When, after a long and fatiguing journey, Thomas Jefferson reached Monticello in the spring of 1809, he was in his sixty-third year and had well earned his "quadragena stipendia." But the Republic did not serve any pension to retired Presidents. For more than twelve years he had perforce neglected his domain, and his son-in-law, who had been in charge of the estate for some time, was scarcely a man to be intrusted with the administration of complicated financial interests. A large part of Jefferson's time was necessarily spent in setting things to rights; but the times were against him, and the embargo had proved more detrimental to the great landowners of the South than to the New England manufacturers. A planter whose sole revenue consisted in his crops had the utmost difficulty in providing for a large family of dependants, and a considerable number of slaves who had to be fed and clad, and most of all in keeping up appearances. Jefferson was hardly freed from public responsibilities when he had to labor under domestic difficulties which worried him even to his death bed.

Under his direction, however, Monticello became more than ever a self-supporting community; the slaves were taught all the necessary trades and when, thanks to the merino sheep brought over by Du Pont de Nemours, woolen goods of fine quality were made at Monticello, the master of the house was proud to wear clothes of homespun which, in his opinion, could rival the best produce of the English manufactures. Whole books could be written, and several have been written, on Jefferson the agriculturist, the surveyor, the civil engineer, the inventor and the architect. There is, however, another aspect of his last years which deserves more attention than it usually receives.

For thirty years Jefferson had lived almost constantly under the scrutiny of the public. His utterances had been pounced upon by eager enemies of the "cannibal press"; letters intended solely for friends had been printed, several times in a garbled form, and during his presidency he had been unable to communicate freely with his European friends for fear of having his letters intercepted. At last, he could express himself freely. He was no longer the spokesman of the country who had to ascertain the state of public opinion before writing a message or sending a communication to a foreign government. He could speak for himself, without being hindered by the ever-present danger of political repercussions, and if he did not speak much, he wrote several thousand letters, many of which are still unpublished—an overwhelming treasure for historians of the period. His physical strength was somewhat impaired, but his intellectual powers were in no way diminished; never had his mind been keener, his perception of realities clearer and his extraordinary gift of political prophecy more accurate than during the last fifteen years of his life. This is the period to study in order to understand more fully his conception of Americanism, his vision of democracy and the practical wisdom which permeated his philosophy of old age.

His valedictory letter to Madison, written from Monticello on March 17, 1809, contained a very curious admission of the inability of the United States to carry out war successfully with their present organization; "I know of no Government," he wrote, "which would be so embarrassing in war as ours. This would proceed very much from the lying and licentious character of our papers; but also, from the wonderful credulity of the members of Congress in the floating lies of the day."[484]

This was no passing whim of his, but a very definite and categorical understanding of the functions devolving upon the Executive in times of emergency. He had not forgotten his experience as Governor of Virginia, when he had to coax necessary measures from a reluctant Assembly; his eight years as Chief Executive of the country had only strengthened him in the opinion that "In times of peace, the people look most to their representatives, but in war to the Executive solely." He found a confirmation of this theory in the state of public opinion, when he wrote to Rodney, early in 1810: "It is visible that their confidence is now veering in that direction: that they are looking to the executive to give the proper direction to their affairs, with a confidence as auspicious as it is well founded."[485]

A few months later, writing to J. B. Colvin, he took up again the same question: "In what circumstances is it permitted for the man in charge to assume authority beyond the law?" That he was personally interested in the matter was evident, since he had exceeded his constitutional powers very recently, during the Burr conspiracy. It is nevertheless remarkable to see the champion of legality and democracy declare that:

To a certain extent this was a plea pro domo sua. If we remember that, during the World War, the motto of America was, for more than two years, "Stand by the President", it will be seen that Jefferson was as good a prophet as an intelligent observer. This admission of his may seem undemocratic, but it simply shows that the former President had a clear perception of the permanent tendencies that direct American consciousness; for no people are more disciplined and more ready to follow their chosen executive than the Americans, at least on critical occasions, and more particularly when confronted with foreign aggression.

War was still to be avoided and considered only as the ultima ratio rei publicae. On this point also, Jefferson was perfectly consistent, and, having shed the responsibility, he did not suddenly change his attitude. The "point of honor" was not to be estimated by the ordinary scale in the present maniac state of Europe. But America must realize at the same time that no ordinary treaty could insure her safety. A treaty with England could not even be thought of; for "the British never made an equal treaty with any nation."

With regard to France the situation was somewhat different. Some compensation was due to America for forcing Great Britain to revoke her orders in council. But what compensation? The acquiescence of Bonaparte to the annexation of the Floridas? That was no price; for "they are ours in the first moment of the first war; and until a war they are of no particular necessity." The only territory that the United States might covet was Cuba. "That would be a price, and I would immediately erect a column on the southernmost limit of Cuba, and inscribe on it a ne plus ultra to us in that direction.... Cuba can be defended by us without a navy, and this develops the principle which ought to limit our views. Nothing should ever be accepted which would require a navy to defend it."[487]

In the meantime, Jefferson did not miss any opportunity to justify the embargo. Even after its repeal, he insisted that "enough of the non-importation laws should be preserved 1st, to pinch them into a relinquishment of impressments, and 2nd, to support those manufacturing establishments, which their orders, and our interests, forced us to make."[488]

To Du Pont de Nemours he wrote a long letter, stating in detail the advantages accrued to America from the embargo, and this point is well worth keeping in mind by those who insist on considering Jefferson as a hundred per cent. agrarian:

So wrote the supposed agrarian to the founder of physiocracy, and this is a prima facie evidence that Jefferson was not a Physiocrat of the first water. As a matter of fact, on this point as on so many others, he had strong negative principles. As we have already pointed out on several occasions, Jefferson was not so much opposed to manufactures and industries as to mercantilism, and particularly to English mercantilism. This corrective ought to be taken into consideration in any estimate of the Jeffersonian democracy, and one may wonder whether some continuators of Mr. Beard are sufficiently aware of this capital distinction.

It soon appeared to Jefferson that there was no possible way out except war. Contrary to all expectations, the convulsions of Europe continued and no hope of a permanent peace was in sight. The death of Bonaparte "would remove the first and chiefest apostle of the desolation of men and morals and might withdraw the scourge of the land. But what is to restore order and safety on the ocean. The death of George III? Not at all.... The principle that force is right, is become the principle of the nation itself."[490]

As a matter of fact, Bonaparte was little to be feared. He still had the whole world to conquer before turning his eyes towards America.

Then follows a formidable indictment of the treacherous policies of England with a curious and most interesting discrimination at the end, for Jefferson observes that "it presents the singular phenomenon of a nation, the individuals of which are as faithful to their private engagements and duties, as honorable, as worthy, as those of any nation on earth, and whose government is yet the most unprincipled at this day known."[491]

All told, both nations could be tarred with the same brush "for," said Jefferson, "I should respect just as much the rules of conduct which governed Cartouche or Blackbeard as those now acted on by France or England."[492] The only difference was that France was not in a position to cause as much damage to American interests as her hereditary enemy whose claim to "dominion of the ocean and to levy tribute on every flag traversing that, as lately attempted and not relinquished, every nation must contest, even ad internecionem."[493]

This detestation of English policies and English rulers did not, however, extend to individuals. Even when war was to be declared Jefferson took care to establish what he considered as a very necessary distinction in a fine letter sent to James Maury, his "dear and ancient friend and classmate":

Since war was declared, the only thing to keep in mind was to make it as advantageous as possible to the United States. Thanks to the Louisiana Purchase, France had been eliminated forever from the American continent, but the existence of a large British province on the northern border constituted an ever-present source of anxiety and danger for the Union. The first war aim of the United States was consequently to expel Great Britain from the North American continent, for as long as England could use her continental dominion as "a fulcrum for her Machiavellian levers" there would be no safety for the United States. On the other hand, the war could not be carried out to a successful conclusion if during the hostilities America were kept unable to export the surplus of her produce. Jefferson therefore recommended that neutral vessels be used "and even enemy vessels under neutral flag, which I should wink at", wrote Jefferson to the President.[495]

This last recommendation may seem surprising and almost treasonable, but Jefferson lived in close contact with farmers and planters, and he still remembered their attitude during the Revolutionary War and knew that "to keep the war popular we must keep open the markets. As long as good prices can be had, the people will support the war cheerfully."

Later in the year he was able to report to the President:

To be correctly understood, this attitude of Jefferson advocating trade with the enemy requires some further elucidation. As a matter of fact, the issue was not so clear-cut as it would seem. While England was to be considered as America's enemy on the continent, she was "fighting America's battles" in Europe, for the ultimate triumph of Bonaparte would have been pregnant with dangers for the Union. He consequently advocated the exportation of grain to Great Britain:

But it must also be admitted that Jefferson considered that in war all is fair. He had not changed much since the remote days of the Revolution when he urged Washington to permit him to use measures of retaliation on the British prisoners. Once again he did not scruple to recommend measures sometimes used but seldom so frankly advocated. He would not have hesitated to bring the war home to Great Britain and to resort to retaliation. "Perhaps they will burn New York or Boston," he wrote to Duane. "If they do, we must burn the city of London, not by expensive fleets or congreve rockets, but by employing an hundred or two Jack-the-painters, whom nakedness, famine, desperation and hardened vice, will abundantly furnish among themselves."[498]

But the thing never to be lost sight of was the conquest of Canada and "the final expulsion of England from the American continent." It was to be a very simple expedition, "a mere matter of marching", and the weakness of the enemy was to make "our errors innocent." All these sanguine expectations were blasted to dust by the Hull disaster. Three frigates taken by "our gallant little navy" could not balance "three armies lost by treachery, cowardice, or incapacity of those to whom they were entrusted." The mediation of Russia was the only hope left, but the enemies were to remain "bedecked with the laurels of the land"—the reverse of what was to be expected and perhaps what was to be wished.[499]

Throughout the whole campaign Jefferson was unable to choose between France and England, or rather between Bonaparte and England's corrupted government. Strong as were his denunciations of English policies and crimes, he almost foamed at the mouth when he mentioned the abominable Corsican:

The "true line of interest" of the United States was consequently that Bonaparte should be able to effect the complete exclusion of England from the whole continent of Europe, in order to make her renounce her views of dominion over the ocean. As there was no longer any hope of expelling England completely from the American continent, it remained "the interest of the U. S. to wish Bonaparte a moderate success so as to curb the ambition of Great Britain."[501]

From this and many other similar passages it would follow that Jefferson was one of the first exponents of the famous policy of the balance of power. Although at war with England, America could not wish for a complete defeat of her enemy which would enable the monster to pursue his dreams of world domination. But hateful as the Corsican was, no one could wish for an English victory which would leave Great Britain the undisputed ruler of the ocean. Incidents of the war did wring from Jefferson impassioned outbursts which expressed a temporary anger, but whenever he took time to weigh the different factors in his mind, the realistic politician emerged every time.

This appears clearly in his correspondence with Madame de StaËl, who had urged him on several occasions to make every effort to decide his fellow countrymen to join in the battle against the oppressors of liberty. It appears also quite significantly in his correspondence with Madison, following the burning of the White House and the destruction by the English soldiers of the first Congressional Library. His indignation ran high when he learned "through the paper" that "the vandalism of our enemy has triumphed at Washington over science as well as the arts, with the destruction of the public library with the noble edifice in which it was deposited." "Of that transaction, as that of Copenhagen, the world will entertain but one sentiment," he wrote to Samuel H. Smith.[502] But it was characteristic of the man that he thought at once of the means of restoring the library. Books could not be procured easily from abroad and there was no other private library in the country comparable to the collection of books he had systematically accumulated for over forty years. He placed his books at the disposal of Congress "to be valued by persons named by the Library Committee, and the payment made convenient to the public." This was not a piece of business in order to retrieve his fortune, nor a disguised request for financial help, but simply the act of a public-spirited citizen unable to make an outright gift and yet unwilling to make any profit on the public treasury.

The end of the war was in sight—a war which could be considered as a draw, in which both sides had lost heavily and neither had gained anything:

It could truly be said that the war had failed. The best that could be expected was the status ante bellum. "Indemnity for the past and security for the future which was our motto at the beginning of this war, must be adjourned to another, when, disarmed and bankrupt our enemy shall be less able to insult and plunder the world with impunity."[504]

The news that peace had been signed did not cause him any elation, it was "in fact but an armistice", and even when he wrote again to his dear and ancient friend James Maury, Jefferson was careful to note that America would never peacefully accept again England's practice of impressment on the high seas. "On that point," he wrote, "we have thrown away the scabbard and the moment an European war brings her back to this practice, adds us again to her enemies."[505]

This was repeated in a letter to his old friend Du Pont de Nemours who had asked him for his influence in order to send his grandson to the Naval Academy:

For twenty years to come we should consider peace as the summum bonum of our country. At the end of that period we shall be twenty millions in number, and forty in energy, when encountering the starved and rickety paupers and dwarfs of English workshops. By that time your grandson will have become one of our High-Admirals, and bear distinguished part in retorting the wrongs of both his countries on the most implacable and cruel of their enemies.[506]