The Road to Monticello

by Hayes, Kevin J. ;

  Another problem: existing as a single manuscript in the Senate, the work would not be able to influence any other legislative bodies. Speaking of printed books in general, Condorcet had said, “These multiplied copies, spreading themselves with greater rapidity, facts and discoveries not only acquire a more extensive publicity, but acquire it also in a shorter space of time.”27 As Jefferson realized, the state legislatures needed much help in the area of parliamentary procedure, too. By printing his manual, Jefferson would contribute greatly to the advance of the democratic process. Yet still he hesitated.

  Wythe could not understand Jefferson’s hesitation. He wrote on multiple occasions to encourage his former student to publish the work. He told Jefferson, “I am persuaded the manual of your parliamentary praxis will be more chaste than any extant, and, if you can be persuaded to let it go forth, that it will be canonized in all the legislatures of America.”28

  After working on the Manual through the summer of 1800 and into the fall, Jefferson left Monticello in late November to resume his responsibilities in the Senate. This time he would not have to go all the way to Philadelphia: the U.S. capital had finally relocated to its permanent home at Washington, D.C. Though some impressive government buildings were under construction—the Capitol, the President’s House—Washington still had a primitive look. But it was improving slowly as businessmen and entrepreneurs were flowing into the new city to meet the needs of the federal government, which had grown significantly during the Adams administration. Jefferson had convinced Samuel Harrison Smith to relocate from Philadelphia and establish a newspaper here. For Smith, the decision to relocate was a gamble: a staunch supporter of Republican policy, he was depending on Jefferson’s election to the presidency for his paper’s survival.

  Jefferson first knew Smith as the publisher of the Philadelphia edition of Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man. Though Jefferson disliked Smith’s publication of his private letter in the preface to this work, he found Smith himself quite likeable. Jefferson subscribed to the Universal Gazette, the Philadelphia newspaper Smith began in 1797. He earned Jefferson’s enduring respect late that year as an advocate of free public schools: Smith wrote an essay on the subject and submitted it to a contest sponsored by the American Philosophical Society. His essay tied for first place and was published as Remarks on Education. After relocating to Washington, Smith established the National Intelligencer and Washington Advertiser. It quickly earned a reputation as the finest newspaper in the capital and is now recognized as the most important political newspaper in nineteenth-century America.29 Jefferson chose Smith to publish his Manual of Parliamentary Practice.

  Though Smith and his new bride, Margaret Bayard Smith, would become best friends with Jefferson, he did not really start socializing with them until after they moved to Washington in 1800. Jefferson did not meet Mrs. Smith until December, when he visited their Washington home to deliver his manuscript. Mrs. Smith, whose letters, journals, and reminiscences form an important record of early-nineteenth-century social life in Washington, D.C., tells the story best:

  In December, 1800, a few days after Congress had for the first time met in our new Metropolis, I was one morning sitting alone in the parlour, when the servant opened the door and showed in a gentleman who wished to see my husband. The usual frankness and care with which I met strangers, were somewhat checked by the dignified and reserved air of the present visitor; but the chilled feeling was only momentary, for after taking the chair I offered him in a free and easy manner, and carelessly throwing his arm on the table near which he sat, he turned towards me a countenance beaming with an expression of benevolence and with a manner and voice almost femininely soft and gentle, entered into conversation on the commonplace topics of the day, from which, before I was conscious of it, he had drawn me into observations of a more personal and interesting nature. I know not how it was, but there was something in his manner, his countenance and voice that at once unlocked my heart, and in answer to his casual enquiries concerning our situation in our new home, as he called it, I found myself frankly telling him what I liked or disliked in our present circumstances and abode. I knew not who he was, but the interest with which he listened to my artless details, induced the idea he was some intimate acquaintance or friend of Mr. Smith’s and put me perfectly at my ease; in truth so kind and conciliating were his looks and manners that I forgot he was not a friend of my own, until on the opening of the door, Mr. Smith entered and introduced the stranger to me as Mr. Jefferson.

  I felt my cheeks burn and my heart throb, and not a word more could I speak while he remained. Nay, such was my embarrassment I could scarcely listen to the conversation carried on between him and my husband.30

  She may not have contributed any further to the conversation, but she remained attentive. The manuscript of Jefferson’s Manual of Parliamentary Practice made a strong impression on her. She recalled, “The original was in his own neat, plain, but elegant hand writing. The manuscript was as legible as printing and its unadorned simplicity was emblematical of his character.” Though Mrs. Smith never recaptured her equanimity this day, Jefferson remained cordial throughout his visit and expressed friendship for them upon his departure.

  “And is this,” Mrs. Smith reflected once he left, “the violent democrat, the vulgar demagogue, the bold atheist and profligate man I have so often heard denounced by the Federalists? Can this man so meek and mild, yet dignified in his manners, with a voice so soft and low, with a countenance so benignant and intelligent, can he be that daring leader of a faction, that disturber of the peace, that enemy of all rank and order?” Previously, Mr. Smith had tried to convince his wife that Jefferson was nothing like the way the newspapers portrayed him, but even he could not change her mind. Mrs. Smith’s attitude reflects the power of the press in shaping public opinion. Not until she met Jefferson personally did she change her mind about him.

  Jefferson retrieved his manuscript from Smith in January to make a few last-minute corrections but soon put it back in his hands. Smith finished printing the work just before Jefferson resigned as president of the Senate. As Wythe had predicted, A Manual of Parliamentary Practice began being used in the Senate, in the House of Representatives, and in state legislatures across the nation.

  In a way, Jefferson’s task in writing the Manual of Parliamentary Practice was not dissimilar to the situation he faced writing “Memoir on the Megalonyx.” Explaining the bones of this unknown creature, he brought in local legend for support. Instead of accepting these traditional tales at face value, he compared them with printed accounts from books of travel and natural history in his library. Elaborating the rules of parliamentary procedure, he compared traditional rules with what the books in his library had to say on the subject. Both works combine oral tradition and the printed word to form original contributions to science. “Memoir on the Megalonyx” sought to advance man’s understanding of how the world works. A Manual of Parliamentary Procedure sought to advance democracy by streamlining the way the legislative process works. Both compositions demonstrate how freedom of expression can contribute to the progress of mankind.

  CHAPTER 31

  The First Inaugural Address

  At daybreak on Wednesday, March 4, 1801, cannon fire sounded from Capitol Hill as an artillery company discharged its weapons to welcome the day. Those within earshot were reminded that this was no ordinary Wednesday morning. Today was the day Thomas Jefferson would be inaugurated third president of the United States, the first to be inaugurated in Washington, D.C.

  Later that morning, around ten o’clock, the Alexandria company of riflemen reached the corner of New Jersey Avenue and C Street and paraded before Conrad and McMunn’s boarding house, where Jefferson lived. A boarding house, even a handsome and commodious one such as Conrad and McMunn’s, may seem an odd place for the president-elect to be staying on the eve of his inauguration. But the place suited Jefferson: located on the south side of Capitol Hill, this house “commanded an extensiv
e and beautiful view” overlooking a vista of “grass, shrubs and trees in their wild uncultivated state.” Here Jefferson had a separate drawing-room to receive visitors, but otherwise “he lived on a perfect equality with his fellow boarders, and ate at a common table.”1

  As noon approached, he left the boarding house for the Capitol. Unlike Washington and Adams before him, Jefferson avoided a fancy carriage—he simply walked. Jefferson was accompanied by several of his fellow citizens, including military officers from Alexandria, marshals of the District of Columbia, and a number of congressmen. Though taller than most of the others, Jefferson blended in with the crowd. One observer who saw him this day recorded, “His dress was, as usual, that of a plain citizen, without any distinctive badge of office.”2

  In the past, Jefferson had abjured all forms of ceremony. Now that he was about to be inaugurated president, he saw no reason to change his ways. The military salutes, arranged without his knowledge, were the only aspects of the day that gave it a ceremonial quality. As the presidentelect entered the Capitol, the artillery company fired another round to mark the occasion.

  Inside the Senate chamber, many people were gathering to witness the inauguration. The senators were already here, having convened this morning to swear in Vice President Aaron Burr as president of the Senate. Since then, members of the House of Representatives had been streaming into the Senate chamber. Many other government officials were admitted, too. What space remained was filled by the general public. People came from throughout the United States. There were some international visitors here, too. The English traveler John Davis, for one, arrived early enough to get a good spot. He observed, “The Senate-Chamber was filled with citizens from the remotest places of the Union. The planter, the farmer, the mechanic and merchant, all seemed to catch one common transport of enthusiasm, and welcome the approach of the Man to the chair of Sovereign Authority.”3

  By one estimate, about a thousand people were assembled there that morning, not counting the legislators but including more than 150 women. Margaret Bayard Smith, one of the women present, noted, “The Senate chamber was so crowded that I believe not another creature could enter.” Another observer called it “the largest concourse of citizens ever assembled here.”4 By noon, the crowd noise grew deafening. When Jefferson entered shortly after noon, the people rose from their seats to welcome him. Burr vacated the chair of the Senate for Jefferson. Once he was seated, the crowd grew quiet. After a few moments of silence, he rose to deliver his inaugural address.

  “Friends and Fellow Citizens,” he began. “Called upon to undertake the duties of the first executive office of our country, I avail myself of the presence of that portion of my fellow-citizens which is here assembled to express my grateful thanks for the favor with which they have been pleased to look toward me, to declare a sincere consciousness that the task is above my talents.” The humble pose Jefferson assumed is typical of his public utterances. Continuing this first long sentence, he explained how he felt as he began his presidency: “I approach it with those anxious and awful presentiments which the greatness of the charge and the weakness of my powers so justly inspire.”5

  Since Jefferson’s victory in the presidential election had been delayed until February 17—when the House of Representatives finally decided the contest after Jefferson and Aaron Burr tied with the same number of electoral votes—he had had only a few weeks to write his inaugural address. But he really did not need much time. The speech incorporated ideas he had been thinking about for a lifetime. As his opening sentence reveals, he had polished the address until it glistened. The last part of this sentence reveals his ongoing fondness for conjoined word pairs. He used other literary devices to enhance his message, too. Assonance links the pair of adjectives modifying “presentiments”: “anxious and awful.” The finely balanced parallelism between “the greatness of the charge” and “the weakness of my powers” brings together two seeming opposites.

  Jefferson next spoke of the nation’s rapidly growing power and prosperity, characterizing the United States as a “rising nation, spread over a wide and fruitful land, traversing all the seas with the rich productions of their industry, engaged in commerce with nations who feel power and forget right, advancing rapidly to destinies beyond the reach of mortal eye.” This beautifully constructed phrase has a vast sweep in terms of both time and space. Jefferson’s words begin in the recent past, characterize the present state of the nation, and anticipate the future, when the United States would extend its commercial reach around the globe. From Jefferson’s optimistic perspective, the nation’s future seemed boundless.

  His choice of words unified the different forms of discourse he used. The phrase “rising nation” uses the rhetoric of the Revolutionary era, embodied, for example, in the poem Philip Freneau and Hugh Henry Brackenridge wrote for their 1771 commencement from the College of New Jersey, The Rising Glory of America. Jefferson’s diction also incorporates utopian discourse: asserting that the United States is “spread over a wide and fruitful land,” he echoed Samuel Johnson’s Rasselas, which depicts an idyllic valley, “wide and fruitful.”6

  At this point in his speech, Jefferson interjected his personal reaction to American prosperity: “When I contemplate these transcendent objects, and see the honor, the happiness, and the hopes of this beloved country committed to the issue and the auspices of this day, I shrink from the contemplation, and humble myself before the magnitude of the undertaking.” Though phrased as a personal observation, this sentence reiterates the past-present-future pattern in “the honor, the happiness, and the hopes,” with alliteration reinforcing the links between the three. Having so far limited his rhetorical flourishes to conjoined word pairs, Jefferson now provided a list of three parallel words, in part for variation but also as a mirror for the concepts he was developing. He had used the list of three as a rhetorical device with great effectiveness in the Declaration of Independence. His use of it here is no less effective: honor represents the past, what the United States has accomplished; happiness reflects the present state of the nation; and hope symbolizes its future. As Jefferson remarked elsewhere, “Hope is so much pleasanter than despair, that I always prefer looking into futurity through her glass.”7

  Drafting his inaugural address, he had imagined delivering it before the combined legislature and included the congressmen and senators in his speech. His responsibilities as president humbled him, but he took strength from the help that those he now faced would provide. The faces in the crowd reminded him that he would not confront such daunting tasks alone.

  Applying another list of three—three prepositional phrases this time—Jefferson said that he knew he could rely on Congress’s “resources of wisdom, of virtue, and of zeal.” He reminded the legislators of the importance of their responsibilities as lawmakers and expressed his desire for their help. To emphasize his point, he used one of his favorite metaphors for talking about government, the ship of state: “I look with encouragement for that guidance and support which may enable us to steer with safety the vessel in which we are all embarked amidst the conflicting elements of a troubled world.”

  With variation, Jefferson used this metaphor in his private writings, too. In a letter to John Dickinson a few weeks after the inauguration, he wrote, “The storm through which we have passed, has been tremendous indeed. The tough sides of our Argosie have been thoroughly tried. Her strength has stood the waves into which she was steered, with a view to sink her.”8 The differences between the ways Jefferson formulated this metaphor affirm the care he took composing the inaugural address. The word “Argosie” gave his ship-of-state comparison a poetic quality. Considering such poetic diction inappropriate when speaking to the entire nation, Jefferson used more straightforward language in his address.

  Next he mentioned the divisiveness that had polarized the United States during the previous administration. Despite the vicious attacks he had suffered at the hands of the press during his vice presidency, J
efferson reasserted the freedom of speech and validated the election process. Now that the people had made their choice, it was time for all citizens to accept the decision of the majority and work toward advancing the cause of the United States. Though the majority should and must rule in a democracy, the rights of the minority should and must be protected.

  After outlining these ideas, Jefferson offered a general call for unity: “Let us, then, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things. And let us reflect that, having banished from our land that religious intolerance under which mankind so long bled and suffered, we have yet gained little if we countenance a political intolerance as despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and bloody persecutions.”

  This call for national unity has much personal resonance. Imploring the nation to “unite with one heart and one mind,” Jefferson echoed his “Dialogue between My Head and My Heart.” Jefferson knew from personal experience how difficult it could be to reconcile the two, but he also knew how essential the effort was both for the individual body and for the body politic. As president, he effectively unified head and heart—according to his most enthusiastic supporters. Shortly after his inauguration, William Thornton, the director of the U.S. Patent Office, observed, “We have now a philosopher also at our head, whose heart appears in every action.”9