“On the question of the lawfulness of slavery, that is, of the right of one man to appropriate to himself the faculties of another without his consent, I certainly retain my early opinions.  On that, however, of third persons to interfere between the parties, and the effect of Constitutional modifications of that pretension, we are probably nearer together.”

There was a blow well dealt,—­though at one now greatly honored.  We may refuse the subordinate idea in the letter, but we will glory in that main confession of political faith, in the last year of Jefferson’s life; and we will not forget that the last of his letters on slavery chastised the worst sin of Northern statesmanship.

Jefferson, then, in dealing with slavery, was a real political seer and giver of oracles,—­always sure to say something; whereas the “leading men” who in these latter days have usurped his name are neither political seers nor givers of oracles, but mere political fakirs,—­striving, their lives long, to enter political blessedness by solemnly doing and seeing and saying—­nothing.

Jefferson was a true political warrior, and his battle for human rights compares with the Oligarchist battle against them as the warfare of Cortes compares with Aztec warfare.  He is the man full of strong thought backed by civilization:  they, the men trying to keep up their faith in idols, trying to scare with war-paint, trying to startle with war-whoop, trying to vex with showers of poor Aztec arrows.

Jefferson was an orator,—­not in that he fed petty assemblages with narcotic words to stupefy conscience, or corrosive words to kill conscience, but in that he gave to the world those decisive, true words which shall yet pierce all tyranny and slavery.

Jefferson was the founder of a democratic system, strong and full-orbed:  “leading men” have fastened his name to an aristocratic system with mobocratic cries.

This great tree of Liberty which we are all trying to plant will, of course, not grow as we will, but as God and Nature will.  Some branches will be exuberant through too great wealth of sunshine,—­others gnarled and awry through too great fury of storms.  We need find no fault with any growth, but we may admire some branches and prize some fruits more than others.  Some grafts set by noblest hands have often blossomed in bad temper and borne fruit bitter and sour.  Some fruitage has been of that poor Dead-Sea sort,—­splendid in coating, but inwardly ashes,—­wretched “protective” schemes and the like.  The world may yet see that the limbs of toughest fibre and fruit of richest flavor have come from grafts set by just such strong men in theory and in practice as Thomas Jefferson.

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A STORY OF TO-DAY.

PART IV.