Staunton. Still another went to Charlottesville.[826] The first of the
county meetings to adopt the Madison Resolutions was at Caroline with
Pendleton in the chair, and they were hurried to the newspapers
throughout the country. They declared devotion to the Constitution, to
the cause of peace, and to Washington, were warmly appreciative of the
debt of gratitude to France, sympathetic toward her struggle for
liberty, and denunciatory of the attempt to alienate the two republics
and to drive the United States in the direction of monarchy and
England.[827] They were sent to Washington, whose reply must have been
galling to the English party with its laudation of France and the
republican principle of government.[828] The Jeffersonian press gave the
reply the widest possible publicity.
Thus, through July, August, and September the two parties contended over
the threat of Genêt, each playing for advantage. Comparatively few
extremists offered any excuse for the ruined Minister, who was despised
by Jefferson and Madison for compromising their party and the cause of
France. ‘His conduct has been that of a madman,’ wrote Madison to
Monroe.[829] Even the Democratic Clubs followed the line laid down in
Madison’s Caroline Resolutions.
XI
Such was the inflammatory state of parties when on August 1st,
Jefferson, Hamilton, Knox, and Randolph arrived at the Morris house to
discuss with Washington the disposition to be made of Genêt.
Knox was not given to finesse when his passions were involved. ‘Send him
out of the country,’ and without ceremony, he said. Publish all the
correspondence in an appeal to the people before Genêt could carry out
his threat, urged Hamilton. For forty-five minutes he spoke
impassionedly, attacking Genêt, denouncing the Democratic Societies,
assailing France. Jefferson, sitting in silence, thought it was an
excellent ‘jury speech.’
Randolph spoke in opposition to radical measures, and the meeting
adjourned until the morrow.
The next day Hamilton again took the floor and spoke again for three
quarters of an hour with unrestrained bitterness. As he sat down,
Jefferson rose. He was not alarmed over the Democratic Clubs. They would
die if left alone and would grow on proscription and persecution.
Publish the facts and decisions of the President on the whole foreign
controversy? Those decisions had been reached with divisions in the
Cabinet--was it desired to proclaim that condition to the country? Was
it desirable to injure our friend France with a stab, in the face of her
enemies, the allied kings of Europe?
It was here that Knox broke in with references to Freneau’s attacks on
Washington. He had calculated the effect. The President flew into a
rage, and the meeting adjourned because of the turmoil and
excitement.[830] Determined to manage his own department, Jefferson
thereupon sat down to the preparation of a letter to the American
Minister in Paris, setting forth with scrupulous fairness and severity
the antics of Genêt, and asking his recall. The sting to France was
removed with an eloquent protestation of friendship. Hamilton at no time
drew so damning and effective an indictment of Genêt, but all this was
lost upon him because of the note of friendliness to France.[831]
Twelve days after the first meeting, the Cabinet again sat about the
council table in the Morris house listening to the Jefferson draft. It
was so unassailable that it was unanimously accepted--with one
exception. Jefferson had referred to a possible conflict between the two
republics as ‘liberty warring on itself.’ Hamilton moved to strike out
these words, Knox parroting his master’s suggestion. Washington favored
their retention, expressing the conviction that France, despite her
blunders, was fighting for liberty; but Randolph voted with Hamilton and
Knox against Washington and Jefferson, and the words were stricken
out.[832]
In due time Genêt was recalled. That episode was over. Jefferson had won
his fight to prevent a rupture with France--but it had cost him dearly.
XII
As early as May, Jefferson had been able to put his finger on the French
and English parties in this country. With the English, the fashionable
circles, the merchants trading on English capital, the supporters of the
Treasury, the old Tory families; with the French, the small merchants,
the tradesmen, mechanics, farmers, ‘and every other possible description
of our citizens.’[833] There was no doubt in his mind as to the position
of the social circles of Philadelphia--he was made to feel it. The men
were courteous in his presence, and he still dined occasionally with the
Binghams and Robert Morris, though the ladies were but chillingly
polite. The friend of the ‘filthy democrats,’ as Mrs. Washington is said
to have called them, was, to them, beyond the pale. Mr. Hammond, the
English Minister, was such a charming man! A few of the French noblemen,
once numbered among the dissolute loafers of Versailles, were to be
found frequently drinking Bingham’s wine, paying courtly compliments to
the women, and making love to the daughters of the house a bit
clandestinely, as Mrs. Bingham was to find to her dismay a little later.
Not a few of the social leaders had been ‘presented’ at court in both
France and England, and they never recovered. Others looked forward to a
possible presentation as the consummation of a life’s ambition. Kings
were adorable creatures, after all, and queens were as ‘sweet queens’ as
Fanny Burney found hers, and the nobility was so elegant! As for the
‘people’--were they not as the rabble who had cut off the head of the
lovable Louis? And Jefferson was the enemy of kings, the idol of the
rabble--and what was worse, their defender. The men thought his
principles askew, but the women knew that his heart was black.
Thus it was fortunate that during the exciting summer of 1793, Jefferson
could retire to the solitude of his murmuring plane trees and let
society buzz. Even the Philadelphia streets were cold to him. Party
feeling was running amuck. Old acquaintances pretended not to see each
other as they passed. It was true everywhere. Even Noah Webster was
complaining bitterly of this party narrowness in New York. ‘Examine the
detached clubs at the Coffee-House,’ he wrote, ‘there you will see
persons of the same family associated. Go into the private families at
dinner and on evening visits, there you will find none but people of the
same party.’[834]
When Jefferson remained in town after leaving his office, he spent more
and more time in the library of the Philosophical Society, at the home
of Dr. Rush talking books more than politics, or he went to the welcome
shade of ‘Stenton,’ where he was always sure of a cordial greeting from
Dr. Logan and that incomparable Quakeress who was his wife. To Madison
he opened his heart in the lament that he found ‘even the rare hours of
relaxation sacrificed to the society of persons ... of whose hatreds I
am conscious even in those moments of conviviality when the heart wishes
most to open itself to the effusions of friendship and confidence, cut
off from my family and friends ... in short giving everything I love in
exchange for everything I hate.’[835] The attacks on Washington, which
society ascribed to the influence of Jefferson, made his position all
the more unpleasant. Articles signed ‘Democrat’, or ‘Veritas’ foully
assailing the President appeared in Federalists papers. The worst of
these, Jefferson thought, were written by his enemies for the purpose of
embittering decent men against his party. It was even whispered about
that he was the author of the ‘Veritas’ letters, for Genêt, in an
attempt to impress his Government with his own power, hinted that
Jefferson had written them. The latter talked it over with Tobias Lear,
the President’s secretary, and made an investigation of his own,
concluding that the author was William Irvine, a clerk in the
Comptroller’s office. ‘I have long suspected this detestible game was
playing by the fiscal party to place the President on their side,’
Jefferson wrote.[836] It was manifestly absurd, but society preferred to
believe it.
Unpleasant as was the attitude of the fashionable circles, it was not so
offensive to Jefferson as the constant quarreling and intriguing in
official circles. He complained that he and Hamilton were always against
each other like cocks in a pit. He was never fond of futile disputation.
His own views were fixed, as were those of his opponent. He was too much
the philosopher to enjoy argumentation that accomplished nothing. Long
before that summer he had wanted to retire, and, as we have seen, had
only been dissuaded by the importunities of Washington, but he was now
intolerably tired of it all. Acknowledging a letter from a friend in
Paris, he had written, in reference to the ‘oppressive scenes of
business,’ that ‘never was mortal more tired of these than I am.’[837]
Three months earlier, he had promised his daughter Martha that the next
year they would ‘sow [their] cabbages together.’
By July the situation was becoming unendurable. It was about this time,
when he was writing his notes to Hammond, the British Minister, who was
an intimate friend of Hamilton’s, that Oliver Wolcott, the mere shadow
of his chief, was bitterly complaining of Jefferson’s ‘duplicity of
character’ in treating Hammond harshly.[838] These were the notes to
which John Marshall gave the highest praise in his ‘Life of Washington,’
but the observation of Wolcott reflected the tone of society.
On July 31st, the philosopher-politician seated under his plane trees
might have read an attack upon himself in Fenno’s paper charging him
with crimes against his country committed in such a way as ‘to keep him
out of reach of the law.’[839] That very day he sat down at his desk to
write his resignation. Six days later, Washington drove out to
Jefferson’s country place, and out on the lawn sought again to dissuade
his Secretary of State from his purpose. But he had had enough. With
some bitterness, he told the President that ‘the laws of society oblige
me always to move exactly in the circle which I know to bear me peculiar
hatred ... and thus surrounded, my words are caught up, multiplied,
misconstrued, and even fabricated and spread abroad to my injury.’[840]
Convinced that Jefferson was unshakable, Washington discussed, with
him, a possible successor. He favored Madison, but feared he would not
accept, and then asked Jefferson’s opinion of Jay and Smith, both rabid
Hamiltonians. Jefferson asked him if he had ever thought of Chancellor
Livingston. He had--but Hamilton was from New York. What did Jefferson
know about Wolcott? ‘I have heard him characterized as a very cunning
man,’ was the dry reply. It was finally agreed that Jefferson should
remain on until January.[841]
XIII
August was a dreadful month in Philadelphia, a dry, deadening heat
making the days and nights unbearable. Any one walking near Water Street
was sickened by the fetid smells from the stinking wharves. Politically
conditions were as depressing. The bitter party struggle went on. Even
the heat and smells could not give it pause. Bache’s paper published a
letter describing Viscount de Noailles as ‘a man who was employed by the
late King of France to bribe the members of the Convention ... and
afterwards ran off with the money’; and the next day the nobleman,
swords and pistols in his eyes, appeared to demand that the editor
publish a denial and furnish the name of the author of the article.
Thinking discretion the better part of valor, Bache gave ‘Mr. Pascal,
the Secretary of Genêt,’ as the author and society expected a French
duel--to be disappointed.[842] Genêt was hurrying off to New York to
accept an ovation and the Hamiltonians began to lose faith in
Washington, because he sat ‘with folded arms’ and let the Government ‘be
carried on by town meetings.’ The Federalists were concluding that town
meetings were a vicious influence. Meetings of Chambers of Commerce were
different.[843] But it was reserved for Boston to give the Federalists
their greatest shock when at the masthead of the French frigate _La
Concorde_, appeared the names of eleven staid men of the city placarded
as ‘aristocrats,’ and unfriendly to the French Republic. The charge was
true, but here was something that smacked of the Terror in Paris. With
the town seething with righteous wrath, a committee boarded the vessel
and demanded the removal of the placard. The officers expressed surprise
that it was there, apologized, removed it. But the opportunity was too
good to be lost. ‘I wish to know what is to be their [the eleven
citizens’] punishment, and who is to execute it,’ wrote ‘A Free
American’ in the ‘Centinel.’ ‘Are they to suffer by the lamp post or by
the guillotine here, or are they to be sent in irons to Paris to suffer
there?’[844] Viewing the scene, as became a Cabot, from the
vantage-point of aristocratic aloofness, George Cabot was alarmed. He
wrote King of his ‘amazement’ at ‘the rapid growth of Jacobin feeling.’
Why had not the truth concerning France been told the people? Had she
not ‘obstructed our commercial views?’[845] Had Cabot unbent to the
reading of the ‘Independent Chronicle’ of his city he might have
understood the cause of the ‘growth of Jacobin feeling.’ It fairly
teemed with the French and their Revolution. ‘In case of distress whence
is our succor to arise?’ it demanded. ‘Is there one among the combined
powers contending against France on whose cordiality we could
depend?’[846] Ask the soldier of our Revolution who helped win American
independence. ‘Who were the men who marched in columns to the capture of
Cornwallis--or whose navy thundered the music of that defeat?’[847]
Then, with September, the reaper of Death stalked through the streets of
Philadelphia.
XIV
It began with the filth and sickening smells of Water Street and spread
like the deadly gas of modern battle-fields over the city. The poor of
the congested quarters near the water-front fell like flies in winter.
Soon it spread to the best residential sections. The evident inability
of the physicians to cope with the disease increased the terror.
Washington was ordered out of the city and hastened to Mount Vernon, and
Knox took to precipitate flight.[848] Soon all the great houses were
closed, and every one who could afford it abandoned his business and
fled from the stricken city. Soon half the houses were abandoned, and
they who remained locked their doors, closed the windows, and lived in
complete isolation as far as possible.[849]
Day and night the death-carts rumbled through the town and a covered
wagon was kept busy conveying the sick to Bush Hill Hospital in the
country--a dismal wagon with a bed, drawn by a weary horse.[850] With
half the stores closed, the upward bound in the cost of provisions
intensified the distress of the poor.[851] The streets were as those of
a dead city, no one caring to brush against the black robe of the grim
reaper that was taking such an appalling harvest. One observer looking
down the street one day could not see a single soul.[852] Terror seized
upon every one. Lifelong friends evaded one another like guilty
creatures. Even the families of the stricken fled, leaving the suffering
to die in barbarous neglect.[853] One man determined to remain in the
city, but passing twelve corpses in the streets, he summoned a carriage
and fled in horror.[854] Only the negroes seemed immune, and ‘much to
their honor, they ... zealously contributed all in their power.’[855]
And to accentuate the horror, the rumble of the death-cart, the cries of
the dying, the groans of the abandoned, were mingled with the bold
footsteps of the robbers making their way from one deserted mansion to
another.’[856] Panic everywhere. A toothache, and the victim was on the
verge of collapse from fright--it was the fever.[857] Timothy Pickering
had a twinge, and off he hastened to the doctor to be bled, put on a
starvation diet, and sent on long horseback rides into the country ‘for
pure air.’ Many died literally from fear, and the horror of the scenes
and sounds.[858]
When the death toll mounted from scores to hundreds, from hundreds to
thousands, the neighboring villages and towns met to devise plans for
keeping the Philadelphians away, and one of these threatened to receive
them ‘at the point of the bayonet.’[859] The hospitals were packed--two
hundred Irishmen in the Naval Hospital alone.[860] Meanwhile the
physicians were fighting courageously, desperately, but blindly and
futilely. Fisher Ames, who had a malicious humor, was amused at their
plight and methods. ‘All vouch success--none have it,’ he wrote, ‘and
like Sangrado’s patients they die for want of bleeding and warm water
enough.’ One doctor treated the disease as a plague--‘his patients
died’; he adopted Rush’s methods--‘they died.’ He hit upon a combination
of the methods--‘all died.’[861] Bache filled his columns with cures and
suggestions, but the death-rate increased frightfully. It was impossible
to keep a record. On October 20th, Wolcott wrote Washington that ‘more
than four thousand persons have died,’ and the next day Pickering wrote
him that ‘about three thousand have died.’[862] As many as 517 were
buried in the Potter’s Field between August 19th and October 1st.[863]
The streets deserted, houses closed, death-like silence but for the
rattle of burial wagons and the groans of the stricken, the tread of
robbers in the night--the horrors deepened. No one understood the reason
why--no one but Alexander Graydon, who thought it a grim visitation of
God to purge the foul hearts of the Philadelphians because of their
enthusiasm for French democracy. One of the democrats had fallen early,
when Dr. Hutchinson paid his profession the honor of dying in the
harness. One day he met a friend in the street and urged him to take his
family and leave. Was the Doctor going? No, he felt it his duty to stay
and serve the sick. Was he not afraid? Well, he thought he would
probably fall a victim, and bade the friend farewell. A few days later
he was dead--the greatest hero of the scourge.[864]
Meanwhile, Jefferson, living in the country, thought it his duty to go
to the city every day, and did. And then Graydon’s God made a blunder
that must have made the angels weep--he struck Hamilton down with the
blow that must have been intended for the Jacobin Jefferson.
Living two miles out in the country, Hamilton was stricken violently.
Having given thought to the disease, he had conceived that cold water
would be effective. He summoned Dr. Stevens and many attendants--‘the
method being expensive’--and through cold water and bark he was
cured.[865] ‘Colonel Hamilton is ill of the fever but is recovering,’
Jefferson wrote Robert Morris who had taken to flight.[866] By the time
the country knew of Hamilton’s peril he had recovered, and, with his
family, had hastened to the Schuylers at Albany.
With the approach of winter the disease receded--died out.
XV
Even so, there was no disposition on the part of Congress to meet in the
gloomy city, and November found the Government established temporarily
in Germantown. The statesmen had to accommodate themselves to wretched
quarters. Jefferson ‘got a bed in the corner of a public room in a
tavern,’[867] but it mattered little to him, for his time was short. As
late as December 22d, Washington made a final effort to persuade him to
remain. ‘I hope it will be the last set at me to continue,’ Jefferson
wrote Martha.[868]
The publication of his correspondence with both Genêt and Hammond had
raised him in the esteem of his worst enemies. No one then or since has
pretended to the discovery of undue partiality in the treatment of the
offenses of the two nations. In the field of foreign relations the
papers of Jefferson during this period were as distinguished as those of
Hamilton in the sphere of finance.
But he was to submit to Congress a final Report on Commerce which was to
cut short his popularity with his enemies. ‘The letting loose of the
Algerines on us, which was contrived by England, has produced a peculiar
irritation,’ he wrote his daughter. ‘I think Congress will indemnify
themselves by high duties on all articles of British importation.’[869]
Here he was referring to his Report.
In this notable document, which his party instantly adopted as a chart
by which to steer, he laid down some broad general propositions which
called for retaliation on England. If a nation placed high duties on our
products, we should place high duties on its products, even to excluding
articles that came into competition with our own. Where a nation
prohibited American merchants or agents from residing in parts of its
domain, we could retaliate with propriety. If it refused to receive in
our vessels any products but our own, we could adopt a similar
regulation as to theirs. If it declined to consider any vessel as ours
not built in our territory, the rule could work both ways. All this was
accompanied with a report on our relative commercial intercourse with
both England and France. The purpose was in harmony with the policy for
which Madison had fought from the beginning.[870]
Leaving this as a legacy to his party, Jefferson prepared for his return
to his beloved Monticello. The executive branch of the Government was to
be turned over to the enemy, for no Jeffersonian considered Randolph,
who succeeded Jefferson, as a party man. Better a complete separation
and open opposition than a further pretense at an unworkable coalition
of the two parties. And home was calling imperatively. His private
affairs were in need of attention. His ten thousand acres had been
neglected. His hundred and fifty-four slaves had not been properly
directed. And there, on his serene hilltop, were his daughters, his
grandchildren, his friends the books, the trees, the view over the
valley at sunrise.
Bidding farewell to his friends and making ceremonious calls upon his
foes, he set forth in his carriage for the southward on January 5th. He
was going home. Soon the house he had planned on the hill would be in
view, soon the negroes would be running down the hill road to meet the
carriage, to touch his clothes, to kiss his hands. Soon he would be
sitting at his own fireside--in rooms sacred to the memory of the woman
for whom the house was built.