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Subject Area: Political Theory
Topic: The American Revolution and Constitution

JUDGE PETERS TO JAY. - John Jay, The Correspondence and Public Papers of John Jay, vol. 4 (1794-1826) [1893]

Edition used:

The Correspondence and Public Papers of John Jay, ed. Henry P. Johnston, A.M. (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1890-93). Vol. 4 (1794-1826).

Part of: The Correspondence and Public Papers of John Jay, 4 vols.

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JUDGE PETERS TO JAY.

Belmont, Jan. 19th, 1815.

My Dear Sir:

Your very welcome letter of the 9th inst. I received at the moment I was contemplating sending to you our third volume of Agricultural Memoirs, as a small token of remembrance. I shall, by the first opportunity, have it forwarded to you. A few of us endeavour to keep this subject alive amid the din of arms, which are ever hostile to the arts of peace and their attendant blessings. Too much of this effort falls on me; but yet some relief from surrounding glooms is found in attention to topics which abstract the mind from the vices and follies plentifully scattered throughout our devoted country. Mortification under what we are, is at least for the moment suspended, while we contemplate on what we have been. It may return with double force, when we consider what we might have been.

But it seems that history affords ample proofs, and ours as much as any other, that “this world was made for Cæsar.” The enjoyment of liberty is fugacious; but despotism, under a variety of shapes, is permanent. There is a tendency to it in all human political institutions; and the people of every country have, from time immemorial, forged their own chains. Our “free and enlightened” citizens are now very busy at the anvil; but whether their work will now be completed, is not for us to decide. Heaven may send us chastisement without ruin, and possibly the former may save us for a time. Delusion is the order of the day. Gordon, in one of his discourses on Tacitus, endeavours to prove that the people, when deceived by deluders, are blind and cruel, yet mean well. Too many of our people are blind, yet few cruel; as to their meaning well, they take a lamentable mode of showing it.

Your letter contains an epitome of my thoughts on our political situation. Had I written a book (and I have no adversary who would think it worth his while to wish that I had), I could not express myself more clearly on the subject. At our age we are lookers on, and see the game better than those who play it. The insight which calm observation and experience afford is, however, of no use to those who deem themselves too wise to need instruction. We must wait events, like passengers in a bark buffeted by storms, and mismanaged by unskilful pilots and mariners. I hope our vessel is yet staunch, and that she will get into port, whatever untoward appearances may predict. It is indeed distressing when hope alone is our comforter. But, alas! all I know is far from furnishing light or brilliancy to the threatening and dusky cloud which overhangs our hemisphere.

Our president is not the man we once supposed him. Party antipathies may possibly paint in too sombre colours; but the stories I hear are distressing, particularly to me, who in early times had a sincere personal friendship for him. He would then take some strange flights: one of them was his joining in the philippic against you, for not consulting the French minister (Vergennes), when the interest of your country forbade the step. But, in general, I thought and acted with him. In this matter, far otherwise; nor have I, in his modern conduct, been in union with his political sentiments on any important subject, although I entertain no personal enmity.

I have a strong impression that we shall, ere long, have peace; but the why and the wherefore I cannot tell, save that there seems nothing really substantial enough in the litigated affairs of the two nations, to continue the business of throat-cutting; and I fancy our enemy is tired of the employment, after following the trade so long.

I am gratified with the account of your travelling on towards the goal we all must arrive at, with a mind tranquil, and a body without pain. Your companions—books and recollections—are consolatory and essential, when all others have lost their relish.

I thank you for your kind inquiries about my health. I have but lately recovered from a most unfortunate accident, having been thrown on the stones of our turnpike from my horse, who took fright and ran away with me. He was a Kentucky racer (a quality I did not know), and no doubt took his revenge for his countrymen, by chastising me for my bad politics. I had three trenched gashes in my pericranium; yet I escaped becoming cracked-brained, which may be reckoned uncivil, as it is fashionable nowadays, at least among politicans; and it is the ton to be in the fashion. Believe me always

Most affectionately yours,

Richard Peters.