Madison and Jefferson

by Nancy Isenberg;Andrew Burstein

Moreover, Jefferson wanted to make certain that the plan he had in mind for his closest political colleagues bore fruit. “I think Col. Monroe will be of the Committee of the states,” he related to Madison, underscoring the line that came next: “He wishes a correspondence with you.” Keeping secrets was one key to Jefferson’s political style, which is what he was referring to as he recommended Monroe. “The scrupulousness of his honor will make you safe in the most confidential communications,” he told Madison. “A better man cannot be.”35

  There was still time for several more exchanges, as Jefferson took to the road and headed north. From the General Assembly in Richmond, Madison related his intention to sound out his colleagues on the merits of Jefferson’s revised state constitution. Whether the political climate in Virginia proved friendly or unfriendly, Madison wanted “license,” he said, “to make use of the ideas you were so good as to confide in me.” He would carry on, regardless of impediments. In the Madison-Jefferson political playbook, opposition was real but temporary.

  The question at hand, Virginia’s constitution, hinged on two men above all others: the generally positive Richard Henry Lee and the ever-wavering Patrick Henry. The eloquent Lee had yet to arrive in Richmond, so his mood could not be characterized. The influential Henry was another story. As Madison put it to Jefferson after a short conversation with Henry, “I find him strenuous for invigorating the federal Government though without any precise plan, but have got no explanation from him as to our internal Government. The general trend of his thoughts seemed to suggest favorable expectations.” As things turned out, Madison was too optimistic. Just as Jefferson set sail for Europe, the matter of changing the constitution was brought before the legislature. On that day Lee unexpectedly took ill, and Madison, trying to read Henry, figured he had best remain silent. It was a wise move, for as he subsequently reported to Jefferson, “Mr. Henry shewed a more violent opposition than we expected.”

  Jefferson would not have been surprised. Taking the pulse of Virginia’s leaders on another matter sometime earlier, he had complained to Madison: “Henry as usual is involved in mystery: should the popular tide run strongly in either direction, he will fall in with it.” Henry had a knack for keeping people on edge, which Jefferson hated. He certainly refused to credit Henry’s political abilities, distinguishing between principled secrecy in defense of just causes (his and Madison’s way) and a barren lack of principles (Henry’s demagoguery) that manifested itself through underhandedness.36

  Jefferson would not have a chance to see Virginia respond to his ideas for an improved state constitution. No convention was ever called, which he naturally attributed to Henry’s opposition. In fact, the constitution adopted in 1776 was to remain in force until after Jefferson’s death. He did, however, take such pride in his 1783 plan that he decided to include it as an appendix in his Notes on Virginia, under the title “Draught of a Fundamental Constitution.”

  He picked up Patsy in Philadelphia. From there, waited on by the Hemings brothers, Bob and James, father and daughter traveled through New York to New Haven and from there to Rhode Island. The Providence newspaper reported the visit in the most complimentary terms: “Governor Jefferson, who has so eminently distinguished himself in the late glorious revolution, is a gentleman of a very amiable character … a mathematician and philosopher as well as a civilian and politician.”

  The word civilian retained a meaning we no longer recognize: a legal scholar, conversant in the laws of classical antiquity as well as those of the modern world. Jefferson’s role as law tutor to James Monroe is one way of seeing his “civilian” rank. And the word politician referred not so much to one who campaigned for elective office as to a student of government who was potentially a statesman. In the early and mid-eighteenth century, politician denoted a refined breed of Roman, but it could also be used satirically in referring to ravenous colonial officials who were more ambitious than wise. By calling him a politician, the Providence notice clearly meant to honor Jefferson as a man of elegance and experience.37

  Civilian and politician, seemingly generic terms, actually tell us a lot about Jefferson’s reputation on the eve of his assignment abroad. For possibly the first time in a public paper, his name was directly linked to authorship of the Declaration of Independence. The statement was cast in the passive voice by an editor whose knowledge was secondhand: “the memorable Declaration of American independence is said to have been penned by him.” The former Virginia governor was seldom in the news outside his native state, so when the Rhode Island newspaperman wanted to make him known to readers, he added the noteworthy line associating the new “minister plenipotentiary” with the famous Declaration. The Fourth of July was annually celebrated and the final text of the Declaration widely heralded, but few beyond the elite circle of Revolutionary leaders could have connected Jefferson to the document. His signature did not stand out as John Hancock’s did, and the act of Congress overshadowed the contribution of any one individual, penman or not. Not until the 1800 campaign would Jefferson’s supporters broadcast his authorship nationally. As late as the 1810s, his actual role would still come into question, one of the many annoyances he would have to contend with in a partisan environment.

  In Boston, the vessel Ceres awaited. Bob Hemings was to return south, bearing a businesslike letter for Madison, while James Hemings accompanied the Jeffersons to Europe. He had no time to provide details, Jefferson explained to Madison, noting only that he had taken down his observations of the “commerce and other circumstances” of the northeastern states. Experiencing New England for so short a time was a kind of cultural limbo for him, a way station, as his first ocean crossing loomed.

  As well read as Jefferson was, his spoken French was halting, and until he arrived in Paris, the only notable French contacts he had had were those titled gentlemen who had attached themselves to America’s cause: Lafayette, Chastellux, and Marbois. He had left his most trusted allies, Madison and Monroe, with gentle directives. He also left behind in Philadelphia a surrogate family, including the upright Mary House and her amiable daughter, Eliza House Trist, proprietors of the boardinghouse to which Madison had introduced him. And he had deposited his two youngest daughters with his late wife’s relatives in Virginia.

  The Jefferson party left Boston on July 5, enjoying sunny skies and a smooth, brisk voyage to England, then crossing the channel to France. Other than the briefing he was to receive from Franklin and Adams in matters of public duty, one of Jefferson’s top priorities after getting settled was to scope out scientific curiosities and acquire books for himself and his most favored friend in Virginia. And instead of bothering with exchange rates and payments, Jefferson told Madison that his expenditures in Europe on Madison’s behalf would be offset by Madison’s payments for the education and boarding costs incurred by Jefferson’s fatherless nephews Peter and Samuel Carr. They would sit down and figure it all out after he returned home.38

  “Devoutly to Pray”

  Jefferson was delighted to have for his private secretary in Paris his protégé William Short. When his other “adoptive son,” Short’s friend (and now congressman) James Monroe, declined the offer to accompany him to Europe, Jefferson had turned to Short, whose career in Virginia politics was just getting under way. The companionable Short had taken the same road Madison had at a similar age, serving as a member of the Governor’s Council, and Jefferson fully expected him to go the distance, just as Madison had, by joining Congress.39

  At the College of William and Mary, under the wartime leadership of Reverend Madison, Short had helped to found the Phi Beta Kappa Society that survives to this day. He also was a student of Jefferson’s greatly admired law professor, George Wythe. Jefferson was his second examiner, alongside Wythe, when, in 1781, Short was granted his license to practice law. John Marshall, future chief justice of the Supreme Court and Jefferson-hater-in-chief, was another of the William and Mary band whom Jefferson and Wythe qualified for the law around this time.40r />
  Short did not arrive in Europe until three months after Jefferson. When he did, he bore a letter from Madison. From the beginning, the young aide proved indispensable to the first-time diplomat. His conversational French was as proficient as Jefferson’s was uncertain. In addition to his linguistic talent, he was a natural charmer, if unlucky in love. Short’s modern biographer believes that the chief reason he agreed to give up on Virginia and seek a new life in France was the rejection he suffered in Richmond at the hands of a woman who was not his social equal. In France he would move to the other extreme and fall deeply in love with a married duchess.

  The letter from Madison that Short carried was put in Jefferson’s hand after three subsequent Madison letters had already come by public vessels. The combined product, nearly twenty pages, much of it encoded, made for essential reading that fall. For one, Madison reported on the effort of Virginia Episcopalians to refortify the religious establishment and Patrick Henry’s exertions on their behalf. Well-publicized petitions complained about “the present state of neglect of religion and morality.”

  The fight that Madison and Jefferson had long anticipated was brewing. The church faction was so nervy, Madison reported, that it should have gone down to defeat without much work. It was “preserved from a dishonourable death,” he said, “by the talents of Mr. Henry.” This elicited what has to be considered Jefferson’s most ill-tempered harangue of his competition: “While Mr. Henry lives”—the preceding three words were encoded—“another bad constitution would be formed, and saddled forever on us. What we have to do I think is devoutly to pray for his death.” The last phrase was also in code.41

  In the next paragraph of his letter to Madison, Jefferson moved from venomous talk to a reembrace of manly society. Without any idea of the length of his diplomatic tour, he updated his friendly proposal of ten months earlier: “I once hinted to you the project of seating yourself in the neighborhood of Monticello … Monroe is decided in settling there and is actually engaged in the endeavor to purchase. Short is the same. Would you but make it a ‘partie quarree’ I should believe that life still had some happiness in store for me.” Jefferson was engaged in clever wordplay when he stretched the meaning of the French partie carrée, a four-way unit—which ordinarily referred to two male-female couples, as in a dance. The dance he had in mind was a power move, an appeal meant to build their collective political clout in Virginia over the long term.

  Concerning bonds of love and friendship, with or without political overtones, Jefferson was emotionally demanding and a hard bargainer. Either Madison told him he felt isolated at Montpelier, or Jefferson had convinced himself that this was the case. He drew on their personal affinity and asked whether it did not mean more to Madison than financial gain through some distant land speculation: “Agreeable society is the first essential in constituting the happiness and of course the value of our existence,” he wrote, extending his plea, “and it is a circumstance worthy great attention when we are making first our choice of a residence. Weigh well the value of this against the difference in pecuniary interest, and ask yourself which will add most to the sum of your felicity through life.” And then the final push: “I think weighing them in this balance, your decision will be favourable to all our prayers.” As a man who discounted the power of prayer, Jefferson did not rely on faith but instead on emotional persuasion. Sharpening his point, he urged Madison to spend five months in France: “You shall find with me a room, bed and plate, if you will do me the favor to become of the family.”

  Owing to the lag time in overseas mail, Madison’s reply did not arrive for nearly six months. He reminded Jefferson that he was eager for treatises on “the antient or modern federal republics, on the law of Nations, and the history natural and political of the New World.” To this he added a request for a “portable glass” (pocket telescope) to enliven his solitary walks in the neighborhood of Montpelier. Only at the end of the letter did he address the matter of travel, begging off the invitation to visit Paris: “It would break in upon a course of reading which if I neglect now I shall probably never resume.” There was a second rationale: “I have some reason also to suspect that crossing the sea would be unfriendly to a singular disease of my constitution.” Madison’s postscript listed several notable deaths and ended with a question that might have been commonplace at the time and now seems precious: “What has become of the subterraneous City discovered in Siberia?”42

  Jefferson’s bed and plate proposal had been turned down, and his “partie quarree” was stalled. But he would have fresh ideas to report on as he became immersed in French culture and saw more of the country.

  “As Sincere an American as Any Frenchman Can Be”

  As Jefferson was crossing the ocean one way, the American Revolution’s beloved benefactor, the Marquis de Lafayette, had arranged his own return to the United States. Without either of them knowing it, they were on the high seas together and reached land at nearly the same time.

  Though he was just twenty-six, Lafayette was making his third crossing since the beginning of the Revolution. The immensely wealthy young aristocrat possessed a fund of honor and determination as well as land and connections. Supremely self-confident, he had sought a letter from Washington in 1783 that he expected would lead to his inclusion in ratification proceedings related to the Anglo-American peace treaty. Lafayette’s ambition was of concern to diplomat John Adams, and even Washington was not entirely comfortable with the idea of a Frenchman representing the new nation. At the same time no one wished to dampen the spirit of the brave marquis, who continued to act as a useful liaison in political and commercial matters affecting France and America.43

  Landing in New York in mid-1784, Lafayette headed south as quickly as he could to pay a visit to George Washington at Mount Vernon. Everywhere he went, he was banqueted. Returning north, he chanced to meet James Madison in Baltimore. The Virginian, who feared the perils of a voyage to France, responded nevertheless to an invitation from Lafayette to accompany him to Philadelphia and from there to central New York State, where the Frenchman was to help in negotiating an agreement with Indian tribes that had remained loyal to the British during the Revolution. The Iroquois retained warm recollections of the French from years of friendly intercourse, and they knew a great deal about Lafayette’s exploits during the American Revolution. This is how Lafayette finally got his wish and a private citizen of a foreign nation came to represent the United States in an authoritative treaty.

  The land-hugging Madison, who would never even see the burgeoning West, experienced horrible seasickness as they sailed up the Hudson to Albany. Back on solid ground, the party was met by the Marquis de Barbé-Marbois of the French legation in Philadelphia, the instigator of Jefferson’s soon-to-be-published Notes on Virginia. Arriving among the Indians, Madison heard several refer to young Lafayette improbably as “my father.” The treaty was concluded. It secured long-term peace, while unevenly dividing lands between the tribes and the U.S. government.

  Madison and Lafayette grew close as they were roughing it in the woodlands. Afterward Madison wrote to Jefferson about their time together and marveled at the Frenchman’s ability to interact with Indians. The friendly Oneidas claimed that it was Lafayette’s words to them during the war that had kept them from allying with the losing side. In Madison’s view, Lafayette was “as sincere an American as any Frenchman can be; one … whose future friendship prudence requires us to cultivate.” The Virginian was particularly struck by the strong stand Lafayette took against the institution of slavery. Said Madison charitably, “It is a proof of his humanity.” Forty years later, after the two presidents had been long retired to their respective plantations, sustained by slave labor, Lafayette would still be pursuing an argument with them about America’s greatest failing.

  When he wrote of Lafayette to Jefferson, Madison was blunt about the Frenchman’s less attractive but equally pronounced traits, especially his vanity. It was the same quality that had c
aused Madison to be repelled by John Adams. But it had to be said that Adams never curried favor from anyone, and Lafayette, Madison concluded, had “a strong thirst of praise and popularity.” Reading Madison’s letter, Jefferson agreed with his friend’s assessment: “I take him to be of unmeasured ambition but that the means he uses are virtuous.” To which Madison answered that he since had “further opportunities of penetrating [Lafayette’s] character.” His “foibles” had not disappeared, but his positive traits were that much more in evidence. He was power-hungry, but he wished to apply power to right ends. And crucially, “his disposition is naturally warm and affectionate and his attachment to the United States unquestionable.” Madison was telling Jefferson that once Lafayette returned to France, the American minister should make good use of him. The two were clearly on the same page. “I am persuaded,” Jefferson wrote next, “that a gift of lands by the state of Virginia to the Marquis de la fayette would give a good opinion here of our character.” Without knowing the full extent of what was brewing in France, he added intriguingly that Lafayette might have a future need to find refuge in America.44

  While keeping company with the marquis, a hardy traveler not easily deterred, Madison was obliged to endure chilly nights and high winds, as well as long hours sitting and observing ceremony. Though weather-beaten at the end of it all, he emerged from his northern trek attracted to land offerings in the Mohawk region of New York; he now saw investment opportunities there as the best means to secure his fortune. Though a national figure, he was still hopelessly dependent on his father, who had just given him 560 acres of Montpelier land. More to the point, he was a professional politician uninterested in establishing a private law practice.

  At this point Madison invited fellow Virginians Monroe and Jefferson to invest in upstate New York along with him. To Monroe, he wrote: “My private opinion is that the vacant land in that part of America opens the surest field of speculation of any in the U.S.” To the investment-shy Jefferson, he phrased his appeal a bit differently: “There can certainly be no impropriety in your taking just means of bettering your fortune.” But Jefferson continued to find speculation in northern land unappetizing, and he refused to let go of his hope that Madison would buy property and settle near Monticello. No matter what he said, though, he could not convince Madison to do as Monroe was doing. Short, the other member of Jefferson’s imagined “partie quarree,” would end up investing elsewhere.