February 9

[Writing from Monticello on February 9, 1816, as a retired elder statesman, I am addressing Benjamin Austin, a prominent Massachusetts political ally with whom I share a mutual commitment to guarding our nation's liberty against external threats and domestic factions. The historical context centers on the aftermath of the War of 1812 and the final defeat of Napoleon Bonaparte at Waterloo, events that forced a major national reckoning over economic independence and global tyranny. While our political allies traditionally opposed Great Britain, some of our fellow republicans have mistakenly alignment themselves with French imperialism out of sheer anger toward the British. While I am willing to publicly admit that global trade disruptions have changed my mind on the necessity of domestic manufacturing, I strongly rebuke those within our own party who mourn Napoleon's fall, branding the former emperor as a bloodthirsty despot who viewed his subjects as mere cattle, while simultaneously requesting that Austin soften the word "despots" to "rulers" in the public press out of a sudden sense of diplomatic decency toward the European allied sovereigns.]

Your favor of January 25th is just now received. I am in general extremely unwilling to be carried into the newspapers, no matter what the subject; the whole pack of the Essex kennel would open upon me. With respect, however, to so much of my letter of January 9th as relates to manufactures, I have less repugnance, because there is perhaps a degree of duty to avow a change of opinion called for by a change of circumstances, and especially on a point now become peculiarly interesting.

What relates to Bonaparte stands on different ground. You think it will silence the misrepresentations of my enemies as to my opinions of him. No, Sir; it will not silence them. They had no ground either in my words or actions for these misrepresentations before, and cannot have less afterwards; nor will they calumniate less. There is, however, a consideration respecting our own friends, which may merit attention. I have grieved to see even good republicans so infatuated as to this man, as to consider his downfall as calamitous to the cause of liberty. In their indignation against England which is just, they seem to consider all her enemies as our friends, when it is well known there was not a being on earth who bore us so deadly a hatred. In fact, he saw nothing in this world but himself, and looked on the people under him as his cattle, beasts for burthen and slaughter. Promises cost him nothing when they could serve his purpose. On his return from Elba, what did he not promise? But those who had credited them a little, soon saw their total insignificance, and, satisfied they could not fall under worse hands, refused every effort after the defeat of Waterloo. Their present sufferings will have a term; his iron despotism would have had none. France has now a family of fools at its head, from whom, whenever it can shake off its foreign riders, it will extort a free constitution, or dismount them and establish some other on the solid basis of national right. To whine after this exorcised demon is a disgrace to republicans, and must have arisen either from want of reflection, or the indulgence of passion against principle. If anything I have said could lead them to take correcter views, to rally to the polar principles of genuine republicanism, I could consent that that part of my letter also should go into a newspaper. This I leave to yourself and such candid friends as you may consult. There is one word in the letter, however, which decency towards the allied sovereigns requires should be softened. Instead of despots, call them rulers. The first paragraph, too, of seven or eight lines, must be wholly omitted. Trusting all the rest to your discretion, I salute you with great esteem and respect.