Founding Rivals

by Chris DeRose

—THOMAS JEFFERSON

  Kitty’s dismissal of Madison came in a letter that was sealed with rye dough.1 It is thought that Peale’s miniature of him, which Kitty had carried with her, was returned at the same time. Another man had taken Madison’s place. William Clarkson, a young medical student in Philadelphia, had pursued Kitty in his absence; and an older woman in Trist’s boarding house who befriended Kitty encouraged her in the direction of the younger man.2

  Her father was disappointed to lose such a promising son-in-law, but what was done was done. After his marriage to Kitty, Clarkson became a minister of the Presbyterian Church and died at age forty-nine during the presidency of James Madison. There is nothing to record whether Kitty ever regretted her choice in light of Madison’s subsequent career, and her near miss at becoming First Lady of the United States. But the story of her engagement to Madison has been handed down among her descendants to the present day.

  On August 11, 1783, Madison wrote Jefferson with the news: “At the date of my letter in April I expected to have had the pleasure by this time of being with you in Virginia. My disappointment has proceeded from several dilatory circumstances on which I had not calculated. One of them was the uncertain state into which the object I was then pursuing had been brought by one of those incidents to which such affairs are liable. The result has rendered the time of my return to Virginia less material, as the necessity of my visiting the state of New Jersey no longer exists. It would be improper by this communication to send particular explanations, and perhaps needless to trouble you with them at any time.”

  When Madison retrieved this letter from Jefferson a half-century later, he violently blotted out the next passage with ink. What can still be deciphered reads as follows: “An . . . agst . . . is in general an impediment . . . of . . . to them. Character will &c . . . which every . . . the . . . of being demanded of them. Toward the capricious . . . for a profession of indifference at what had happened, I . . . do not . . . forward and have faith in a day of some more propitious turn of fortune.”3 It is clear from the passage that Madison’s dismissal had been most unceremonious.

  Jefferson, the young widower who had placed such great hopes in Madison’s happiness, was surely disappointed. The act of consoling a friend after a painful breakup is so human, it is hard to imagine these men engaged in that process. But on August 31, Jefferson wrote from Monticello, “I sincerely lament the misadventure which has happened, from whatever cause it may have happened. Should it be final, however, the world still presents the same and many other resources of happiness, and you possess many within yourself. Firmness of mind and unintermit-ting occupation will not long leave you in pain. No event has been more contrary to my expectations and these were founded on what I thought a good knowledge of the ground, but of all machines ours is the most complicated and inexplicable.”4

  Madison would soon be leaving Congress, headed for an uncertain future.

  Monroe, on the other hand, had the entire world before him. He had met with approval for his public service, and he eagerly awaited the beginning of his term in Congress. In August of 1783 he was chosen by two prominent Virginians to arbitrate a dispute over land.5 Although licensed to practice law, Monroe still needed to be admitted separately to the various courts in the state. On October 4, he wrote, “Tomorrow I shall qualify at the bar of the general court. I do it merely to have the name of a lawyer behind me. And about the 20th of the month shall [set] out for Congress.”6

  Meanwhile Madison was busy attending to loose ends. When he had first come to Philadelphia in March of 1780, he had brought with him a slave named Billey. Billey had for three years lived in a city of free blacks in a state where gradual emancipation was taking place. Madison examined the legal options for setting Billey free, unable to “think of punishing him by transportation merely for coveting that liberty for which we have paid the price of so much blood, and have proclaimed so often to be the right, and worth the pursuit of every human being.”7 Billey and Madison would stay in touch through the years; in a September 6, 1788, letter to his father, Madison indicated that he still knew the whereabouts of his former slave and current friend.

  On September 12, Congress in Princeton received the European dispatch dated July 27, reporting that the Treaty of Paris, which would end the war, had still not been officially signed.8 A final peace would not be ratified during Madison’s tenure in Congress. He had spent the course of the war in public life, serving with only one interruption. But final peace would be left for another Congress and another day.

  This and other matters would have to be taken up by others. Madison wrote his “Notes on Congress’ Place of Residence” for Jefferson, who he hoped would champion the issue of a Virginia location for the capital in the next Congress. Madison’s “Notes” compared the Potomac site to its competitors including Kingston, New York, and the falls of the Delaware River.9 Philadelphia, meanwhile, was willing to do nearly anything to win Congress back. Pennsylvanians now expressed their regret at having failed to protect Congress from the mutineers and considered impeaching the governor to prove that they meant it.

  Jefferson traveled to Philadelphia, and left on the road south together with Madison on November 22, 1783. He had written to Monroe that he and Madison would ride together, arriving in Annapolis on the twenty-fourth. 10 They no doubt talked about Madison’s broken engagement, as well as about the scientific issues that fascinated them both—Buffon’s groundbreaking research on the origins of the universe11 and questions about the effects of distance from the equator on calculations of the earth’s temperature.12

  Madison probably left Annapolis for Virginia on November 27, while Jefferson stayed to serve in Congress, which was now meeting in Maryland’s capital.13 Madison had been urged by Pendleton, and no doubt others, to run for the Virginia legislature that spring. He could make a contribution on the state level, even on the national issues that had occupied his time in Congress. On his way home to Orange, Madison stopped at George Mason’s house to get a sense of Mason’s position on the impost and the cessation of Virginia’s Western lands to the federal government; he found that his friend was not opposed to either.14

  While Madison headed south, Monroe was headed north. He arrived in Annapolis before December 6. Monroe wrote, “I am called on a theatre to which I am a perfect stranger. There are before us some questions of the utmost consequence that can arise in the councils of any nation; the peace establishment, the regulation of our commerce, and the arrangement of our foreign appointments. Whether we are to have regular or standing troops to protect our frontier or leave them unguarded.”15

  Delegates of only six states were present on December 11. The definitive treaty of peace with Great Britain had been signed and was transmitted to Congress for ratification. The embarrassment of the Philadelphia mutiny had stoked rumors that Britain would renew the war, a dreadful possibility that now looked less likely.16

  On December 23, 1783, more than two years after York Town, Washington appeared before the members of Congress who had assembled in the Maryland State House to receive his message.17

  The room was rapt with attention while Washington spoke. He began, “Mr. President, The great events on which my resignation depended having at length taken place, I have now the honor of offering my sincere congratulations to Congress, and of presenting myself before them, to surrender into their hands the trust committed to me, and to claim the indulgence of retiring from the service of my country.”18 Washington concluded,I consider it an indispensible duty to close this last act of my official life by commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, and those who have the superintendence of them to his holy keeping.

  Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of action, and bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body, under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life.19

  Monroe recorded the s
cene in his autobiography, his enthusiasm for the general undiminished by the passing years: “It could not fail to excite the sensibility of Mr. Monroe to reflect that he had served as a lieutenant under him only a few years before.”20 In that room filled with adoration for Washington, Monroe probably wanted to jump from his seat to show everyone just how well he knew the general. As a member of the civil authority, Monroe was now receiving the resignation of the military commander under whom he had once served.

  John Marshall may have spoken for everyone when he wrote to Monroe, “At length the military career of the greatest man on earth is closed... when I speak or think of that superior man my full heart overflows with gratitude.”21 Even King George III, when informed that Washington planned to retire, doubted the report and remarked that relinquishing power would make the general “the greatest man in the world.”22

  Meanwhile, Madison was trapped at home at Montpelier, now under a heavy snowfall. He was craving good books to read; he wrote to Jefferson asking him to find him the names of booksellers in London and Paris.23

  When Jefferson wrote back, he included the news of strange bones discovered in South America and told Madison about a meteorology experiment that he and the Reverend Madison were conducting. The two were recording daily temperature measurements to determine the source of warm weather. Jefferson encouraged Madison to obtain a thermometer so that he could assist in their research.24

  Ratifying the final peace with Britain would take the votes of nine states. The delegates were panicked; the Treaty of Paris stipulated a March 3 deadline to both ratify and deliver notice of ratification. Serious consideration was given to a ratification vote by fewer states than required, in the hope that no one would notice. Jefferson, fulfilling his duties as a senior statesman, scotched a notion that would have forever cast doubt on the legitimacy of the treaty (and thus the peace). At long last, on January 14, nine state delegations were present in Congress, and the Treaty of Paris was unanimously ratified. It was now too late for notice of ratification to cross the Atlantic by the deadline. Congress had to hope that Britain had lost the appetite for continuing the war.25

  For James Monroe, the American War of Independence had come full circle. He had participated as a young student in the earliest agitations of the war, been present with Washington in many of the great scenes of battle, and nearly forfeited his life to secure victory at Trenton. He had been at the battles of Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth and led men in defense of Virginia. Now he was a member of Congress voting to approve the final peace. The young student who had raided the Governor’s Mansion would scarcely have believed that in such a short span of time America would be free—and that he would have a vote on the matter.

  Under Jefferson’s wing, Monroe attended balls and socialized with the members of Congress and their families, as well as with other dignitaries in Annapolis. What the congressional session itself lacked in educational value, Monroe gained from the social circuit which, under the tutelage of his former law instructor, provided him with perhaps more valuable lessons.

  Though Congress must have at times seemed like a series of parties uninterrupted by business, Monroe was continually guided by a seriousness of purpose. He wrote of these days in his memoir, “The theatre on which Mr. Monroe was now placed was a very important one. It was important not only to his fellow citizens, but to the whole civilized world, because the people were called on to make a fair experiment of the practicability of free government and under circumstances more favorable to their success than were ever enjoyed by any other people.”26

  Though the newly independent America was beset with desperate problems, Monroe still believed that his country was the setting in which liberty could best prosper. He brought youthful energy to a Congress exhausted by the insoluble dilemmas of the war years.

  And service in Congress gave Monroe something else, too—the opportunity to see his country’s political problems from the federal perspective. Jefferson (undoubtedly in reference to Monroe among others) wrote, “I see the best effects produced by sending our young statesmen here. They see the affairs of the Confederacy from a high ground; they learn the importance of the union and befriend federal measures when they return. Those who never come here, see our affairs insulated, pursue a system of jealousy and self interest, and distract the union as much as they can.”27

  In a rare burst of activity, Congress chose John Jay as the Foreign Minister and appointed Jefferson ambassador plenipotentiary to conclude commercial treaties in Europe.28 Measures were also taken to make peace with the Indian tribes who had sided with the British.

  Meanwhile, each state was adopting its own commercial regulations and fighting trade wars with other states. On such a large and bountiful continent, with so many industrious people engaged in so many varied pursuits, the benefits of free trade would have been enormous. But Congress was utterly powerless to prevent the interstate bickering.

  Monroe would later write, “These considerations urged Congress to call on the states for an enlargement of the power of the general government to enable it to manage the whole concern, for local as well as the general interest.”29 A committee asked the states to invest Congress with the power to regulate trade for fifteen years. America had become subject to discriminatory trade practices from other countries, especially Britain. European nations knew they could act with impunity because Congress could not retaliate and the states were too fractured to agree upon a common solution. Even if twelve states raised tariffs against Britain, the thirteenth state would reap enormous gains by offering Britain lower rates for imports. As long as Congress lacked the power to establish a rational and unified trade policy, the American people would continue to suffer economically.

  Jefferson departed for Europe, and Monroe bid farewell to his mentor. In many ways Jefferson’s absence was a good thing for Monroe. He would be forced to step out of his friend’s shadow, feel his way around national politics, and stand on his own two feet. Monroe bought the books that Jefferson had brought to Annapolis. But otherwise he had little from the man to guide him. He later wrote to Jefferson, “I very sensibly feel your absence not only in the solitary situation in which you have left me but upon many other accounts.”30

  Jefferson dreamed of retiring in Virginia upon his return, with two of his best friends close to him. Monroe had already been talked into the plan. “What would I not give [if] you could fall in the circle,” Jefferson wrote to Madison. “With such a society I could once more venture home and lay myself up for the residue of life, quitting all its contentions which grow daily more and more insupportable.” He offered Madison free use of his library at Monticello. Jefferson’s collection of books, which was ultimately acquired by the United States to start the Library of Congress, was no small incentive. Jefferson knew well that Madison was a cautious, hesitant man, and he gave him a gentle nudge. “Think of it. To render it practicable only requires you to think it so. Life is of no value but as it brings us gratifications. Among the most valuable of these is rational society. It informs the mind, sweetens the temper, cheers our spirits, and promotes health.” Jefferson mentioned a 140-acre farm close to Monticello that was for sale.31

  But at least in the immediate future, Madison’s plans were not for rural retirement. He was seriously considering returning to the legislature, a place he understood with people he knew. Patrick Henry wrote to Madison, encouraging him to end his brief time on the sidelines: “Although . . . some respite might be demanded for the present, yet I must tell you I think several matters of the greatest moment forbid it. Is not the federal government on a bad footing? If I am not mistaken you must have seen and felt that it is.… How mortifying is it to see a rich harvest of happiness and laborers wanting to gather it in?”32

  By March Madison had made his decision to serve, and in April of 1784 he was elected to the House of Delegates. He had earned a first-rate reputation during his time in Congress. Seven years after casting him aside for meat and beer,
the voters of Orange put Madison back in the Virginia House of Delegates. He arrived in Richmond in the first week of May, as the legislature prepared for the session.

  On hand to observe the carnival atmosphere was Johann David Schoepf, a German medical doctor who had come to America in 1777 to serve as physician to the Hessian soldiers. Schoepf was fascinated by the strange new world around him. After the war, he took an extensive journey through the new United States. He would later publish a book, Travels in the Confederation, which was widely read throughout Europe.33 He found Richmond a “town on the hilly banks of the James River,” with “hastily built and unimpressive wooden houses.”34 The capital consisted of 280 houses, he estimated, with two thousand inhabitants. 35 He was fascinated not only by the strange animals and plant life of the Americas, but also by the political culture he found here.

  Schoepf’s writing shocked European sensibilities and provide a humorous and interesting window into this early American legislature. He painted a picture of an assembly without decorum, people coming and going, talking when others had the floor, bringing up irrelevant issues, dressed as though they were hunting or tobacco farming.

  If Madison had read Schoepf’s book, he might have said, “Yes, but you should see our Congress.”

  Schoepf observed,Among the orators here is a certain Mr. Henry who appears to have the greatest influence over the House. He has a high-flown and bold delivery, deals more in words than in reasons, and not so long ago was a country schoolmaster. Men of this stamp, either naturally eloquent or become so through their occupation, as e.g. lawyers, invariably take the most active and influential part in these Assemblies; the other members, for the most part farmers without clear and refined ideas, with little education or knowledge of the world, are merely there to give their votes, which are sought, whenever the House is divided into parties, by the insinuations of agreeable manners and in other ways.36