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MISCELLANY
by Thomas Jefferson
_Reply to the Representations of Affairs in America by British
Newspapers_
[before November 20, 1784]
I am an officer lately returned from service & residence in the
U.S. of America. I have fought & bled for that country because I
thought it's cause just. From the moment of peace to that in which I
left it, I have seen it enjoying all the happiness which easy
government, order & industry are capable of giving to a people. On
my return to my native country what has been my astonishment to find
all the public papers of Europe filled with accounts of the anarchy &
destractions supposed to exist in that country. I have received
serious condolances from all my friends on the bitter fruits of so
prosperous a war. These friends I know to be so well disposed
towards America that they wished the reverse of what they repeated
from the public papers. I have enquired into the source of all this
misinformation & have found it not difficult to be traced. The
printers on the Continent have not yet got into the habit of taking
the American newspapers. Whatever they retail therefore on the
subject of America, they take from the English. If your readers will
reflect a moment they will recollect that every unfavourable account
they have seen of the transactions in America has been taken from the
English papers only. Nothing is known in Europe of the situation of
the U.S. since the acknowlegement of their independance but thro' the
channel of these papers.
But these papers have been under the influence of two ruling
motives 1. deep-rooted hatred springing from an unsuccesful attempt
to injure 2. a fear that their island will be depopulated by the
emigration of it's inhabitants to America. Hence no paper comes out
without a due charge of paragraphs manufactured by persons employed
for that purpose. According to these America is a scene of continued
riot & anarchy. Wearied out with contention, it is on the verge of
falling again into the lap of Gr. Br. for repose. It's citizens are
groaning under the oppression of heavy taxes. They are flying for
refuge to the frozen regions which still remain subject to Gr. Br.
Their assemblies and congresses are become odious, in one paragraph
represented as tyrranising over their constituents, & in another as
possessing no power or influence at all, &c. &c. The truth is as
follows without aggravation or diminution. There was a mutiny of 300
souldiers in Philadelphia soon after the peace; & Congress thinking
the executive of that state did not act with proper energy to
suppress & punish it they left that city in disgust. Yet in this
mutiny there neither was blood shed nor a blow struck. There has
lately been a riot in Charlestown, occasioned by the feuds between
the whigs who had been driven from their country by the British while
they possessed it, and the tories who were permitted to remain by the
Americans when they recovered it. There were a few instances in
other states where individuals disgusted with some articles in the
peace undertook to call town meetings, published the resolves of the
few citizens whom they could prevail upon to meet as if they had been
the resolves of the whole town, and endeavored unsuccesfully to
engage the people in the execution of their private views. It is
beleived that these attempts have not been more than ten or a dozen
thro' the whole 13 states & not one of them has been succesful: on
the contrary where any illegal act has been committed by the
demagogues they have been put under a due course of legal
prosecution. The British when they evacuated New York having carried
off, contrary to the express articles of the treaty of peace, a great
deal of property belonging to the citizens of the U.S. & particularly
to those of the state of Virginia, amounting as has been said to half
a million of pounds sterling, the assembly of that state lately
resolved that till satisfaction was made for this, the article
respecting British debts ought not to be carried into full execution,
submitting nevertheless this their opinion to Congress and declaring
that if they thought otherwise, all laws obstructing the recovery of
debts should be immediately repealed. Yet even this was opposed by a
respectable minority in their senate who entered a protest against it
in strong terms. The protest as it stands in the records follows
immediately the resolutions protested against & therefore does not
recite them. The English papers publish the protest without the
resolutions and thus lead Europe to beleive that the resolutions had
definitively decided against the paiment of British debts. Yet
nothing is less true. This is a faithful history of the high sounded
disturbances of America. Those who have visited that country since
the peace will vouch that it is impossible for any governments to be
more tranquil & orderly than they are. What were the mutiny of 300
souldiers in Philada, the riot of whigs & tories in Charlestown to
the riots of London under L'd. G. Gordon, and of London & the country
in general in the late elections? Where is there any country of
equal extent with the U.S. in which fewer disturbances have happened
in the same space of time? Where has there been an instance of an
army disbanded as was that of America without receiving a shilling of
the long arrearages due them or even having their accounts settled &
yet disbanded peaceably? Instead of resorting as is too often the
case with disbanded armies to beggary or robbery for a livelihood
they returned every man to his home & resumed his axe & spade; & it
is a fact as true as it is singular that on the disbanding of an army
of 30,000 men in America there have been but two or three instances
of any of those who composed it being brought to the bar of justice
as criminals: and that you may travel from one end to the other of
the continent without seeing a beggar. With respect to the people
their confidence in their rulers in general is what common sense will
tell us it must be, where they are of their own choice annually,
unbribed by money, undebauched by feasting, & drunkenness. It would
be difficult to find one man among them who would not consider a
return under the dominion of Gr. Br. as the greatest of all possible
miseries. Their taxes are light, as they should be with a people so
lately wasted in the most cruel manner by war. They pay in
proportion to their property from one half to one & a half per cent
annually on it's whole value as estimated by their neighbors, the
different states requiring more or less as they have been less or
more ravaged by their enemies. Where any taxes are imposed they are
very trifling & are calculated cheifly to bring merchants into
contribution with the farmers. Against their emigration to the
remaining British dominions the superior rigor of their climate, the
inferiority of their soil, the nature of their governments and their
being actually inhabited by their most mortal enemies the tory
refugees, will be an eternal security. During the course of the war
the English papers were constantly filled with accounts of their
great victories, their armies were daily gaining. Yet Europe saw
that they were daily losing ground in America, & formed it's idea of
the truth not from what it heard but from what it saw. They wisely
considered an enlargement of territory on the one side & contraction
of it on the other as the best indication on which side victory
really was. It is hoped that Europe will be as wise & as just now:
that they will not consider the fabricated papers of England as any
evidence of truth; but that they will continue to judge of causes
from effects. If the distractions of America were what these papers
pretend, some great facts would burst out & lay their miseries open
to the eyes of all the world: no such effects appear, therefore no
such causes exist. If any such existed they would appear in the
American newspapers which are as free as any on earth. But none such
can be found in them. These are the testimonials to which I appeal
for beleif. To bring more home to every reader the reliance which
may be put on the English papers let him examine, if a Frenchman,
what account they give of the affairs of France, if a Dutchman, what
of the United Netherl'ds., if an Irishman, what of Ireland &c. If he
finds that those of his own country with which he happens to be
acquainted are wickedly misrepresented, let him consider how much
more likely to be so are those of a nation so hated as America.
America was the great pillar on which British glory was raised:
America has been the instrument for levelling that glory with the
dust. A little ill humour therefore might have found excuse in our
commiseration: but an apostasy from truth, under whatever
misfortunes, calls up feelings of a very different order.
_Answers and Observations for Demeunier's Article on the United
States in the_ Encyclopedie
Methodique, 1786
I. From _Answers to Demeunier's First Queries_
January 24, 1786
II. The Confederation is a wonderfully perfect instrument,
considering the circumstances under are however some alterations
which experience proves to be wanting. These are principally three.
1_ To establish a general rule for the admission of new states into
the Union. By the Confederation no new state, except Canada, can be
permitted to have a vote in Congress without first obtaining the
consent of all the thirteen legislatures. It becomes necessary to
agree what districts may be established into separate states, and at
what period of their population they may come into Congress. The act
of Congress of April 23, 1784, has pointed out what ought to be
agreed on, to say also what number of votes must concur when the
number of voters shall be thus enlarged. 2. The Confederation in
it's eighth article, decides that the quota of money to be
contributed by the several states shall be proportioned to the value
of landed property in the state. Experience has shown it
impracticable to come at this value. Congress have therefore
recommended to the states to agree that their quotas shall be in
proportion to the number of their inhabitants, counting 5 slaves
however but as equal to 3 free inhabitants. I believe all the states
have agreed to this alteration except Rhode island. 3. The
Confederation forbids the states individually to enter into treaties
of commerce, or of any other nature, with foreign nations: and it
authorizes Congress to establish such treaties, with two reservations
however, viz., that they shall agree to no treaty which would 1.
restrain the legislatures from imposing such duties on foreigners, as
natives are subjected to; or 2. from prohibiting the exportation or
importation of any species of commodities. Congress may therefore be
said to have a power to regulate commerce, so far as it can be
effected by conventions with other nations, & by conventions which do
not infringe the two fundamental reservations before mentioned. But
this is too imperfect. Because till a convention be made with any
particular nation, the commerce of any one of our states with that
nation may be regulated by the State itself, and even when a
convention is made, the regulation of the commerce is taken out of
the hands of the several states only so far as it is covered or
provided for by that convention or treaty. But treaties are made in
such general terms, that the greater part of the regulations would
still result to the legislatures. Let us illustrate these
observations by observing how far the commerce of France & of England
can be affected by the state legislatures. As to England, any one of
the legislatures may impose on her goods double the duties which are
paid other nations; may prohibit their goods altogether; may refuse
them the usual facilities for recovering their debts or withdrawing
their property, may refuse to receive their Consuls or to give those
Consuls any jurisdiction. But with France, whose commerce is
protected by a treaty, no state can give any molestation to that
commerce which is defended by the treaty. Thus, tho' a state may
exclude the importation of all wines (because one of the reservations
aforesaid is that they may prohibit the importation of any species of
commodities) yet they cannot prohibit the importation of _French_
wines particularly while they allow wines to be brought in from other
countries. They cannot impose heavier duties on French commodities
than on those of other nations. They cannot throw peculiar obstacles
in the way of their recovery of debts due to them &c. &c. because
those things are provided for by treaty. Treaties however are very
imperfect machines for regulating commerce in the detail. The
principal objects in the regulation of our commerce would be: 1. to
lay such duties, restrictions, or prohibitions on the goods of any
particular nation as might oblige that nation to concur in just &
equal arrangements of commerce. 2. To lay such uniform duties on
the articles of commerce throughout all the states, as may avail them
of that fund for assisting to bear the burthen of public expenses.
Now this cannot be done by the states separately; because they will
not separately pursue the same plan. New Hampshire cannot lay a
given duty on a particular article, unless Massachusetts will do the
same; because it will turn the importation of that article from her
ports into those of Massachusetts, from whence they will be smuggled
into New Hampshire by land. But tho Massachusetts were willing to
concur with N Hampshire in laying the same duty, yet she cannot do
it, for the same reason, unless Rhode island will also, nor can Rhode
island without Connecticut, nor Connecticut without N York, nor N
York without N Jersey, & so on quite to Georgia. It is visible
therefore that the commerce of the states cannot be regulated to the
best advantage but by a single body, and no body so proper as
Congress. Many of the states have agreed to add an article to the
Confederation for allowing to Congress the regulation of their
commerce, only providing that the revenues to be raised on it, shall
belong to the state in which they are levied. Yet it is believed
that Rhode island will prevent this also. An everlasting recurrence
to this same obstacle will occasion a question to be asked. How
happens it that Rhode island is opposed to every useful proposition?
Her geography accounts for it, with the aid of one or two
observations. The cultivators of the earth are the most virtuous
citizens, and possess most of the amor patriae. Merchants are the
least virtuous, and possess the least of the amor patriae. The
latter reside principally in the seaport towns, the former in the
interior country. Now it happened that of the territory constituting
Rhode island & Connecticut, the part containing the seaports was
erected into a state by itself & called Rhode island, & that
containing the interior country was erected into another state called
Connecticut. For tho it has a little seacoast, there are no good
ports in it. Hence it happens that there is scarcely one merchant in
the whole state of Connecticut, while there is not a single man in
Rhode island who is not a merchant of some sort. Their whole
territory is but a thousand square miles, and what of that is in use
is laid out in grass farms almost entirely. Hence they have scarcely
any body employed in agriculture. All exercise some species of
commerce. This circumstance has decided the characters of these two
states. The remedies to this evil are hazardous. One would be to
consolidate the two states into one. Another would be to banish
Rhode island from the union. A third to compel her submission to the
will of the other twelve. A fourth for the other twelve to govern
themselves according to the new propositions and to let Rhode island
go on by herself according to the antient articles. But the dangers
& difficulties attending all these remedies are obvious.
These are the only alterations proposed to the confederation,
and the last of them is the only additional power which Congress is
thought to need.
21. Broils among the states may happen in the following ways:
1. A state may be embroiled with the other twelve by not complying
with the lawful requisitions of Congress. 2. Two states may differ
about their boundaries. But the method of settling these is fixed by
the Confederation, and most of the states which have any differences
of this kind are submitting them to this mode of determination; and
there is no danger of opposition to the decree by any state. The
individuals interested may complain, but this can produce no
difficulty. 3. Other contestations may arise between two states,
such as pecuniary demands, affrays among their citizens, & whatever
else may arise between any two nations. With respect to these, there
are two opinions. One that they are to be decided according to the
9th article of the Confederation, which says that "Congress shall be
the last resort in all differences between two or more states,
concerning boundary jurisdiction, _or any other cause whatever_ ";
and prescribes the mode of decision, and the weight of reason is
undoubtedly in favor of this opinion, yet there are some who question
it.
It has been often said that the decisions of Congress are
impotent because the Confederation provides no compulsory power. But
when two or more nations enter into compact, it is not usual for them
to say what shall be done to the party who infringes it. Decency
forbids this, and it is unnecessary as indecent, because the right of
compulsion naturally results to the party injured by the breach.
When any one state in the American Union refuses obedience to the
Confederation by which they have bound themselves, the rest have a
natural right to compel them to obedience. Congress would probably
exercise long patience before they would recur to force; but if the
case ultimately required it, they would use that recurrence. Should
this case ever arise, they will probably coerce by a naval force, as
being more easy, less dangerous to liberty, & less likely to produce
much bloodshed.
It has been said too that our governments both federal and
particular want energy; that it is difficult to restrain both
individuals & states from committing wrong. This is true, & it is an
inconvenience. On the other hand that energy which absolute
governments derive from an armed force, which is the effect of the
bayonet constantly held at the breast of every citizen, and which
resembles very much the stillness of the grave, must be admitted also
to have it's inconveniences. We weigh the two together, and like
best to submit to the former. Compare the number of wrongs committed
with impunity by citizens among us, with those committed by the
sovereign in other countries, and the last will be found most
numerous, most oppressive on the mind, and most degrading of the
dignity of man.
2. From _Observations on Demeunier's Manuscript_
OBSERVATIONS ON THE ARTICLE ETATS-UNIS
PREPARED FOR THE ENCYCLOPEDIE.
June 22, 1786
1. II. 17. 29. Pa 8. The Malefactors sent to America were not
sufficient in number to merit enumeration as one class out of three
which peopled America. It was at a late period of their history that
this practice began. I have no book by me which enables me to point
out the date of it's commencement. But I do not think the whole
number sent would amount to 2000 & being principally men, eaten up
with disease, they married seldom & propagated little. I do not
suppose that themselves & their descendants are at present 4000,
which is little more than one thousandth part of the whole
inhabitants.
Indented servants formed a considerable supply. These were
poor Europeans who went to America to settle themselves. If they
could pay their passage it was well. If not, they must find means of
paying it. They were at liberty therefore to make an agreement with
any person they chose, to serve him such a length of time as they
agreed on, on condition that he would repay to the master of the
vessel the expenses of their passage. If being foreigners unable to
speak the language, they did not know how to make a bargain for
themselves the captain of the vessel contracted for them with such
persons as he could. This contract was by deed indented, which
occasioned them to be called indented servants. Sometimes they were
called Redemptioners, because by their agreement with the master of
the vessel they could _redeem_ themselves from his power by paying
their passage, which they frequently effected by hiring themselves on
their arrival as is before mentioned. In some states I know that
these people had a right of marrying themselves without their
master's leave, & I did suppose they had that right everywhere. I
did not know that in any of the states they demanded so much as a
week for every day's absence without leave. I suspect this must have
been at a very early period while the governments were in the hands
of the first emigrants, who being mostly labourers, were
narrow-minded and severe. I know that in Virginia the laws allowed
their servitude to be protracted only two days for every one they
were absent without leave. So mild was this kind of servitude, that
it was very frequent for foreigners who carried to America money
enough, not only to pay their passage, but to buy themselves a farm,
it was common I say for them to indent themselves to a master for
three years, for a certain sum of money, with a view to learn the
husbandry of the country. I will here make a general observation.
So desirous are the poor of Europe to get to America, where they may
better their condition, that, being unable to pay their passage, they
will agree to serve two or three years on their arrival there, rather
than not go. During the time of that service they are better fed,
better clothed, and have lighter labour than while in Europe.
Continuing to work for hire a few years longer, they buy a farm,
marry, and enjoy all the sweets of a domestic society of their own.
The American governments are censured for permitting this species of
servitude which lays the foundation of the happiness of these people.
But what should these governments do? Pay the passage of all those
who chuse to go into their country? They are not able; nor, were
they able, do they think the purchase worth the price? Should they
exclude these people from their shores? Those who know their
situations in Europe & America, would not say that this is the
alternative which humanity dictates. It is said that these people
are deceived by those who carry them over. But this is done in
Europe. How can the American governments prevent it? Should they
punish the deceiver? It seems more incumbent on the European
government, where the act is done, and where a public injury is
sustained from it. However it is only in Europe that this deception
is heard of. The individuals are generally satisfied in America with
their adventure, and very few of them wish not to have made it. I
must add that the Congress have nothing to do with this matter. It
belongs to the legislatures of the several states.
Ib. l. 12. "Mal-aise d' indiquer la nuance precise &c." In
forming a scale of crimes & punishments, two considerations have
principal weight. 1. The atrocity of the crime. 2. The peculiar
circumstances of a country which furnish greater temptations to
commit it, or greater facilities for escaping detection. The
punishment must be heavier to counterbalance this. Was the first the
only consideration, all nations would form the same scale. But as
the circumstances of a country have influence on the punishment, and
no two countries exist precisely under the same circumstances, no two
countries will form the same scale of crimes & punishments. For
example in America, the inhabitants let their horses go at large in
the uninclosed lands which are so extensive as to maintain them
altogether. It is easy therefore to steal them & easy to escape.
Therefore the laws are obliged to oppose these temptations with a
heavier degree of punishment. For this reason the stealing of a
horse in America is punished more severely than stealing the same
value in any other form. In Europe where horses are confined so
securely that it is impossible to steal them, that species of theft
need not be punished more severely than any other. In some countries
of Europe, stealing fruit from trees is punished capitally. The
reason is that it being impossible to lock fruit trees up in coffers,
as we do our money, it is impossible to oppose physical bars to this
species of theft. Moral ones are therefore opposed by the laws.
This to an unreflecting American, appears the most enormous of all
the abuses of power; because he has been used to see fruits hanging
in such quantities that if not taken by men they would rot: he has
been used to consider it therefore as of no value, as not furnishing
materials for the commission of a crime. This must serve as an
apology for the arrangements of crimes & punishments in the scale
under our consideration. A different one would be formed here; &
still different ones in Italy, Turkey, China, &c.
Pa. 240. "Les officiers Americains &c." to pa 264. "qui le
meritoient." I would propose to new-model this Section in the
following manner. 1. Give a succinct history of the origin &
establishment of the Cincinnati. 2. Examine whether in its present
form it threatens any dangers to the state. 3. Propose the most
practicable method of preventing them.
Having been in America during the period in which this
institution was formed, and being then in a situation which gave me
opportunities of seeing it in all it's stages, I may venture to give
M. de Meusnier materials for the 1st branch of the preceding
distribution of the subject. The 2d and 3d he will best execute
himself. I should write it's history in the following form.
When, on the close of that war which established the
independance of America, it's army was about to be disbanded, the
officers, who during the course of it had gone thro the most trying
scenes together, who by mutual aids & good offices had become dear to
one another, felt with great oppression of mind the approach of that
moment which was to separate them never perhaps to meet again. They
were from different states & from distant parts of the same state.
Hazard alone could therefore give them but rare & partial occasions
of seeing each other. They were of course to abandon altogether the
hope of ever meeting again, or to devise some occasion which might
bring them together. And why not come together on purpose at stated
times? Would not the trouble of such a journey be greatly overpaid
by the pleasure of seeing each other again, by the sweetest of all
consolations, the talking over the scenes of difficulty & of
endearment they had gone through? This too would enable them to know
who of them should succeed in the world, who should be unsuccessful,
and to open the purses of all to every labouring brother. This idea
was too soothing not to be cherished in conversation. It was
improved into that of a regular association with an organized
administration, with periodical meetings general & particular, fixed
contributions for those who should be in distress, & a badge by which
not only those who had not had occasion to become personally known
should be able to recognize one another, but which should be worn by
their descendants to perpetuate among them the friendships which had
bound their ancestors together. Genl. Washington was at that moment
oppressed with the operation of disbanding an army which was not
paid, and the difficulty of this operation was increased by some two
or three of the states having expressed sentiments which did not
indicate a sufficient attention to their paiment. He was sometimes
present when his officers were fashioning in their conversations
their newly proposed society. He saw the innocence of it's origin, &
foresaw no effects less innocent. He was at that time writing his
valedictory letter to the states, which has been so deservedly
applauded by the world. Far from thinking it a moment to multiply
the causes of irritation, by thwarting a proposition which had
absolutely no other basis but of benevolence & friendship, he was
rather satisfied to find himself aided in his difficulties by this
new incident, which occupied, & --, at the same time soothed the
minds of the officers. He thought too that this institution would be
one instrument the more for strengthening the federal bond, & for
promoting federal ideas. The institution was formed. They
incorporated into it the officers of the French army & navy by whose
sides they had fought, and with whose aid they had finally prevailed,
extending it to such grades as they were told might be permitted to
enter into it. They sent an officer to France to make the
proposition to them & to procure the badges which they had devised
for their order. The moment of disbanding the army having come on
before they could have a full meeting to appoint their president, the
General was prayed to act in that office till their first general
meeting which was to be held at Philadelphia in the month of May
following. The laws of the society were published. Men who read
them in their closets, unwarmed by those sentiments of friendship
which had produced them, inattentive to those pains which an
approaching separation had excited in the minds of the institutors,
Politicians, who see in everything only the dangers with which it
threatens civil society, in fine the labouring people, who, shielded
by equal laws, had never seen any difference between man and man, but
had read of terrible oppressions which people of their description
experience in other countries from those who are distinguished by
titles & badges, began to be alarmed at this new institution. A
remarkable silence however was observed. Their sollicitudes were
long confined within the circles of private conversation. At length
however a Mr. Burke, chief justice of South Carolina, broke that
silence. He wrote against the new institution; foreboding it's
dangers very imperfectly indeed, because he had nothing but his
imagination to aid him. An American could do no more: for to detail
the real evils of aristocracy they must be seen in Europe. Burke's
fears were thought exaggerations in America; while in Europe it is
known that even Mirabeau has but faintly sketched the curses of
hereditary aristocracy as they are experienced here, and as they
would have followed in America had this institution remained. The
epigraph of Burke's pamphlet was "Blow ye the trumpet in Zion." It's
effect corresponded with it's epigraph. This institution became
first the subject of general conversation. Next it was made the
subject of deliberation in the legislative assemblies of some of the
States. The governor of South Carolina censured it in an address to
his Assembly. The assemblies of Massachusetts, Rhode island and
Pennsylvania condemned it's principles. No circumstance indeed
brought the consideration of it expressly before Congress, yet it had
sunk deep into their minds. An offer having been made to them on the
part of the Polish order of divine providence to receive some of
their distinguished citizens into that order, they made that an
occasion to declare that these distinctions were contrary to the
principles of their confederation. The uneasiness excited by this
institution had very early caught the notice of General Washington.
Still recollecting all the purity of the motives which gave it birth,
he became sensible that it might produce political evils which the
warmth of these motives had masked. Add to this that it was
disapproved by the mass of citizens of the Union. This alone was
reason strong enough in a country where the will of the majority is
the law, & ought to be the law. He saw that the objects of the
institution were too light to be opposed to considerations as serious
as these; and that it was become necessary to annihilate it
absolutely. On this therefore he was decided. The first annual
meeting at Philadelphia was now at hand. He went to that, determined
to exert all his influence for it's suppression. He proposed it to
his fellow officers, and urged it with all his powers. It met an
opposition which was observed to cloud his face with an anxiety that
the most distressful scenes of the war had scarcely ever produced.
It was canvassed for several days, & at length it was no more a doubt
what would be it's ultimate fate. The order was on the point of
receiving it's annihilation by the vote of a very great majority of
it's members. In this moment their envoy arrived from France,
charged with letters from the French officers accepting with
cordiality the proposed badges of union, with sollicitations from
others to be received into the order, & with notice that their
respectable sovereign had been pleased to recognize it, & permit his
officers to wear it's badges. The prospect now changed. The
question assumed a new form. After the offer made by them, &
accepted by their friends, in what words could they clothe a
proposition to retract it which would not cover themselves with the
reproaches of levity & ingratitude? which would not appear an insult
to those whom they loved? Federal principles, popular discontent,
were considerations whose weight was known & felt by themselves. But
would foreigners know & feel them equally? Would they so far
acknowledge their cogency as to permit without any indignation the
eagle & ribbon to be torn from their breasts by the very hands which
had placed them there? The idea revolted the whole society. They
found it necessary then to preserve so much of their institution as
might continue to support this foreign branch, while they should
prune off every other which would give offence to their fellow
citizens; thus sacrificing on each hand to their friends & to their
country. The society was to retain it's existence, it's name, it's
meetings, & it's charitable funds: but these last were to be
deposited with their respective legislatures; the order was to be no
longer hereditary; a reformation which had been pressed even from
this side of the Atlantic; it was to be communicated to no new
members; the general meetings instead of annual were to be triennial
only. The eagle & ribbon indeed were retained; because they were
worn, & they wished them to be worn, by their friends who were in a
country where they would not be objects of offence; but themselves
never wore them. They laid them up in their bureaus with the medals
of American Independance, with those of the trophies they had taken &
the battles they had won. But through all the United States no
officer is seen to offend the public eye with the display of this
badge. These changes have tranquillized the American states. Their
citizens do justice to the circumstances which prevented a total
annihilation of the order. They feel too much interest in the
reputation of their officers, and value too much whatever may serve
to recall to the memory of their allies the moments wherein they
formed but one people. Tho they are obliged by a prudent foresight
to keep out everything from among themselves which might pretend to
divide them into orders, and to degrade one description of men below
another, yet they hear with pleasure that their allies whom
circumstances have already placed under these distinctions, are
willing to consider it as one to have aided them in the establishment
of their liberties & to wear a badge which may recall to their
remembrance; and it would be an extreme affliction to them if the
domestic reformation which has been found necessary, if the censures
of individual writers, or if any other circumstance should discourage
the wearing their badge, or lessen it's reputation.
This short but true history of the order of the Cincinnati,
taken from the mouths of persons on the spot who were privy to it's
origin & progress, & who knew it's present state, is the best apology
which can be made for an institution which appeared to be, & was
really, so heterogeneous to the governments in which it was erected.
It should be further considered that, in America, no other
distinction between man & man had ever been known, but that of
persons in office exercising powers by authority of the laws, and
private individuals. Among these last the poorest labourer stood on
equal ground with the wealthiest millionnaire, & generally on a more
favoured one whenever their rights seem to jar. It has been seen
that a shoemaker, or other artisan, removed by the voice of his
country from his work bench into a chair of office, has instantly
commanded all the respect and obedience which the laws ascribe to his
office. But of distinction by birth or badge they had no more idea
than they had of the mode of existence in the moon or planets. They
had heard only that there were such, & knew that they must be wrong.
A due horror of the evils which flow from these distinctions could be
excited in Europe only, where the dignity of man is lost in arbitrary
distinctions, where the human species is classed into several stages
of degradation, where the many are crushed under the weight of the
few, & where the order established can present to the contemplation
of a thinking being no other picture than that of God almighty & his
angels trampling under foot the hosts of the damned. No wonder then
that the institution of the Cincinnati should be innocently conceived
by one order of American citizens, could raise in the other orders
only a slow, temperate, & rational opposition, and could be viewed in
Europe as a detestable parricide.
The 2d & 3d branches of this subject, no body can better
execute than M. de. Meusnier. Perhaps it may be curious to him to
see how they strike an American mind at present. He shall therefore
have the ideas of one who was an enemy to the institution from the
first moment of it's conception, but who was always sensible that the
officers neither foresaw, nor intended the injury they were doing to
their country.
As to the question then, whether any evil can proceed from the
institution as it stands at present, I am of opinion there may. 1.
From the meetings. These will keep the officers formed into a body;
will continue a distinction between the civil & military which it
would be for the good of the whole to obliterate as soon as possible;
& the military assemblies will not only keep alive the jealousies &
the fears of the civil government, but give ground for these fears &
jealousies. For when men meet together, they will make business if
they have none; they will collate their grievances, some real, some
imaginary, all highly painted; they will communicate to each other
the sparks of discontent; & this may engender a flame which will
consume their particular, as well as the general, happiness. 2. The
charitable part of the institution is still more likely to do
mischief, as it perpetuates the dangers apprehended in the preceding
clause. For here is a fund provided of permanent existence. To whom
will it belong? To the descendants of American officers of a certain
description. These descendants then will form a body, having
sufficient interest to keep up an attention to their description, to
continue meetings, & perhaps, in some moment, when the political eye
shall be slumbering, or the firmness of their fellow-citizens
realized, to replace the insignia of the order & revive all its
pretensions. What good can the officers propose which may weigh
against these possible evils? The securing their descendants against
want? Why afraid to trust them to the same fertile soil, & the same
genial climate which will secure from want the descendants of their
other fellow citizens? Are they afraid they will be reduced to
labour the earth for their sustenance? They will be rendered thereby
both honester and happier. An industrious farmer occupies a more
dignified place in the scale of beings, whether moral or political,
than a lazy lounger, valuing himself on his family, too proud to
work, & drawing out a miserable existence by eating on that surplus
of other men's labour which is the sacred fund of the helpless poor.
A pitiful annuity will only prevent them from exerting that industry
& those talents which would soon lead them to better fortune.
How are these evils to be prevented? 1. At their first general
meeting let them distribute the funds on hand to the existing objects
of their destination, & discontinue all further contributions. 2.
Let them declare at the same time that their meetings general &
particular shall henceforth cease. 3. Let them melt up their eagles
& add the mass to the distributable fund that their descendants may
have no temptation to hang them in their button holes.
These reflections are not proposed as worthy the notice of M.
de Meusnier. He will be so good as to treat the subject in his own
way, & no body has a better. I will only pray him to avail us of his
forcible manner to evince that there is evil to be apprehended even
from the ashes of this institution, & to exhort the society in
America to make their reformation complete; bearing in mind that we
must keep the passions of men on our side even when we are persuading
them to do what they ought to do.
Pa. 272. "Comportera peut etre une population de thirty
millions."
The territories of the United States contain about a million of
square miles, English. There is in them a greater proportion of
fertile lands than in the British dominions in Europe. Suppose the
territory of the U.S. then to attain an equal degree of population
with the British European dominions, they will have an hundred
millions of inhabitants. Let us extend our views to what may be the
population of the two continents of North & South America supposing
them divided at the narrowest part of the isthmus of Panama. Between
this line and that of 50 degrees of north latitude the northern
continent contains about 5 millions of square miles, and South of
this line of division the Southern continent contains about 7
millions of square miles. I do not pass the 50th degree of northern
latitude in my reckoning, because we must draw a line somewhere, &
considering the soil & climate beyond that, I would only avail my
calculation of it, as a make weight, to make good what the colder
regions within that line may be supposed to fall short in their
future population. Here are 12 millions of square miles then, which
at the rate of population before assumed, will nourish 1200 millions
of inhabitants, a number greater than the present population of the
whole globe is supposed to amount to. If those who propose medals
for the resolution of questions, about which nobody makes any
question, those who have invited discussions on the pretended problem
Whether the discovery of America was for the good of mankind? if
they, I say, would have viewed it only as doubling the numbers of
mankind, & of course the quantum of existence & happiness, they might
have saved the money & the reputation which their proposition has
cost them. The present population of the inhabited parts of the U.S.
is of about 10. to the square mile; & experience has shown us, that
wherever we reach that the inhabitants become uneasy, as too much
compressed, and go off in great numbers to search for vacant country.
Within 40 years the whole territory will be peopled at that rate. We
may fix that then as the term beyond which the people of those states
will not be restrained within their present limits; we may fix it too
as the term of population, which they will not exceed till the whole
of those two continents are filled up to that mark, that is to say,
till they shall contain 120 millions of inhabitants. The soil of the
country on the western side of the Mississippi, it's climate, & it's
vicinity to the U.S. point it out as the first which will receive
population from that nest. The present occupiers will just have
force enough to repress & restrain the emigrations to a certain
degree of consistence. We have seen lately a single person go &
decide on a settlement in Kentucky, many hundred miles from any white
inhabitant, remove thither with his family and a few neighbors, &
though perpetually harassed by the Indians, that settlement in the
course of 10 years has acquired 30.000 inhabitants, it's numbers are
increasing while we are writing, and the state of which it formerly
made a part has offered it independance.
3. To Jean Nicolas Demeunier
June 26, 1786
Mr. Jefferson presents his compliments to M. de Meusnier &
sends him copies of the 13th, 23d, & 24th articles of the treaty
between the K. of Prussia & the United States.
In the negociation with the Minister of Portugal at London, the
latter objected to the 13th article. The observations which were
made in answer to his objections Mr. Jefferson incloses. They are a
commentary on the 13th article. Mr. de Meusnier will be so good as
to return the sheet on which these observations are as Mr. Jefferson
does not retain a copy of it.
If M. de Meusnier proposes to mention the facts of cruelty of
which he & Mr. Jefferson spoke yesterday, the 24th article will
introduce them properly, because they produced a sense of the
necessity of that article. These facts are 1. The death of upwards
of 11,000 Americans in one prison ship (the Jersey) and in the space
of 3. years. 2. General Howe's permitting our prisoners taken at the
battle of Germantown and placed under a guard in the yard of the
Statehouse of Philadelphia to be so long without any food furnished
them that many perished with hunger. Where the bodies laid, it was
seen that they had eaten all the grass round them within their reach,
after they had lost the power of rising, or moving from their place.
3. The 2d fact was the act of a commandg officer; the 1st of several
commanding officers, & for so long a time as must suppose the
approbation of government. But the following was the act of
government itself. During the periods that our affairs seemed
unfavourable & theirs successful, that is to say, after the
evacuation of New York, and again after the taking of Charlestown in
South Carolina, they regularly sent our prisoners taken on the seas &
carried to England to the E. Indies. This is so certain, that in the
month of Novemb. or Decemb. 1785, Mr. Adams having officially
demanded a delivery of the American prisoners sent to the East
Indies, Ld. Caermarthen answered officially "that orders were issued
immediately for their discharge." M. de Meusnier is at liberty to
quote this fact. 4. A fact not only of the government, but of the
parliament, who passed an act for that purpose in the beginning of
the war, was the obliging our prisoners taken at sea to join them and
fight against their countrymen. This they effected by starving &
whipping them. The insult on Capt. Stanhope, which happened at
Boston last year, was a consequence of this. Two persons, Dunbar &
Lorthrope, whom Stanhope had treated in this manner (having
particularly inflicted 24 lashes on Dunbar), meeting him at Boston,
attempted to beat him. But the people interposed & saved him. The
fact is referred to in that paragraph of the declaration of
independance which sais "he has constrained our fellow citizens taken
captive on the high seas, to bear arms against their country, to
become the executioners of their friends & brethren, or to fall
themselves by their hands." This was the most afflicting to our
prisoners of all the cruelties exercised on them. The others
affected the body only, but this the mind -- they were haunted by the
horror of having perhaps themselves shot the ball by which a father
or a brother fell. Some of them had constancy enough to hold out
against half allowance of food & repeated whippings. These were
generally sent to England & from thence to the East Indies. One of
these escaped from the East Indies and got back to Paris, where he
gave an account of his sufferings to Mr. Adams, who happened to be
then at Paris.
M. de Meusnier, where he mentions that the slave-law has been
passed in Virginia, without the clause of emancipation, is pleased to
mention that neither Mr. Wythe nor Mr. Jefferson were present to make
the proposition they had meditated; from which people, who do not
give themselves the trouble to reflect or enquire, might conclude
hastily that their absence was the cause why the proposition was not
made; & of course that there were not in the assembly persons of
virtue & firmness enough to propose the clause for emancipation.
This supposition would not be true. There were persons there who
wanted neither the virtue to propose, nor talents to enforce the
proposition had they seen that the disposition of the legislature was
ripe for it. These worthy characters would feel themselves wounded,
degraded, & discouraged by this idea. Mr. Jefferson would therefore
be obliged to M. de Meusnier to mention it in some such manner as
this. "Of the two commissioners who had concerted the amendatory
clause for the gradual emancipation of slaves Mr. Wythe could not be
present as being a member of the judiciary department, and Mr.
Jefferson was absent on the legation to France. But there wanted not
in that assembly men of virtue enough to propose, & talents to
vindicate this clause. But they saw that the moment of doing it with
success was not yet arrived, and that an unsuccessful effort, as too
often happens, would only rivet still closer the chains of bondage,
and retard the moment of delivery to this oppressed description of
men. What a stupendous, what an incomprehensible machine is man! who
can endure toil, famine, stripes, imprisonment & death itself in
vindication of his own liberty, and the next moment be deaf to all
those motives whose power supported him thro' his trial, and inflict
on his fellow men a bondage, one hour of which is fraught with more
misery than ages of that which he rose in rebellion to oppose. But
we must await with patience the workings of an overruling providence,
& hope that that is preparing the deliverance of these, our suffering
brethren. When the measure of their tears shall be full, when their
groans shall have involved heaven itself in darkness, doubtless a god
of justice will awaken to their distress, and by diffusing light &
liberality among their oppressors, or at length by his exterminating
thunder, manifest his attention to the things of this world, and that
they are not left to the guidance of a blind fatality."
_Thoughts on English Prosody_
TO CHASTELLUX
October 1786
Among the topics of conversation which stole off like so many
minutes the few hours I had the happiness of possessing you at
Monticello, the measures of English verse was one. I thought it
depended like Greek and Latin verse, on long and short syllables
arranged into regular feet. You were of a different opinion. I did
not pursue this subject after your departure, because it always
presented itself with the painful recollection of a pleasure which in
all human probability I was never to enjoy again. This probability
like other human calculations has been set aside by events; and we
have again discussed on this side the Atlantic a subject which had
occupied us during some pleasing moments on the other. A daily habit
of walking in the Bois de Boulogne gave me an opportunity of turning
this subject in my mind and I determined to present you my thoughts
on it in the form of a letter. I for some time parried the
difficulties which assailed me, but at length I found they were not
to be opposed, and their triumph was complete. Error is the stuff of
which the web of life is woven and he who lives longest and wisest is
only able to weave out the more of it. I began with the design of
converting you to my opinion that the arrangement of long and short
syllables into regular feet constituted the harmony of English verse.
I ended by discovering that you were right in denying that
proposition. The next object was to find out the real circumstance
which gives harmony to English poetry and laws to those who make it.
I present you with the result. It is a tribute due to your
friendship. It is due you also as having recalled me from an error
in my native tongue and that, too, in a point the most difficult of
all others to a foreigner, the law of its poetical numbers.
_Thoughts on English Prosody_
Every one knows the difference between verse and prose in his
native language; nor does he need the aid of prosody to enable him to
read or to repeat verse according to its just rhythm. It is the
business of the poet so to arrange his words as that, repeated in
their accustomed measures they shall strike the ear with that regular
rhythm which constitutes verse.
It is for foreigners principally that Prosody is necessary; not
knowing the accustomed measures of words, they require the aid of
rules to teach them those measures and to enable them to read verse
so as to make themselves or others sensible of its music. I suppose
that the system of rules or exceptions which constitutes Greek and
Latin prosody, as shown with us, was unknown to those nations, and
that it has been invented by the moderns to whom those languages were
foreign. I do not mean to affirm this, however, because you have not
searched into the history of this art, nor am I at present in a
situation which admits of that search. By industrious examination of
the Greek and Latin verse it has been found that pronouncing certain
combinations of vowels and consonants long, and certain others short,
the actual arrangement of those long and short syllables, as found in
their verse, constitutes a rhythm which is regular and pleasing to
the ear, and that pronouncing them with any other measures, the run
is unpleasing, and ceases to produce the effect of the verse. Hence
it is concluded and rationally enough that the Greeks and Romans
pronounced those syllables long or short in reading their verse; and
as we observe in modern languages that the syllables of words have
the same measures both in verse and prose, we ought to conclude that
they had the same also in those ancient languages, and that we must
lengthen or shorten in their prose the same syllables which we
lengthen or shorten in their verse. Thus, if I meet with the word
_praeteritos_ in Latin prose and want to know how the Romans
pronounced it, I search for it in some poet and find it in the line
of Virgil, _"O mihi praeteritos referat si Jupiter annos!:"_ where it
is evident that _prae_ is long and _te_ short in direct opposition to
the pronunciation which we often hear. The length allowed to a
syllable is called its quantity, and hence we say that the Greek and
Latin languages are to be pronounced according to quantity.
Those who have undertaken to frame a prosody for the English
language have taken quantity for their basis and have mounted the
English poetry on Greek and Latin feet. If this foundation admits of
no question, the prosody of Doctor Johnson, built upon it, is perhaps
the best. He comprehends under three different feet every
combination of long and short syllables which he supposes can be
found in English verse, to wit: 1. a long and a short, which is the
trochee of the Greeks and Romans; 2. a short and a long, which is
their iambus; and 3. two short and a long, which is their anapest.
And he thinks that all English verse may be resolved into these feet.
It is true that in the English language some one syllable of a
word is always sensibly distinguished from the others by an emphasis
of pronunciation or by an accent as we call it. But I am not
satisfied whether this accented syllable be pronounced longer,
louder, or harder, and the others shorter, lower, or softer. I have
found the nicest ears divided on the question. Thus in the word
_calenture_, nobody will deny that the first syllable is pronounced
more emphatically than the others; but many will deny that it is
longer in pronunciation. In the second of the following verses of
Pope, I think there are but two short syllables.
Oh! be thou bless'd with all that Heav'n can send
Long health, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend.
Innumerable instances like this might be produced. It seems,
therefore, too much to take for the basis of a system a postulatum
which one-half of mankind will deny. But the superstructure of
Doctor Johnson's prosody may still be supported by substituting for
its basis accent instead of quantity; and nobody will deny us the
existence of accent.
In every word of more than one syllable there is some one
syllable strongly distinguishable in pronunciation by its emphasis or
accent.
If a word has more than two syllables it generally admits of a
subordinate emphasis or accent on the alternate syllables counting
backwards and forwards from the principal one, as in this verse of
Milton:
Well if thrown out as supernumerary,
where the principal accent is on _nu_, but there is a lighter
one on _su_ and _ra_ also. There are some few instances indeed
wherein the subordinate accent is differently arranged, as
_parisyllabic_, _Constantinople_. It is difficult, therefore, to
introduce words of this kind into verse.
That the accent shall never be displaced from the syllable
whereon usage hath established it is the fundamental law of English
verse.
There are but three arrangements into which these accents can
be thrown in the English language which entitled the composition to
be distinguished by the name of verse. That is, 1. Where the accent
falls on all the odd syllables; 2. Where it falls on all the even
syllables; 3. When it falls on every third syllable. If the reason
of this be asked, no other can be assigned but that it results from
the nature of the sounds which compose the English language and from
the construction of the human ear. So, in the infinite gradations of
sounds from the lowest to the highest in the musical scale, those
only give pleasure to the ear which are at the intervals we call
whole tones and semitones. The reason is that it has pleased God to
make us so. The English poet then must so arrange his words that
their established accents shall fall regularly in one of these three
orders. To aid him in this he has at his command the whole army of
monosyllables which in the English language is a very numerous one.
These he may accent or not, as he pleases. Thus is this verse:
'Tis just resentment and becomes the brave.
-- POPE
the monosyllable _and_ standing between two unaccented
syllables catches the accent and supports the measure. The same
monosyllable serves to fill the interval between two accents in the
following instance:
From use obscure and subtle, but to know.
--- MILTON
The monosyllables _with_ and _in_ receive the accent in one of
the following instances and suffer it to pass over them in the other.
The tempted _with_ dishonor foul, supposed.
-- MILTON
Attempt _with_ confidence, the work is done.
-- HOPKINS
Which must be mutual _in_ proportion due.
-- MILTON
Too much of ornament _in_ outward shew.
-- MILTON
The following lines afford other proofs of this license.
Yet, yet, I love -- from Abelard it came.
-- POPE
Flow, flow, my stream this devious way.
-- SHENSTONE
The Greeks and Romans in like manner had a number of syllables
which might in any situation be pronounced long or short without
offending the ear. They had others which they could make long or
short by changing their position. These were of great avail to the
poets. The following is an example:
{Pollakis o polyphame, ta / me kala / kala pe / phanlai.}
-- THEOCRITUS
{'Ages, 'Ages Brotoloige, miai phone tei chesipleta.}
-- HOM. IL.
{Metsa de tem' che theoisi, to / nd metron / estin agison.}
-- PHOCYL
where the word Ages, being used twice, the first syllable is
long in the first and short in the second instance, and the second is
short in the first and long in the second instance.
But though the poets have great authority over the
monosyllables, yet it is not altogether absolute. The following is a
proof of this:
Through the dark postern of time long elaps'd.
-- YOUNG
It is impossible to read this without throwing the accent on
the monosyllable _of_ and yet the ear is shocked and revolts at this.
That species of our verse wherein the accent falls on all the
odd syllables, I shall call, from that circumstance, odd or
imparisyllabic verse. It is what has been heretofore called trochaic
verse. To the foot which composes it, it will still be convenient
and most intelligible to retain the ancient name of Trochee, only
remembering that by that term we do not mean a long and a short
syllable, but an accented and unac-cented one.
That verse wherein the accent is on the even syllables may be
called even or parisyllabic verse, and corresponds with what has been
called iambic verse; retaining the term iambus for the name of the
foot we shall thereby mean an unaccented and an accented syllable.
That verse wherein the accent falls on every third syllable,
may be called trisyllabic verse; it is equivalent to what has been
called anapestic; and we will still use the term anapest to express
two unaccented and one accented syllable.
Accent then is, I think, the basis of English verse; and it
leads us to the same threefold distribution of it to which the
hypothesis of _quantity_ had led Dr. Johnson. While it preserves to
us the simplicity of his classification it relieves us from the
doubtfulness, if not the error, on which it was founded.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE THREE MEASURES.
Wherever a verse should regularly begin or end with an accented
syllable, that unaccented syllable may be suppressed.
Bred on plains, or born in valleys,
Who would bid those scenes adieu?
Stranger to the arts of malice,
Who would ever courts pursue?
-- SHENSTONE
Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!
Confusion on thy banners wait;
Though, fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,
They mock the air with idle state.
Helm, nor haulberk's twisted mail,
Nor ev'n thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
To save thy secret soul from nightly fears.
From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!
-- GRAY
*Ye Shep* / herds! give ear / to my lay,
*And take* no more heed of my sheep;
They have nothing to do but to stray;
I have nothing to do but to weep.
-- SHENSTONE
In the first example the unaccented syllable with which the
imparisyllabic (odd) verse should end is omitted in the second and
fourth lines. In the second example the unaccented syllable with
which the parisyllabic (even) verse should begin is omitted in the
first and fifth lines. In the third instance one of the unaccented
syllables with which the trisyllabic (triple) verse should begin, is
omitted in the first and second lines and in the first of the
following line both are omitted:
Under this marble, or under this sill
Or under this turf, or e'en what you will
Lies one who ne'er car'd, and still cares not a pin
What they said, or may say, of the mortal within;
But who, living or dying, serene still and free,
Trusts in God that as well as he was he shall be.
-- POPE
An accented syllable may be prefixed to a verse which should
regularly begin with an accent and added to one which should end with
an accent, thus:
1. Dauntless on his native sands
*The* dragon-son of Mona stands;
*In* glittering arms and glory drest,
High he rears his ruby crest.
There the thundering strokes begin,
There the press, and there the din;
Talymalfra's rocky shore
-- GRAY
Again:
There Confusion, Terror's child,
Conflict fierce, and Ruin wild,
Agony, that pants for breath,
Despair, and honorable death.
-- GRAY
2. What is this world? thy school Oh! misery!
Our only lesson is to learn to suffer;
And he who knows not that, was born for no*thing*.
My comfort is each moment takes away
A grain at least from the dead load that's on *me*
And gives a nearer prospect of the grave.
-- YOUNG
3. Says Richard to Thomas (and seem'd half afraid),
"I'm thinking to marry thy mistress's maid;
Now, because Mrs. Lucy to thee is well known,
I will do't if thou bidst me, or let it alone."
Said Thomas to Richard, "To speak my opin*ion*,
There is not such a bitch in King George's domin*ion*;
And I firmly believe, if thou knew'st her as I *do*,
Thou wouldst choose out a whipping-post first to be tied *to*.
She's peevish, she's thievish, she's ugly, she's old,
And a liar, and a fool, and a slut, and a scold."
Next day Richard hasten'd to church and was wed,
And ere night had inform'd her what Thomas had said.
-- SHENSTONE
An accented syllable can never be either omitted or added
without changing the character of the verse. In fact it is the
number of accented syllables which determines the length of the
verse. That is to say, the number of feet of which it consists.
Imparisyllabic verse being made up of Trochees should regularly
end with an unaccented syllable; and in that case if it be in rhyme
both syllables of the foot must be rhymed. But most frequently the
unaccented syllable is omitted according to the license before
mentioned and then it suffices to rhyme the accented one. The
following is given as a specimen of this kind of verse.
Shepherd, wouldst thou here obtain
Pleasure unalloy'd with pain?
Joy that suits the rural sphere?
Gentle shepherd, lend an ear.
Learn to relish calm delight
Verdant vales and fountains bright;
Trees that nod o'er sloping hills,
Caves that echo tinkling rills.
If thou canst no charm disclose
In the simplest bud that blows;
Go, forsake thy plain and fold;
Join the crowd, and toil for gold.
Tranquil pleasures never cloy;
Banish each tumultuous joy;
All but love -- for love inspires
Fonder wishes, warmer fires
See, to sweeten thy repose,
The blossom buds, the fountain flows;
Lo! to crown thy healthful board,
All that milk and fruits afford.
Seek no more -- the rest is vain;
Pleasure ending soon in pain:
Anguish lightly gilded o'er;
Close thy wish, and seek no more.
-- SHENSTONE
Parisyllabic verse should regularly be composed of all
iambuses; that is to say, all its even syllables should be accented.
Yet it is very common for the first foot of the line to be a trochee
as in this verse:
Ye who e'er lost an angel, pity me!
Sometimes a trochee is found in the midst of this verse. But
this is extremely rare indeed. The following, however, are instances
of it taken from Milton.
To do ought good _never_ will be our task
Behests obey, _worthiest_ to be obeyed.
Than self-esteem, _grounded_ on just and right
Leans the huge elephant the _wisest_ of brutes!
In these instances it has not a good effect, but in the
following it has:
This hand is mine -- _oh! what_ a hand is here!
So soft, souls sink into it and are lost.
When this trochee is placed at the beginning of a verse, if it
be not too often repeated it produces a variety in the measure which
is pleasing. The following is a specimen of the parisyllabic verse,
wherein the instances of this trochee beginning the verse are noted:
_Pity_ the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door.
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span;
_Oh! give_ relief, and Heaven will bless your store.
These tattered clothes my poverty bespeak,
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years
And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek
Has been the channel to a flood of tears.
Yon house, erected on the rising ground,
With tempting aspect, drew me from my road;
For plenty there a residence has found,
And grandeur a magnificent abode.
_Hard is_ the fate of the infirm and poor!
Here, as I craved a morsel of their bread,
A pamper'd menial drove me from the door,
To seek a shelter in an humbler shed.
_Oh! take_ me to your hospitable dome;
_Keen blows_ the wind, and piercing is the cold;
_Short is_ my passage to the friendly tomb,
For I am poor, and miserably old.
*Heaven sends* misfortunes; why should we repine!
Tis Heaven has brought me to the state you see;
And your condition may be soon like mine,
The child of sorrow and of misery.
-- MOSS
Trisyllabic verse consists altogether of anapests, that is, of
feet made up of two unaccented and one accented syllable; and it does
not admit a mixture of any other feet. The following is a specimen
of this kind of verse:
I have found out a gift for my fair;
I have found where the wood-pigeons breed;
But let me that plunder forbear,
She will say 'twas a barbarous deed:
For he ne'er could be true, she averr'd,
Who could rob a poor bird of its young;
And I loved her the more when I heard
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.
-- SHENSTONE
The following are instances of an iambus in an anapestic verse:
Or under this turf, or ev'n what they will.
-- POPE
It never was known that circular letters.
-- SWIFT
They are extremely rare and are deformities, which cannot be
admitted to belong to the verse, notwithstanding the authority of the
writers from whom they are quoted. Indeed, the pieces from which
they are taken are merely pieces of sport on which they did not mean
to rest their poetical merit.
But to what class shall we give the following species of verse?
"God save great Washington." It is triple verse, but the accent is on
the first syllable of the foot instead of the third. Is this an
attempt at dactylian verse? or shall we consider it still as
anapestic, wherein either the two unaccented syllables which should
begin the verse are omitted; or else the two which should end it are,
in reciting, transposed to the next verse to complete the first
anapest of that, as in Virgil in the following instance, the last
syllable of the line belongs to the next, being amalgamated with that
into one.
I am not able to recollect another instance of this kind of
verse and a single example cannot form a class. It is not worth
while, therefore, to provide a foreigner with a critical
investigation of its character.
OF ELISION.
The vowels only suffer elision except that "v" is also omitted
in the word over and "w" in will, "h" in have. This is actually made
in most cases, as it was with the Greeks. Sometimes, however, it is
neglected to be done, and in those cases the reader must make it for
himself, as in the following examples:
Thou yet _mightest_ act the friendly part
And lass _unnoticed_ from malignant right
And _fallen_ to save his injur'd land
Impatient for _it is_ past the promis'd hour.
He _also against_ the house of God was bold
Anguish and doubt and fear and sorr_ow_ _and_ pain
Of Phlegma with _the_ _he_roic race was joined
Damasco, or Maroc_co_, _or_ Trebisond
All her _original_ brightness, nor appear'd
_Open or_ understood must be resolv'd.
OF SYNECPHONESIS.
Diphthongs are considered as forming one syllable. But vowels
belonging to different syllables are sometimes forced to coalesce
into a diphthong if the measure requires it. Nor is this coalescence
prevented by the intervention of an "h," a "w" or a liquid. In this
case the two syllables are run into one another with such rapidity as
to take but the time of one.
The following are examples:
And wish th_e_ _a_venging fight
B_e_ _i_t so, for I submit, his doom is fair.
When wint'ry winds deform the plent_eo_us year
Droop'd their fair leaves, nor knew th_e_ _u_nfriendly soil
The rad_ia_nt morn resumed her orient pride
While born to bring the Muse's happ_ie_r days
A patr_io_t's hand protects a poet's lays
Ye midnight lamps, ye cur_iou_s homes
That eagle gen_iu_s! had he let fall --
Fair fancy wept; and ech_oi_ng sighs confest
The sounding forest fluct_ua_tes in the storm
Thy greatest infl_ue_nce own
Iss_ue_ing from out the portals of the morn
What groves nor streams bestow a virt_uou_s mind
With man_y_ _a_ proof of recollected love.
With kind concern our pit_yi_ng eyes o'erflow
Lies yet a little embr_yo_ unperceiv'd --
Now Marg_are_t's curse is fall'n upon our heads
And ev_en_ _a_ Shakespeare to her fame be born
When min_era_l fountains vainly bear
O how self-fettered was my grov_eli_ng soul!
To ev_ery_ sod which wraps the dead
And beam protection on a wand_eri_ng maid
Him or his children, ev_il_ _he_ may be sure
Love unlibid_inou_s resigned, nor jealousy
And left t_o_ _he_rself, if evil thence ensue.
Big swell'd my heart and own'd the p_owe_rful maid
Proceeding, runs low bell_owi_ng round the hills
Thy cherishing, thy hon_ouri_ng, and thy love
With all its shad_owy_ shapes is shown
The shepherd's so civil y_ou_ _ha_ve nothing to fear.
The elision of a vowel is often actually made where the
coalescence before noted be more musical. Perhaps a vowel should
never suffer elision when it is followed by a vowel or where only an
"h," a "w" or a liquid intervenes between that and a next vowel, or
in other words there should never be an elision where synecphonesis
may take place. Consider the following instances:
Full of the dear ecstatic pow'r, and sick
Dare not th' infectious sigh; thy pleading look
While ev'ning draws her crimson curtains round
And fright the tim'rous game
Fills ev'ry nerve, and pants in ev'ry vein.
Full of the dear ecstatic power, and sick
Dare not the infectious sigh; thy pleading look
While evening draws her crimson curtains round
And fright the timorous game
Fills every nerve, and pants in every vein.
The pronunciation in these instances with the actual elision is
less agreeable to my ear than by synecphonesis.
OF RULES FOR THE ACCENT.
Accent deciding the measure of English verse as quantity does
that of the Latin, and rules having been formed for teaching the
quantity of the Latins it would be expected that rules should also be
offered for indicating to foreigners the accented syllable of every
word in English. Such rules have been attempted. Were they to be so
completely formed as that the rules and their necessary exceptions
would reach every word in the language, they would be too great a
charge on the memory and too complicated for use either in reading or
conversation. In the imperfect manner in which they have been
hitherto proposed they would lead into infinite errors. It is usage
which has established the accent of every word, or rather I might say
it has been caprice or chance, for nothing can be more arbitrary or
less consistent. I am of opinion it is easier for a foreigner to
learn the accent of every word individually, than the rules which
would teach it. This his dictionary will teach him, if, when he
recurs to it for the meaning of a word, he will recollect that he
should notice also on which syllable is its accent. Or he may learn
the accent by reading poetry, which differs our language from Greek
and Latin, wherein you must learn their prosody in order to read
their poetry. Knowing that with us the accent is on every odd
syllable or on every even one or on every third, he has only to
examine of which of these measures the verse is to be able to read it
correctly. But how shall he distinguish the measure to which the
verse belongs?
If he can find in the piece any one word the accent of which he
already knows, that word will enable him to distinguish if it be
parisyllabic or imparisyllabic. Let us suppose, for example, he
would read the following piece:
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a _sweeter_ sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall a while repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there!
-- COLLINS
He finds the word _sweeter_, the accent of which he has already
learned to be on the first syllable, sweet. He observes that that is
an even syllable, being the sixth of the line. He knows then that it
is parisyllabic verse and from that he can accent the whole piece.
If he does not already know the accent of a single word he must look
in his dictionary for some one, and that will be a key to the whole
piece. He should take care not to rely on the first foot of any
line, because, as has been before observed, that is often a trochee
even in the parisyllabic verse. Without consulting his dictionary at
all, or knowing a single accent, the following observation will
enable him to distinguish between these two species of verse when
they are in rhyme. An odd number of syllables with a single rhyme,
or an even number with a double rhyme, prove the verse to be
imparisyllabic. An even number of syllables with a single rhyme, or
an odd number with a double one, prove it to be parisyllabic, _e_.
_g_.:
Learn by this unguarded lover
When your secret sighs prevail
Not to let your tongue discover
Raptures that you should conceal.
-- CUNNINGHAM
He sung and hell consented
To hear the poet's prayer
Stern Proserpine relented
And gave him back the fair.
-- POPE
If in thus examining the seat of the accent he finds it is
alternately on an odd and an even syllable, that is to say, on the
third, sixth, ninth, twelfth syllables, the verse is trisyllabic.
With her how I stray'd amid fountains and bowers!
Or loiter'd behind, and collected the flowers!
Then breathless with arduor my fair one pursued,
And to think with what kindness my garland she view'd!
But be still, my fond heart! this emotion give o'er;
Fain wouldst thou forget thou must love her no more.
-- SHENSTONE
It must be stated that in this kind of verse we should count
backward from the last syllable, if it be a single rhyme, or the last
but one if it be double; because one of the unaccented syllables
which should begin the verse is so often omitted. This last syllable
in the preceding example should be the twelfth. When the line is
full it is accented of course. Consulting the dictionary, therefore,
we find in the first line the ninth syllable accented; in the second,
the sixth; in the third line the accented syllables there being
alternately odd and even, to wit, the third, sixth, ninth and
twelfth, we know the verse must be trisyllabic.
The foreigner then first determining the measure of the verse,
may read it boldly. He will commit a few errors, indeed; let us see
what they are likely to be. In imparisyllabic verse none, because
that consists of trochees invariably; if an unaccented syllable
happens to be prefixed to the verse, he will discover it by the
number of syllables. In parisyllabic verse, when a trochee begins
the verse, he will pronounce that foot wrong. This will perhaps
happen once in ten lines; in some authors more, in others less. In
like manner he will pronounce wrong the trochee in the middle of the
line. But this he will encounter once in some hundreds of times. In
the trisyllabic verse he can never commit an error if he counts from
the end of the line. These imperfections are as few as a foreigner
can possibly expect in the beginning; and he will reduce their number
in proportion as he acquires by practice a knowledge of the accents.
The subject of accent cannot be quitted till we apprise him of
another imperfection which will show itself in his reading, and which
will be longer removing. Though there be accents on the first, the
second or the third syllables of the foot, as has been before
explained, yet is there subordination among these accents, a
modulation in their tone of which it is impossible to give a precise
idea in writing. This is intimately connected with the sense; and
though a foreigner will readily find to what words that would give
distinguished emphasis, yet nothing but habit can enable him to give
actually the different shades of emphasis which his judgment would
dictate to him. Even natives have very different powers as to this
article. This difference exists both in the organ and the judgment.
Foote is known to have read Milton so exquisitely that he received
great sums of money for reading him to audiences who attended him
regularly for that purpose. This difference, too, enters deeply into
the merit of theatrical actors. The foreigner, therefore, must
acquiesce under a want of perfection which is the lot of natives in
common with himself.
We will proceed to give examples which may explain what is here
meant, distinguishing the accents into four shades by these marks
'''' ''' '' ' the greater number of marks denoting the strongest
accents.
Oh when the growling winds contend and all
The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm
To sink in warm repose, and hear the din
Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights
Above the luxury of vulgar sleep.
-- ARMSTRONG
Life's cares are comforts; such by heav'n design'd
He that has none, must make them or be wretched
Cares are employments; and without employ
The soul is on a rack, the rack of rest.
-- YOUNG
O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought,
Lost to the noble sallies of the soul!
Who think it solitude, to be alone.
Communion sweet! communion large and high!
Our reason, guardian angel, and our God!
Then nearest these, when others most remote;
And all, ere long, shall be remote, but these.
-- YOUNG
By nature's law, what may be, may be now;
There's no prerogative in human hours.
In human hearts what bolder thought can rise,
Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn?
Where is to-morrow? In another world.
For numbers this is certain; the reverse
Is sure to none; and yet on this perhaps,
This peradventure, infamous for lies,
As on a rock of adamant, we build
Our mountain hopes; spin out eternal schemes.
As we the fatal sisters could outspin,
And, big with life's futurities, expire.
-- YOUNG
Cowards die many times before their deaths:
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear,
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life, but for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Caesar, so were you;
We both have fed as well, and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.
I am far from presuming to give this accentuation as perfect.
No two persons will accent the same passage alike. No person but a
real adept would accent it twice alike. Perhaps two real adepts who
should utter the same passage with infinite perfection yet by
throwing the energy into different words might produce very different
effects. I suppose that in those passages of Shakespeare, for
example, no man but Garrick ever drew their full tone out of them, if
I may borrow an expression from music. Let those who are disposed to
criticise, therefore, try a few experiments themselves. I have
essayed these short passages to let the foreigner see that the accent
is not equal; that they are not to be read monotonously. I chose,
too, the most pregnant passages, those wherein every word teems with
latent meaning, that he might form an idea of the degrees of
excellence of which this art is capable. He must not apprehend that
all poets present the same difficulty. It is only the most brilliant
passages. The great mass, even of good poetry, is easily enough
read. Take the following examples, wherein little differences in the
enunciation will not change the meaning sensibly.
Here, in cool grot and mossy cell,
We rural fays and faeries dwell;
Though rarely seen by mortal eye,
When the pale Moon, ascending high,
Darts through yon lines her quivering beams,
We frisk it near these crystal streams.
Her beams, reflected from the wave,
Afford the light our revels crave;
The turf, with daisies broider'd o'er,
Exceeds, we wot, the Parian floor;
Nor yet for artful strains we call,
But listen to the water's fall.
Would you then taste our tranquil scene,
Be sure your bosoms be serene:
Devoid of hate, devoid of strife,
Devoid of all that poisons life:
And much it 'vails you, in their place
To graft the love of human race.
And tread with awe these favor'd bowers,
Nor wound the shrubs, nor bruise the flowers;
So may your path with sweets abound;
So may your couch with rest be crown'd!
But harm betide the wayward swain,
Who dares our hallow'd haunts profane!
-- SHENSTONE
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb
Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing Spring.
No wailing ghost shall dare appear
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove,
But shepherd lads assemble here,
And melting virgins own their love.
No wither'd witch shall here be seen,
No goblins lead their nightly crew;
The female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew;
The red-breast oft at evening hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers,
To deck the ground where thou art laid.
When howling winds, and beating rain,
In tempests shake thy sylvan cell;
Or 'midst the chase on every plain,
The tender thought on thee shall dwell.
Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
For thee the tear be duly shed;
Belov'd, till life can charm no more
And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead.
-- COLLINS
OF THE LENGTH OF VERSE
Having spoken of feet which are only the constituent part of
verse, it becomes necessary to say something of its larger divisions,
and even of the verse itself. For what is a verse? This question
naturally occurs, and it is not sufficiently answered by saying it is
a whole line. Should the printer think proper to print the following
passage in this manner:
{Os eipon oy paidos orezato phaidimos Ektor. aps d' o pais
pros kolpon eyzonoio tithenes eklinthe iachon, patros philoy opsin
atychtheis, tarbesas chalkon te ide lophon ippiochaiten, deinon ap
akrotates korythos neyonta noesas ek d' egelasse pater te philos kai
potnia meter. aytik' apo kratos koryth' eileto phaidimos Ektor, kai
ten men katetheken epi chthoni pamphanoosan aytar o g' on philon yion
epei kyse pele te chersin, eipen epeyxamenos Dii t' alloisin te
theoisi Zey alloi te theoi, dote de kai tonde genesthai paid' emon,
os kai ego per, ariprepea Troessin, ode bien t' agathon kai 'Ilioy
iphi anassein kai pote tis eipoi, 'patros g' ode pollon ameinon' ek
polemoy anionta pheroi d' enara brotoenta kteinas deion andra,
chareie de frena meter. Os eipon alochoio philes en chersin etheke
paid' eon e d' ara min keodei dexato kolpo dakryoen gelasasa posis d'
eleese noesas, cheiri te min katerexen epos t' ephat' ek t' onomaze}
it would still be verse; it would still immortalize its author
were every other syllable of his compositions lost. The poet then
does not depend on the printer to give a character to his work. He
has studied the human ear. He has discovered that in any rhythmical
composition the ear is pleased to find at certain regular intervals a
pause where it may rest, by which it may divide the composition into
parts, as a piece of music is divided into bars. He contrives to
mark this division by a pause in the sense or at least by an
emphatical word which may force the pause so that the ear may feel
the regular return of the pause. The interval then between these
regular pauses constitutes a verse. In the morsel before cited this
interval comprehends six feet, and though it is written in the manner
of prose, yet he who can read it without pausing at every sixth foot,
like him who is insensible to the charm of music, who is insensible
of love or of gratitude, is an unfavored son of nature to whom she
has given a faculty fewer than to others of her children, one source
of pleasure the less in a world where there are none to spare. A
well-organized ear makes the pause regularly whether it be printed as
verse or as prose. But not only the organization of the ear but the
character of the language have influence in determining the length of
the verse. Otherwise the constitution of the ear being the same with
all nations the verse would be of the same length in all languages,
which is not the case. But the difference in language occasions the
ear to be pleased with a difference of interval in the pause. The
language of Homer enabled him to compose in verse of six feet; the
English language cannot bear this. They may be of one, two, three,
four, or five feet, as in the following examples:
One foot.
Turning
Burning
Changing
Ranging
I mourn
I sigh
I burn
I die
Let us part --
Let us part
Will you break
My poor heart?
Two feet.
Flow'ry mountains
Mossy fountains
Shady woods
Crystal floods
To me the rose
No longer glows
Ev'ry plant
Has lost its scent.
Prithee Cupid no more
Hurl thy darts at threescore
To thy girls and thy boys
Give thy pains and thy joys.
Three feet.
Farewell fear and sorrow
Pleasure till to-morrow.
Yes, ev'ry flow'r that blows
I passed unheeded by
Till this enchanting rose
Had fix'd my wand'ring eye.
-- CUNNINGHAM
The rose though a beautiful red
Looks faded to Phyllis's bloom;
And the breeze from the bean-flower bed
To her breath's but a feeble perfume;
A lily I plucked in full pride
Its freshness with hers to compare,
And foolishly thought till I try'd
The flow'ret was equally fair.
-- CUNNINGHAM
Four feet.
From the dark tremendous cell
Where the fiends of magic dwell
Now the sun hath left the skies
Daughters of Enchantment, rise!
-- CUNNINGHAM
Come Hope, and to my pensive eye
Thy far foreseeing tube apply
Whose kind deception steals us o'er
The gloomy waste that lies before.
-- LANGHORNE
`Mongst lords and fine ladies we shepherds are told
The dearest affections are barter'd for gold
That discord in wedlock is often their lot
While Cupid and Hymen shake hands in a cot.
-- CUNNINGHAM
Here the parisyllabic alone bears one foot more.
Oh liberty! thou goddess heav'nly bright
Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight,
Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign,
And smiling Plenty leads thy wanton train;
Eas'd of her load subjection grows more light,
And Poverty looks cheerful in thy sight;
Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay
Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.
-- ADDISON
The last line furnishes an instance of six feet, usually called an
Alexandrian; but no piece is ever wholly in that measure. A single line only
is tolerated now and then, and is never a beauty. Formerly it was thought
that the language bore lines of seven feet in length, as in the following:
`Tis he whose ev'ry thought and deed by rules of virtue
moves;
Whose gen'rous tongue disdains to speak the thing his heart
disproves
Who never did a slander forge his neighbor's fame to
wound;
Nor listen to a false report by malice whisper'd round.
-- PSALM 15
But a little attention shows that there is as regular a pause
at the fourth foot as at the seventh, and as verse takes its
denomination from the shortest regular intervals, this is no more
than an alternate verse of four and of three feet. It is, therefore,
usually written as in the following stanzas of the same piece:
Who to his plighted vows and trust
Has ever firmly stood
And, though he promise to his loss,
He makes his promise good.
The man who by this steady course
Has happiness ensur'd
When earth's foundations shake, will stand
By Providence secur'd.
We may justly consider, therefore, verses of five feet as the
longest the language sustains, and it is remarkable that not only
this length, though the extreme, is generally the most esteemed, but
that it is the only one which has dignity enough to support blank
verse, that is, verse without rhyme. This is attempted in no other
measure. It constitutes, therefore, the most precious part of our
poetry. The poet, unfettered by rhyme, is at liberty to prune his
diction of those tautologies, those feeble nothings necessary to
introtrude the rhyming word. With no other trammel than that of
measure he is able to condense his thoughts and images and to leave
nothing but what is truly poetical. When enveloped in all the pomp
and majesty of his subject he sometimes even throws off the restraint
of the regular pause:
Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, heavenly Muse! that on the sacred top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed,
In the beginning, how the Heavens and Earth
Rose out of Chaos.
Then stay'd the fervid wheels, and in his hand
He took the golden compasses, prepared
In God's eternal store, to circumscribe
This universe, and all created things
One foot he centred, and the other turn'd
Round, through the vast profundity obscure
And said, "Thus far extend."
There are but two regular pauses in this whole passage of seven
verses. They are constantly drowned by the majesty of the rhythm and
sense. But nothing less than this can authorize such a license.
Take the following proof from the same author:
Again, God said, "Let there be firmament
Amid the waters, and let it divide
The waters from the waters;" and God made
The firmament.
-- MILTON 7:261
And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the
waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God made
the firmament.
-- GENESIS 1:6
I have here placed Moses and Milton side by side, that he who
can may distinguish which verse belongs to the poet. To do this he
will not have the aid either of the sentiment, diction or measure of
poetry. The original is so servilely copied that though it be cut
into pieces of ten syllables, no pause is marked between these
portions.
What proves the excellence of blank verse is that the taste
lasts longer than that for rhyme. The fondness for the jingle leaves
us with that for the rattles and baubles of childhood, and if we
continue to read rhymed verse at a later period of life it is such
only where the poet has had force enough to bring great beauties of
thought and diction into this form. When young any composition
pleases which unites a little sense, some imagination, and some
rhythm, in doses however small. But as we advance in life these
things fall off one by one, and I suspect we are left at last with
only Homer and Virgil, perhaps with Homer alone. He like
Hope travels on nor quits us when we die.
Having noted the different lengths of line which the English
poet may give to his verse it must be further observed that he may
intermingle these in the same verse according to his fancy.
The following are selected as examples:
A tear bedews my Delia's eye,
To think yon playful kid must die;
From crystal spring, and flowery mead,
Must, in his prime of life, recede!
She tells with what delight he stood,
To trace his features in the flood;
Then skipp'd aloof with quaint amaze,
And then drew near again to gaze.
-- SHENSTONE
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast,
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
-- GRAY
There shall my plaintive song recount
Dark themes of hopeless woe,
And faster than the drooping fount
I'll teach mine eyes to flow.
There leaves, in spite of Autumn green
Shall shade the hallow'd ground,
And Spring will there again be seen
To call forth flowers around.
-- SHENSTONE
O Health! capricious maid!
Why dost thou shun my peaceful bower,
Where I had hope to share thy power,
And bless thy lasting aid?
-- SHENSTONE
The man whose mind, on virtue bent
Pursues some greatly good intent
With undivided aim
Serene beholds the angry crowd
Nor can their clamors fierce and loud
His stubborn purpose tame.
Ye gentle Bards! give ear,
Who talk of amorous rage,
Who spoil the lily, rob the rose,
Come learn of me to weep your woes:
"O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!"
-- SHENSTONE
Too long a stranger to repose,
At length from Pain's abhorred couch I rose
And wander'd forth alone,
To court once more the balmy breeze,
And catch the verdure of the trees,
Ere yet their charms were flown.
-- SHENSTONE
O thou, by Nature taught
To breathe her genuine thought,
In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong;
Who first, on mountains wild,
In Fancy, loveliest child,
Thy babe, and Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song!
-- COLLINS
'Twas in a land of learning,
The Muse's favorite city,
Such pranks of late
Were play'd by a rat,
As -- tempt one to be witty.
-- SHENSTONE
Yet stay, O stay! celestial Pow'rs!
And with a hand of kind regard
Dispel the boisterous storm that low'rs
Destruction on the fav'rite bard;
O watch with me his last expiring breath
And snatch him from the arms of dark oblivious death.
-- GRAY
What is grandeur, what is power?
Heavier toil, superior pain.
What the bright reward we gain?
The grateful memory of the good.
Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,
The bee's collected treasures sweet,
Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet
The still small voice of gratitude.
Methinks I hear, in accents low,
The sportive, kind reply:
Poor moralist! and what art thou?
A solitary fly!
Thy joys no glittering female meets,
No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,
No painted plumage to display;
On hasty wings thy youth is flown;
Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone --
We frolic while 'tis May.
-- GRAY
Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene;
Or find some ruin, 'midst its dreary dells,
Whose walls more awful nod
By thy religious gleams.
Or, if chill blustering winds, or driving rain,
Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut,
That, from the mountain's side,
Views wilds, and swelling floods.
-- COLLINS
Though the license to intermingle the different measures admits
an infinitude of combinations, yet this becomes less and less
pleasing in proportion as they depart from that simplicity and
regularity of which the ear is most sensible. When these are wholly
or nearly neglected, as in the lyric pieces, the poet renounces one
of the most fascinating charms of his art. He must then look well to
his matter and supply in sublimity or other beauties the loss of
regular measure. In effect these pieces are seldom read twice.
TRAVEL JOURNALS
_A Tour to some of the Gardens of England_
_[Memorandums made on a tour to some of the gardens in England,
described by Whateley in his book on gardening.]_ While his
descriptions, in point of style, are models of perfect elegance and
classical correctness, they are as remarkable for their exactness. I
always walked over the gardens with his book in my hand, examined
with attention the particular spots he described, found them so
justly characterized by him as to be easily recognized, and saw with
wonder, that his fine imagination had never been able to seduce him
from the truth. My inquiries were directed chiefly to such practical
things as might enable me to estimate the expense of making and
maintaining a garden in that style. My journey was in the months of
March and April, 1786.
_Chiswick._ -- Belongs to Duke of Devonshire. A garden about
six acres; -- the octagonal dome has an ill effect, both within and
without: the garden shows still too much of art. An obelisk of very
ill effect; another in the middle of a pond useless.
_Hampton-Court._ -- Old fashioned. Clipt yews grown wild.
_Twickenham._ -- Pope's original garden, three and a half
acres. Sir Wm. Stanhope added one and a half acre. This is a long
narrow slip, grass and trees in the middle, walk all round. Now Sir
Wellbore Ellis's. Obelisk at bottom of Pope's garden, as monument to
his mother. Inscription, "Ah! Editha, matrum optima, mulierum
amantissima, Vale." The house about thirty yards from the Thames: the
ground shelves gently to the water side; on the back of the house
passes the street, and beyond that the garden. The grotto is under
the street, and goes out level to the water. In the centre of the
garden a mound with a spiral walk round it. A rookery.
_Esher-Place._ -- The house in a bottom near the river; on the
other side the ground rises pretty much. The road by which we come
to the house forms a dividing line in the middle of the front; on the
right are heights, rising one beyond and above another, with clumps
of trees; on the farthest a temple. A hollow filled up with a clump
of trees, the tallest in the bottom, so that the top is quite flat.
On the left the ground descends. Clumps of trees, the clumps on each
hand balance finely -- most lovely mixture of concave and convex.
The garden is of about forty-five acres, besides the park which
joins. Belongs to Lady Frances Pelham.
_Claremont._ -- Lord Clive's. Nothing remarkable.
_Paynshill._ -- Mr. Hopkins. Three hundred and twenty-three
acres, garden and park all in one. Well described by Whateley.
Grotto said to have cost pound 7,000. Whateley says one of the
bridges is of stone, but both now are of wood, the lower sixty feet
high: there is too much evergreen. The dwelling-house built by
Hopkins, ill-situated: he has not been there in five years. He lived
there four years while building the present house. It is not
finished; its architecture is incorrect. A Doric temple, beautiful.
_Woburn._ -- Belongs to Lord Peters. Lord Loughborough is the
present tenant for two lives. Four people to the farm, four to the
pleasure garden, four to the kitchen garden. All are intermixed, the
pleasure garden being merely a highly-ornamented walk through and
round the divisions of the farm and kitchen garden.
_Caversham._ -- Sold by Lord Cadogan to Major Marsac.
Twenty-five acres of garden, four hundred acres of park, six acres of
kitchen garden. A large lawn, separated by a sunk fence from the
garden, appears to be part of it. A straight, broad gravel walk
passes before the front and parallel to it, terminated on the right
by a Doric temple, and opening at the other end on a fine prospect.
This straight walk has an ill effect. The lawn in front, which is
pasture, well disposed with clumps of trees.
_Wotton._ -- Now belongs to the Marquis of Buckingham, son of
George Grenville. The lake covers fifty acres, the river five acres,
the basin fifteen acres, the little river two acres -- equal to
seventy-two acres of water. The lake and great river are on a level,
they fall into the basin five feet below, and that again into the
little river five feet lower. These waters lie in form of an xxx:
the house is in middle of open side, fronting the angle. A walk goes
round the whole, three miles in circumference, and containing within
it about three hundred acres: sometimes it passes close to the water,
sometimes so far off as to leave large pasture grounds between it and
the water. But two hands to keep the pleasure grounds in order; much
neglected. The water affords two thousand brace of carp a year.
There is a Palladian bridge, of which, I think, Whateley does not
speak.
_Stowe._ -- Belongs to the Marquis of Buckingham, son of George
Grenville, and who takes it from Lord Temple. Fifteen men and
eighteen boys employed in keeping pleasure grounds. Within the walk
are considerable portions separated by inclosures and used for
pasture. The Egyptian pyramid is almost entirely taken down by the
late Lord Temple, to erect a building there, in commemoration of Mr.
Pitt, but he died before beginning it, and nothing is done to it yet.
The grotto and two rotundas are taken away. There are four levels of
water, receiving it one from the other. The basin contains seven
acres, the lake below that ten acres. Kent's building is called the
temple of Venus. The inclosure is entirely by ha-ha. At each end of
the front line there is a recess like the bastion of a fort. In one
of these is the temple of Friendship, in the other the temple of
Venus. They are seen the one from the other, the line of sight
passing, not through the garden, but through the country parallel to
the line of the garden. This has a good effect. In the approach to
Stowe, you are brought a mile through a straight avenue, pointing to
the Corinthian arch and to the house, till you get to the arch, then
you turn short to the right. The straight approach is very ill. The
Corinthian arch has a very useless appearance, inasmuch as it has no
pretension to any destination. Instead of being an object from the
house, it is an obstacle to a very pleasing distant prospect. The
Grecian valley being clear of trees, while the hill on each side is
covered with them, is much deepened to appearance.
_Leasowes, in Shropshire._ -- Now the property of Mr. Horne by
purchase. One hundred and fifty acres within the walk. The waters
small. This is not even an ornamented farm -- it is only a grazing
farm with a path round it, here and there a seat of board, rarely
anything better. Architecture has contributed nothing. The obelisk
is of brick. Shenstone had but three hundred pounds a year, and
ruined himself by what he did to this farm. It is said that he died
of the heart-aches which his debts occasioned him. The part next the
road is of red earth, that on the further part gray. The first and
second cascades are beautiful. The landscape at number eighteen, and
prospect at thirty-two, are fine. The walk through the wood is
umbrageous and pleasing. The whole arch of prospect may be of ninety
degrees. Many of the inscriptions are lost.
_Hagley, now Lord Wescot's._ -- One thousand acres: no
distinction between park and garden -- both blended, but more of the
character of garden. Eight or nine laborers keep it in order.
Between two and three hundred deer in it, some few of them red deer.
They breed sometimes with the fallow. This garden occupying a
descending hollow between the Clent and Witchbury hills, with the
spurs from those hills, there is no level in it for a spacious water.
There are, therefore, only some small ponds. From one of these there
is a fine cascade; but it can only be occasionally, by opening the
sluice. This is in a small, dark, deep hollow, with recesses of
stone in the banks on every side. In one of these is a Venus
predique, turned half round as if inviting you with her into the
recess. There is another cascade seen from the portico on the
bridge. The castle is triangular, with a round tower at each angle,
one only entire; it seems to be between forty and fifty feet high.
The ponds yield a great deal of trout. The walks are scarcely
gravelled.
_Blenheim._ -- Twenty-five hundred acres, of which two hundred
is garden, one hundred and fifty water, twelve kitchen garden, and
the rest park. Two hundred people employed to keep it in order, and
to make alterations and additions. About fifty of these employed in
pleasure grounds. The turf is mowed once in ten days. In summer,
about two thousand fallow deer in the park, and two or three thousand
sheep. The palace of Henry II. was remaining till taken down by
Sarah, widow of the first Duke of Marlborough. It was on a round
spot levelled by art, near what is now water, and but a little above
it. The island was a part of the high road leading to the palace.
Rosamond's bower was near where is now a little grove, about two
hundred yards from the palace. The well is near where the bower was.
The water here is very beautiful, and very grand. The cascade from
the lake, a fine one; except this the garden has no great beauties.
It is not laid out in fine lawns and woods, but the trees are
scattered thinly over the ground, and every here and there small
thickets of shrubs, in oval raised beds, cultivated, and flowers
among the shrubs. The gravelled walks are broad -- art appears too
much. There are but a few seats in it, and nothing of architecture
more dignified. There is no one striking position in it. There has
been a great addition to the length of the river since Whateley
wrote.
_Enfield Chase._ -- One of the four lodges. Garden about sixty
acres. Originally by Lord Chatham, now in the tenure of Dr. Beaver,
who married the daughter of Mr. Sharpe. The lease lately renewed --
not in good repair. The water very fine; would admit of great
improvement by extending walks, &c., to the principal water at the
bottom of the lawn.
_Moor Park._ -- The lawn about thirty acres. A piece of ground
up the hill of six acres. A small lake. Clumps of spruce firs.
Surrounded by walk -- separately inclosed -- destroys unity. The
property of Mr. Rous, who bought of Sir Thomas Dundas. The building
superb; the principal front a Corinthian portico of four columns; in
front of the wings a colonnade, Ionic, subordinate. Back front a
terrace, four Corinthian pilasters. Pulling down wings of building;
removing deer; wants water.
_Kew._ -- Archimedes' screw for raising water. A horizontal
shaft made to turn the oblique one of the screw by a patent machinery
of this form:
_The pieces separate._
A is driven by its shank into the horizontal axis of the wheel
which turns the machine.
B is an intermediate iron to connect the motion of A and C.
C is driven by its shank into the axis of the screw.
D is a cross axis, the ends, _a_ and _b_, going into the
corresponding holes _a_ and _b_ of the iron A, and the ends, _c_ and
_d_, going into the corresponding holes _c_ and _d_ of the iron B.
E is another cross axis, the ends, _e_ and _f_, going into the
corresponding holes _e_ and _f_ of the iron B, and the ends, _g_ and
_h_, going into the corresponding holes _g_ and _h_ of the iron C.
_Memorandums on a Tour from Paris to Amsterdam, Strasburg, and
back to Paris_
March 3, 1788
_Amsterdam._ -- Joists of houses placed, not with their sides
horizontally and perpendicularly, but diamond wise, thus: xxx first,
for greater strength; second, to arch between with brick, thus: xxx
Windows opening so that they admit air and not rain. The upper sash
opens on a horizontal axis, or pins in the centre of the sides, the
lower sash slides up xxx.
Manner of fixing a flag staff on the mast of a vessel: _a_ is
the bolt on which it turns; _b_ a bolt which is taken in and out to
fasten it or to let it down. When taken out, the lower end of the
staff is shoved out of its case, and the upper end being heaviest
brings itself down: a rope must have been previously fastened to the
butt end, to pull it down again when you want to raise the flag end.
Dining tables letting down with single or double leaves, so as to
take the room of their thickness only with a single leaf when open,
thus: xxx or thus: xxx double-leaves open: xxx shut, thus: xxx or
thus: xxx shut: xxx
Peat costs about one doit each, or twelve and a half stivers
the hundred. One hundred make seven cubic feet, and to keep a
tolerably comfortable fire for a study or chamber, takes about six
every hour and a half.
A machine for drawing light _empty_ boats over a dam at
Amsterdam. It is an axis in peritrochio fixed on the dam. From the
dam each way is a sloping stage, the boat is presented to this, the
rope of the axis made fast to it, and it is drawn up. The water on
one side of the dam is about four feet higher than on the other.
The camels used for lightening ships over the Pampus will raise
the ships eight feet. There are beams passing through the ship's
sides, projecting to the off side of the camel and resting on it; of
course that alone would keep the camel close to the ship. Besides
this, there are a great number of windlasses on the camels, the ropes
of which are made fast to the gunwale of the ship. The camel is
shaped to the ship on the near side, and straight on the off one.
When placed along side, water is let into it so as nearly to sink it;
in this state it receives the beams, &c., of the ship, and then the
water is pumped out.
Wind saw mills. See the plans detailed in the moolen book
which I bought. A circular foundation of brick is raised about three
or four feet high, and covered with a curb or sill of wood, and has
little rollers under its sill which make it turn easily on the curb.
A hanging bridge projects at each end about fifteen or twenty feet
beyond the circular area, thus: (illustration omitted) horizontally,
and thus: (illustration omitted) in the profile to increase the play
of the timbers on the frame. The wings are at one side, as at _a_;
there is a shelter over the hanging bridges, but of plank with scarce
any frame, very light.
A bridge across a canal formed by two scows, which open each to
the opposite shore and let boats pass.
A lanthern over the street door, which gives light equally into
the antechamber and the street. It is a hexagon, and occupies the
place of the middle pane of glass in the circular top of the street
door.
A bridge on a canal, turning on a swivel, by which means it is
arranged along the side of the canal so as not to be in the way of
boats when not in use. When used, it is turned across the canal. It
is, of course, a little more than double the width of the canal.
Hedges of beach, which, not losing the old leaf till the new
bud pushes it off, has the effect of an evergreen as to cover.
Mr. Ameshoff, merchant at Amsterdam. The distribution of his
aviary is worthy of notice. Each kind of the large birds has its
coop eight feet wide and four feet deep; the middle of the front is
occupied by a broad glass window, on one side of which is a door for
the keeper to enter at, and on the other a little trap-door for the
birds to pass in and out. The floor strewed with clean hay. Before
each coop is a court of eight by sixteen feet, with wire in front and
netting above, if the fowls be able to fly. For such as require it,
there are bushes of evergreen growing in their court for them to lay
their eggs under. The coops are frequently divided into two stories:
the upper for those birds which perch, such as pigeons, &c., the
lower for those which feed on the ground, as pheasants, partridges,
&c. The court is in common for both stories, because the birds do no
injury to each other. For the water-fowl there is a pond of water
passing through the courts, with a movable separation. While they
are breeding they must be separate, afterwards they may come
together. The small birds are some of them in a common aviary, and
some in cages.
The Dutch wheel-barrow is in this form: (illustration omitted)
which is very convenient for loading and unloading.
Mr. Hermen Hend Damen, merchant-broker of Amsterdam, tells me
that the emigrants to America come from the Palatinate down the
Rhine, and take shipping from Amsterdam. Their passage is ten
guineas if paid here, and eleven if paid in America. He says they
might be had in any number to go to America, and settle lands as
tenants on half stocks or metairies. Perhaps they would serve their
employer one year as an indemnification for the passage, and then be
bound to remain on his lands seven years. They would come to
Amsterdam at their own expense. He thinks they would employ more
than fifty acres each; but _quaere_, especially if they have fifty
acres for their wife also?
_Hodson._ -- The best house. Stadhonderian, his son, in the
government. Friendly, but old and very infirm.
_Hope._ -- The first house in Amsterdam. His first object
England; but it is supposed he would like to have the American
business also, yet he would probably make our affairs subordinate to
those of England.
_Vollenhoven._ -- An excellent old house; connected with no
party.
_Sapportus._ -- A broker, very honest and ingenuous,
well-disposed; acts for Hope, but will say with truth what he can do
for us. The best person to consult with as to the best house to
undertake a piece of business. He has brothers in London in
business. Jacob Van Staphorst tells me there are about fourteen
millions of florins, new money, placed in loans in Holland every
year, being the savings of individuals out of their annual revenue,
&c. Besides this, there are every year reimbursements of old loans
from some quarter or other to be replaced at interest in some new
loan.
1788. March 16th. Baron Steuben has been generally suspected
of having suggested the first idea of the self-styled Order of
Cincinnati. But Mr. Adams tells me, that in the year 1776 he had
called at a tavern in the State of New York to dine, just at the
moment when the British army was landing at Frog's Neck. Generals
Washington, Lee, Knox and Parsons, came to the same tavern. He got
into conversation with Knox. They talked of ancient history -- of
Fabius, who used to raise the Romans from the dust; of the present
contest, &c.; and General Knox, in the course of the conversation,
said he should wish for some ribbon to wear in his hat, or in his
button hole, to be transmitted to his descendants as a badge and a
proof that he had fought in defence of their liberties. He spoke of
it in such precise terms, as showed he had revolved it in his mind
before. Mr. Adams says he and Knox were standing together in the
door of the tavern, and does not recollect whether General Washington
and the others were near enough to hear the conversation, or were
even in the room at that moment. Baron Steuben did not arrive in
America till above a year after that. Mr. Adams is now fifty-three
years old, _i.e._ nine years more than I am.
It is said this house will cost four tons of silver, or forty
HOPE'S HOUSE, NEAR HARLAEM.
thousand pounds sterling. The separation between the middle
building and wings in the upper story has a capricious appearance,
yet a pleasing one. The right wing of the house (which is the left
in the plan) extends back to a great length, so as to make the ground
plan in the form of an L. The parapet has a pannel of wall, and a
pannel of ballusters alternately, which lighten it. There is no
portico, the columns being backed against the wall of the front.
March 30th, 31st. _Amsterdam. Utrecht. Nimeguen._ The lower
parts of the low countries seem partly to have been gained from the
sea, and partly to be made up of the plains of the Yssel, the Rhine,
the Maese and the Schelde united. To Utrecht nothing but plains are
seen, a rich black mould, wet, lower than the level of the waters
which intersect it; almost entirely in grass; few or no farm-houses,
as the business of grazing requires few laborers. The canal is lined
with country houses, which bespeak the wealth and cleanliness of the
country; but generally in an uncouth state, and exhibiting no regular
architecture. After passing Utrecht, the hills north-east of the
Rhine come into view, and gather in towards the river, till at Wyck
Dursted they are within three or four miles, and at Amelengen they
join the river. The plains, after passing Utrecht, become more
sandy; the hills are very poor and sandy, generally waste in broom,
sometimes a little corn. The plains are in corn, grass, and willow.
The plantations of the latter are immense, and give it the air of an
uncultivated country. There are now few chateaux; farm-houses
abound, built generally of brick, and covered with tile or thatch.
There are some apple-trees, but no forest; a few inclosures of willow
wattling. In the gardens are hedges of beach, one foot apart, which,
not losing its old leaves till they are pushed off in the spring by
the young ones, gives the shelter of evergreens. The Rhine is here
about three hundred yards wide, and the road to Nimeguen passing it a
little below Wattelingen, leaves Hetern in sight on the left. On
this side, the plains of the Rhine, the Ling, and the Waal unite.
The Rhine and Waal are crossed on vibrating boats, the rope supported
by a line of seven little barks. The platform by which you go on to
the ferry-boat is supported by boats. The view from the hill at
Cress is sublime. It commands the Waal, and extends far up the
Rhine. That also up and down the Waal from the Bellevue of Nimeguen,
is very fine. The chateau here is pretended to have lodged Julius
Caesar. This is giving it an antiquity of at least eighteen
centuries, which must be apocryphal. Some few sheep to-day, which
were feeding in turnip patches.
April 1st. _Cranenburg. Cleves. Santen. Reynberg. Hoogstraat._
The transition from ease and opulence to extreme poverty is
remarkable on crossing the line between the Dutch and Prussian
territories. The soil and climate are the same; the governments
alone differ. With the poverty, the fear also of slaves is visible
in the faces of the Prussian subjects. There is an improvement,
however, in the physiognomy, especially could it be a little
brightened up. The road leads generally over the hills, but
sometimes through skirts of the plains of the Rhine. These are
always extensive and good. They want manure, being visibly worn
down. The hills are almost always sandy, barren, uncultivated, and
insusceptible of culture, covered with broom and moss; here and there
a little indifferent forest, which is sometimes of beach. The plains
are principally in corn; some grass and willow. There are no
chateaux, nor houses that bespeak the existence even of a middle
class. Universal and equal poverty overspreads the whole. In the
villages, too, which seem to be falling down, the over-proportion of
women is evident. The cultivators seem to live on their farms. The
farm-houses are of mud, the better sort of brick; all covered over
with thatch. Cleves is little more than a village. If there are
shops or magazines of merchandise in it, they show little. Here and
there at a window some small articles are hung up within the glass.
The goose-berry beginning to leaf.
April 2d. Passed the Rhine at _Essenberg._ It is there about a
quarter of a mile wide, or five hundred yards. It is crossed in a
scow with sails. The wind being on the quarter, we were eight or ten
minutes only in the passage. Duysberg is but a village in fact,
walled in; the buildings mostly of brick. No new ones, which
indicate a thriving state. I had understood that near that were
remains of the encampment of Varus, in which he and his legions fell
by the arms of Arminius (in the time of Tiberius I think it was), but
there was not a person to be found in Duysberg who could understand
either English, French, Italian, or Latin. So I could make no
inquiry.
From _Duysberg_ to _Dusseldorf_ the road leads sometimes over
the hills, sometimes through the plains of the Rhine, the quality of
which are as before described. On the hills, however, are
considerable groves of oak, of spontaneous growth, which seem to be
of more than a century; but the soil being barren, the trees, though
high, are crooked and knotty. The undergrowth is broom and moss. In
the plains is corn entirely. As they are become rather sandy for
grass, there are no inclosures on the Rhine at all. The houses are
poor and ruinous, mostly of brick, and scantling mixed. A good deal
of grape cultivated.
_Dusseldorf._ The gallery of paintings is sublime, particularly
the room of Vanderwerff. The plains from Dusseldorf to Cologne are
much more extensive, and go off in barren downs at some distance from
the river. These downs extend far, according to appearance. They
are manuring the plains with lime. A gate at the Elector's chateau
on this road in this form (illustration omitted). We cross at
Cologne on a pendulum boat. I observe the hog of this country
(Westphalia), of which the celebrated ham is made, is tall, gaunt,
and with heavy lop ears. Fatted at a year old, would weigh one
hundred or one hundred and twenty pounds. At two years old, two
hundred pounds. Their principal food is acorns. The pork, fresh,
sells at two and a half pence sterling the pound. The hams, ready
made, at eight and a half pence sterling the pound. One hundred and
six pounds of this country is equal to one hundred pounds of Holland.
About four pounds of fine Holland salt is put on one hundred pounds
of pork. It is smoked in a room which has no chimney. Well-informed
people here tell me there is no other part of the world where the
bacon is smoked. They do not know that we do it. Cologne is the
principal market of exportation. They find that the small hog makes
the sweetest meat.
_Cologne_ is a sovereign city, having no territory out of its
walls. It contains about sixty thousand inhabitants; appears to have
much commerce, and to abound with poor. Its commerce is principally
in the hands of Protestants, of whom there are about sixty houses in
the city. They are extremely restricted in their operations, and
otherwise oppressed in every form by the government, which is
Catholic, and excessively intolerant. Their Senate, some time ago,
by a majority of twenty-two to eighteen, allowed them to have a
church; but it is believed this privilege will be revoked. There are
about two hundred and fifty Catholic churches in the city. The Rhine
is here about four hundred yards wide. This city is in 51 degrees
latitude, wanting about 6'. Here the vines begin, and it is the most
northern spot on the earth on which wine is made. Their first grapes
came from Orleans, since that from Alsace, Champagne, &c. It is
thirty-two years only since the first vines were sent from Cassel,
near Mayence, to the Cape of Good Hope, of which the Cape wine is now
made. Afterwards new supplies were sent from the same quarter. That
I suppose is the most southern spot on the globe where wine is made,
and it is singular that the same vine should have furnished two wines
as much opposed to each other in quality as in situation. I was
addressed here by Mr. Damen, of Amsterdam, to Mr. Jean Jaques
Peuchen, of this place, Merchant.
April 4th. _Cologne. Bonne. Andernach. Coblentz._ I saw many
walnut trees to-day in the open fields. It would seem as if this
tree and wine required the same climate. The soil begins now to be
reddish, both on the hills and in the plains. Those from Cologne to
Bonne extend about three miles from the river on each side; but a
little above Bonne they become contracted, and continue from thence
to be from one mile to nothing, comprehending both sides of the
river. They are in corn, some clover and rape, and many vines.
These are planted in rows three feet apart both ways. The vine is
left about six or eight feet high, and stuck with poles ten or twelve
feet high. To these poles they are tied in two places, at the height
of about two and four feet. They are now performing this operation.
The hills are generally excessively steep, a great proportion of them
barren; the rest in vines principally, sometimes small patches of
corn. In the plains, though rich, I observed they dung their vines
plentifully; and it is observed here, as elsewhere, that the plains
yield much wine, but bad. The good is furnished from the hills. The
walnut, willow, and apple tree beginning to leaf.
_Andernach_ is the port on the Rhine to which the famous
millstones of Cologne are brought; the quarry, as some say, being at
Mendich, three or four leagues from thence. I suppose they have been
called Cologne millstones, because the merchants of that place having
the most extensive correspondence, have usually sent them to all
parts of the world. I observed great collections of them at Cologne.
This is one account.
April 5. _Coblentz. Nassau._ Another account is, that these
stones are cut at Triers and brought down the Moselle. I could not
learn the price of them at the quarry; but I was shown a grindstone
of the same stone, five feet diameter, which cost at Triers six
florins. It was of but half the thickness of a millstone. I
supposed, therefore, that two millstones would cost about as much as
three of these grindstones, _i. e._ about a guinea and a half. This
country abounds with slate.
The best Moselle wines are made about fifteen leagues from
hence, in an excessively mountainous country. The first quality
(without any comparison) is that made on the mountain of Brownberg,
adjoining to the village of Dusmond; and the best crops is that of
the Baron Breidbach Burrhesheim, grand chambellan et grand Baillif de
Coblentz. His Receveur, of the name of Mayer, lives at Dusmond. The
last fine year was 1783, which sells now at fifty louis the foudre,
which contains six aumes of one hundred and seventy bottles each,
equal about one thousand one hundred and ten bottles. This is about
twenty-two sous Tournois the bottle. In general, the Baron
Burresheim's crops will sell as soon as made, say at the vintage, for
one hundred and thirty, one hundred and forty, and one hundred and
fifty ecus the foudre (the ecu is one and a half florin of Holland),
say two hundred. 2. Vialen is the second quality, and sells new at
one hundred and twenty ecus the foudre. 3. Crach-Bispost is the
third, and sells for about one hundred and five ecus. I compared
Crach of 1783 with Baron Burrhesheim's of the same year. The latter
is quite clear of acid, stronger, and very sensibly the best. 4.
Selting, which sells at one hundred ecus. 5. Kous-Berncastle, the
fifth quality, sells at eighty or ninety. After this there is a
gradation of qualities down to thirty ecus. These wines must be five
or six years old before they are quite ripe for drinking. One
thousand plants yield a foudre of wine a year in the most plentiful
vineyards. In other vineyards, it will take two thousand or two
thousand and five hundred plants to yield a foudre. The culture of
one thousand plants costs about one louis a year. A day's labor of a
man is paid in winter twenty kreitzers (_i. e._ one-third of a
florin), in summer twenty-six; a woman's is half that. The red wines
of this country are very indifferent, and will not keep. The Moselle
is here from one hundred to two hundred yards wide; the Rhine three
hundred to four hundred. A jessamine in the Count de Moustier's
garden in leaf.
In the Elector of Treves' palace at _Coblentz_, are large rooms
very well warmed by warm air conveyed from an oven below, through
tubes which open into the rooms. An oil and vinegar cruet in this
form: (illustration omitted) At Coblentz we pass the river on a
pendulum boat, and the road to Nassau is over tremendous hills, on
which is here and there a little corn, more vines, but mostly barren.
In some of these barrens are forests of beach and oak, tolerably
large, but crooked and knotty; the undergrowth beach brush, broom,
and moss. The soil of the plains, and of the hills where they are
cultivable, is reddish. Nassau is a village the whole rents of which
should not amount to more than a hundred or two guineas. Yet it
gives the title of Prince to the house of Orange to which it belongs.
April 6th. _Nassau. Schwelbach. Wisbaden. Hocheim. Frankfort._
The road from Nassau to Schwelbach is over hills, or rather
mountains, both high and steep; always poor, and above half of them
barren in beach and oak. At Schwelbach there is some chesnut. The
other parts are either in winter grain, or preparing for that of the
spring. Between Schwelbach and Wisbaden we come in sight of the
plains of the Rhine, which are very extensive. From hence the lands,
both high and low, are very fine, in corn, vines, and fruit trees.
The country has the appearance of wealth, especially in the approach
to Frankfort.
April 7th. _Frankfort._ Among the poultry, I have seen no
turkies in Germany till I arrive at this place. The Stork, or Crane,
is very commonly tame here. It is a miserable, dirty, ill-looking
bird. The Lutheran is the reigning religion here, and is equally
intolerant to the Catholic and Calvinist, excluding them from the
free corps.
April 8th. _Frankfort. Hanau._ The road goes through the
plains of the Maine, which are mulatto, and very fine. They are well
cultivated till you pass the line between the republic and the
landgraviate of Hesse, when you immediately see the effect of the
difference of government, notwithstanding the tendency which the
neighborhood of such a commercial town as Frankfort has to counteract
the effects of tyranny in its vicinities, and to animate them in
spite of oppression. In Frankfort all is life, bustle, and motion;
in Hanau the silence and quiet of the mansions of the dead. Nobody
is seen moving in the streets; every door is shut; no sound of the
saw, the hammer, or other utensil of industry. The drum and fife is
all that is heard. The streets are cleaner than a German floor,
because nobody passes them. At Williamsbath, near Hanau, is a
country seat of the Landgrave. There is a ruin which is clever. It
presents the remains of an old castle. The ground plan is in this
form: (illustration omitted) The upper story in this: (illustration
omitted) A circular room of thirty-one and a half feet diameter
within. The four little square towers at the corners finish at the
floor of the upper story, so as to be only platforms to walk out on.
Over the circular room is a platform also, which is covered by the
broken parapet which once crowned the top, but is now fallen off some
parts, whilst the other parts remain. I like better, however, the
form of the ruin at Hagley, in England, which was thus (illustration
omitted). There is a centry box here, covered over with bark, so as
to look exactly like the trunk of an old tree. This is a good idea;
and may be of much avail in a garden. There is a hermitage in which
is a good figure of a hermit in plaster, colored to the life, with a
table and book before him, in the attitude of reading and
contemplation. In a little cell is his bed; in another his books,
some tools, &c.; in another his little provision of firewood, &c.
There is a monument erected to the son of the present landgrave, in
the form of a pyramid, the base of which is eighteen and a half feet.
The side declines from the perpendicular about twenty-two and a half
degrees. An arch is carried through it both ways so as topresent a
door in each side. In the middle of this, at the crossing of the two
arches, is a marble monument with this inscription: "ante tempus." He
died at twelve years of age. Between Hanau and Frankfort, in sight
of the road, is the village of Bergen, where was fought the battle of
Bergen in the war before last. Things worth noting here are: 1. A
folding ladder. 2. Manner of packing china cups and saucers, the
former in a circle within the latter. 3. The marks of different
manufactures of china, to wit: Dresden with two swords. Hecks with a
wheel with Frankendaal with xxx (for Charles Theodore), and a xxx
over it. Berlin with xxx 4. The top rail of a wagon supported by
the washers on the ends of the axle-trees.
April 10th. _Frankfort. Hocheim. Mayence._ The little tyrants
round about having disarmed their people, and made it very criminal
to kill game, one knows when they quit the territory of Frankfort by
the quantity of game which is seen. In the Republic, everybody being
allowed to be armed, and to hunt on their own lands, there is very
little game left in its territory. The hog hereabouts resembles
extremely the little hog of Virginia. Round like that, a small head,
and short upright ears. This makes the ham of Mayence so much
esteemed at Paris.
We cross the Rhine at Mayence on a bridge one thousand eight
hundred and forty feet long, supported by forty-seven boats. It is
not in a direct line, but curved up against the stream; which may
strengthen it if the difference between the upper and lower curve be
sensible, if the planks of the floor be thick, well jointed together,
and forming sectors of circles, so as to act on the whole as the
stones of an arch. But it has by no means this appearance. Near one
end, one of the boats has an axis in peritrochio, and a chain, by
which it may be let drop down stream some distance, with the portion
of the floor belonging to it, so as to let a vessel through. Then it
is wound up again into place, and to consolidate it the more with the
adjoining parts, the loose section is a little higher, and has at
each end a folding stage, which folds back on it when it moves down,
and when brought up again into place, these stages are folded over on
the bridge. This whole operation takes but four or five minutes. In
the winter the bridge is taken away entirely, on account of the ice.
And then everything passes on the ice, through the whole winter.
April 11th. _Mayence. Rudesheim. Johansberg. Markebrom._ The
women do everything here. They dig the earth, plough, saw, cut and
split wood, row, tow the batteaux, &c. In a small but dull kind of
batteau, with two hands rowing with a kind of large paddle, and a
square sail, but scarcely a breath of wind, we went down the river at
the rate of five miles an hour, making it three and a half hours to
Rudesheim. The floats of wood which go with the current only, go one
mile and a half an hour. They go night and day. There are five
boat-mills abreast here. Their floats seem to be about eight feet
broad. The Rhine yields salmon, carp, pike, and perch, and the
little rivers running into it yield speckled trout. The plains from
Maintz to Rudesheim are good and in corn; the hills mostly in vines.
The banks of the river are so low that, standing up in the batteau, I
could generally see what was in the plains. Yet they are seldom
overflowed.
A TOWER AT RUDESHEIM.
Though they begin to make wine as has been said, at Cologne,
and continue it up the river indefinitely, yet it is only from
Rudesheim to Hocheim that wines of the very first quality are made.
The river happens there to run due east and west, so as to give its
hills on that side a southern aspect. And even in this canton, it is
only Hocheim, Johansberg, and Rudesheim, that are considered as of
the very first quality. Johansberg is a little mountain (berg
signifies mountain), whereon is a religious house, about fifteen
miles below Mayence, and near the village of Vingel. It has a
southern aspect, the soil a barren mulatto clay, mixed with a good
deal of stone, and some slate. This wine used to be but on a par
with Hocheim and Rudesheim; but the place having come to the Bishop
of Fulda, he improved its culture so as to render it stronger; and
since the year 1775, it sells at double the price of the other two.
It has none of the acid of the Hocheim and other Rhenish wines.
There are about sixty tons made in a good year, which sell, as soon
as of a drinkable age, at one thousand franks each. The tun here
contains seven and a-half aumes of one hundred and seventy bottles
each. Rudesheim is a village of about eighteen or twenty miles below
Mayence. Its fine wines are made on the hills about a mile below the
village, which look to the south, and on the middle and lower parts
of them. They are terraced. The soil is gray, about one-half of
slate and rotten stone, the other half of barren clay, excessively
steep. Just behind the village also is a little spot, called Hinder
House, belonging to the Counts of Sicken and Oschstein, whereon each
makes about a ton of wine of the very first quality. This spot
extends from the bottom to the top of the hill. The vignerons of
Rudesheim dung their wines about once in five or six years, putting a
one-horse tumbrel load of dung on every twelve feet square. One
thousand plants yield about four aumes in a good year. The best
crops are,
The Chanoines of Mayence, who make . . . . 15 pieces of 7 1/2 aumes.
Le Comte de Sicken . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 " "
Le Comte d'Oschstein . . . . . . . . . . . 9 " "
L'Electeur de Mayence . . . . . . . . . . 6 " "
Le Comte de Meternisch . . . . . . . . . . 6 " "
Monsieur de Boze . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 " "
M. Ackerman, baliff et aubergiste des 3
couronnes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 " "
M. Ackerman le fils, aubergiste a la couronne 5 " "
M. Lynn, aubergiste de l'ange . . . . . . 5 " "
Baron de Wetzel . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 " "
Convent de Mariahousen, des religieuses
Benedictines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 " "
M. Johan Yung . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 " "
M. de Rieden . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 " "
---
92
These wines begin to be drinkable at about five years old. The
proprietors sell them old or young, according to the prices offered,
and according to their own want of money. There is always a little
difference between different casks, and therefore when you choose and
buy a single cask, you pay three, four, five or six hundred florins
for it. They are not at all acid, and to my taste much preferable to
Hocheim, though but of the same price. Hocheim is a village about
three miles above Mayence, on the Maine, where it empties into the
Rhine. The spot whereon the good wine is made is the hill side from
the church down to the plain, a gentle slope of about a quarter of a
mile wide, and extending half a mile towards Mayence. It is of
south-western aspect, very poor, sometimes gray, sometimes mulatto,
with a moderate mixture of small broken stone. The wines are planted
three feet apart, and stuck with sticks about six feet high. The
wine, too, is cut at that height. They are dunged once in three or
four years. One thousand plants yield from one to two aumes a year:
they begin to yield a little at three years old, and continue to one
hundred years, unless sooner killed by a cold winter. Dick, keeper
of the Rothen-house tavern at Frankfort, a great wine merchant, who
has between three and four hundred tons of wine in his cellars, tells
me that Hocheim of the year 1783, sold, as soon as it was made, at
ninety florins the aume, Rudesheim of the same year, as soon as made,
at one hundred and fifteen florins, and Markebronn seventy florins.
But a peasant of Hocheim tells me that the best crops of Hocheim in
the good years, when sold new, sell but for about thirty-two or
thirty-three florins the aume; but that it is only the poorer
proprietors who sell new. The fine crops are,
Count Ingleheim about . . . 10 tuns.}
Baron d'Alberg . . . . . . 8 " } All of these keep till about
Count Schimbon . . . . . . 14 " } fifteen years old, before they
The Chanoines of Mayence. . 18 " } sell, unless they are offered
Counsellor Schik de Vetsler 15 " } a very good price sooner.
Convent of Jacobsberg . . . 8 " }
The Chanoine of Fechbach . 10 " }
The Carmelites of Frankfort.. 8 " } Who only sell by the bottle
in their own tavern in
Frankfort.
The Bailiff of Hocheim.......11 " } Who sells at three or four
years old.
Zimmerman, a bourgeois....... 4 " } These being poor, sell new.
Feldman, a carpenter......... 2 " }
Markebronn (bronn signifies a spring, and is probably of
affinity with the Scotch word, burn) is a little canton in the same
range of hills, adjoining to the village of Hagenheim, about three
miles above Johansberg, subject to the elector of Mayence. It is a
sloping hill side of southern aspect, mulatto, poor, and mixed with
some stone. This yields wine of the second quality.
April 12th. _Mayence. Oppenheim. Dorms. Manheim._ On the road
between Mayence and Oppenheim are three cantons, which are also
esteemed as yielding wines of the second quality. These are
Laudenheim, Bodenheim, and Nierstein. Laudenheim is a village about
four or five miles from Mayence. Its wines are made on a steep hill
side, the soil of which is gray, poor and mixed with some stone. The
river there happens to make a short turn to the south-west, so as to
present its hills to the south-east. Bodenheim is a village nine
miles, and Nierstein another about ten or eleven miles from Mayence.
Here, too, the river is north-east and south-west, so as to give the
hills between these villages a south-east aspect; and at Thierstein,
a valley making off, brings the face of the hill round to the south.
The hills between these villages are almost perpendicular, of a
vermilion red, very poor, and having as much rotten stone as earth.
It is to be observed that these are the only cantons on the south
side of the river which yield good wine, the hills on this side being
generally exposed to the cold winds, and turned from the sun. The
annexed bill of prices current, will give an idea of the estimation
of these wines respectively.
With respect to the grapes in this country, there are three
kinds in use for making white wine, (for I take no notice of the red
wines, as being absolutely worthless.) 1. The Klemperien, of which
the inferior qualities of Rhenish wines are made, and is cultivated
because of its hardness. The wines of this grape descend as low as
one hundred florins the tun of eight aumes. 2. The Rhysslin grape,
which grows only from Hocheim down to Rudesheim. This is small and
delicate, and therefore succeeds only in this chosen spot. Even at
Rudesheim it yields a fine wine only in the little spot called Hinder
House, before mentioned; the mass of good wines made at Rudesheim,
below the village, being of the third kind of grape, which is called
the Orleans grape.
To Oppenheim the plains of the Rhine and Maine are united.
From that place we see the commencement of the Berg-strasse, or
mountains which separate at first the plains of the Rhine and Maine,
then cross the Neckar at Heidelberg, and from thence forms the
separation between the plains of the Neckar and Rhine, leaving those
of the Rhine about ten or twelve miles wide. These plains are
sometimes black, sometimes mulatto, always rich. They are in corn,
potatoes, and some willow. On the other side again, that is, on the
west side, the hills keep at first close to the river. They are
about one hundred and fifty, or two hundred feet high, sloping, red,
good, and mostly in vines. Above Oppenheim, they begin to go off
till they join the mountains of Lorraine and Alsace, which separate
the waters of the Moselle and Rhine, leaving to the whole valley of
the Rhine about twenty or twenty-five miles breadth. About Worms
these plains are sandy, poor, and often covered only with small pine.
April 13th. _Manheim._ There is a bridge over the Rhine here,
supported on thirty-nine boats, and one over the Neckar on eleven
boats. The bridge over the Rhine is twenty-one and a half feet wide
from rail to rail. The boats are four feet deep, fifty-two feet
long, and nine feet eight inches broad. The space between boat and
boat is eighteen feet ten inches. From these data the length of the
bridge should be 9ft. 8in. + 18ft. 10in. x 40 = 1140 feet. In order
to let vessels pass through, two boats well framed together, with
their flooring, are made to fall down stream together. Here, too,
they make good ham. It is fattened on round potatoes and Indian
corn. The farmers smoke what is for their own use in their chimneys.
When it is made for sale, and in greater quantities than the chimney
will hold, they make the smoke of the chimney pass into an adjoining
loft, or apartment, from which it has no issue; and here they hang
their hams.
An economical curtain bedstead. (Illustration omitted) The
bedstead is seven feet by four feet two inches. From each leg there
goes up an iron rod three-eighths of an inch in diameter. Those from
the legs at the foot of the bed meeting at top as in the margin, and
those from the head meeting in like manner, so that the two at the
foot form one point, and the two at the head another. On these
points lays an oval iron rod, whose long diameter is five feet, and
short one three feet one inch. There is a hole through this rod at
each end, by which it goes on firm on the point of the upright rods.
Then a nut screws it down firmly. Ten breadths of stuff two feet ten
inches wide, and eight feet six inches long, form the curtains.
There is no top nor vallons. The rings are fastened within two and a
half or three inches of the top on the inside, which two and a half
or three inches stand up, and are an ornament somewhat like a ruffle.
I have observed all along the Rhine that they make the oxen
draw by the horns. A pair of very handsome chariot horses, large,
bay, and seven years old, sell for fifty louis. One pound of beef
sells for eight kreitzers, (_i. e._ eight sixtieths of a florin;) one
pound of mutton or veal, six kreitzers; one pound of pork, seven and
a half kreitzers; one pound of ham, twelve kreitzers; one pound of
fine wheat bread, two kreitzers; one pound of butter, twenty
kreitzers; one hundred and sixty pounds of wheat, six francs; one
hundred and sixty pounds of maize, five francs; one hundred and sixty
pounds of potatoes, one franc; one hundred pounds of hay, one franc;
a cord of wood (which is 4 4 and 6 feet), seven francs; a laborer by
the day receives twenty-four kreitzers, and feeds himself. A journee
or arpent of land (which is eight by two hundred steps), such as the
middling plains of the Rhine, will sell for two hundred francs.
There are more soldiers here than other inhabitants, to wit: six
thousand soldiers and four thousand males of full age of the
citizens, the whole number of whom is reckoned at twenty thousand.
April 14th. _Manheim. Dossenheim. Heidelberg. Schwetzingen.
Manheim._ The elector placed, in 1768, two males and five females of
the Angora goat at Dossenheim, which is at the foot of the
Bergstrasse mountains. He sold twenty-five last year, and has now
seventy. They are removed into the mountains four leagues beyond
Dossenheim. Heidelberg is on the Neckar just where it issues from
the Bergstrasse mountains, occupying the first skirt of plain which
it forms. The chateau is up the hill a considerable height. The
gardens lie above the chateau, climbing up the mountain in terraces.
This chateau is the most noble ruin I have ever seen, having been
reduced to that state by the French in the time of Louis XIV., 1693.
Nothing remains under cover but the chapel. The situation is
romantic and pleasing beyond expression. It is on a great scale much
like the situation of Petrarch's chateau, at Vaucluse, on a small
one. The climate, too, is like that of Italy. The apple, the pear,
cherry, peach, apricot, and almond, are all in bloom. There is a
station in the garden to which the chateau re-echoes distinctly four
syllables. The famous ton of Heidelberg was new built in 1751, and
made to contain thirty foudres more than the ancient one. It is said
to contain two hundred and thirty-six foudres of one thousand two
hundred bottles each. I measured it, and found its length external
to be twenty-eight feet ten inches; its diameter at the end twenty
feet three inches; the thickness of the staves seven and a half
inches; thickness of the hoops seven and a half inches; besides a
great deal of external framing. There is no wine in it now. The
gardens at Schwetzingen show how much money may be laid out to make
an ugly thing. What is called the English quarter, however, relieves
the eye from the straight rows of trees, round and square basins,
which constitute the great mass of the garden. There are some
tolerable morsels of Grecian architecture, and a good ruin. The
Aviary, too, is clever. It consists of cells of about eight feet
wide, arranged round, and looking into a circular area of about forty
or fifty feet diameter. The cells have doors both of wire and glass,
and have small shrubs in them. The plains of the Rhine on this side
are twelve miles wide, bounded by the Bergstrasse mountains. These
appear to be eight hundred or a thousand feet high; the lower part in
vines, from which is made what is called the vin de Nichar; the upper
in chesnut. There are some cultivated spots however, quite to the
top. The plains are generally mulatto, in corn principally; they are
planting potatoes in some parts, and leaving others open for maize
and tobacco. Many peach and other fruit trees on the lower part of
the mountain. The paths on some parts of these mountains are
somewhat in the style represented in the margin (illustration
omitted).
_Manheim. Kaeferthal. Manheim._ Just beyond Kaeferthal is an
extensive, sandy waste, planted in pine, in which the elector has
about two hundred sangliers, tamed. I saw about fifty; the heavies I
am told, would weigh about three hundred pounds. They are fed on
round potatoes, and range in the forest of pines. At the village of
Kaeferthal is a plantation of rhubarb, begun in 1769 by a private
company. It contains twenty arpens or jourries, and its culture
costs about four or five hundred francs a year; it sometimes employs
forty or fifty laborers at a time. The best age to sell the rhubarb
at is the fifth or sixth year, but the sale being dull, they keep it
sometimes to the tenth year; they find it best to let it remain in
the ground. They sell about two hundred kentals a year at two or
three francs a pound, and could sell double that quantity from the
ground if they could find a market. The apothecaries of Francfort
and of England are the principal buyers. It is in beds, resembling
lettice-beds; the plants four, five or six feet apart. When dug, a
thread is passed through every piece of root, and it is hung separate
in a kind of rack; when dry it is rasped; what comes off is given to
the cattle.
April 15. _Manheim. Spire. Carlsruhe._ The valley preserves
its width, extending on each side of the river about ten or twelve
miles, but the soil loses much in its quality, becoming sandy and
lean, often barren and overgrown with pine thicket. At Spire is
nothing remarkable. Between that and Carlsruhe we pass the Rhine in
a common skow with oars, where it is between three and four hundred
yards wide. Carlsruhe is the residence of the Margrave of Baden, a
sovereign prince. His chateau is built in the midst of a natural
forest of several leagues diameter, and of the best trees I have seen
in these countries: they are mostly oak, and would be deemed but
indifferent in America. A great deal of money has been spent to do
more harm than good to the ground -- cutting a number of straight
allies through the forest. He has a pheasantry of the gold and
silver kind, the latter very tame, but the former excessively shy. A
little inclosure of stone, two and a half feet high and thirty feet
diameter, in which are two tamed beavers. There is a pond of fifteen
feet diameter in the centre, and at each end a little cell for them
to retire into, which is stowed with boughs and twigs with leaves on
them, which is their principal food. They eat bread also; -- twice a
week the water is changed. They cannot get over this wall. Some
cerfs of a peculiar kind, spotted like fawns, the horns remarkably
long, small and sharp, with few points. I am not sure there were
more than two to each main beam, and if I saw distinctly, there came
out a separate and subordinate beam from the root of each. Eight
angora goats -- beautiful animals -- all white. This town is only an
appendage of the chateau, and but a moderate one. It is a league
from Durlach, half way between that and the river. I observe they
twist the flues of their stoves in any form for ornament merely,
without smoking, as thus, _e. g._ (illustration omitted)
April 16. _Carlsruhe. Rastadt. Scholhoven. Bischofheim. Kehl.
Strasburg._ The valley of the Rhine still preserves its breadth, but
varies in quality; sometimes a rich mulatto loom, sometimes a poor
sand, covered with small pine. The culture is generally corn. It is
to be noted, that through the whole of my route through the
Netherlands and the valley of the Rhine, there is a little red clover
every here and there, and a great deal of grape cultivated. The seed
of this is sold to be made into oil. The grape is now in blossom.
No inclosures. The fruit trees are generally blossoming through the
whole valley. The high mountains of the Bergstrasse, as also of
Alsace, are covered with snow. Within this day or two, the every-day
dress of the country women here is black. Rastadt is a seat also of
the Margrave of Baden. Scholhoven and Kehl are in his territory, but
not Bischofheim. I see no beggars since I entered his government,
nor is the traveller obliged to ransom himself every moment by a
chausiee gold. The roads are excellent, and made so, I presume, out
of the coffers of the prince. From Cleves till I enter the
Margravate of Baden, the roads have been strung with beggars -- in
Hesse the most, and the road tax very heavy. We pay it cheerfully,
however, through the territory of Francfort and thence up the Rhine,
because fine gravelled roads are kept up; but through the Prussian,
and other parts of the road below Francfort, the roads are only as
made by the carriages, there not appearing to have been ever a day's
work employed on them. At Strasburgh we pass the Rhine on a wooden
bridge.
At _Brussels and Antwerp_, the fuel is pit-coal, dug in
Brabant. Through all Holland it is turf. From Cleves to Cologne it
is pit-coal brought from England. They burn it in open stoves. From
thence it is wood, burnt in close stoves, till you get to Strasburg,
where the open chimney comes again into use.
April 16th, 17th, 18th. _Strasburg._ The vin de paille is made
in the neighborhood of Colmar, in Alsace, about ------- from this
place. It takes its name from the circumstance of spreading the
grapes on straw, where they are preserved till spring, and then made
into wine. The little juice then remaining in them makes a rich
sweet wine, but the dearest in the world, without being the best by
any means. They charge nine florins the bottle for it in the taverns
of Strasburg. It is the caprice of wealth alone which continues so
losing an operation. This wine is sought because dear; while the
better wine of Frontignan is rarely seen at a good table because it
is cheap.
_Strasburg. Saverne. Phalsbourg._ As far as Saverne the country
is in waiving hills and hollows; red, rich enough; mostly in small
grain, but some vines; a little stone. From Saverne to Phalsbourg we
cross a considerable mountain, which takes an hour to rise it.
April 19th. _Phalsbourg. Fenestrange. Moyenvic. Nancy._
Asparagus to-day at Moyenvic. The country is always either
mountainous or hilly; red, tolerably good, and in small grain. On
the hills about Fenestrange, Moyenvic, and Nancy, are some small
vineyards where a bad wine is made. No inclosures. Some good sheep,
indifferent cattle, and small horses. The most forest I have seen in
France, principally of beech, pretty large. The houses, as in
Germany, are of scantling, filled in with wicker and mortar, and
covered either with thatch or tiles. The people, too, here as there,
are gathered in villages. Oxen plough here with collars and hames.
The awkward figure of their mould-board leads one to consider what
should be its form. The offices of the mould-board are to receive
the sod after the share has cut under it, to raise it gradually, and
to reverse it. The fore-end of it then, should be horizontal to
enter under the sod, and the hind end perpendicular to throw it over;
the intermediate surface changing gradually from the horizontal to
the perpendicular. It should be as wide as the furrow, and of a
length suited to the construction of the plough. The following would
seem a good method of making it: Take a block, whose length, breadth
and thickness, is that of your intended mould-board, suppose two and
a half feet xxx long and eight inches broad and thick. Draw the
lines _a d_ and _c d_, figure 1, with a saw, the toothed edge of
which is straight, enter at _a_ and cut on, guiding the hind part of
the saw on the line _a b_, and the fore part on the line _a d_, till
the saw reaches the points _c_ and _d_, then enter it at _c_ and cut
on, guiding it by the lines _c b_ and _c d_ till it reaches the
points _b_ and _d_. The quarter, _a b c d_, will then be completely
cut out, and the diagonal from _d_ to _b_ laid bare. The piece may
now be represented as in figure 2. Then saw in transversely at every
two inches till the saw reaches the line _c e_, and the diagonal _b
d_, and cut out the pieces with an adze. The upper surface will thus
be formed. With a gauge opened to eight inches, and guided by the
lines _c e_, scribe the upper edge of the board from _d b_, cut that
edge perpendicular to the face of the board, and scribe it of the
proper thickness. Then form the underside by the upper, by cutting
transversely with the saw and taking out the piece with an adze. As
the upper edge of the wing of the share rises a little, the fore end
of the board, _b c_, will rise as much from a strict horizontal
position, and will throw the hind end, _e d_, exactly as much beyond
the perpendicular, so as to promote the reversing of the sod. The
women here, as in Germany, do all sorts of work. While one considers
them as useful and rational companions, one cannot forget that they
are also objects of our pleasures; nor can they ever forget it.
While employed in dirt and drudgery, some tag of a ribbon, some ring,
or bit of bracelet, earbob or necklace, or something of that kind,
will show that the desire of pleasing is never suspended in them. It
is an honorable circumstance for man, that the first moment he is at
his ease, he allots the internal employments to his female partner,
and takes the external on himself. And this circumstance, or its
reverse, is a pretty good indication that a people are, or are not at
their ease. Among the Indians, this indication fails from a
particular cause: every Indian man is a soldier or warrior, and the
whole body of warriors constitute a standing army, always employed in
war or hunting. To support that army, there remain no laborers but
the women. Here, then, is so heavy a military establishment, that
the civil part of the nation is reduced to women only. But this is a
barbarous perversion of the natural destination of the two sexes.
Women are formed by nature for attentions, not for hard labor. A
woman never forgets one of the numerous train of little offices which
belong to her. A man forgets often.
April 20th. _Nancy. Toule. Void. Ligny en Barrois. Bar le Duc.
St. Dizier._ Nancy itself is a neat little town, and its environs
very agreeable. The valley of the little branch of the Moselle, on
which it is, is about a mile wide: the road then crossing the
head-waters of the Moselle, the Maes, and the Marne, the country is
very hilly, and perhaps a third of it poor and in forests of beech:
the other two-thirds from poor up to middling, red, and stony.
Almost entirely in corn, now and then only some vines on the hills.
The Moselle at Toule is thirty or forty yards wide: the Maese near
Void about half that: the Marne at St. Dizier about forty yards.
They all make good plains of from a quarter of a mile to a mile wide.
The hills of the Maese abound with chalk. The rocks coming down from
the tops of the hills, on all the road of this day, at regular
intervals like the ribs of an animal, have a very irregular
appearance. Considerable flocks of sheep and asses, and, in the
approach to St. Dizier, great plantations of apple and cherry trees;
here and there a peach tree, all in general bloom. The roads through
Lorraine are strung with beggars.
April 21st. _St. Dizier. Vitry le Fransais. Chalons sur Marne.
Epernay._ The plains of the Marne and Sault uniting, appear boundless
to the eye till we approach their confluence at Vitry, where the
hills come in on the right; after that the plains are generally about
a mile, mulatto, of middling quality, sometimes stony. Sometimes the
ground goes off from the river so sloping, that one does not know
whether to call it high or low land. The hills are mulatto also, but
whitish, occasioned by the quantity of chalk which seems to
constitute their universal base. They are poor, and principally in
vines. The streams of water are of the color of milk, occasioned by
the chalk also. No inclosures, some flocks of sheep; children
gathering dung in the roads. Here and there a chateau; but none
considerable.
April 22d. _Epernay._ The hills abound with chalk. Of this
they make lime, not so strong as stone lime, and therefore to be used
in greater proportion. They cut the blocks into regular forms also,
like stone, and build houses of it. The common earth too, well
impregnated with this, is made into mortar, moulded in the form of
brick, dried in the sun, and houses built of them which last one
hundred or two hundred years. The plains here are a mile wide, red,
good, in corn, clover, Luzerne, St. Foin. The hills are in vines,
and this being precisely the canton where the most celebrated wines
of Champagne are made, details must be entered into. Remember,
however, that they will always relate to the white wines, unless
where the red are expressly mentioned. The reason is that their red
wines, though much esteemed on the spot, are by no means esteemed
elsewhere equally with their white; nor do they merit equal esteem.
A Topographical sketch of the position of the wine villages,
the course of the hills, and consequently the aspect of the
vine-yards.
_Soil_, meagre, mulatto clay, mixed with small broken stone,
and a little hue of chalk. Very dry.
_Aspect_, may be better seen by the annexed diagram. The
xxx
wine of Aij is made from _a_ to _b_, those of Dizy from _b_ to
_c_, Auvillij _d_ to _e_, Cumieres _e_ to _f_, Epernay _g_ to _h_,
Perij _i_ to _k_. The hills are generally about two hundred and
fifty feet high. The good wine is made only in the middle region.
The lower region, however, is better than the upper; because this
last is exposed to cold winds, and a colder atmosphere.
_Culture._ The vines are planted two feet apart. Afterwards
they are multiplied (provignes). When a stock puts out two shoots
they lay them down, spread them open and cover them with earth, so as
to have in the end about a plant for every square foot. For
performing this operation they have a hook, of this shape,
(illustration omitted) and nine inches long, which, being stuck in
the ground, holds down the main stock, while the laborer separates
and covers the new shoot. They leave two buds above the ground.
When the vine has shot up high enough, they stick it with split
sticks of oak, from an inch to an inch and a half square, and four
feet long, and tie the vine to its stick with straw. These sticks
cost two florins the hundred, and will last forty years. An arpent,
one year with another, in the fine vineyards, gives twelve pieces,
and in the inferior vineyards twenty-five pieces, of two hundred
bottles each. An arpent of the first quality sells for three
thousand florins, and there have been instances of seven thousand two
hundred florins. The arpent contains one hundred verges, of
twenty-two pieds square. The arpent of inferior quality sells at one
thousand florins. They plant the vines in a hole about a foot deep,
and fill that hole with good mould, to make the plant take.
Otherwise it would perish. Afterwards, if ever they put dung, it is
very little. During wheat harvest there is a month or six weeks that
nothing is done in the vineyard, that is to say, from the 1st of
August to the beginning of vintage. The vintage commences early in
September, and lasts a month. A day's work of a laborer in the
busiest season is twenty sous, and he feeds himself: in the least
busy season it is fifteen sous. Corn lands are rented from four
florins to twenty-four; but vine lands are never rented. The three
fasons (or workings) of an arpent cost fifteen florins. The whole
year's expense of an arpent is worth one hundred florins.
_Grapes._ -- The bulk of their grapes are purple, which they
prefer for making even white wine. They press them very lightly,
without treading or permitting them to ferment at all, for about an
hour; so that it is the beginning of the running only which makes the
bright wine. What follows the beginning is of a straw color, and
therefore not placed on a level with the first. The last part of the
juice, produced by strong pressure, is red and ordinary. They choose
the bunches with as much care, to make wine of the very first
quality, as if to eat. Not above one-eighth of the whole grapes will
do for this purpose. The white grape, though not so fine for wine as
the red, when the red can be produced, and more liable to rot in a
moist season, yet grows better if the soil be excessively poor, and
therefore in such a soil is preferred, or rather, is used of
necessity, because there the red would not grow at all.
_Wine._ -- The white wines are either mousseux, sparkling, or
non-mousseux, still. The sparkling are little drunk in France, but
are almost alone known and drunk in foreign countries. This makes so
great a demand, and so certain a one, that it is the dearest by about
an eighth, and therefore they endeavor to make all sparkling if they
can. This is done by bottling in the spring, from the beginning of
March till June. If it succeeds, they lose abundance of bottles,
from one-tenth to one-third. This is another cause increasing the
price. To make the still wine, they bottle in September. This is
only done when they know from some circumstance that the wine will
not be sparkling. So if the spring bottling fails to make a
sparkling wine, they decant it into other bottles in the fall, and it
then makes the very best still wine. In this operation, it loses
from one-tenth to one-twentieth by sediment. They let it stand in
the bottles in this case forty-eight hours, with only a napkin spread
over their mouths, but no cork. The best sparkling wine, decanted in
this manner, makes the best still wine, and which will keep much
longer than that originally made still by being bottled in September.
The sparkling wines lose their briskness the older they are, but they
gain in quality with age to a certain length. These wines are in
perfection from two to ten years old, and will even be very good to
fifteen. 1766 was the best year ever known. 1775 and 1776 next to
that. 1783 is the last good year, and that not to be compared with
those. These wines stand icing very well.
_Aij._ M. Dorsay makes one thousand and one hundred pieces,
which sell, as soon as made, at three hundred florins, and in good
years four hundred florins, in the cask. I paid in his cellar, to M.
Louis, his homme d'affaires, for the remains of the year 1783, three
florins ten sous the bottle. Sparkling Champagne, of the same degree
of excellence, would have cost four florins, (the piece and demiqueue
are the same; the feuillette is one hundred bottles.) M. le Duc makes
four hundred to five hundred pieces. M. de Villermont, three hundred
pieces. M. Janson, two hundred and fifty pieces. All of the first
quality, red and white in equal quantities.
_Auvillaij._ The Benedictine monks make one thousand pieces,
red and white, but three-fourths red, both of the first quality. The
king's table is supplied by them. This enables them to sell at five
hundred and fifty florins the piece. Though their white is hardly as
good as Dorsay's, their red is the best. L'Abbatiale, belonging to
the bishop of the place, makes one thousand to twelve hundred pieces,
red and white, three-fourths red, at four hundred to five hundred and
fifty florins, because neighbors to the monks.
_Cumieres_ is all of the second quality, both red and white, at
one hundred and fifty to two hundred florins the piece.
_Epernay._ Madame Jermont makes two hundred pieces at three
hundred florins. M. Patelaine, one hundred and fifty pieces. M.
Mare, two hundred pieces. M. Chertems, sixty pieces. M. Lauchay,
fifty pieces. M. Cousin (Aubergiste de l'hotel de Rohan a Epernay),
one hundred pieces. M. Pierrot, one hundred pieces. Les Chanoines
regulieres d'Epernay, two hundred pieces. Mesdames les Ursulines
religieuses, one hundred pieces. M. Gilette, two hundred pieces.
All of the first quality; red and white in equal quantities.
_Pierrij._ M. Casotte makes five hundred pieces. M. de la
Motte, three hundred pieces. M. de Failli, three hundred pieces. I
tasted his wine of 1779, one of the good years. It was fine, though
not equal to that of M. Dorsay, of 1783. He sells it at two florins
ten sous to merchants, and three florins to individuals. Les
Seminaristes, one hundred and fifty pieces. M. Hoquart, two hundred
pieces. All of the first quality; white and red in equal quantities.
At Cramont, also, there are some wines of the first quality
made. At Avisi also, and Aucy, Le Meni, Mareuil, Verzis-Verzenni.
This last place belongs to the Marquis de Sillery. The wines are
carried to Sillery, and there stored, whence they are called Vins de
Sillery, though not made at Sillery.
All these wines of Epernay and Pierrij sell almost as dear as
M. Dorsay's, their quality being nearly the same. There are many
small proprietors who might make wine of the first quality, if they
would cull their grapes, but they are too poor for this. Therefore,
the proprietors before named, whose names are established, buy of the
poorer ones the right to cull their vineyards, by which means they
increase their quantity, as they find about one-third of the grapes
will make wines of the first quality.
The lowest-priced wines of all are thirty florins the piece,
red or white. They make brandy of the pumice. In very bad years,
when their wines become vinegar, they are sold for six florins the
piece, and made into brandy. They yield one-tenth brandy.
White Champagne is deemed good in proportion as it is silky and
still. Many circumstances derange the scale of wines. The
proprietor of the best vineyard, in the best year, having bad weather
come upon him while he is gathering his grapes, makes a bad wine,
while his neighbor, holding a more indifferent vineyard, which
happens to be ingathering while the weather is good, makes a better.
The M. de Casotte at Pierrij formerly was the first house. His
successors, by some imperceptible change of culture, have degraded
the quality of their wines. Their cellars are admirably made, being
about six, eight or ten feet wide, vaulted, and extending into the
ground, in a kind of labyrinth, to a prodigious distance, with an
air-hole of two feet diameter every fifty feet. From the top of the
vault to the surface of the earth, is from fifteen to thirty feet. I
have nowhere seen cellars comparable to these. In packing their
bottles, they lay on their side; then cross them at each end, they
lay laths, and on these another row of bottles, heads and points; and
so on. By this means, they can take out a bottle from the top, or
where they will.
April 23d. _Epernay. Chateau Thieray. St. Jean. Meaux.
Vergalant. Paris._ From Epernay to St. Jean the road leads over
hills, which in the beginning are indifferent, but get better towards
the last. The plains, wherever seen, are inconsiderable. After
passing St. Jean, the hills become good, and the plains increase.
The country about Vergalant is pretty. A skirt of a low ridge which
runs in on the extensive plains of the Marne and Seine, is very
picturesque. The general bloom of fruit trees proves there are more
of them than I had imagined from travelling in other seasons, when
they are less distinguishable at a distance from the forest trees.
_Travelling notes for Mr. Rutledge and Mr. Shippen_
June 3, 1788
_General Observations._ -- On arriving at a town, the first
thing is to buy the plan of the town, and the book noting its
curiosities. Walk round the ramparts when there are any, go to the
top of a steeple to have a view of the town and its environs.
When you are doubting whether a thing is worth the trouble of
going to see, recollect that you will never again be so near it, that
you may repent the not having seen it, but can never repent having
seen it. But there is an opposite extreme too, that is, the seeing
too much. A judicious selection is to be aimed at, taking care that
the indolence of the moment have no influence in the decision. Take
care particularly not to let the porters of churches, cabinets, &c.,
lead you through all the little details of their profession, which
will load the memory with trifles, fatigue the attention, and waste
that and your time. It is difficult to confine these people to the
few objects worth seeing and remembering. They wish for your money,
and suppose you give it the more willingly the more they detail to
you.
When one calls in the taverns for the _vin du pays_, they give
what is natural and unadulterated and cheap: when _vin etrangere_ is
called for, it only gives a pretext for charging an extravagant price
for an unwholsome stuff, very often of their own brewery. The people
you will naturally see the most of will be tavern keepers, _valets de
place_, and postilions. These are the hackneyed rascals of every
country. Of course they must never be considered when we calculate
the national character.
_Objects of attention for an American._ -- 1. Agriculture.
Everything belonging to this art, and whatever has a near relation to
it. Useful or agreeable animals which might be transported to
America. Species of plants for the farmer's garden, according to the
climate of the different States.
2. Mechanical arts, so far as they respect things necessary in
America, and inconvenient to be transported thither ready-made, such
as forges, stone quarries, boats, bridges, (very especially,) &c.,
&c.
3. Lighter mechanical arts, and manufactures. Some of these
will be worth a superficial view; but circumstances rendering it
impossible that America should become a manufacturing country during
the time of any man now living, it would be a waste of attention to
examine these minutely.
4. Gardens, peculiarly worth the attention of an American,
because it is the country of all others where the noblest gardens may
be made without expense. We have only to cut out the superabundant
plants.
5. Architecture worth great attention. As we double our
numbers every twenty years, we must double our houses. Besides, we
build of such perishable materials, that one half of our houses must
be rebuilt in every space of twenty years, so that in that time,
houses are to be built for three-fourths of our inhabitants. It is,
then, among the most important arts; and it is desirable to introduce
taste into an art which shows so much.
6. Painting. Statuary. Too expensive for the state of wealth
among us. It would be useless, therefore, and preposterous, for us
to make ourselves connoisseurs in those arts. They are worth seeing,
but not studying.
7. Politics of each country, well worth studying so far as
respects internal affairs. Examine their influence on the happiness
of the people. Take every possible occasion for entering into the
houses of the laborers, and especially at the moments of their
repast; see what they eat, how they are clothed, whether they are
obliged to work too hard; whether the government or their landlord
takes from them an unjust proportion of their labor; on what footing
stands the property they call their own, their personal liberty, &c.,
&c.
8. Courts. To be seen as you would see the tower of London or
menagerie of Versailles, with their lions, tigers, hyenas, and other
beast of prey, standing in the same relation to their fellows. A
slight acquaintance with them will suffice to show you that, under
the most imposing exterior, they are the weakest and worst part of
mankind. Their manners, could you ape them, would not make you
beloved in your own country, nor would they improve it could you
introduce them there to the exclusion of that honest simplicity now
prevailing in America, and worthy of being cherished.
_The Anas. 1791 -- 1806_
SELECTIONS
_Explanations of the 3. volumes bound in marbled paper_
February 4, 1818
In these 3 vols will be found copies of the official opinions
given in writing by me to Genl. Washington, while I was Secretary of
State, with sometimes the documents belonging to the case. Some of
these are the rough draughts, some press-copies, some fair ones. In
the earlier part of my acting in that office I took no other note of
the passing transactions: but, after awhile, I saw the importance of
doing it, in aid of my memory. Very often therefore I made
memorandums on loose scraps of paper, taken out of my pocket in the
moment, and laid by to be copied fair at leisure, which however they
hardly ever were. These scraps therefore, ragged, rubbed, &
scribbled as they were, I had bound with the others by a binder who
came into my cabinet, did it under my own eye, and without the
opportunity of reading a single paper. At this day, after the lapse
of 25 years, or more, from their dates, I have given to the whole a
calm revisal, when the passions of the time are past away, and the
reasons of the transactions act alone on the judgment. Some of the
informations I had recorded are now cut out from the rest, because I
have seen that they were incorrect, or doubtful, or merely personal
or private, with which we have nothing to do. I should perhaps have
thought the rest not worth preserving, but for their testimony
against the only history of that period which pretends to have been
compiled from authentic and unpublished documents. Could these
documents, all, be laid open to the public eye, they might be
compared, contrasted, weighed, & the truth fairly sifted out of them,
for we are not to suppose that every thing found among Genl.
Washington's papers is to be taken as gospel truth. Facts indeed of
his own writing & inditing, must be believed by all who knew him; and
opinions, which were his own, merit veneration and respect; for few
men have lived whose opinions were more unbiassed and correct. Not
that it is pretended he never felt bias. His passions were naturally
strong; but his reason, generally, stronger. But the materials from
his own pen make probably an almost insensible part of the mass of
papers which fill his presses. He possessed the love, the
veneration, and confidence of all. With him were deposited
suspicions & certainties, rumors & realities, facts & falsehoods, by
all those who were, or who wished to be thought, in correspondence
with him, and by the many Anonymi who were ashamed to put their names
to their slanders. From such a Congeries history may be made to wear
any hue, with which the passions of the compiler, royalist or
republican, may chuse to tinge it. Had Genl. Washington himself
written from these materials a history of the period they embrace, it
would have been a conspicuous monument of the integrity of his mind,
the soundness of his judgment, and its powers of discernment between
truth & falsehood; principles & pretensions. But the party feelings
of his biographer, to whom after his death the collection was
confided, has culled from it a composition as different from what
Genl. Washington would have offered, as was the candor of the two
characters during the period of the war. The partiality of this pen
is displayed in lavishments of praise on certain military characters,
who had done nothing military, but who afterwards, & before he wrote,
had become heroes in party, altho' not in war; and in his reserve on
the merits of others, who rendered signal services indeed, but did
not earn his praise by apostatising in peace from the republican
principles for which they had fought in war. It shews itself too in
the cold indifference with which a struggle for the most animating of
human objects is narrated. No act of heroism ever kindles in the
mind of this writer a single aspiration in favor of the holy cause
which inspired the bosom, & nerved the arm of the patriot warrior.
No gloom of events, no lowering of prospects ever excites a fear for
the issue of a contest which was to change the condition of man over
the civilized globe. The sufferings inflicted on endeavors to
vindicate the rights of humanity are related with all the frigid
insensibility with which a monk would have contemplated the victims
of an auto da fe. Let no man believe that Genl. Washington ever
intended that his papers should be used for the suicide of the cause,
for which he had lived, and for which there never was a moment in
which he would not have died. The abuse of these materials is
chiefly however manifested in the history of the period immediately
following the establishment of the present constitution; and nearly
with that my memorandums begin. Were a reader of this period to form
his idea of it from this history alone, he would suppose the
republican party (who were in truth endeavoring to keep the
government within the line of the Constitution, and prevent it's
being monarchised in practice) were a mere set of grumblers, and
disorganisers, satisfied with no government, without fixed principles
of any, and, like a British parliamentary opposition, gaping after
loaves and fishes, and ready to change principles, as well as
position, at any time, with their adversaries.
But a short review of facts omitted, or uncandidly stated in
this history will shew that the contests of that day were contests of
principle, between the advocates of republican, and those of kingly
government, and that, had not the former made the efforts they did,
our government would have been, even at this early day, a very
different thing from what the successful issue of those efforts have
made it.
The alliance between the states under the old articles of
confederation, for the purpose of joint defence against the
aggression of Great Britan, was found insufficient, as treaties of
alliance generally are, to enforce compliance with their mutual
stipulations: and these, once fulfilled, that bond was to expire of
itself, & each state to become sovereign and independant in all
things. Yet it could not but occur to every one that these separate
independencies, like the petty States of Greece, would be eternally
at war with each other, & would become at length the mere partisans &
satellites of the leading powers of Europe. All then must have
looked forward to some further bond of union, which would ensure
internal peace, and a political system of our own, independant of
that of Europe. Whether all should be consolidated into a single
government, or each remain independant as to internal matters, and
the whole form a single nation as to what was foreign only, and
whether that national government should be a monarchy or republic,
would of course divide opinions according to the constitutions, the
habits, and the circumstances of each individual. Some officers of
the army, as it has always been said and believed (and Steuben and
Knox have even been named as the leading agents) trained to monarchy
by military habits, are understood to have proposed to Genl.
Washington to decide this great question by the army before it's
disbandment, and to assume himself the crown, on the assurance of
their support. The indignation with which he is said to have scouted
this parricid proposition, was equally worthy of his virtue and his
wisdom. The next effort was (on suggestion of the same individuals,
in the moment of their separation) the establishment of an hereditary
order, under the name of the Cincinnati, ready prepared, by that
distinction, to be engrafted into the future frame of government, &
placing Genl. Washington still at their head. The General (* 1)
wrote to me on this subject, while I was in Congress at Annapolis,
and an extract from my answer is inserted in 5. Marshall's hist. pa.
28. He afterwards called on me at that place, on his way to a
meeting of the society, and after a whole evening of consultation he
left that place fully determined to use all his endeavors for it's
total suppression. But he found it so firmly riveted in the
affections of the members that, strengthened as they happened to be
by an adventitious occurrence of the moment, he could effect no more
than the abolition of it's hereditary principle. He called again on
his return, & explained to me fully the opposition which had been
made, the effect of the occurrence from France, and the difficulty
with which it's duration had been limited to the lives of the present
members. Further details will be found among my papers, in his and
my letters, and some in the _Encyclop. Method. Dictionnaire d'Econ.
politique_, communicated by myself to M. Meusnier, it's author, who
had made the establishment of this society the ground, in that work,
of a libel on our country. The want of some authority, which should
procure justice to the public creditors, and an observance of
treaties with foreign nations, produced, some time after, the call of
a convention of the States at Annapolis. Altho' at this meeting a
difference of opinion was evident on the question of a republican or
kingly government, yet, so general thro' the states, was the
sentiment in favor of the former, that the friends of the latter
confined themselves to a course of obstruction only, and delay, to
every thing proposed. They hoped that, nothing being done, and all
things going from bad to worse, a kingly government might be usurped,
and submitted to by the people, as better than anarchy, & wars
internal and external the certain consequences of the present want of
a general government. The effect of their manoeuvres, with the
defective attendance of deputies from the states, resulted in the
measure of calling a more general convention, to be held at
Philadelphia. At this the same party exhibited the same practices,
and with the same views of preventing a government of concord, which
they foresaw would be republican, and of forcing, thro' anarchy,
their way to monarchy. But the mass of that convention was too
honest, too wise, and too steady to be baffled or misled by their
manoeuvres. One of these was, a form of government proposed by Colo.
Hamilton, which would have been in fact a compromise between the two
parties of royalism & republicanism. According to this, the
Executive & one branch of the legislature were to be during good
behavior, i. e. for life, and the Governors of the states were to be
named by these two permanent organs. This however was rejected, on
which Hamilton left the Convention, as desperate, & never returned
again until near it's final conclusion. These opinions & efforts,
secret or avowed, of the advocates for monarchy, had begotten great
jealously thro' the states generally: and this jealousy it was which
excited the strong oppositon to the conventional constitution; a
jealousy which yielded at last only to a general determination to
establish certain amendments as barriers against a government either
monarchical or consolidated. In what passed thro' the whole period
of these conventions, I have gone on the information of those who
were members of them, being absent myself on my mission to France.
(* 1) See his lre., Apr. 8, 84.
I returned from that mission in the 1st. year of the new
government, having landed in Virginia in Dec. 89. & proceeded to N.
York in March 90. to enter on the office of Secretary of State. Here
certainly I found a state of things which, of all I had ever
contemplated, I the least expected. I had left France in the first
year of its revolution, in the fervor of natural rights, and zeal for
reformation. My conscientious devotion to these rights could not be
heightened, but it had been aroused and excited by daily exercise.
The President received me cordially, and my Colleagues & the circle
of principal citizens, apparently, with welcome. The courtesies of
dinner parties given me as a stranger newly arrived among them,
placed me at once in their familiar society. But I cannot describe
the wonder and mortification with which the table conversations
filled me. Politics were the chief topic, and a preference of
kingly, over republican, government, was evidently the favorite
sentiment. An apostate I could not be; nor yet a hypocrite: and I
found myself, for the most part, the only advocate on the republican
side of the question, unless, among the guests, there chanced to be
some member of that party from the legislative Houses. Hamilton's
financial system had then past. It had two objects. 1st as a
puzzle, to exclude popular understanding & inquiry. 2dly, as a
machine for the corruption of the legislature; for he avowed the
opinion that man could be governed by one of two motives only, force
or interest: force he observed, in this country, was out of the
question; and the interests therefore of the members must be laid
hold of, to keep the legislature in unison with the Executive. And
with grief and shame it must be acknoleged that his machine was not
without effect. That even in this, the birth of our government, some
members were found sordid enough to bend their duty to their
interests, and to look after personal, rather than public good. It
is well known that, during the war, the greatest difficulty we
encountered was the want of money or means, to pay our souldiers who
fought, or our farmers, manufacturers & merchants who furnished the
necessary supplies of food & clothing for them. After the expedient
of paper money had exhausted itself, certificates of debt were given
to the individual creditors, with assurance of payment, so soon as
the U. S. should be able. But the distresses of these people often
obliged them to part with these for the half, the fifth, and even a
tenth of their value; and Speculators had made a trade of cozening
them from the holders, by the most fraudulent practices and
persuasions that they would never be paid. In the bill for funding &
paying these, Hamilton made no difference between the original
holders, & the fraudulent purchasers of this paper. Great & just
repugnance arose at putting these two classes of creditors on the
same footing, and great exertions were used to pay to the former the
full value, and to the latter the price only which he had paid, with
interest. But this would have prevented the game which was to be
played, & for which the minds of greedy members were already tutored
and prepared. When the trial of strength on these several efforts
had indicated the form in which the bill would finally pass, this
being known within doors sooner than without, and especially than to
those who were in distant parts of the Union, the base scramble
began. Couriers & relay horses by land, and swift sailing pilot
boats by sea, were flying in all directions. Active part[n]ers &
agents were associated & employed in every state, town and country
neighborhood, and this paper was bought up at 5/ and even as low as
2/ in the pound, before the holder knew that Congress had already
provided for it's redemption at par. Immense sums were thus filched
from the poor & ignorant, and fortunes accumulated by those who had
themselves been poor enough before. Men thus enriched by the
dexterity of a leader, would follow of course the chief who was
leading them to fortune, and become the zealous instruments of all
his enterprises. This game was over, and another was on the carpet
at the moment of my arrival; and to this I was most ignorantly &
innocently made to hold the candle. This fiscal maneuvre is well
known by the name of the Assumption. Independantly of the debts of
Congress, the states had, during the war, contracted separate and
heavy debts; and Massachusetts particularly in an absurd attempt,
absurdly conducted, on the British post of Penobscot: and the more
debt Hamilton could rake up, the more plunder for his mercenaries.
This money, whether wisely or foolishly spent, was pretended to have
been spent for general purposes, and ought therefore to be paid from
the general purse. But it was objected that nobody knew what these
debts were, what their amount, or what their proofs. No matter; we
will guess them to be 20. millions. But of these 20. millions we do
not know how much should be reimbursed to one state, nor how much to
another. No matter; we will guess. And so another scramble was set
on foot among the several states, and some got much, some little,
some nothing. But the main object was obtained, the phalanx of the
treasury was reinforced by additional recruits. This measure
produced the most bitter & angry contests ever known in Congress,
before or since the union of the states. I arrived in the midst of
it. But a stranger to the ground, a stranger to the actors on it, so
long absent as to have lost all familiarity with the subject, and as
yet unaware of it's object, I took no concern in it. The great and
trying question however was lost in the H. of Representatives. So
high were the feuds excited by this subject, that on it's rejection,
business was suspended. Congress met and adjourned from day to day
without doing any thing, the parties being too much out of temper to
do business together. The Eastern members particularly, who, with
Smith from South Carolina, were the principal gamblers in these
scenes, threatened a secession and dissolution. Hamilton was in
despair. As I was going to the President's one day, I met him in the
street. He walked me backwards & forwards before the President's
door for half an hour. He painted pathetically the temper into which
the legislature had been wrought, the disgust of those who were
called the Creditor states, the danger of the secession of their
members, and the separation of the states. He observed that the
members of the administration ought to act in concert, that tho' this
question was not of my department, yet a common duty should make it a
common concern; that the President was the center on which all
administrative questions ultimately rested, and that all of us should
rally around him, and support with joint efforts measures approved by
him; and that the question having been lost by a small majority only,
it was probable that an appeal from me to the judgment and discretion
of some of my friends might effect a change in the vote, and the
machine of government, now suspended, might be again set into motion.
I told him that I was really a stranger to the whole subject; not
having yet informed myself of the system of finances adopted, I knew
not how far this was a necessary sequence; that undoubtedly if it's
rejection endangered a dissolution of our union at this incipient
stage, I should deem that the most unfortunate of all consequences,
to avert which all partial and temporary evils should be yielded. I
proposed to him however to dine with me the next day, and I would
invite another friend or two, bring them into conference together,
and I thought it impossible that reasonable men, consulting together
coolly, could fail, by some mutual sacrifices of opinion, to form a
compromise which was to save the union. The discussion took place.
I could take no part in it, but an exhortatory one, because I was a
stranger to the circumstances which should govern it. But it was
finally agreed that, whatever importance had been attached to the
rejection of this proposition, the preservation of the union, & and
of concord among the states was more important, and that therefore it
would be better that the vote of rejection should be rescinded, to
effect which some members should change their votes. But it was
observed that this pill would be peculiarly bitter to the Southern
States, and that some concomitant measure should be adopted to
sweeten it a little to them. There had before been propositions to
fix the seat of government either at Philadelphia, or at Georgetown
on the Potomac; and it was thought that by giving it to Philadelphia
for ten years, and to Georgetown permanently afterwards, this might,
as an anodyne, calm in some degree the ferment which might be excited
by the other measure alone. So two of the Potomac members (White &
Lee, but White with a revulsion of stomach almost convulsive) agreed
to change their votes, & Hamilton undertook to carry the other point.
In doing this the influence he had established over the Eastern
members, with the agency of Robert Morris with those of the middle
states, effected his side of the engagement, and so the assumption
was passed, and 20. millions of stock divided among favored states,
and thrown in as pabulum to the stock-jobbing herd. This added to
the number of votaries to the treasury and made its Chief the master
of every vote in the legislature which might give to the government
the direction suited to his political views. I know well, and so
must be understood, that nothing like a majority in Congress had
yielded to this corruption. Far from it. But a division, not very
unequal, had already taken place in the honest part of that body,
between the parties styled republican and federal. The latter being
monarchists in principle, adhered to Hamilton of course, as their
leader in that principle, and this mercenary phalanx added to them
ensured him always a majority in both houses: so that the whole
action of the legislature was now under the direction of the
treasury. Still the machine was not compleat.The effect of the
funding system, & of the assumption, would be temporary. It would be
lost with the loss of the individual members whom it had enriched,
and some engine of influence more permanent must be contrived, while
these myrmidons were yet in place to carry it thro' all opposition.
This engine was the Bank of the U.S. All that history is known; so I
shall say nothing about it. While the government remained at
Philadelphia, a selection of members of both houses were constantly
kept as Directors, who, on every question interesting to that
institution, or to the views of the federal head, voted at the will
of that head; and, together with the stockholding members, could
always make the federal vote that of the majority. By this
combination, legislative expositions were given to the constitution,
and all the administrative laws were shaped on the model of England,
& so passed. And from this influence we were not relieved until the
removal from the precincts of the bank, to Washington. Here then was
the real ground of the opposition which was made to the course of
administration. It's object was to preserve the legislature pure and
independant of the Executive, to restrain the administration to
republican forms and principles, and not permit the constitution to
be construed into a monarchy, and to be warped in practice into all
the principles and pollutions of their favorite English model. Nor
was this an opposition to Genl. Washington. He was true to the
republican charge confided to him; & has solemnly and repeatedly
protested to me, in our private conversations, that he would lose the
last drop of his blood in support of it, and he did this the oftener,
and with the more earnestness, because he knew my suspicions of
Hamilton's designs against it; & wished to quiet them. For he was
not aware of the drift, or of the effect of Hamilton's schemes.
Unversed in financial projects & calculations, & budgets, his
approbation of them was bottomed on his confidence in the man. But
Hamilton was not only a monarchist, but for a monarchy bottomed on
corruption. In proof of this I will relate an anecdote, for the
truth of which I attest the God who made me. Before the President
set out on his Southern tour in April 1791. he addressed a letter of
the 4th. of that month, from Mt. Vernon to the Secretaries of State,
Treasury & War, desiring that, if any serious and important cases
should arise during his absence, they would consult & act on them,
and he requested that the Vice-president should also be consulted.
This was the only occasion on which that officer was ever requested
to take part in a Cabinet question. Some occasion for consultation
arising, I invited those gentlemen (and the Attorney genl. as well as
I remember) to dine with me in order to confer on the subject. After
the cloth was removed, and our question agreed & dismissed,
conversation began on other matters and, by some circumstance, was
led to the British constitution, on which Mr. Adams observed "purge
that constitution of it's corruption, and give to it's popular branch
equality of representation, and it would be the most perfect
constitution ever devised by the wit of man." Hamilton paused and
said, "purge it of it's corruption, and give to it's popular branch
equality of representation, & it would become an _impracticable_
government: as it stands at present, with all it's supposed defects,
it is the most perfect government which ever existed." And this was
assuredly the exact line which separated the political creeds of
these two gentlemen. The one was for two hereditary branches and an
honest elective one: the other for a hereditary king with a house of
lords & commons, corrupted to his will, and standing between him and
the people. Hamilton was indeed a singular character. Of acute
understanding, disinterested, honest, and honorable in all private
transactions, amiable in society, and duly valuing virtue in private
life, yet so bewitched & perverted by the British example, as to be
under thoro' conviction that corruption was essential to the
government of a nation. Mr. Adams had originally been a republican.
The glare of royalty and nobility, during his mission to England, had
made him believe their fascination a necessary ingredient in
government, and Shay's rebellion, not sufficiently understood where
he then was, seemed to prove that the absence of want and oppression
was not a sufficient guarantee of order. His book on the American
constitutions having made known his political bias, he was taken up
by the monarchical federalists, in his absence, and on his return to
the U.S. he was by them made to believe that the general disposition
of our citizens was favorable to monarchy. He here wrote his Davila,
as a supplement to the former work, and his election to the
Presidency confirmed his errors. Innumerable addresses too, artfully
and industriously poured in upon him, deceived him into a confidence
that he was on the pinnacle of popularity, when the gulph was yawning
at his feet which was to swallow up him and his deceivers. For, when
Genl. Washington was withdrawn, these energumeni of royalism, kept in
check hitherto by the dread of his honesty, his firmness, his
patriotism, and the authority of his name now, mounted on the Car of
State & free from controul, like Phaeton on that of the sun, drove
headlong & wild, looking neither to right nor left, nor regarding
anything but the objects they were driving at; until, displaying
these fully, the eyes of the nation were opened, and a general
disbandment of them from the public councils took place. Mr. Adams,
I am sure, has been long since convinced of the treacheries with
which he was surrounded during his administration. He has since
thoroughly seen that his constituents were devoted to republican
government, and whether his judgment is re-settled on it's ancient
basis, or not, he is conformed as a good citizen to the will of the
majority, and would now, I am persuaded, maintain it's republican
structure with the zeal and fidelity belonging to his character. For
even an enemy has said "he is always an honest man, & often a great
one." But in the fervor of the fury and follies of those who made him
their stalking horse, no man who did not witness it, can form an idea
of their unbridled madness, and the terrorism with which they
surrounded themselves. The horrors of the French revolution, then
raging, aided them mainly, and using that as a raw head and bloody
bones they were enabled by their stratagems of X. Y. Z. in which this
historian was a leading mountebank, their tales of tub-plots, Ocean
massacres, bloody buoys, and pulpit lyings, and slanderings, and
maniacal ravings of their Gardiners, their Osgoods and Parishes, to
spread alarm into all but the firmest breasts. Their Attorney
General had the impudence to say to a republican member that
deportation must be resorted to, of which, said he, "you republicans
have set the example," thus daring to identify us with the murderous
Jacobins of France. These transactions, now recollected but as
dreams of the night, were then sad realities; and nothing rescued us
from their liberticide effect but the unyielding opposition of those
firm spirits who sternly maintained their post, in defiance of
terror, until their fellow citizens could be aroused to their own
danger, and rally, and rescue the standard of the constitution. This
has been happily done. Federalism & monarchism have languished from
that moment, until their treasonable combinations with the enemies of
their country during the late war, their plots of dismembering the
Union & their Hartford convention, has consigned them to the tomb of
the dead: and I fondly hope we may now truly say "we are all
republicans, all federalists," and that the motto of the standard to
which our country will forever rally, will be "federal union, and
republican government;" and sure I am we may say that we are
indebted, for the preservation of this point of ralliance, to that
opposition of which so injurious an idea is so artfully insinuated &
excited in this history.
Much of this relation is notorious to the world, & many
intimate proofs of it will be found in these notes. From the moment,
where they end, of my retiring from the administration, the
federalists got unchecked hold of Genl. Washington. His memory was
already sensibly impaired by age, the firm tone of mind for which he
had been remarkable, was beginning to relax, it's energy was abated;
a listlessness of labor, a desire for tranquillity had crept on him,
and a willingness to let others act and even think for him. Like the
rest of mankind, he was disgusted with atrocities of the French
revolution, and was not sufficiently aware of the difference between
the rabble who were used as instruments of their perpetration, and
the steady & rational character of the American people, in which he
had not sufficient confidence. The opposition too of the republicans
to the British treaty, and zealous support of the federalists in that
unpopular, but favorite measure of theirs, had made him all their
own. Understanding moreover that I disapproved of that treaty, &
copiously nourished with falsehoods by a malignant neighbor of mine,
who ambitioned to be his correspondent, he had become alienated from
myself personally, as from the republican body generally of his
fellow citizens; & he wrote the letters to Mr. Adams, and Mr.
Carroll, over which, in devotion to his imperishable fame, we must
forever weep as monuments of mortal decay.
_Conversations with the President_
1792. Feb. 28. I was to have been with him long enough before
3. o clock (which was the hour & day he received visits) to have
opened to him a proposition for doubling the velocity of the post
riders, who now travel about 50. miles a day, & might without
difficulty go 100. and for taking measures (by way-bills) to know
where the delay is, when there is any. I was delayed by business, so
as to have scarcely time to give him the outlines. I ran over them
rapidly, & observed afterwards that I had hitherto never spoke to him
on the subject of the post office, not knowing whether it was
considered as a revenue law, or a law for the general accommodation
of the citizens; that the law just passed seemed to have removed the
doubt, by declaring that the whole profits of the office should be
applied to extending the posts & that even the past profits should be
refunded by the treasury for the same purpose: that I therefore
conceived it was now in the department of the Secretary of State:
that I thought it would be advantageous so to declare it for another
reason, to wit, that the department of treasury possessed already
such an influence as to swallow up the whole Executive powers, and
that even the future Presidents (not supported by the weight of
character which himself possessed) would not be able to make head
against this department. That in urging this measure I had certainly
no personal interest, since, if I was supposed to have any appetite
for power, yet as my career would certainly be exactly as short as
his own, the intervening time was too short to be an object. My real
wish was to avail the public of every occasion during the residue of
the President's period, to place things on a safe footing. -- He was
now called on to attend his company, & he desired me to come and
breakfast with him the next morning.
Feb. 29. I did so, & after breakfast we retired to his room, &
I unfolded my plan for the post-office, and after such an approbation
of it as he usually permitted himself on the first presentment of any
idea, and desiring me to commit it to writing, he, during that pause
of conversation which follows a business closed, said in an
affectionate tone, that he had felt much concern at an expression
which dropt from me yesterday, & which marked my intention of
retiring when he should. That as to himself, many motives obliged
him to it. He had through the whole course of the war, and most
particularly at the close of it uniformly declared his resolution to
retire from public affairs, & never to act in any public office; that
he had retired under that firm resolution, that the government
however which had been formed being found evidently too
inefficacious, and it being supposed that his aid was of some
consequence towards bringing the people to consent to one of
sufficient efficacy for their own good, he consented to come into the
convention, & on the same motive, after much pressing, to take a part
in the new government and get it under way. That were he to continue
longer, it might give room to say, that having tasted the sweets of
office he could not do without them: that he really felt himself
growing old, his bodily health less firm, his memory, always bad,
becoming worse, and perhaps the other faculties of his mind showing a
decay to others of which he was insensible himself, that this
apprehension particularly oppressed him, that he found morever his
activity lessened, business therefore more irksome, and tranquility &
retirement become an irresistible passion. That however he felt
himself obliged for these reasons to retire from the government, yet
he should consider it as unfortunate if that should bring on the
retirement of the great officers of the government, and that this
might produce a shock on the public mind of dangerous consequence. I
told him that no man had ever had less desire of entering into public
offices than myself; that the circumstance of a perilous war, which
brought every thing into danger, & called for all the services which
every citizen could render, had induced me to undertake the
administration of the government of Virginia, that I had both before
& after refused repeated appointments of Congress to go abroad in
that sort of office, which if I had consulted my own gratification,
would always have been the most agreeable to me, that at the end of
two years, I resigned the government of Virginia, & retired with a
firm resolution never more to appear in public life, that a domestic
loss however happened, and made me fancy that absence, & a change of
scene for a time might be expedient for me, that I therefore accepted
a foreign appointment limited to two years, that at the close of
that, Dr. Franklin having left France, I was appointed to supply his
place, which I had accepted, & tho' I continued in it three or four
years, it was under the constant idea of remaining only a year or two
longer; that the revolution in France coming on, I had so interested
myself in the event of that, that when obliged to bring my family
home, I had still an idea of returning & awaiting the close of that,
to fix the aera of my final retirement; that on my arrival here I
found he had appointed me to my present office, that he knew I had
not come into it without some reluctance, that it was on my part a
sacrifice of inclination to the opinion that I might be more
serviceable here than in France, & with a firm resolution in my mind
to indulge my constant wish for retirement at no very distant day:
that when therefore I received his letter written from Mount Vernon,
on his way to Carolina & Georgia, (Apr. 1. 1791) and discovered from
an expression in that that he meant to retire from the government ere
long, & as to the precise epoch there could be no doubt, my mind was
immediately made up to make that the epoch of my own retirement from
those labors, of which I was heartily tired. That however I did not
believe there was any idea in either of my brethren in the
administration of retiring, that on the contrary I had perceived at a
late meeting of the trustees of the sinking fund that the Secretary
of the Treasury had developed the plan he intended to pursue, & that
it embraced years in it's view. -- He said that he considered the
Treasury department as a much more limited one going only to the
single object of revenue, while that of the Secretary of State
embracing nearly all the objects of administration, was much more
important, & the retirement of the officer therefore would be more
noticed: that tho' the government had set out with a pretty general
good will of the public, yet that symptoms of dissatisfaction had
lately shewn themselves far beyond what he could have expected, and
to what height these might arise in case of too great a change in the
administration, could not be foreseen.
I told him that in my opinion there was only a single source of
these discontents. Tho' they had indeed appeared to spread
themselves over the war department also, yet I considered that as an
overflowing only from their real channel which would never have taken
place if they had not first been generated in another department, to
wit that of the treasury. That a system had there been contrived,
for deluging the states with paper money instead of gold & silver,
for withdrawing our citizens from the pursuits of commerce,
manufactures, buildings, & other branches of useful industry, to
occupy themselves & their capitals in a species of gambling,
destructive of morality, & which had introduced it's poison into the
government itself. That it was a fact, as certainly known as that he
& I were then conversing, that particular members of the legislature,
while those laws were on the carpet, had feathered their nests with
paper, had then voted for the laws, and constantly since lent all the
energy of their talents, & instrumentality of their offices to the
establishment & enlargement of this system: that they had chained it
about our necks for a great length of time, & in order to keep the
game in their hands had from time to time aided in making such
legislative constructions of the constitution as made it a very
different thing from what the people thought they had submitted to;
that they had now brought forward a proposition, far beyond every one
ever yet advanced, & to which the eyes of many were turned as the
decision which was to let us know whether we live under a limited or
an unlimited government. -- He asked me to what proposition I
alluded? I answered to that in the Report on manufactures which,
under colour of giving _bounties_ for the encouragement of particular
manufactures, meant to establish the doctrine that the power given by
the Constitution to collect taxes to provide for the _general
welfare_ of the U.S., permitted Congress to take everything under
their management which _they_ should deem for the _public welfare_, &
which is susceptible of the application of money: consequently that
the subsequent enumeration of their powers was not the description to
which resort must be had, & did not at all constitute the limits of
their authority: that this was a very different question from that of
the bank, which was thought an incident to an enumerated power: that
therefore this decision was expected with great anxiety: that indeed
I hoped the proposition would be rejected, believing there was a
majority in both houses against it, and that if it should be, it
would be considered as a proof that things were returning into their
true channel; & that at any rate I looked forward to the broad
representation which would shortly take place for keeping the general
constitution on it's true ground, & that this would remove a great
deal of the discontent which had shewn itself. The conversation
ended with this last topic. It is here stated nearly as much at
length as it really was, the expressions preserved where I could
recollect them, and their substance always faithfully stated.
July 10. 1792. My lre of ---- to the President, directed to
him at Mt Vernon, had not found him there, but came to him here. He
told me of this & that he would take an occasion of speaking with me
on the subject. He did so this day. He began by observing that he
had put it off from day to day because the subject was painful, to
wit his remaining in office which that letter sollicited. He said
that the decln he had made when he quitted his military command of
never again acting in public was sincere. That however when he was
called on to come forward to set the present govmt in motion, it
appeared to him that circumstances were so changed as to justify a
change in his resoln: he was made to believe that in 2 years all
would be well in motion & he might retire. At the end of two years
he found some things still to be done. At the end of the 3d year he
thought it was not worth while to disturb the course of things as in
one year more his office would expire & he was decided then to
retire. Now he was told there would still be danger in it.
Certainly if he thought so, he would conquer his longing for
retirement. But he feared it would be said his former professions of
retirement had been mere affectation, & that he was like other men,
when once in office he could not quit it. He was sensible too of a
decay of his hearing perhaps his other faculties might fall off & he
not be sensible of it. That with respect to the existing causes of
uneasiness, he thought there were suspicions against a particular
party which had been carried a great deal too far, there might be
_desires_, but he did not believe there were _designs_ to change the
form of govmt into a monarchy. That there might be a few who wished
it in the higher walks of life, particularly in the great cities but
that the main body of the people in the Eastern states were as
steadily for republicanism as in the Southern. That the pieces
lately published, & particularly in Freneau's paper seemed to have in
view the exciting opposition to the govmt. That this had taken place
in Pennsylve as to the excise law, accdg to informn he had recd from
Genl Hand that they tended to produce a separation of the Union, the
most dreadful of all calamities, and that whatever tended to produce
anarchy, tended of course to produce a resort to monarchical
government. He considered those papers as attacking him directly,
for he must be a fool indeed to swallow the little sugar plumbs here
& there thrown out to him. That in condemning the admn of the govmt
they condemned him, for if they thought there were measures pursued
contrary to his sentiment, they must conceive him too careless to
attend to them or too stupid to understand them. That tho indeed he
had signed many acts which he did not approve in all their parts, yet
he had never put his name to one which he did not think on the whole
was eligible. That as to the bank which had been an act of so much
complaint, until there was some infallible criterion of reason, a
difference of opinion must be tolerated. He did not believe the
discontents extended far from the seat of govmt. He had seen &
spoken with many people in Maryld & Virginia in his late journey. He
found the people contented & happy. He wished however to be better
informed on this head. If the discontent were more extensive than he
supposed, it might be that the desire that he should remain in the
government was not general.
My observns to him tended principally to enforce the topics of
my lre. I will not therefore repeat them except where they produced
observns from him. I said that the two great complaints were that
the national debt was unnecessarily increased, & that it had
furnished the means of corrupting both branches of the legislature.
That he must know & everybody knew there was a considerable squadron
in both whose votes were devoted to the paper & stock-jobbing
interest, that the names of a weighty number were known & several
others suspected on good grounds. That on examining the votes of
these men they would be found uniformly for every treasury measure, &
that as most of these measures had been carried by small majorities
they were carried by these very votes. That therefore it was a cause
of just uneasiness when we saw a legislature legislating for their
own interests in opposition to those of the people. He said not a
word on the corruption of the legislature, but took up the other
point, defended the assumption, & argued that it had not increased
the debt, for that all of it was honest debt. He justified the
excise law, as one of the best laws which could be past, as nobody
would pay the tax who did not chuse to do it. With respect to the
increase of the debt by the assumption I observed to him that what
was meant & objected to was that it increased the debt of the general
govmt and carried it beyond the possibility of paiment. That if the
balances had been settled & the debtor states directed to pay their
deficiencies to the creditor states, they would have done it easily,
and by resources of taxation in their power, and acceptable to the
people, by a direct tax in the South, & an excise in the North.
Still he said it would be paid by the people. Finding him really
approving the treasury system I avoided entering into argument with
him on those points.
Bladensbg. Oct. 1. This morning at Mt Vernon I had the
following conversation with the President. He opened it by
expressing his regret at the resolution in which I appeared so fixed
in the lre I had written him of retiring from public affairs. He
said that he should be extremely sorry that I should do it as long as
he was in office, and that he could not see where he should find
another character to fill my office. That as yet he was quite
undecided whether to retire in March or not. His inclinations led
him strongly to do it. Nobody disliked more the ceremonies of his
office, and he had not the least taste or gratification in the
execution of it's functions. That he was happy at home alone, and
that his presence there was now peculiarly called for by the
situation of Majr Washington whom he thought irrecoverable & should
he get well he would remove into another part of the country which
might better agree with him. That he did not believe his presence
necessary: that there were other characters who would do the business
as well or better. Still however if his aid was thought necessary to
save the cause to which he had devoted his life principally he would
make the sacrifice of a longer continuance. That he therefore
reserved himself for future decision, as his declaration would be in
time if made a month before the day of election. He had desired Mr.
Lear to find out from conversation, without appearing to make the
inquiry, whether any other person would be desired by any body. He
had informed him he judged from conversations that it was the
universal desire he should continue, & the expectation that those who
expressed a doubt of his continuance did it in the language of
apprehension, and not of desire. But this, says he, is only from the
north, it may be very different in the South. I thought this meant
as an opening to me to say what was the sentiment in the South from
which quarter I came. I told him that as far as I knew there was but
one voice there which was for his continuance. That as to myself I
had ever preferred the pursuits of private life to those of public,
which had nothing in them agreeable to me. I explained to him the
circumstances of the war which had first called me into public life,
and those following the war which had called me from a retirement on
which I had determd. That I had constantly kept my eye on my own
home, and could no longer refrain from returning to it. As to
himself his presence was important, that he was the only man in the
U.S. who possessed the confidce of the whole, that govmt was founded
in opinion & confidence, and that the longer he remained, the
stronger would become the habits of the people in submitting to the
govmt. & in thinking it a thing to be maintained. That there was no
other person who would be thought anything more than the head of a
party. He then expressed his concern at the difference which he
found to subsist between the Sec. of the Treasury & myself, of which
he said he had not been aware. He knew indeed that there was a
marked difference in our political sentiments, but he had never
suspected it had gone so far in producing a personal difference, and
he wished he could be the mediator to put an end to it. That he
thought it important to preserve the check of my opinions in the
administration in order to keep things in their proper channel &
prevent them from going too far. That as to the idea of transforming
this govt into a monarchy he did not believe there were ten men in
the U.S. whose opinions were worth attention who entertained such a
thought. I told him there were many more than he imagined. I
recalled to his memory a dispute at his own table a little before we
left Philada, between Genl. Schuyler on one side & Pinkney & myself
on the other, wherein the former maintained the position that
hereditary descent was as likely to produce good magistrates as
election. I told him that tho' the people were sound, there were a
numerous sect who had monarchy in contempln. That the Secy of the
Treasury was one of these. That I had heard him say that this
constitution was a shilly shally thing of mere milk & water, which
could not last, & was only good as a step to something better. That
when we reflected that he had endeavored in the convention to make an
English constn of it, and when failing in that we saw all his
measures tending to bring it to the same thing it was natural for us
to be jealous: and particular when we saw that these measures had
established corruption in the legislature, where there was a squadron
devoted to the nod of the treasury, doing whatever he had directed &
ready to do what he should direct. That if the equilibrium of the
three great bodies Legislative, Executive, & judiciary could be
preserved, if the Legislature could be kept independant, I should
never fear the result of such a government but that I could not but
be uneasy when I saw that the Executive had swallowed up the
legislative branch. He said that as to that interested spirit in the
legislature, it was what could not be avoided in any government,
unless we were to exclude particular descriptions of men, such as the
holders of the funds from all office. I told him there was great
difference between the little accidental schemes of self interest
which would take place in every body of men & influence their votes,
and a regular system for forming a corps of interested persons who
should be steadily at the orders of the Treasury. He touched on the
merits of the funding system, observed that there was a difference of
opinion about it some thinking it very bad, others very good. That
experience was the only criterion of right which he knew & this alone
would decide which opn was right. That for himself he had seen our
affairs desperate & our credit lost, and that this was in a sudden &
extraordinary degree raised to the highest pitch. I told him all
that was ever necessary to establish our credit, was an efficient
govmt & an honest one declaring it would sacredly pay our debts,
laying taxes for this purpose & applying them to it. I avoided going
further into the subject. He finished by another exhortation to me
not to decide too positively on retirement, & here we were called to
breakfast.
Feb. 7. 1793. I waited on the President with letters & papers
from Lisbon. After going through these I told him that I had for
some time suspended speaking with him on the subject of my going out
of office because I had understood that the bill for intercourse with
foreign nations was likely to be rejected by the Senate in which case
the remaining business of the department would be too inconsiderable
to make it worth while to keep it up. But that the bill being now
passed I was freed from the considerations of propriety which had
embarrassed me. That &c. (nearly in the words of a letter to Mr. T.
M. Randolph of a few days ago) and that I should be willing, if he
had taken no arrangemts. to the contrary to continue somewhat longer,
how long I could not say, perhaps till summer, perhaps autumn. He
said so far from taking arrangements on the subject, he had never
mentioned to any mortal the design of retiring which I had expressed
to him, till yesterday having heard that I had given up my house &
that it was rented by another, thereupon he mentd. it to Mr. E.
Randolph & asked him, as he knew my retirement had been talked of,
whether he had heard any persons suggested in conversations to
succeed me. He expressed his satisfn at my change of purpose, & his
apprehensions that my retirement would be a new source of uneasiness
to the public. He said Govr. Lee had that day informed of the genl.
discontent prevailing in Virga of which he never had had any
conception, much less sound informn: That it appeared to him very
alarming. He proceeded to express his earnest wish that Hamilton &
myself could coalesce in the measures of the govmt, and urged here
the general reasons for it which he had done to me on two former
conversns. He said he had proposed the same thing to Ham. who
expresd his readiness, and he thought our coalition would secure the
general acquiescence of the public. I told him my concurrence was of
much less importce than he seemed to imagine; that I kept myself
aloof from all cabal & correspondence on the subject of the govmt &
saw & spoke with as few as I could. That as to a coalition with Mr.
Hamilton, if by that was meant that either was to sacrifice his
general system to the other, it was impossible. We had both no doubt
formed our conclusions after the most mature consideration and
principles conscientiously adopted could not be given up on either
side. My wish was to see both houses of Congr. cleansed of all
persons interested in the bank or public stocks; & that a pure
legislature being given us, I should always be ready to acquiesce
under their determns even if contrary to my own opns, for that I
subscribe to the principle that the will of the majority honestly
expressed should give law. I confirmed him in the fact of the great
discontents to the South, that they were grounded on seeing that
their judgmts & interests were sacrificed to those of the Eastern
states on every occn. & their belief that it was the effect of a
corrupt squadron of voters in Congress at the command of the
Treasury, & they see that if the votes of those members who had an
interest distinct from & contrary to the general interest of their
constts had been withdrawn, as in decency & honesty they should have
been, the laws would have been the reverse of what they are in all
the great questions. I instanced the new assumption carried in the
H. of Repr. by the Speaker's votes. On this subject he made no
reply. He explained his remaing. in office to have been the effect
of strong solicitations after he returned here declaring that he had
never mentd. his purpose of going out but to the heads of depnts &
Mr. Madison; he expressed the extreme wretchedness of his existence
while in office, and went lengthily into the late attacks on him for
levees &c -- and explained to me how he had been led into them by the
persons he consulted at New York, and that if he could but know what
the sense of the public was, he would most cheerfully conform to it.
Aug 6. 1793. The President calls on me at my house in the
country, and introduces my letter of July 31. announcing that I
should resign at the close of the next month. He again expressed his
repentance at not having resigned himself, and how much it was
increased by seeing that he was to be deserted by those on whose aid
he had counted: that he did not know where he should look to find
characters to fill up the offices, that mere talents did not suffice
for the departmt of state, but it required a person conversant in
foreign affairs, perhaps acquainted with foreign courts, that without
this the best talents would be awkward & at a loss. He told me that
Colo. Hamilton had 3. or 4. weeks ago written to him, informg him
that private as well as public reasons had brought him to the
determination to retire, & that he should do it towards the close of
the next session. He said he had often before intimated dispositions
to resign, but never as decisively before: that he supposed he had
fixed on the latter part of next session to give an opportunity to
Congress to examine into his conduct; that our going out at times so
different increased his difficulty, for if he had both places to fill
at one he might consult both the particular talents & geographical
situation of our successors. He expressed great apprehensions at the
fermentation which seemed to be working in the mind of the public,
that many descriptions of persons, actuated by different causes
appeared to be uniting, what it would end in he knew not, a new
Congress was to assemble, more numerous, perhaps of a different
spirit; the first expressions of their sentiments would be important:
if I would only stay to the end of that it would relieve him
considerably.
I expressed to him my excessive repugnance to public life, the
particular uneasiness of my situation in this place where the laws of
society oblige me always to move exactly in the circle which I know
to bear me peculiar hatred, that is to say the wealthy aristocrats,
the merchants connected closely with England, the new created paper
fortunes; that thus surrounded, my words were caught, multiplied,
misconstrued, & even fabricated & spread abroad to my injury, that he
saw also that there was such an opposition of views between myself &
another part of the admn as to render it peculiarly unpleasing, and
to destroy the necessary harmony. Without knowg the views of what is
called the Republican party here, or havg any communication with
them, I could undertake to assure him from my intimacy with that
party in the late Congress, that there was not a view in the
Republican party as spread over the U S. which went to the frame of
the government, that I believed the next Congress would attempt
nothing material but to render their own body independant, that that
party were firm in their dispositions to support the government: that
the manoeuvres of Mr. Genet might produce some little embarrassment,
but that he would be abandoned by the Republicans the moment they
knew the nature of his conduct, and on the whole no crisis existed
which threatened anything.
He said he believed the views of the Republican party were
perfectly pure, but when men put a machine into motion it is
impossible for them to stop it exactly where they would chuse or to
say where it will stop. That the constn we have is an excellent one
if we can keep it where it is, that it was indeed supposed there was
a party disposed to change it into a monarchical form, but that he
could conscientiously declare there was not a man in the U S. who
would set his face more decidedly against it than himself. Here I
interrupted him by saying "no rational man in the U S. suspects you
of any other disposn, but there does not pass a week in which we
cannot prove declns dropping from the monarchical party that our
governmt is good for nothing, it is a milk & water thing which cannot
support itself, we must knock it down & set up something of more
energy." -- He said if that was the case he thought it a proof of
their insanity, for that the republican spirit of the Union was so
manifest and so solid that it was astonishg how any one could expect
to move them.
He returned to the difficulty of naming my successor, he said
Mr. Madison would be his first choice, but that he had always
expressed to him such a decision against public office that he could
not expect he would undertake it. Mr. Jay would prefer his present
office. He sd that Mr. Jay had a great opinion of the talents of Mr.
King, that there was also Mr. Smith of S. Carola: E. Rutledge &c. but
he observed that name whom he would some objections would be made,
some would be called speculators, some one thing, some another, and
he asked me to mention any characters occurrg to me. I asked him if
Govr. Johnson of Maryld. had occurred to him? He said he had, that
he was a man of great good sense, an honest man, & he believed clear
of speculations, but this says he is an instance of what I was
observing, with all these qualifications Govr. Johnson, from a want
of familiarity with foreign affairs, would be in them like a fish out
of water, everything would be new to him, & he awkward in everything.
I confessed to him that I had considered Johnson rather as fit for
the Treasury department. Yes, says he, for that he would be the
fittest appointment that could be made; he is a man acquainted with
figures, & having as good a knowledge of the resources of this
country as any man. I asked him if Chancr. Livingston had occurred
to him? He said yes, but he was from N. York, & to appoint him while
Hamilton was in & before it should be known he was going out, would
excite a newspaper conflagration, as the ultimate arrangement would
not be known. He said McLurg had occurred to him as a man of first
rate abilities, but it is said that he is a speculator. He asked me
what sort of a man Wolcott was. I told him I knew nothing of him
myself; I had heard him characterized as a cunning man. I asked him
whether some person could not take my office par interim, till he
should make an apptment? as Mr. Randolph for instance. Yes, says he,
but there you would raise the expectation of keeping it, and I do not
know that he is fit for it nor what is thought of Mr. Randolph. I
avoided noticing the last observation, & he put the question to me
directly. I then told him that I went into society so little as to
be unable to answer it: I knew that the embarrassments in his private
affairs had obliged him to use expedts which had injured him with the
merchts & shop-keepers & affected his character of independance; that
these embarrassments were serious, & not likely to cease soon. He
said if I would only stay in till the end of another quarter (the
last of Dec.) it would get us through the difficulties of this year,
and he was satisfied that the affairs of Europe would be settled with
this campaign; for that either France would be overwhelmed by it, or
the confederacy would give up the contest. By that time too Congress
will have manifested it's character & view. I told him that I had
set my private affairs in motion in a line which had powerfully
called for my presence the last spring, & that they had suffered
immensely from my not going home; that I had now calculated them to
my return in the fall, and to fail in going then would be the loss of
another year, & prejudicial beyond measure. I asked him whether he
could not name Govr. Johnson to my office, under an express
arrangement that at the close of the session he should take that of
the treasury. He said that men never chose to descend: that being
once in a higher department he would not like to go into a lower one
(* 2). And he concluded by desiring that I would take 2. or 3. days
to consider whether I could not stay in till the end of another
quarter, for that like a man going to the gallows, he was willing to
put it off as long as he could: but if I persisted, he must then look
about him & make up his mind to do the best he could: & so he took
leave. He asked me whether I could not arrange my affairs by going
home. I told him I did not think the public business would admit of
it; that there was never a day now in which the absence of the
Secretary of state would not be inconvenient to the public.
(* 2) He asked me whether I could not arrange my affairs by
going home. I told him I did not think the public business would
admit of it; that there was never a day now in which the absence of
the Secretary of state would not be inconvenient to the public.
_"Liberty warring on herself"_
Aug. 20. 1793. We met at the President's to examine by
paragraphs the draught of a letter I had prepared to Gouverneur
Morris on the conduct of Mr. Genet. There was no difference of
opinion on any part of it, except on this expression. "An attempt to
embroil both, to add still another nation to the enemies of his
country, & to draw on both a reproach, which it is hoped will never
stain the history of either, that of _liberty warring on herself._"
H. moved to strike out these words "that of liberty warring on
herself." He urged generally that it would give offence to the
combined powers, that it amounted to a declaration that they were
warring on liberty, that we were not called on to declare that the
cause of France was that of liberty, that he had at first been with
them with all his heart, but that he had long since left them, and
was not for encouraging the idea here that the cause of France was
the cause of liberty in general, or could have either connection or
influence in our affairs. Knox accordg to custom jumped plump into
all his opinions. The Pr. with a good deal of positiveness declared
in favor of the expression, that he considered the pursuit of France
to be that of liberty, however they might sometimes fail of the best
means of obtaining it, that he had never at any time entertained a
doubt of their ultimate success, if they hung well together, & that
as to their dissensions there were such contradictory accts. given
that no one could tell what to believe. I observed that it had been
supposed among us all along that the present letter might become
public; that we had therefore 3. parties to attend to, -- 1. France,
2. her enemies, 3. the people of the U S. That as to the enemies of
France it ought not to offend them, because the passage objected to
only spoke of an attempt to make the U S. a _free nation_, war on
France, a _free nation_, which would be liberty warring on herself,
and therefore a true fact. That as to France, we were taking so
harsh a measure (desiring her to recall her minister) that a
precedent for it could scarcely be found, that we knew that minister
would represent to his government that our Executive was hostile to
liberty, leaning to monarchy & would endeavor to parry the charges on
himself, by rendering suspicious the source from which they flowed.
That therefore it was essential to satisfy France not only of our
friendship to her, but our attachment to the general cause of
liberty, & to hers in particular. That as to the people of the U S.
we knew there were suspicions abroad that the Executive in some of
it's parts was tainted with a hankering after monarchy, an
indisposition towards liberty & towards the French cause; & that it
was important by an explicit declaration to remove these suspicions &
restore the confidence of the people in their govmt. R. opposed the
passage on nearly the same ground with H. He added that he thought
it had been agreed that this correspondence should contain no
expressions which could give offence to either party. I replied that
it had been my opinion in the beginng of the correspondence that
while we were censuring the conduct of the French minister, we should
make the most cordial declarations of friendship to them: that in the
first letter or two of the correspondence I had inserted expressions
of that kind, but that himself & the other two gentlemen had struck
them out; that I thereupon conformed to their opinions in my subseqt.
letters, and had carefully avoided the insertion of a single term of
friendship to the French nation, and the letters were as dry & husky
as if written between the generals of two enemy nations. That on the
present occasion how ever it had been agreed that such expressions
ought to be inserted in the letter now under considn, & I had
accordly charged it pretty well with them. That I had further
thought it essential to satisfy the French & our own citizens of the
light in which we viewed their cause, and of our fellow feeling for
the general cause of liberty, and had ventured only four words on the
subject, that there was not from beginning to end of the letter one
other expression or word in favor of liberty, & I should think it
singular at least if the single passage of that character should be
struck out. -- The President again spoke. He came into the idea that
attention was due to the two parties who had been mentd. France &
the U S. That as to the former, thinking it certain their affairs
would issue in a government of some sort, of considerable freedom, it
was the only nation with whom our relations could be counted on: that
as to the U S. there could be no doubt of their universal attachmt to
the cause of France, and of the solidity of their republicanism. He
declared his strong attachment to the expression, but finally left it
to us to accommodate. It was struck out, of course, and the
expressions of affection in the context were a good deal taken down.
_Conversations with Aaron Burr_
Jan. 26. 1804. Col. Burr the V. P. calls on me in the evening,
having previously asked an opportunity of conversing with me. He
began by recapitulating summarily that he had come to N. Y. a
stranger some years ago, that he found the country in possn of two
rich families, (the Livingstons & Clintons) that his pursuits were
not political & he meddled not. When the crisis, however of 1800
came on they found their influence worn out, & solicited his aid with
the people. He lent it without any views of promotion. That his
being named as a candidate for V. P. was unexpected by him. He
acceded to it with a view to promote my fame & advancement and from a
desire to be with me, whose company and conversation had always been
fascinating to him. That since those great families had become
hostile to him, and had excited the calumnies which I had seen
published. That in this Hamilton had joined and had even written
some of the pieces against him. That his attachment to me had been
sincere and was still unchanged, altho many little stories had been
carried to him, & he supposed to me also, which he despised, but that
attachments must be reciprocal or cease to exist, and therefore he
asked if any change had taken place in mine towards him; that he had
chosen to have this conversn with myself directly & not through any
intermediate agent. He reminded me of a letter written to him about
the time of counting the votes (say Feb. 1801) mentioning that his
election had left a chasm in my arrangements, that I had lost him
from my list in the admn. &c. He observed he believed it would be
for the interest of the republican cause for him to retire; that a
disadvantageous schism would otherwise take place; but that were he
to retire, it would be said he shrunk from the public sentence, which
he never would do; that his enemies were using my name to destroy
him, and something was necessary from me to prevent and deprive them
of that weapon, some mark of favor from me, which would declare to
the world that he retired with my confidence. I answered by
recapitulating to him what had been my conduct previous to the
election of 1800. That I never had interfered directly or indirectly
with my friends or any others, to influence the election either for
him or myself; that I considered it as my duty to be merely passive,
except that, in Virginia I had taken some measures to procure for him
the unanimous vote of that state, because I thought any failure there
might be imputed to me. That in the election now coming on, I was
observing the same conduct, held no councils with anybody respecting
it, nor suffered any one to speak to me on the subject, believing it
my duty to leave myself to the free discussion of the public; that I
do not at this moment know, nor have ever heard who were to be
proposed as candidates for the public choice, except so far as could
be gathered from the newspapers. That as to the attack excited
against him in the newspapers, I had noticed it but as the passing
wind; that I had seen complaints that Cheetham, employed in
publishing the laws, should be permitted to eat the public bread &
abuse its second officer: that as to this, the publishers of the laws
were appd by the Secy. of the state witht. any reference to me; that
to make the notice general, it was often given to one republican &
one federal printer of the same place, that these federal printers
did not in the least intermit their abuse of me, tho' receiving
emoluments from the govmts and that I have never thot it proper to
interfere for myself, & consequently not in the case _of_ the Vice
president. That as to the letter he referred to, I remembered it,
and believed he had only mistaken the date at which it was written;
that I thought it must have been on the first notice of the event of
the election of S. Carolina; and that I had taken that occasion to
mention to him that I had intended to have proposed to him one of the
great offices, if he had not been elected, but that his election in
giving him a higher station had deprived me of his aid in the
administration. The letter alluded to was in fact mine to him of
Dec. 15. 1800. I now went on to explain to him verbally what I meant
by saying I had lost him from my list. That in Genl. Washington's
time it had been signified to him that Mr. Adams, the V. President,
would be glad of a foreign embassy; that Genl. Washington mentd. it
to me, expressed his doubts whether Mr. Adams was a fit character for
such an office, & his still greater doubts, indeed his conviction
that it would not be justifiable to send away the person who, in case
of his death, was provided by the constn to take his place; that it
would moreover appear indecent for him to be disposing of the public
trusts in apparently buying off a competitor for the public favor. I
concurred with him in the opinion, and, if I recollect rightly,
Hamilton, Knox, & Randolph were consulted & gave the same opinions.
That when Mr. Adams came to the admn, in his first interview with me
he mentioned the necessity of a mission to France, and how desirable
it would have been to him if he could have got me to undertake it;
but that he conceived it would be wrong in him to send me away, and
assigned the same reasons Genl Washington had done; and therefore he
should appoint Mr. Madison &c. That I had myself contemplated his
(Colo. Burr's) appointment to one of the great offices; in case he
was not elected V. P. but that as soon as that election was known, I
saw it could not be done for the good reasons which had led Genl W. &
Mr. A. to the same conclusion, and therefore in my first letter to
Colo. Burr after the issue was known, I had mentioned to him that a
chasm in my arrangements had been produced by this event. I was thus
particular in rectifying the date of this letter, because it gave me
an opportunity of explaining the grounds on which it was written
which were indirectly an answer to his present hints. He left the
matter with me for consideration & the conversation was turned to
indifferent subjects. I should here notice that Colo. Burr must have
thot that I could swallow strong things in my own favor, when he
founded his acquiescence in the nominn as V. P. to his desire of
promoting my honor, the being with me whose company & conversn had
always been fascinating to him &c. I had never seen Colo. Burr till
he came as a member of Senate. His conduct very soon inspired me
with distrust. I habitually cautioned Mr. Madison against trusting
him too much. I saw afterwards that under Genl W.'s and Mr. A.'s
admns, whenever a great military appmt or a diplomatic one was to be
made, he came post to Philada to shew himself & in fact that he was
always at market, if they had wanted him. He was indeed told by
Dayton in 1800 he might be Secy. at war; but this bid was too late.
His election as V. P. was then foreseen. With these impressions of
Colo. Burr there never had been an intimacy between us, and but
little association. When I destined him for a high appmt, it was out
of respect for the favor he had obtained with the republican party by
his extraordinary exertions and successes in the N. Y. election in
1800.
1806. April 15. About a month ago, Colo. Burr called on me &
entered into a conversation in which he [mentioned] that a little
before my coming into office I had written to him a letter intimating
that I had destined him for a high employ, had he not been placed by
the people in a different one; that he had signified his willingness
to resign as V. President to give aid to the admn in any other place;
that he had never asked an office however; he asked aid of nobody,
but could walk on his own legs, & take care of himself; that I had
always used him with politeness, but nothing more: that he aided in
bringing on the present order of things, that he had supported the
admn, & that he could do me much harm: he wished however to be on
differt. ground: he was now disengaged from all particular business,
willing to engage in something, should be in town some days, if I
should have anything to propose to him. I observed to him that I had
always been sensible that he possessed talents which might be
employed greatly to the advantage of the public, & that as to myself
I had a confidence that if he were employed he would use his talents
for the public good: but that he must be sensible the public had
withdrawn their confidence from him & that in a government like ours
it was necessary to embrace in its admn as great a mass of public
confidce as possible, by employing those who had a character with the
public, of their own, & not merely a secondary one through the Exve.
He observed that if we believed a few newspapers it might be supposed
he had lost the public confidence, but that I knew how easy it was to
engage newspapers in anything. I observed that I did not refer to
that kind of evidence of his having lost the public confidence, but
to the late presidential election, when, tho' in possn of the office
of V. P. there was not a single voice heard for his retaining it.
That as to any harm he could do me, I knew no cause why he should
desire it, but at the same time I feared no injury which any man
could do me: that I never had done a single act, or been concerned in
any transaction, which I feared to have fully laid open, or which
could do me any hurt if truly stated: that I had never done a single
thing with a view to my personal interest, or that of any friend, or
with any other view than that of the greatest public good: that
therefore no threat or fear on that head would ever be a motive of
action with me. He has continued in town to this time; dined with me
this day week & called on me to take leave 2. or 3. days ago. I did
not commit these things to writing at the time but I do it now,
because in a suit between him & Cheetham, he has had a deposn of Mr.
Bayard taken, which seems to have no relation to the suit nor to any
other object but to calumniate me. Bayard pretends to have addressed
to me, during the pending of the Presidl election in Feb. 1801,
through Genl. Saml. Smith, certain condns on which my election might
be obtained, & that Genl. Smith after conversing with me gave answers
from me. This is absolutely false. No proposn of any kind was ever
made to me on that occasion by Genl. Smith, nor any answer authorized
by me. And this fact Genl. Smith affirms at this moment. For some
matters connected with this see my notes of Feb. 12. & 14. 1801 made
at the moment. But the following transactions took place about the
same time, that is to say while the Presidential election was in
suspense in Congress, which tho' I did not enter at the time they
made such an impression on my mind that they are now as fresh as to
their principal circumstances as if they had happened yesterday.
Coming out of the Senate chamber one day I found Gouverneur Morris on
the steps. He stopped me & began a conversn on the strange &
portentous state of things then existing, and went on to observe that
the reasons why the minority of states were so opposed to my being
elected were that they apprehended that 1. I should turn all
federalists out of office. 2. put down the navy. 3. wipe off the
public debt & 4. That I need only to declare, or authorize my friends
to declare, that I would not take these steps, and instantly the
event of the election would be fixed. I told him that I should leave
the world to judge of the course I meant to pursue by that which I
had pursued hitherto; believing it to be my duty to be passive &
silent during the present scene; that I should certainly make no
terms, should never go into the office of President by capitulation,
nor with my hands tied by any conditions which should hinder me from
pursuing the measures which I should deem for the public good. It
was understood that Gouverneur Morris had entirely the direction of
the vote of Lewis Morris of Vermont, who by coming over to M. Lyon
would have added another vote & decided the election. About the same
time, I met with Mr. Adams walking in the Pensylve avenue. We
conversed on the state of things. I observed to him, that a very
dangerous experiment was then in contemplation, to defeat the
Presidential election by an act of Congress declaring the right of
the Senate to naming a President of the Senate, to devolve on him the
govmt during any interregnum: that such a measure would probably
produce resistance by force & incalculable consequences which it
would be in his power to prevent by negativing such an act. He
seemed to think such an act justifiable & observed it was in my power
to fix the election by a word in an instant, by declaring I would not
turn out the federal officers, not put down the navy, nor sponge the
National debt. Finding his mind made up as to the usurpation of the
government by the President of the Senate I urged it no further,
observed the world must judge as to myself of the future by the past,
and turned the conversation to something else. About the same time
Dwight Foster of Massachusetts called on me in my room one night &
went into a very long conversation on the state of affairs the drift
of which was to let me understand that the fears above-mentioned were
the only obstacles to my election, to all of which I avoided giving
any answer the one way or the other. From this moment he became most
bitterly & personally opposed to me, & so has ever continued. I do
not recollect that I ever had any particular conversn with Genl.
Saml. Smith on this subject. Very possibly I had however, as the
general subject & all its parts were the constant themes of
conversation in the private _tete a tetes_ with our friends. But
certain I am that neither he, nor any other republican ever uttered
the most distant hint to me about submitting to any conditions or
giving any assurances to anybody; and still more certainly was
neither he nor any other person ever authorized by me to say what I
would or would not do. See a very exact statement of Bayard's
conduct on that occasion in a piece among my notes of 1801. which
was published by G. Granger with some alterations in the papers of
the day under the signature of
...
_Notes on Professor Ebeling's Letter of July 30, 1795_
Professor Ebeling mentioning the persons in America from whom
he derives information for his wbe useful for him to know how far he
may rely on their authority.
President Stiles, an excellent man, of very great learning, but
remarkable for his credulity.
Dr. Willard. }
Dr. Barton }
Dr. Ramsay }
Mr. Barlow } All these are men of respectable characters worthy
of confidence as to any facts they may state, and rendered, by their
good sense, good judges of them.
Mr. Morse. }
Mr. Webster. } Good authorities for whatever relates to the
Eastern states, & perhaps as far South as the Delaware.
But South of that their information is worse than none at all,
except as far as they quote good authorities. They both I believe
took a single journey through the Southern parts, merely to acquire
the right of being considered as eye-witnesses. But to pass once
along a public road thro' a country, & in one direction only, to put
up at it's taverns, and get into conversation with the idle, drunken
individuals who pass their time lounging in these taverns, is not the
way to know a country, it's inhabitants, or manners. To generalize a
whole nation from these specimens is not the sort of information
which Professor Ebeling would wish to compose _his work_ from.
Fenno's Gazette of the U.S. }
Webster's Minerva. }
Columbian centinel. } To form a just judgment of a country
from it's newspapers the character of these papers should be known,
in order that proper allowances & corrections may be used. This will
require a long explanation, without which, these particular papers
would give a foreigner a very false view of American affairs.
The people of America, before the revolution-war, being
attached to England, had taken up, without examination, the English
ideas of the superiority of their constitution over every thing of
the kind which ever had been or ever would be tried. The revolution
forced them to consider the subject for themselves, and the result
was an universal conversion to republicanism. Those who did not come
over to this opinion, either left us, & were called Refugees, or
staid with us under the name of tories; & some, preferring profit to
principle took side with us and floated with the general tide. Our
first federal constitution, or confederation as it was called, was
framed in the first moments of our separation from England, in the
highest point of our jealousies of independance as to her & as to
each other. It formed therefore too weak a bond to produce an union
of action as to foreign nations. This appeared at once on the
establishment of peace, when the pressure of a common enemy which had
hooped us together during the war, was taken away. Congress was
found to be quite unable to point the action of the several states to
a common object. A general desire therefore took place of amending
the federal constitution. This was opposed by some of those who
wished for monarchy to wit, the Refugees now returned, the old
tories, & the timid whigs who prefer tranquility to freedom, hoping
monarchy might be the remedy if a state of complete anarchy could be
brought on. A Convention however being decided on, some of the
monocrats got elected, with a hope of introducing an English
constitution, when they found that the great body of the delegates
were strongly for adhering to republicanism, & for giving due
strength to their government under that form, they then directed
their efforts to the assimilation of all the parts of the new
government to the English constitution as nearly as was attainable.
In this they were not altogether without success;insomuch that the
monarchical features of the new constitution produced a violent
opposition to it from the most zealous republicans in the several
states. For this reason, & because they also thought it carried the
principle of a consolidation of the states farther than was requisite
for the purpose of producing an union of action as to foreign powers,
it is still doubted by some whether a majority of the people of the
U.S. were not against adopting it. However it was carried through
all the assemblies of the states, tho' by very small majorities in
the largest states. The inconveniences of an inefficient government,
driving the people as is usual, into the opposite extreme, the
elections to the first Congress run very much in favor of those who
were known to favor a very strong government. Hence the
anti-republicans appeared a considerable majority in both houses of
Congress. They pressed forward the plan therefore of strengthening
all the features of the government which gave it resemblance to an
English constitution, of adopting the English forms & principles of
administration, and of forming like them a monied interest, by means
of a funding system, not calculated to pay the public debt, but to
render it perpetual, and to make it an engine in the hands of the
executive branch of government which, added to the great patronage it
possessed in the disposal of public offices, might enable it to
assume by degrees a kingly authority. The biennial period of
Congress being too short to betray to the people, spread over this
great continent, this train of things during the first Congress,
little change was made in the members to the second. But in the mean
time two very distinct parties had formed in Congress; and before the
third election, the people in general became apprised of the game
which was playing for drawing over them a kind of government which
they never had in contemplation. At the 3d. election therefore a
decided majority of Republicans were sent to the lower house of
Congress; and as information spread still farther among the people
after the 4th. election the anti-republicans have become a weak
minority. But the members of the Senate being changed but once in 6.
years, the completion of that body will be much slower in it's
assimilation to that of the people. This will account for the
differences which may appear in the proceedings & spirit of the two
houses. Still however it is inevitable that the Senate will at
length be formed to the republican model of the people, & the two
houses of the legislature, once brought to act on the true principles
of the Constitution, backed by the people, will be able to defeat the
plan of sliding us into monarchy, & to keep the Executive within
Republican bounds, notwithstanding the immense patronage it possesses
in the disposal of public offices, notwithstanding it has been able
to draw into this vortex the judiciary branch of the government & by
their expectancy of sharing the other offices in the Executive gift
to make them auxiliary to the Executive in all it's views instead of
forming a balance between that & the legislature as it was originally
intended and notwithstanding the funding phalanx which a respect for
public faith must protect, tho it was engaged by false brethren. Two
parties then do exist within the U.S. They embrace respectively the
following descriptions of persons.
The Anti-republicans consist of
1. The old refugees & tories.
2. British merchants residing among us, & composing the main
body of our merchants.
3. American merchants trading on British capital. Another
great portion.
4. Speculators & Holders in the banks & public funds.
5. Officers of the federal government with some exceptions.
6. Office-hunters, willing to give up principles for places. A
numerous & noisy tribe.
7. Nervous persons, whose languid fibres have more analogy with
a passive than active state of things.
The Republican part of our Union comprehends
1. The entire body of landholders throughout the United States.
2. The body of labourers, not being landholders, whether in
husbanding or the arts.
The latter is to the aggregate of the former party probably as
500 to one; but their wealth is not as disproportionate, tho' it is
also greatly superior, and is in truth the foundation of that of
their antagonists. Trifling as are the numbers of the
Anti-republican party, there are circumstances which give them an
appearance of strength & numbers. They all live in cities, together,
& can act in a body readily & at all times; they give chief
employment to the newspapers, & therefore have most of them under
their command. The Agricultural interest is dispersed over a great
extent of country, have little means of inter-communication with each
other, and feeling their own strength & will, are conscious that a
single exertion of these will at any time crush the machinations
against their government. As in the commerce of human life, there
are commodities adapted to every demand, so there are newspapers
adapted to the Antirepublican palate, and others to the Republican.
Of the former class are the Columbian Centinel, the Hartford
newspaper, Webster's Minerva, Fenno's Gazette of the U.S., Davies's
Richmond paper &c. Of the latter are Adams's Boston paper,
Greenleaf's of New York, Freneau's of New Jersey, Bache's of
Philadelphia, Pleasant's of Virginia &c. Pleasant's paper comes out
twice a week, Greenleaf's & Freneau's once a week, Bache's daily. I
do not know how often Adams's. I shall according to your desire
endeavor to get Pleasant's for you for 1794, & 95. and will have it
forwarded through 96 from time to time to your correspondent at
Baltimore.
While on the subject of authorities and information, the
following works are recommended to Professor Ebeling.
Minot's history of the insurrection in Massachusetts in 1786.
8'vo.
Mazzei. Recherches historiques et politiques sur les E. U. de
l'Amerique. 4 vol. 8'vo. This is to be had from Paris. The author
is an exact man.
The article `Etats Unis de l'Amerique' in the Dictionnaire
d'Economie politique et diplomatique, de l'Encyclopedie methodique.
This article occupies about 90. pages, is by De Meusnier, and his
materials were worthy of confidence, except so far as they were taken
from the Abbe Raynal. Against these effusions of an imagination in
delirio it is presumed Professor Ebeling needs not be put on his
guard. The earlier editions of the Abbe Raynal's work were equally
bad as to both South & North America. A gentleman however of perfect
information as to South America, undertook to reform that part of the
work, and his changes & additions were for the most part adopted by
the Abbe in his latter editions. But the North-American part remains
in it's original state of worthlessness.
_A Memorandum (Services to My Country)_
[_c_. 1800]
I have sometimes asked myself whether my country is the better
for my having lived at all? I dot know that it is. I have been the
instrument of doing the following things; but they would have been
done by others; some of them, perhaps, a little better.
The Rivanna had never been used for navigation; scarcely an
empty canoe had ever passed down it. Soon after I came of age, I
examined its obstructions, set on foot a subscription for removing
them, got an Act of Assembly passed, and the thing effected, so as to
be used completely and fully for carrying down all our produce.
The Declaration of Independence.
I proposed the demolition of the church establishment, and the
freedom of religion. It could only be done by degrees; to wit, the
Act of 1776, c. 2, exempted dissenters from contributions to the
church, and left the church clergy to be supported by voluntary
contributions of their own sect; was continued from year to year, and
made perpetual 1779, c. 36. I prepared the act for religious freedom
in 1777, as part of the revisal, which was not reported to the
Assembly till 1779, and that particular law not passed till 1785, and
then by the efforts of Mr. Madison.
The act putting an end to entails.
The act prohibiting the importation of slaves.
The act concerning citizens, and establishing the natural right
of man to expatriate himself, at will.
The act changing the course of descents, and giving the
inheritance to all the children, &c., equally, I drew as part of the
revisal.
The act for apportioning crimes and punishments, part of the
same work, I drew. When proposed to the legislature, by Mr. Madison,
in 1785, it failed by a single vote. G. K. Taylor afterwards, in
1796, proposed the same subject; avoiding the adoption of any part of
the diction of mine, the text of which had been studiously drawn in
the technical terms of the law, so as to give no occasion for new
questions by new expressions. When I drew mine, public labor was
thought the best punishment to be substituted for death. But, while
I was in France, I heard of a society in England, who had
successfully introduced solitary confinement, and saw the drawing of
a prison at Lyons, in France, formed on the idea of solitary
confinement. And, being applied to by the Governor of Virginia for
the plan of a Capitol and Prison, I sent him the Lyons plan,
accompanying it with a drawing on a smaller scale, better adapted to
our use. This was in June, 1786. Mr. Taylor very judiciously
adopted this idea, (which had now been acted on in Philadelphia,
probably from the English model) and substituted labor in
confinement, to the public labor proposed by the Committee of
revisal; which themselves would have done, had they been to act on
the subject again. The public mind was ripe for this in 1796, when
Mr. Taylor proposed it, and ripened chiefly by the experiment in
Philadelphia; whereas, in 1785, when it had been proposed to our
assembly, they were not quite ripe for it.
In 1789 and 1790, I had a great number of olive plants, of the
best kind, sent from Marseilles to Charleston, for South Carolina and
Georgia. They were planted, and are flourishing; and, though not yet
multiplied, they will be the germ of that cultivation in those
States.
In 1790, I got a cask of heavy upland rice, from the river
Denbigh, in Africa, about lat. 9 degrees 30' North, which I sent to
Charleston, in hopes it might supersede the culture of the wet rice,
which renders South Carolina and Georgia so pestilential through the
summer. It was divided, and a part sent to Georgia. I know not
whether it has been attended to in South Carolina; but it has spread
in the upper parts of Georgia, so as to have become almost general,
and is highly prized. Perhaps it may answer in Tennessee and
Kentucky. The greatest service which can be rendered any country is,
to add an useful plant to its culture; especially, a bread grain;
next in value to bread is oil.
Whether the act for the more general diffusion of knowledge
will ever be carried into complete effect, I know not. It was
received by the legislature with great enthusiasm at first; and a
small effort was made in 1796, by the act to establish public
schools, to carry a part of it into effect, viz., that for the
establishment of free English schools; but the option given to the
courts has defeated the intention of the act.
_A Memorandum (Rules of Etiquette)_
[_c_. November, 18031]
I. In order to bring the members of society together in the
first instance, the custom of the country has established that
residents shall pay the first visit to strangers, and, among
strangers, first comers to later comers, foreign and domestic; the
character of stranger ceasing after the first visits. To this rule
there is a single exception. Foreign ministers, from the necessity
of making themselves known, pay the first visit to the ministers of
the nation, which is returned.
II. When brought together in society, all are perfectly equal,
whether foreign or domestic, titled or untitled, in or out of office.
All other observances are but exemplifications of these two
principles.
I. 1st. The families of foreign ministers, arriving at the
seat of government, receive the first visit from those of the
national ministers, as from all other residents.
2d. Members of the Legislature and of the Judiciary,
independent of their offices, have a right as strangers to receive
the first visit.
II. 1st. No title being admitted here, those of foreigners
give no precedence.
2d. Differences of grade among diplomatic members, gives no
precedence.
3d. At public ceremonies, to which the government invites the
presence of foreign ministers and their families, a convenient seat
or station will be provided for them, with any other strangers
invited and the families of the national ministers, each taking place
as they arrive, and without any precedence.
4th. To maintain the principle of equality, or of pele mele,
and prevent the growth of precedence out of courtesy, the members of
the Executive will practice at their own houses, and recommend an
adherence to the ancient usage of the country, of gentlemen in mass
giving precedence to the ladies in mass, in passing from one
apartment where they are assembled into another.
_Epitaph [1826]_
could the dead feel any interest in Monuments
or other remembrances of them, when, as
Anacreon says {Olige de keisomestha
Konis, osteon lythenton}
the following would be to my Manes the most
gratifying.
On the grave
a plain die or cube of 3.f without any
mouldings, surmounted by an Obelisk
of 6.f height, each of a single stone:
on the faces of the Obelisk the following
inscription, & not a word more
`Here was buried
Thomas Jefferson
Author of the Declaration of American Independance
of the Statute of Virginia for religious freedom
& Father of the University of Virginia.'
because by these, as testimonials that I have lived, I wish
most to
be remembered. to be of the coarse stone of which
my columns are made, that no one might be tempted
hereafter to destroy it for the value of the materials.
my bust by Ciracchi, with the pedestal and truncated
column on which it stands, might be given to the University
if they would place it in the Dome room of the Rotunda.
on the Die of the Obelisk might be engraved
`Born Apr. 2. 1743. O.S.
Died ___ '