THE FEDERALIST.—LIFE AND CHARACTER OF JOHN JAY.
Among the rights which are ill protected by law, and yet of essential importance to the individual and society, are those of literary property. If any bequest should be sacred, it is that of thought, convictions, art—the intellectual personality that survives human life—and the 'local habitation and the name' whereby genius, opinion, sentiment—what constitutes the best image and memorial of a life and a mind, a character and a career, is preserved and transmitted. And yet, with all our boasted civilization and progress, no rights are more frequently or grossly violated, no wrongs so little capable of redress, as those relating to literary property. Herein there is a singular moral obtuseness a want of chivalry, an inadequate sense of obligation—doubtless in part originating in that unjust legislation, or rather want of legislation, whereby international law protects the products of the mind and recognizes national literature as a great social interest. Within a few months, the biography of our pioneer author,[13] whose memory his life and character, not less than his genius, had singularly endeared to the whole range of English readers—was prepared by a relative designated by himself, who, with remarkable tact and fidelity, completed his delicate task, according to the materials provided and the wishes expressed by his illustrious kinsman. A London publisher reprinted the work, with eighty pages interpolated, wherein, with an utter disregard to common delicacy toward the dead or self-respect in the living, unauthentic gossip is made to desecrate the reticent and consistent tone of the work, pervert its spirit, and detract from its harmonious attraction and truth. A greater or more indecent and unjustifiable liberty was never taken by a publisher with a foreign work; it was an insult to the memory of Washington Irving, to his biographer and those who cherish his fame.
Not many weeks ago, an eloquent young divine, who had in no small degree saved the State of California to the Union, by his earnest and constant plea for national integrity, died in the midst of his useful and noble career: forthwith the publisher of a Review, in whose pages some of his early essays had appeared, announced their republication: in vain the friends and family of Starr King protested against so crude and limited a memorial of his genius, and entreated that they might be allowed to glean and garner more mature and complete fruits of his pen, as a token of his ability and his career; and thus do justice, by careful selection and well-advised preparation, to the memory they and their fellow citizens so tenderly and proudly cherished: no; the articles had been paid for, the recent death of the writer gave them a market value, and the publishers were resolved to turn them to account, however good taste and right feeling and sacred associations were violated.
Again, one of the few legal works of American origin which has a standard European reputation is Wheaton's 'International Law.' Its author was eminently national in his convictions; foreign service and patriotic instincts had made him thoroughly American in his sympathies and sentiments; no one of our diplomatic agents sent home such comprehensive and sagacious despatches, having in view 'the honor and welfare of the whole country;' and no one who knew Henry Wheaton doubts that, were he living at this hour, all his influence, hopes, and faith would be identified with the Union cause.
Yet an edition[14] of his great work has lately appeared, edited in an opposite interest; and the standard reference on the law of nations, so honorable to the legal knowledge, perspicacity, and candor of an American author, goes forth perverted and deformed by annotations and comments indirectly sympathetic with the wicked rebellion now devastating the nation. Can a greater literary outrage be imagined? Is it possible more grossly to violate the rights of the dead?
Aware that certain rules apply to the annotation of legal treatises not recognized in other departments of literature, and diffident of personal judgment in this respect, in order to ascertain how far our sense of this violation of literary property and reputation was well founded, how far we were right in asserting a partisan aim, we requested an accomplished lawyer, thoroughly versed in the literature of his profession, and experienced as an editor, to examine this edition of Wheaton, and state his own opinion thereof: to him we are indebted for the following clear and palpable instances of a perverted use of a standard American treatise, endeared to many living friends of the author, and all his intelligent and patriotic countrymen: of the 'additions' to the original by the editor, he says:
'1. They indicate considerable reading and industry, but are far too voluminous, and abound in extended extracts from speeches, state papers, and statutes, which should have been omitted altogether, or very much abridged.
'2. They contain no language complimentary to the Administration, little or nothing in defence of the Government—none that can be offensive to Jefferson Davis; and, as a whole, they give the impression that he regards the Confederate position as being quite as defensible, on the principles of international law, as that of the United States.
'3. He has no word of censure for Lord John Russell, and no word of apology for Mr. Seward. He nowhere calls the Confederates rebels, and nowhere thinks the conduct of France suspicious or unfriendly.
'4. His positions are unquestionably the same with those of Seymour, Bishop Hopkins, Professor Morse, Judge Woodward, etc.
'5. He is everywhere cold—more willing to wound than bold to strike; and yet he fretfully commits himself before he gets through, in defence of slavery and extreme democratic positions.
'6. He does not pretend that he was ever requested by the great author with whose productions he has taken such liberties to undertake the editorial duties.
'His language is so general that one needs to read it carefully to feel the full force of what I have said.
'In the preface (page 1-20), he speaks of 'Spanish American independence, now jeopardized by our fratricidal contest'—fratricidal is indeed a favorite word; he uses it in an offensive sense as regards the United States. Page 99, note, he says of slavery, what is utterly untrue, that 'the Constitution recognized it as property, and pledges the Federal Government to protect it.' The noble act of June 19, 1862, forbidding slavery in United States Territories, he comments on in this wise: 'This act wholly ignores the decision of the Supreme Court (meaning the Dred Scott case) on the subject of slavery.' He then inserts the whole act in the note, only to hold it up to censure—'testing it by international law' as interpreted by him. At page 605 he denounces that law as 'obnoxious not only to the principles of international law, but to the Constitution of the United States.' His note and extracts, including long extracts from speeches of Thomas, of Massachusetts, and Crittenden, of Kentucky, fill more than twenty-two pages—reserving a line or two of text at the top. To say nothing of the sentiments, such notes are a shameful abuse of the reputation and work of Mr. Wheaton, and a perversion of the duties and rights of an editor. But a word of the sentiments. He exhausts himself and the records of the past in accumulating precedents to condemn the policy of freeing slaves as a war measure, or of arming them in the nation's defence.
'At page 614, in this same note, speaking of the effect of the Proclamation of Emancipation, he says: 'The attention of publicists may well be called to the withdrawal of the four millions of men from the cultivation of cotton, which, is the source of wealth of the great commercial and manufacturing nations of Europe.' That is, he suggests this as a ground for interference in our affairs on the principles of his international law. He further adds that this cultivation of cotton is 'by nature a virtual monopoly of the seceded States;' that is, nature preordained the negroes to be slaves in the seceded States to raise cotton; and hence natural and international law require emancipation proclamations to be put down. Did Stephens ever go farther? Again, on the same page, he says: 'The effect on the United States, in the event of the reestablishment of the Federal authority,' without the Proclamation in force, etc., 'would be seriously felt, in its financial bearings,' etc.—'abroad as well as at home.' Not satisfied, therefore, with suggesting a justification of intervention, on the basis of international law, he appeals to the cupidity of foreigners as well as natives, by hinting also that financial ruin may follow the triumph of Freedom and the Federal armies. What a shame that an American editor should use the great name of Wheaton to give dignity to such suggestions in foreign countries.' He then gives—all in the same interminable note (page 614)—an extract from The Morning Chronicle, of May 16, 1860, of which I give you this delicious morsel: 'No blacks, no cotton, such is the finality.' At page 609, he speaks of the 'incompatibility of confiscation of property with the present state of civilization.' At page 609, he quotes, with evident delight, the sanctimonious despatch of Lord John Russell about sinking ships in Charleston harbor, which his lordship calls a 'project only worthy the times of barbarism;' and the American annotator, who could use page after page to degrade his own Government for emancipating slaves, of course could not be expected to refer to any of the precedents that would have silenced Lord John, and have justified the United States; and he therefore passes on with no reference to them.
'At page 669, Mr. Wheaton says: 'The validity of maritime captures must be determined in a court of the captor's Government,' etc. This American editor does not so much as allude to the fact, that while he is writing, the highways of the ocean are lighted by the fires of American merchantmen, plundered, and then burned, without condemnation of any court, by vessels fitted out in English ports, in open violation of the first principles of international law, and which have never been in any port under the jurisdiction of the piratical Confederacy!
'Some of his indications of sympathy with the rebellion are quite in excess of those of Lord John, with whose views, on the whole, he seems well enough pleased. For example, at page 254, Lord John is quoted as follows: 'Has a commission from the so-called President Davis,' etc.; but at page 107 and generally, the American editor, not willing to imply that there is any doubt about the reality or permanency of the Confederate concern, nor being willing to offend its managers, speaks of 'the President of the Confederate States,' and 'an act of Congress of the Confederate States,' etc.; and when he reaches page 535, as if to set Lord John a better example (and I believe there had been some Confederate victories about the time he was writing that note), he says: 'A proclamation was issued by President Davis, on the 14th of August, 1861, ordering all citizens adhering to the Government of the United States, etc., to depart from the Confederate States in forty days.' It is very evident the author approves this order as warranted by international law, at least according to his interpretation thereof.
'Need I go farther to satisfy you of the temper and character of the notes, and the views of their author? I can hardly suppress the expression of my indignation that such a use should have been made of this great national work—that such an opportunity should have been lost to say something worthily in favor of colonization and freedom, and in vindication of our nation, in its great struggle with the relics of barbarism in its midst, and with the selfish and ambitious spirits of the European continent, so ready to take advantage of our troubles to promote their own schemes.'
We now come to another and more generally obnoxious instance of this use of standard national works for personal or political objects. The 'Federalist,' from the circumstances under which it was written, the influence it exerted, the events with which it is associated, the character of the writers, and the ability manifest both in their arguments and the style—has long been regarded as a political classic. It was the text book of a large and intelligent party at the time of and long subsequent to the adoption of the Constitution; and few works of political philosophy, written to meet an exigency and prepare the way for a governmental change, have attained so high and permanent a rank among foreign critics and historians. It is evident that such a work, whoever owns the copyright or boasts the authorship, has a national value and interest. To preserve it intact, to keep it in an eligible and accessible form before the public, is all that any editor or publisher has a right to claim. Much has been written as to the authorship of the respective papers, and some passages have been variously rendered in different editions; but the general scope and merit of the work, and the obvious and unchallenged identity of style and opinion with the acknowledged authors as regards most of the articles, make the discussions on these points of comparative little significance to the reader of the present day, who regards the work as a whole, seizes its essential traits, and is en rapport with its magnanimous tone, so wholly opposed to petty division of credit in a labor undertaken from patriotic motives, and by scholars and gentlemen. Enough that we have here the reasonings of enlightened citizens, the views of statesmen, the arguments whereby the claims of the Constitution were vindicated. Whoever is familiar with the history of the period, finds in this remarkable work a memorable illustration of that rectitude and wisdom which presided over the early counsels of the nation, and an evidence of the rare union of sagacity and comprehensiveness, of liberal aspiration and prudential foresight, of conscientiousness and intelligence, which has won for the founders of the republic the admiration of the world. In these pages, how much knowledge of the past is combined with insight as to the future, what common sense is blent with learning, what perspicacity with breadth of view! Each department of the proposed government is described and analyzed; the political history of Greece, Rome, the Italian republics, France, and Great Britain examined for precedents and illustrations; popular objections answered; popular errors rectified; this provision explained, that clause justified; the judicial, legislative, and executive functions defined; national revenue discussed in all its relations; the advantages of our civil list, of a republic over a democracy in controlling the effects of faction, are clearly indicated; as are those attending the reservation of criminal and civil justice to the respective States: on the one hand the defects of the old Confederacy are stated with emphasis and truth, and on the other, the transcendent benefits of Federal union are elaborately argued, and economy, stability, and vigor proved to be its legitimate fruits. Of the evils of the old system, it is said: 'Let the point of extreme depression to which our national dignity and credit have sunk, let the inconvenience felt everywhere from a lax and ill-administered government, let the revolt of a part of North Carolina, the memory of insurrection in Pennsylvania, and actual insurrection in Massachusetts, declare it.' An unique distinction of this political treatise is that while Pericles, Cato, Hume, Montesquieu, Junius, and other classical and modern authorities are cited with scholarly tact, the most practical arguments drawn from the facts of the hour and the needs of the people, are conveyed in language the most lucid and impressive. To give a complete analysis of the 'Federalist' would require a volume; the glance we have cast upon its various topics sufficiently indicates the extent and importance of the work. Not less memorable is the spirit in which it was undertaken. 'A nation without a national government,' it is said, 'is, in my view, an awful spectacle;' and elsewhere—'The establishment of a constitution in times of profound peace, by the voluntary consent of a whole people, is a prodigy, to the completion of which I look forward with trembling anxiety.' 'I dread,' writes Jay, 'the more the consequences of new attempts, because I know that powerful individuals in this and in other States are enemies to a General National Government in every possible shape.'
Under such a sense of responsibility, with such patriotic solicitude did Hamilton, Madison, and Jay plead for the new Constitution with their fellow citizens of New York in the journals of the day, and it is these fragmentary comments and illustrations which, subsequently brought together in volumes, constitute 'the Federalist'; and well did they, toward the close of the discussion, observe: 'Let us now pause and ask ourselves whether, in the course of these papers, the proposed Constitution has not been satisfactorily vindicated from the aspersions thrown upon it, and whether it has not been shown worthy of the public approbation and necessary to the public safety and prosperity.' Whatever degree of sympathy or antagonism the intelligent reader of the 'Federalist' may feel, he can scarcely fail to admit that it is a masterly discussion of principles, and that the influence it exerted in securing the ratification of the Constitution in the State of New York, was a legitimate result of intelligent and conscientious advocacy. But the work has other than merely historical and literary claims upon our esteem at this hour. Its principles find confirmation here and now, in a degree and to an extent which lends new force and distinction to its authors as writers of political foresight and patriotic prescience. There are innumerable passages as applicable to the events of the last three years as if suggested by them; there are arguments and prophecies which have only attained practical demonstration through the terrible ordeal of civil war now raging around and in the heart of the republic.
When we saw the announcement of a new edition[15] of this national work, we hailed it as most seasonable and desirable: when the first volume came under our notice, our first feeling was one of gratitude to the editor for having taken such care to reproduce the work with the greatest possible correctness of text, obtained by patient collation of the different editions: regarding his labors as those of a disinterested historical student, ambitious to bring before the public a work full of warning and wisdom for this terrible national crisis, we at first saw in his annotations and comments only the labor of love whereby a standard work is illustrated and made more emphatic and complete: but, ere long, we found a spirit of detraction at work, a want of sympathy with the tone and a want of understanding of the motives of the authors, which made us regret that, instead of this partisan edition, the 'Federalist' had not been reissued with a brief explanatory introduction, and without note or comment.
Instead of a hearty recognition, we find a narrow interpretation of these eminent men: long-exploded slanders, born of partisan spite, are more in the mind of the editor than the permanent and invaluable traits which, to a generous and refined mind, constitute the legitimate claims of the work itself and the authors thereof. Guizot remarks: 'In the discussions of the numbers' (the 'Federalist'), 'for all that combines a profound knowledge of the great elementary principles of human government with the wisest maxims of practical administration, I do not know in the whole compass of my reading, whether from ancient or modern authors, so able a work.' The Edinburgh Review says: 'The 'Federalist' is a publication that exhibits an extent and precision of information, a profundity of research and an acuteness of understanding, which would have done honor to the most illustrious statesmen of ancient or modern times.'
In contrast with these and similar instances of eminent foreign appreciation, the editor of this edition of the 'Federalist' attributes to tact what is due to truth, represents the people, as such, as opposed to the Constitution, and Hamilton, Jay, and Madison 'poor antagonists' in combating their objections; if so, how does he account for the remarkable triumph of their dispassionate exposition and lucid arguments? In all political and literary history there are few more benign and distinguished examples of the practical efficiency of intelligent, patriotic, and conscientious reasoning against ignorance, prejudice, and partisan misrepresentation. And yet, in the face of this testimony, by the self-constituted editor of this national work, Hamilton is described as sophistical and disingenuous, whose object is to deceive rather than to instruct, to mislead rather than enlighten, and whose motives are partisan rather than patriotic.
Throughout the introduction there is a spirit of latent detraction; insinuations against the aims and methods, if not against the character of the illustrious men whose memories are our most precious inheritance; we feel that, however industrious in research and ingenious in conjecture, the tone and range of the critic's mind are wholly inadequate for any sympathetic insight as to the nature of the men whose writings he undertakes to reintroduce to the public—and this irrespective of any difference of political opinion: something more than verbal accuracy and patient collation is requisite to interpret the 'Federalist' and appreciate its authors; even a political opponent, of kindred social and personal traits, would do better justice to the theme: and a truly patriotic citizen of the republic, at such a crisis as the present, could never find therein an appropriate occasion to magnify political differences at the expense of national sentiment.
Whatever the literary merit or political interest of the 'Federalist,' its moral value is derived from our faith in the absolute sincerity and profound convictions of its authors: not only does the internal evidence of every page bear emphatic testimony thereto, but the correspondence of each writer as well as of contemporary statesmen, attest the same truth: they regarded the condition of the country as ruinous, and lamented that the fruits of victory turned to ashes on the lips of the people, because there was no homogeneous and vital organization to conserve and administer the invaluable blessings won by the sword: against the suicidal jealousy of State rights as adequate for prosperous self-reliance without the bonds and blessings of a vital National Government, they earnestly directed the most patriotic and intelligent arguments: of these the 'Federalist' is the chief repertory; hence its value and interest as a popular treatise which prepared the way for the intelligent adoption of the Constitution; yet in this edition the introductory remarks impugn the sincerity of the authors, and attempt to revive the political heresy of extreme State as opposed to Federal power, which it is the primary object of the work to expose and condemn; and this at a time when the fatal doctrine is in vogue as what may be called the metaphysical apology for the most base and barbarous rebellion against free government recorded in history. According to this editor, Chancellor Livingston was 'dilatory and uncertain,' Duane sympathized with the Tories in power, Hamilton exaggerated the troubles of the country and consciously sought to make his fellow citizens attribute, against the facts, the depreciated currency and the dearth of trade to the weakness of the Confederation—making a false issue to effect a political triumph: 'his plan of operations,' his 'tact,' are referred to as if, instead of being a true patriot and conscientious statesman, he was a mere special pleader, intriguing and ambitious. Add to this that, when introducing the 'Federalist' to the public in what purports to be an historical preface, he is silent on the wonderful fruits of the Constitution therein advocated—and fails to indicate, as would any candid critic, the remarkable proofs which time and experience yield of the practical wisdom and patriotic foresight of the men whose honorable prestige he thus indirectly seeks to undermine. Jay, we are told, was regarded 'by the majority of his fellow citizens as selfish, impracticable, and aristocratic;' he is said to have been 'induced to undertake' his share of the 'Federalist;' he speaks of the small part he actually did write, without alluding to the fact that illness withdrew him from work of all kinds, after his third paper had been contributed—thus conveying the impression of a lukewarm zeal and even utter indifference; whereas not only do his own words confute the imputation, but we have Madison's declaration that the idea of the 'Federalist' was suggested by Jay; 'and it was undertaken last fall,' he writes to Jefferson, 'by Jay, Hamilton, and myself. The proposal came from the two former. The execution was thrown, by the sickness of Jay, mostly on the two others.' It is even insinuated by this editor that Jay confined himself to topics which could be discussed 'without compromising in the least his general political sentiments, and without obliging him to assent even by implication to any portion of the proposed Constitution.' The representative duties and offices again and again forced upon John Jay—whether as a writer, jurist, envoy, or legislator—the evidence of his own letters, and especially the testimony of his fellow statesmen, adequately confute such misrepresentations as we have noted. It is a thankless, and, we believe, a superfluous task to vindicate the manliness, sincerity, and patriotism of the authors of the 'Federalist' and their fellow statesmen; indeed, their illustrious opponents in political questions again and again bore witness to the worth, wisdom, and integrity of the men, while many disputed the doctrine of the writers; popular sentiment embalms their fame and cherishes their memories; the insinuations of any self-constituted editor cannot impair the confidence or reverse the verdict which time has only confirmed and national growth made more emphatic. On the other hand, such attempts to diminish the personal authority, by misrepresenting the methods and motives of these eminent men, as are exhibited in the whole tone and manner of this editorship of a national work, imply a perverted sense of the duties of the hour, an insensibility to the terrible crisis through which the nation is passing, that cannot be too severely condemned by the patriotic and intelligent of all parties. Now, if never before, we should keep bright the escutcheon of our country's honor, and renew our love and admiration for the fathers of the republic and our faith in their principles.
Scrupulous as firm, Jay acted with judicial moderation; he advocated the last petition before declaring hostility against Great Britain—desirous of trying every means before accepting the dread alternative of war; he insisted upon a general convention of the States before deciding upon the new Constitution; he was loyal until loyalty became an abrogation of free citizenship; law and justice with him went hand in hand with reform, and rectitude, not impulse, gave consistency to his course. Such a man lays himself open to factious criticism far more than reckless politicians, who are restrained by no sense of responsibility; but, on the other hand, in the last analysis, they stand forth the most pure because the most patient, just, and truly patriotic of representative statesmen.
'Mr. Jay,' says John Adams, 'had as much influence in the preparatory measures for digesting the Constitution and in obtaining its adoption as any man in the nation;' yet according to this editor of the 'Federalist,' he found therein 'little that he could commend, and nothing for which he could labor:' the same authority declares that he was regarded 'by the majority of his fellow citizens as selfish, impracticable, and aristocratic;' while Dr. McVickar justly remarks that the first thing that strikes us in contemplating his life is 'the unbroken continuity, the ceaseless succession of honorable confidences, throughout a period of twenty-eight years, reposed in Jay by his countrymen.'
But instead of dwelling upon such abortive disparagement, the only importance of which arises from its being annexed to and associated with a standard political text-book, let us refresh our memories, our patriotism, our best sympathies of mind and heart, by tracing once more the services and delineating the character of this illustrious man, whose benign image seems to invoke his countrymen, at this momentous climax of our national life, to recur to those principles and that faith which founded and should now save the republic.
Among the French Protestants who were obliged to seek a foreign home when the Edict of Nantes was revoked, was Pierre Jay, a prosperous merchant of Rochelle, who took up his abode in England. This statement alone is no inadequate illustration of the character of John Jay's paternal grandfather; sagacity, enterprise, and application, are qualities we may justly infer from commercial success; and when the fruits thereof were, in no small degree, sacrificed by adherence to a proscribed religion, no ordinary degree of moral courage and pure integrity must have been united to prudential industry. Those who believe in that aristocracy of nature whereby normal instincts are transmitted, will find even in this brief allusion to the Huguenot merchant traits identical with those which insured the public usefulness and endear the personal memory of his grandson. The latter's father, Augustus Jay, was one of three sons. He, with many others of the second generation of exiled French Protestants, found in America a more auspicious refuge than even the more free states of Europe afforded. A family who had previously emigrated to New York, under similar circumstances, naturally welcomed the new emigré; and the daughter of Bathezan Bayard became his wife. Their children consisted of three daughters and one son, who was named Peter for his grandfather. One of the prominent names of the original Dutch colonists of New York is Van Cortland; and Peter Jay married, in 1728, Mary, a daughter of this race, by whom he had ten children, of which John, the subject of this sketch, was the eighth. Genealogists, who reckon lineage according to humanity rather than pride, might find in the immediate ancestry of John Jay one of those felicitous combinations which so often mark the descent of eminent men among our Revolutionary statesmen. With the courteous and intelligent proclivities of Gallic blood the conservative, domestic, and honest nature of the Hollander united to form a well-balanced mind and efficient character. With the best associations of the time and place were blended the firmness of principle derived from ancestors who had suffered for conscience' sake; so that in the antecedents and very blood of the boy were elements of the Christian, patriot, and gentleman; which phases of his nature we find dominant and pervasive throughout his life; for it is a remarkable fact in the career of John Jay that by no triumph of extraordinary genius, by no favor of brilliant circumstances did he win and leave an honored name, but through the simple uprightness and the sound wisdom of a consistent and loyal character—so emphatic and yet unostentatious as to overcome, in the end, the most rancorous political injustice. His early training was no less favorable to this result than his birth. His father removed to Westchester county, and, on a pleasant rural domain still occupied by the family, the future jurist's childhood was passed. At that time there was a French church at New Rochelle, the pastor of which was an excellent scholar; and this gentleman fitted young Jay for college. He gave early proofs of a studious turn of mind and a reticent temperament; acquiring knowledge with pleasure and facility; and, for the most part, exhibiting a thoughtful demeanor. In some of his father's letters, alluding to his childhood, he is described as a boy of 'good capacity,' of 'grave disposition,' and one who 'takes to learning exceedingly well.' He attended the grammar school of the French clergyman until the age of fourteen, and then entered King's (now Columbia) College, at that time under the care of President Johnson. Here he became intimate with three youths with whom he was destined to be memorably associated in after life, and whose names, with his own, have since become historical—Gouverneur Morris, Alexander Hamilton, and Robert R. Livingston. We can easily imagine that the diversities of character between these remarkable men were already evident; the ardor and frankness of Hamilton, the emphatic rhetoric of Morris and fluent grace of Livingston must have singularly contrasted with the reserve, seriousness, and quietude of Jay; yet were they akin in the normal basis of character—in the love of knowledge, in loyalty to conviction, and that heart of courtesy which harmonizes the most diverse gifts of mind and traits of manner; even then no common mutual respect must have existed between them, and difference of opinion elicited both wit and wisdom. In a letter to the latter of these young friends, written soon after, Jay speaks of himself as 'ambitious;' but little in his subsequent life justifies the idea; he had more pride of character—more need to respect himself—than ambition, as that word is usually understood; excellence more than distinction was his aim;—no one of the leaders in the Revolution sought office less, none fulfilled its duties with more singleness of purpose, or escaped from its responsibilities with greater alacrity; the instincts of John Jay were mainly for truth, duty, and success, in the higher acceptation of the term. What he undertook, indeed, he strove to do well, but it was from an ideal rectitude and a pride of achievement more than a desire to gain applause and advancement; his ambition was more scholarly than political or personal. He graduated with the highest honors on the fifteenth of May, 1764, and delivered the Latin salutatory. His family had gained wealth and position in commerce, and it is probable that, with his clear-sighted perseverance, John Jay would have been a most successful merchant; but his tastes were intellectual; he determined to study law—at that period, in this country, when Blackstone's 'Commentaries' had not appeared, before Chancellor Kent had written, or a law school had been established, a discipline so arduous and uninviting as to be conscientiously adopted only by the most self-reliant and determined.
For a brief period Jay was the law partner of his friend Livingston, afterward the chancellor of the State. The evidences of his professional career, like those of so many eminent lawyers, are inadequate to suggest any clear idea of his method and ability, except so far as the respect he won, the practice he acquired, and the style of those state papers which are preserved, indicate argumentative powers, extensive knowledge, and finished style: in a few years he had become eminent at the bar, and while in the full tide of success, the exigencies of public affairs—the dawn of the American Revolution, called him from personal to patriotic duties. He was an active participant in the first meeting called to protest against the injustice and oppression of the British Government, and elected one of the committee of fifty chosen by the people, to decide upon a course of action: at his instance they recommended the appointment of deputies from each of the thirteen colonies. Jay was the youngest member of the Congress that met on the 5th of September, 1774, and was selected as one of the committee to draft an address to the people of Great Britain; in the next Congress he was one of the committee to prepare the declaration showing the causes and necessity of a resort to arms, and of that appointed to draft a petition to the king—as a last resort before actual hostilities; he also wrote the address to the people of Canada, Jamaica, and Ireland. The address to the people of Great Britain opens thus:
'When a nation, led to greatness by the hand of liberty, and possessed of all the glory that heroism, munificence, and humanity can bestow, descends to the ungrateful task of forging chains for her friends and children, and, instead of giving support to freedom, turns advocate for slavery and oppression, there is reason to suspect she has either ceased to be virtuous, or been extremely negligent in the appointment of her rulers.'
It concludes as follows:
'It is with the utmost regret that we find ourselves compelled, by the overruling principles of self-preservation, to adopt measures detrimental in their consequences to numbers of our fellow subjects in Great Britain and Ireland. But we hope that the magnanimity and justice of the British nation will furnish a Parliament of such wisdom, independence, and public spirit, as may save the violated rights of the whole empire from the devices of wicked ministers and evil counsellors, whether in or out of office; and thereby restore that harmony, friendship, and fraternal affection between all the inhabitants of his majesty's kingdoms and territories, so ardently wished for by every true and honest American.'
These and other state papers, emanating, as Jefferson declared, 'from the finest pen in America,' won the eloquent admiration of Chatham, and, by their dignified, rational, and well-informed spirit, had a great influence in securing, at the outset of the momentous struggle, the respect and sympathy of the wise and conscientious in both hemispheres, for the people and their enlightened and intrepid representatives.
As correspondent with the other colonies, in all the important discussions and arrangements, we find John Jay earnest, sagacious, and indefatigable: chosen a delegate to the New York colonial convention, he could not be present in Congress to sign the Declaration of Independence; but he reported the resolutions whereby his State endorsed that memorable instrument—her first official act toward American independence.
In 1774, Jay had married the daughter of Governor Livingston, of New Jersey; and the glimpses which his correspondence affords of his domestic life, indicate that in this regard he was peculiarly blest, not only in the sweet and dignified sympathies of a family inspired by tenderness, loyalty, and faith, but in the freshness and vigor of his own affections, whereby retirement became far more dear than the gratification even of patriotic ambition in an official career. His home was indeed overshadowed by the dark angel, and the loss of a beloved daughter long and deeply saddened his heart; but there was a daily beauty in the confidence and sympathy of his conjugal relation—hinted rather than developed in the freedom of his letters to the home whose attractions were only increased by absence and distance, in the respect and love of his sons, and the tender consideration devoted to his blind brother; while, spreading in beautiful harmony from this sacred centre, his heart and hand freely and faithfully responded to numerous and eminent ties of friendship, associations of enterprise and philanthropy, and the humblest claims of neighborhood and dependants.
His next eminent service was to draft the Constitution of New York; subsequently amended, it yet attests his patriotism and legal insight; while his own illustrations sanctioned its judicial workings: one of the council of safety and appointed chief justice of the supreme court, Jay maintained, but never abused the high authority with which he was thus invested; kindness to political opponents, devoid of all bitterness, inflexibly just, he was often compared to the unyielding and self-possessed characters of antiquity. When Clinton was preparing to join Burgoyne, Jay held his first court at Kingston—administering justice under the authority of an invaded State, and on the very line of an enemy's advance; under such circumstances, his uniform dignity, calmness, faith in the people, in the cause, and in the result, made a deep and salutary impression, enhanced by the courage exhibited in his charge to the grand jury. In order to serve as delegate to the Congress over which he soon presided, Jay resigned the chief justiceship on the tenth of November, 1778; and signalized his advent by a logical, seasonable, and cheering address to the people on the condition of affairs.
Jay's mind was essentially judicial: he had the temperament and taste as well as the reasoning powers desirable for legal investigation, and the probity and decision of character essential to an administrator of law. With strong domestic proclivities and rural taste—the conflicts, excitement, and responsibilities of a political career were alien to his nature; but the functions of the higher magistracy found in him a congenial representative. Accordingly, it is evident from his correspondence and the concurrent testimony of his kindred and friends, that while as chief justice his sphere of duty was, however laborious, full of interest to his mind—the vocation of a diplomatist was oppressive: he undertook it, as he had other temporary public offices, from conscientious patriotism; the same qualities which gave him influence and authority on the bench commended him specially to his fellow citizens as a negotiator in the difficult and dangerous exigencies produced in our foreign relations by the war with Great Britain. Tact, sagacity, courage—the ability to command respect and to advocate truth and maintain right—dignity of manner, benignity of temper—devotion to his country—all the requisites seemed to combine in the character of Jay, on the one hand to enforce just claims, and, on the other, to propitiate good will. To raise a loan and secure an alliance in Spain seemed a hopeless task: Jay undertook it, much to his personal inconvenience and with extreme reluctance. The history of his mission, as revealed by his correspondence and official documents, is a history of vexations, mortifications, and patient, isolated struggles with difficulties, such as few men would have encountered voluntarily or endured with equanimity. The Spanish Government shrank from a decisive course, feared self-committal, promised aid, and to concede, on certain terms, the right of the United States to navigate the Mississippi. Jay took council of Franklin, who advised him not to accede to the terms proposed, but to maintain 'the even good temper hitherto manifested.' Meantime Congress drew on him for the loan without waiting to hear that it had been negotiated; after a small advance, the Spanish Government declined the loan unless the sole right of navigating the Mississippi were granted. Having thus failed to accomplish the great object, which indeed was unattainable except at a sacrifice which subsequent events have proved would have essentially interfered with the prosperous development of the Southwest—Jay, sensitively vigilant of his country's credit, despite his habitual prudence, accepted the bill at his own credit; boldly assuming the responsibility; his claims on the Spanish Government were proved; Franklin remitted twenty-five thousand dollars; of the one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, due December, 1780, only twenty-five thousand was paid by the following April; his outstanding acceptances amounted to two hundred and thirty-one thousand dollars—the greater part of which was due in two months. A more painful situation for a gentleman of refinement and honor can scarcely be imagined than that of John Jay—living without any salary, living on credit, scarcely recognized by the proud court to which he had been accredited; and yet maintaining his self-respect, persistent in his aim, courteous in his manner, faithful to his trust, harassed by anxiety—patient, true, and patriotic. As we read the lively and genial letters of the lamented Irving, when American minister at Madrid seventy years later, what a contrast to the high consideration and social amenities he enjoyed, are the humiliations and the baffled zeal of Jay, when obliged to 'stand and wait,' under circumstances at once so perplexing and hopeless! In March, 1782, the bills were protested; but the credit that seemed utterly destroyed was soon retrieved, though Jay found himself constrained, by the instructions of his Government, to yield the right of navigating the Mississippi in order to secure the treaty; having drawn and presented it, his presence was no longer requisite, and he proceeded to France to act in concert with Franklin, Adams, Jefferson, and Lee in negotiating for peace.
In June, 1782, Jay arrived in Paris, and, with Franklin, for the most part carried on the negotiations which resulted in the treaty of peace; it was a period of 'painful anxiety and difficult labor:' Hamilton, Jefferson, and other of his eminent countrymen recognized warmly his services and his success: he did not altogether agree with Franklin, and was pertinacious in claiming all respect due to the Government he represented, assuring the British envoy that he would take no part in the business unless the United States 'were treated as an independent nation:' he drew up such a commission as would meet his views. While Hamilton gave Jay full credit for sagacity and honesty, he thought him suspicious, because he so far evaded his instructions as not to show 'the preliminary articles to our ally before he signed them:' this caution, however, arose from Jay's patriotic circumspection; he excused himself on the ground that his instructions 'had been given for the benefit of America, and not of France,' and argued justly that there was discretionary power to consult the public good rather than any literal directions, the spirit, aim, and scope thereof being steadily adhered to. Subsequent revelations abundantly proved that sagacity rather than suspicion, and knowledge more than conjecture justified Jay's course. There is a letter of Pickering, when Secretary of State, to Pinckney, when about to visit France as envoy from the United States Government, in regard to which Washington manifests in his correspondence particular solicitude for the absolute correctness of its statements; wherein the treachery of the French Government is demonstrated from official documents. Jay, during his residence in Spain, had ample opportunity to realize the selfish intrigues of the Bourbon dynasty, and he had a better insight as to the real objects of the French Government, from examining its policy at a distance and in connection with an ally, than Franklin, who had been exposed to its immediate blandishments, and had so many personal reasons for confidence and hope. Vergennes, then prime minister, looked to the relinquishment of the fisheries, and while France, from animosity to Great Britain, cheerfully aided us in the war of the Revolution, it was no part of her secret purpose to foster into independent greatness the power which she befriended from motives of policy during her own struggle with England. Jay, therefore, insisted upon a recognition of our independence on the part of Great Britain, not as the first article of the treaty, but as un fait accompli; and wisely declined to allow the French minister, whose plans and views he so well understood, to see the advantageous terms we made with the formidable enemy of France, until those terms were accepted, and the treaty signed.
After visiting England and returning to Paris, having declined an invitation from the Spanish Government to resume negotiations, and also a tender from his own Government of the English mission, Jay returned to his native land with delight, and on landing in New York, on the 24th of July, 1784, was received with great honor and affection. Ten years of public life had so little weaned him from his legal proclivities that he had determined to resume practice; but Congress urged upon him the important position of Secretary of Foreign Affairs, which place he filled with distinguished ability until the convention to form the Constitution met. In his correspondence, Jay's views of government are frankly and clearly unfolded: he had experienced the manifold evils of inadequate authority; and while he would have power emanate from the people, he deeply felt the necessity of making it sufficient for the exigencies of civil society: a strong General Government, therefore, he deemed essential to national prosperity; his theory was not speculative, but practical, founded upon observation and experience: it was sustained by the wisest and best of his countrymen: it was, however, opposed to a prevalent idea of State rights, a jealousy of their surrender and infringement; comparatively few of his fellow citizens had, by reading and reflection, risen to the level of the problem whose solution was to be found in a charter at once securing all essential private rights and local freedom, while binding together, in a firm and patriotic union, the will and interests of a continent. Add to these obstacles the fierce partisan feeling engendered by the circumstances of the time and country—fears of aristocratic influences on the one hand, and sectional intrigues on the other, and we can easily perceive that the first duty of the enlightened and patriotic was to clear away prejudices, explain principles, advocate cardinal political truths, and lift the whole subject out of the dense region of faction and into the calm and clear sphere of reason and truth. Accordingly, Hamilton, Madison, Jay, and others, by public discussion sought to elucidate and vindicate the Constitution: by conversation, correspondence, in the committee room and the assembly, through reference to the past, analysis of the present, anticipations of the future, John Jay, directly and indirectly advocated and illustrated the Constitution. With his gifted coadjutors he became an efficient political essayist; and, though prevented by illness from contributing largely to the 'Federalist,' he wrote enough to identify himself honorably with that favorite American classic of statesmen. His frankness, lucid style, perspicuous sense, made him as effective a writer in his own manner as the more intrepid Hamilton. When Washington came to New York to be inaugurated as first President of the United States, Jay proffered his hospitality with characteristic simplicity and good sense; he received the votes of two States as Vice President; at Washington's request he continued to perform the duties of Foreign Secretary until Jefferson assumed the office, when, with eminent satisfaction and in accordance with Jay's views, the President sent the latter's name to the Senate as Chief Justice, thus associating him with his Administration.
When Genet's arrival had stimulated partisan zeal into reckless faction, and his insulting course widened the breach between the two political sects, their representatives were exposed to all the unjust aspersion and violent prejudice born of extreme opinions and free discussions: one party held in high esteem the principles of the British constitution, recognized the moral as well as civic necessity of a strong central Government, and dreaded the unbridled license of French demagoguism; they steadily opposed any identity of action or responsibility in foreign affairs, cherished self-respect and self-reliance as the safeguard of the States, and sustained the dignified and consistent course of Washington: of these, John Jay was one of the most firm and intelligent advocates, and hence the object of the most unscrupulous partisan rancor: the name of Monarchist was substituted for Federalist, of Jacobin for Democrat: on the one hand, the British minister reproached the American Government with injustice to British subjects and interests, contrary to treaty stipulations; on the other, Genet complained of the ingratitude of the Government, and sought to array the people against it: England had not as yet fulfilled her part of the treaty; along the frontiers her troops still garrisoned the forts; the lakes were not free for American craft, and no remuneration had been made by Great Britain for the negroes which her fleet carried off at the close of the war: meantime her warlike attitude toward France made still fiercer the conflict of the respective partisans on this side of the Atlantic; American seamen were impressed; crowds surrounded the President's house, clamorous for war; and he was only sustained in the Senate by an extremely small majority, while the Democratic party were eager for immediate action against England. At this crisis, Washington resolved to try another experiment for conciliation, and to this end proposed Jay as especial envoy to Great Britain. His nomination was opposed in the Senate, but prevailed by a vote of eighteen against eight. The mission was not desired by him. Uncongenial as were absence from home and diplomatic cares, this exile and duty were, in all private respects, opposed to his tastes and wishes; he foresaw the difficulties, anticipated the result, but, once convinced that he owed the sacrifice of personal to public considerations, he now, as before and subsequently, brought all his conscientiousness and intelligence to the service of his country. His reception at the court of St. James was kind and considerate, and his intercourse with Grenville, then Secretary of Foreign Affairs, carried on with the greatest mutual respect. A treaty was negotiated—Jay obtaining the best terms in his power: no state paper ever gave rise to more virulent controversy; it became a new line of demarcation, a new test of party feeling: Hamilton was its eloquent advocate, Jefferson its violent antagonist: Washington doubted the expediency of accepting it; and it passed the Senate by a bare majority. While in a calm retrospect we acknowledge many serious objections to such a treaty, they do not account for the intense excitement it caused; and the circumstances under which it was executed sufficiently explain, while they do not reconcile us to, the signal advantages it secured to Great Britain. She agreed to give up the forts;—but this concession had already been made; to compensate for illegal captures; there was a provision for collecting British debts in America; and in a commercial point of view American interests were sacrificed; it was declared a treaty wherein a weak power evidently succumbed to a strong: but on the other hand, public expectation had been extravagant: no reasonable American citizen, cognizant of the state of the facts and of party feeling, could have believed it possible to secure, at the time and under the circumstances, a satisfactory understanding; and no candid mind could doubt that a negotiator so patriotic, firm, and wise as John Jay had earnestly sought to make the best of a difficult cause, or that he was 'clear in his great office'—an office reluctantly accepted. It has been well said of Jay's treaty that 'now few defend it on principle, many on policy.' When its ratification was advised by the Senate, and it became public, the whole country was aroused; all the latent venom of partisan hate and all the wise forbearance of patriotic self-possession were arrayed face to face in so fierce an opposition that Washington justly described the period as 'a momentous crisis.' It was denounced as cowardly; it was defended as expedient; copies were publicly destroyed amid shouts of exultation: Jay was burned in effigy; the Boston Chamber of Commerce voted in favor of its ratification: Hamilton, under the signature of 'Camillus,' analyzed its claims, and deprecated the bitter hostility it had evoked; and Fisher Ames, in pleading for moderation to both parties, in the House of Representatives, embalmed his patriotic counsel with such heroic patience and eloquent references to his approaching end, that his speech became one of the standard exemplars of American eloquence.
'When the fiery vapors of the war lowered in the skirts of our horizon,' he observes, 'all our wishes were concentred in this one—that we might escape the desolation of the storm: this treaty, like a rainbow on the edge of the storm, marked to our eyes the space where it was raging, and afforded, at the same time, the sure prognostic of fair weather: if we reject it, the vivid colors will grow pale; it will be a baleful meteor, portending tempest and war.'
And he ends this remarkable speech in these words:
'I have thus been led by my feelings to speak more at length than I had intended. Yet I have perhaps as little personal interest in the event as any one here. There is, I believe, no member who will not think his chance to be a witness of the consequences greater than mine. If, however, the vote should pass to reject, and a spirit should rise, as it will, with the public disorders, to make confusion worse confounded, even I, slender and almost broken as my hold upon life is, may outlive the Government and Constitution of my country.'
Jay's own remarks on the subject in his private correspondence, are characteristic alike of his rectitude of purpose and equanimity of soul: 'The approbation,' he observes, in a letter to Dr. Thatcher, 'of one judicious and virtuous man relative to the conduct of the negotiations, affords me more satisfaction than clamor and intrigue have given me concern.'
Before the outbreak of political animosity on account of the treaty, and during his absence on that mission, Jay had been elected Governor of the State of New York; had that instrument been published in April instead of July, he would not have been chosen; and yet, despite the fever of partisan feeling, he made no removals. At the close of this memorable year, Washington died: that illustrious man held no man in greater esteem than Jay: to him and Hamilton he had submitted his Farewell Address: when the former's term of office expired, he determined to retire; and did so on the 1st of July, 1801, declining the reappointment as Chief Justice, earnestly tendered him. He now removed to his paternal estate at Bedford, in Westchester county, New York, to enjoy long-coveted repose from public duties. Thenceforth his life was one of dignified serenity and active benevolence. The superintendence of his farm, co-operation in philanthropic enterprises, the amenities of literature, the consolations of religion, and the graces of hospitality congenially occupied his remaining years—years abounding in respect from his countrymen, and the satisfactions of culture, integrity, and faith. He rebuilt the family mansion, occasionally made visits on horseback to New York and Albany. Now zealous in building up a church, and now benignly considerate of a dependant's welfare—loyal and happy in his domestic relations, interested in the welfare of both nation and neighborhood, and preserving his intimacy with the classics and the Scriptures—the last thirty years of John Jay's life, in their peaceful routine and gracious tenor, reflected with 'daily beauty' the sustained elevation of mind and the consistent kindliness and rectitude of a Christian gentleman. On the 17th of May, 1829, he died, crowned with love and honor. The echoes of party strife had long died away from his path: the clouds of party malice had faded from his horizon: all felt and acknowledged, in his example and character, the ideal of an American citizen. Not as a brilliant but as a conscientious man, not as a wonderfully gifted but as an admirably well-balanced mind, not as an exceptional hero but as a just, prudent, faithful, and benignant human being—true to the best instincts of religion, the highest principles of citizenship, the most pure aspirations of character—are cherished the influence and memory of Jay.
His personal appearance is familiar to us through the masterly portraits of Stuart: that in judicial robes has long been a favorite examplar of this eminent artist, exhibiting as it does his best traits of expression and color: although destitute of those vivid tints which Stuart reproduced with such marvellous skill, the keen eyes, fine brow, aquiline nose, pointed chin, and hair tied behind and powdered, with the benign intelligence pervading the whole, render this an effective subject for such a pencil: it is a face in which high moral and intellectual attributes, dignity, rectitude, and clear perception harmoniously blend: the lineaments and outline are decidedly Gallic: one thinks, in looking at the portrait, not only of the able jurist, Christian gentleman, and patriot—but also of his Huguenot ancestor, who fought at Boyne, urbanely accepted exile rather than compromise faith, and suffered persecution with holy patience and adaptive energy of intellect and character.
The political opinions of Jay were obnoxious to a large party of his countrymen; but had we not so many examples in history and experience of the blind prejudice and malicious injustice generated by faction, it would seem incredible, as we contemplate, in the impartial light of retrospective truth, his character and career, that any imaginable diversity of views on questions of state policy, could have bred such false and fierce misconstruction in reference to one whose every memory challenges such entire respect and disinterested admiration. As it is, the record of his life, the influence of his character seem to borrow new brightness from the evidences of partisan calumny found in the more casual records of the past. Singularly intense and complicated is the history of the period when Jay's prominence and activity in the political world were at their height. On the one hand, the triumph of freedom in the New World; on the other, the atrocities committed in her sacred name in the Old: the American and French Revolutions, considered in regard to their origin, development, and results, seem to have brought to a practical test all principles of government and elements of civic life inherent in human society: so that they have since afforded the tests and illustrations of the most enlightened publicists and statesmen, and now yield the most familiar and emphatic precedents for political speculation and faith. In England, Pitt, Burke, Fox, and Mackintosh represented, with memorable power, the opposing elements of conservatism and reform, of social order and revolution, of humanity and of authority; while in America, Hamilton, Adams, Morris, Jay, and other leading Federalists, repudiated the license and condemned the encroachments of France, as Jefferson and his followers advocated the French republic on abstract principles of human rights and as having legitimate claims upon American gratitude. No small part of the bitterness exhibited toward Jay by the latter party arose from his having testified, with Rufus King, that Genet intended to appeal from the Government to the people of the United States—an audacious purpose on the part of the French envoy, which excited the just indignation of every citizen whose self-respect had not been quenched in the flame of political zeal: accordingly he, to a peculiar extent, 'shared the odium which the French Revolution had infused into the minds of its admirers:' partial to the spirit if not the letter of the English constitution, convinced by the absolute moral necessity of a strong central Government, an enlightened and strenuous advocate of law, a thorough gentleman, and a sincere Christian—his undoubted claim to the additional distinction of pure patriot did not save him from the aristocratic imputations, which professed champions of popular rights then and there attached to all men who recognized as essential to social order and progress, respect for and allegiance to justly constituted authorities in government and society: jealousy of the rights of the people was the ostensible motive of a political opposition to Jay, which, at this day and with all the evidence before us, seems inexplicable until we remember how the mirage of party fanaticism distorts the vision and perverts the sympathies of men.
But to a well-poised, clear-sighted, upright character like his, the storms of faction seemed innocuous: how candid is his own confession of faith, how just his reasoning, and enlightened his principles, and patriotic his motives, as revealed in every act, state and judicial paper, recorded conversation, and private letter! 'Neither courting nor dreading public opinion,' he writes (in his account of the Spanish mission), 'on the one hand, nor disregarding it on the other, I joined myself to the first assertors of the American cause, because I thought it my duty; and because I considered caution and neutrality, however secure, as being no less wrong than dishonorable.' As he had espoused the cause deliberately, he served it conscientiously, and met the difficulties in the way of organizing the Federal Government with philosophical candor: 'It was a thing,' he observes, in his first contribution to the 'Federalist,' 'hardly to be expected that in a popular revolution, the minds of men should stop at the happy mean which marks the boundary between power and privilege, and combines the energy of government with the security of private right.'
An æsthetical student and delineator of character remarks that 'where we recognize in any one an image of moral elevation, which seems to us, at the first glance, unique and transcendent, I believe that, on careful examination, we shall find that among his coevals, or in the very nature of the times, those qualities which furnish their archetype in him were rife and prevalent.'[16] The highest class of American statesmen and patriots, and especially those grouped around the peerless central figure of Washington, afford striking evidence of the truth of this observation. A certain spirit of disinterested integrity and devotion, an elevated and consistent tone of feeling and method of action alike distinguished them; and nothing can be imagined more violently in contrast therewith than the inadequate standard of judgment and scope of criticism adopted by those who, actuated by partisan zeal and guided by narrow motives, apply to such characters the limited gauge of their own insight and estimation—endeavoring to atone by microscopic accuracy for imbecility in fundamental principles.' Hence the foreign publicist of large research and precise historical knowledge, the scholar of broad and earnest sympathies, the patriot of generous and tenacious principles, find in these exemplars of civic virtue objects of permanent admiration; while many of their self-appointed commentators, entrenched in pedantic or political dogmas, and devoid of comprehensive ideas and true magnanimity, fail to recognize and delight in depreciating qualities with which they have no affinity, and whose legitimate functions they ignore or pervert—for 'Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.' With all due allowance for honest differences of opinion as to political or religious creeds, for diversities of taste and education, there yet remains to the truly humane, wise, and liberal soul, an instinctive sense of justice, veneration for rectitude, love of the beautiful and the true, which keeps alive their veneration and quickens their higher sympathies despite the venom of faction and the blindness of prejudice; and thus causes the elemental in character to maintain its lawful sway whatever may be the inferences of partisan logic or the dicta of personal opinion. Goethe's invaluable rule of judging every character and work of art by its own law is ever present to their minds, and they find a satisfaction in the spontaneous tribute of love and honor to real genius and superior worth, all the more grateful because there is not entire sympathy of sentiment and creed; their homage and faith are as disinterested as they are sincere.
An eminent English novelist has indicated with genial emphasis, in one of his essays, how much more wonderful as a psychological phenomenon is the clairvoyance of imagination than that ascribed to mesmerism: since, by the former, writers of genius describe with verisimilitude, and sometimes with a moral accuracy such as we can scarcely believe to originate in the creative mind alone, all the traits and phases of a scene, an event, or a character, the details of which are lost in dim tradition or evaded by authentic history. Shakspeare is cited as the memorable example of this intellectual prescience. There is, however, another species of foresight and insight whereby the logic of events is anticipated, and great principles embraced before the multitude are prepared for their adoption; reformers and statesmen are thus in advance of their age, and through high ethical judgment and the inspiration of rectitude, see above the clouds of selfishness and beyond the limits of egotism, into the eternal truth of things. It was this wisdom, sustained by, if not born of, integrity and disinterestedness, that distinguished the highest class of our Revolutionary and Constitutional statesmen, culminating in Washington, and in no one of his contemporaries more manifest than in John Jay. We have alluded to the comprehensive and sagacious scope of his various state papers and judicial decisions, based invariably upon the absolute principles of equity; and the same traits are as obvious in his correspondence and occasional writings: but recently there was found among his papers a charge to the grand jury at Richmond, Virginia, in which are expressed the most authentic principles of international drawn from natural law, at a period and in a country where the former had not been codified or even vaguely understood; and so practical as to be of direct application to the exigencies of the present hour. At the root of these convictions was a profound religious faith. No one of the early American statesmen, for instance, has left on record a more clear and just statement of his views of slavery;—that foul blot on the escutcheon of the republic was ever before the eyes and conscience of Jay; he sought not to evade, but to make apparent its inevitable present shame and future consequences, and argued for a prospective abolition clause in the Constitution. The events of the last three years are a terrible and true response to his warnings. 'Till America,' he wrote, 'comes into this measure (emancipation) her prayers to heaven will be impious. I believe God governs the world, and I believe it is a maxim in His as in our courts, that those who ask for equity ought to do it.' He set the example in the manumission of a boy then his legal property, and was the president of the first anti-slavery society, bequeathing the cause to his descendants, who have faithfully acquitted themselves of the once contemned but now honored trust, for three generations; for his son succeeded him in the office, his grandson has been and is its strenuous advocate, and his great-grandson now confronts the slaveholding rebels in the Army of the Potomac. His intelligent and patriotic fellow citizens realized and recognized the faith and probity whence arose his moral courage and his clear mental vision, 'His life,' says Sullivan, 'was governed by the dictates of an enlightened Christian conscience.' One of his last letters was in reply to the congratulation of the corporation of New York that he lived to witness the fiftieth anniversary of our national independence, and an invitation to join in its commemoration; too feeble, from advanced age, to meet their wishes in this respect, in gratefully declining he thus bore testimony to his life-long convictions: 'The most essential means of securing the continuance of our civil and religious liberties is always to remember with reverence and gratitude the source from which they flow?' We can readily appreciate the literal truth of Verplanck's observation, when death canonized such a character: 'A halo of veneration seemed to encircle him, as one belonging to another world, though lingering among us: the tidings of his death were received with solemn awe.'
Jay cherished a firm belief in Providence, confirmed by his long life of varied experience and thoughtful observation. Proverbially courteous and urbane, he was, at the same time, inflexible in the withdrawal of all confidence when once deceived or disappointed in character. Clear and strong in his religious convictions, he was none the less free from intolerance; he enjoyed communion with a Quaker neighbor as well as correspondence with clerical friends of different persuasions, though himself a stanch Episcopalian.
Underlying a singularly contained demeanor and aptitude for calm and serious investigations, there was a vein of pleasant humor which enhanced the charm of his intimate companionship; bold, independent, and tenacious in opinion, when once formed, he was perfectly modest in personal bearing and intercourse; his mind was more logical than severe in temper, more vigorous than versatile, judicial in taste and tone, with more precision than eagerness; and his temperament united the gravity of a cultivated and thoughtful with the vivacity and amenity of a harmonious and cheerful nature. Like Washington and Morris, he was fond of agricultural pursuits; and like them, his example as a statesman seems to acquire new force and beauty from the long and contented retirement from official life that evinced the plenitude of his own resources, and evidenced how much more a sense of public duty than political ambition had been the motive power of his civic career. It is this which distinguishes the first-class representative men of our country from the mere politicians; we feel that their essential individuality of character and genius was superior to the accidents of position; that their intrinsic worth and real dignity required no addition from fame or fortune—that they are nobler than their offices, superior to their popularity, above their external relation to the parties and functions illustrated by their talents, and made memorable by their integrity.
A SIGH.
How can I live, my love, so far from thee,
Since far from thee my spirit droops and dies?
Who is there left, my love, for me to see,
Since beauty is concentrate in thine eyes?
My only life is sending thee my sighs,
Which, as sweet birds fly home from deserts lone,
Fly swift to thee as each swift moment flies,
Uprising from the current of my moan.
But closed is still thy heart of cruel stone,
And my poor sighs drop murdered at thy feet,
For which, while I in grief do sigh and groan,
New hosts arise to meet a death so sweet,
Ah! love, give scorn; for if love thou shouldst give,
How could I love thee in thy sight, and live?