Intense Application as a Student.--Habits of Study kept up
during his Vacations.--First Preparations made for Building
at Monticello.--Letters to his College Friend, John Page.--
Anecdote of Benjamin Harrison.--Jefferson's Devotion to his
eldest Sister.--He witnesses the Debate on the Stamp Act.--First
Meeting with Patrick Henry.--His Opinion of him.--His superior
Education.--Always a Student.--Wide Range of Information.--
Anecdote.--Death of his eldest Sister.--His Grief.--Buries
himself in his Books.--Finishes his Course of Law Studies.--
Begins to practise.--Collection of Vocabularies of Indian
Languages.--House at Shadwell burnt.--Loss of his Library.--
Marriage.--Anecdote of his Courtship.--Wife's Beauty.--Bright
Prospects.--Friendship for Dabney Carr.--His Talents.--His
Death.--Jefferson buries him at Monticello.--His Epitaph.
Great as were the charms and delights of the society into which
Jefferson was thrown in Williamsburg, they had not the power to draw
him off from his studies. On the contrary, he seemed to find from
his intercourse with such men as Wythe and Small, fresh incentives
to diligence in his literary pursuits; and these, together with his
natural taste for study, made his application to it so intense, that
had he possessed a less vigorous and robust constitution, his health
must have given way. He studied fifteen hours a day. During the most
closely occupied days of his college life it was his habit to study
until two o'clock at night, and rise at dawn; the day he spent in
close application--the only recreation being a run at twilight to a
certain stone which stood at a point a mile beyond the limits of the
town. His habits of study were kept up during his vacations, which
were spent at Shadwell; and though he did not cut himself off from
the pleasures of social intercourse with his friends and family, yet
he still devoted nearly three-fourths of his time to his books. He
rose in the morning as soon as the hands of a clock placed on the
mantle-piece in his chamber could be distinguished in the gray light
of early dawn. After sunset he crossed the Rivanna in a little
canoe, which was kept exclusively for his own use, and walked up to
the summit of his loved Monticello, where he was having the apex of
the mountain levelled down, preparatory to building.
The following extracts from letters written to his friends while he
was a college-boy, give a fair picture of the sprightliness of his
nature and his enjoyment of society.
To John Page--a friend to whom he was devotedly attached all through
life--he writes, Dec. 25, 1762:
You can not conceive the satisfaction it would give me to have
a letter from you. Write me very circumstantially every thing
which happened at the wedding. Was she[4] there? because
if she was, I ought to have been at the devil for not being
there too. If there is any news stirring in town or country,
such as deaths, courtships, or marriages, in the circle of my
acquaintance, let me know it. Remember me affectionately to
all the young ladies of my acquaintance, particularly the Miss
Burwells, and Miss Potters; and tell them that though that heavy
earthly part of me, my body, be absent, the better half of me,
my soul, is ever with them, and that my best wishes shall ever
attend them. Tell Miss Alice Corbin that I verily believe the
rats knew I was to win a pair of garters from her, or they
never would have been so cruel as to carry mine away. This
very consideration makes me so sure of the bet, that I shall
ask every body I see from that part of the world, what pretty
gentleman is making his addresses to her. I would fain ask the
favor of Miss Becca Burwell to give me another watch-paper of
her own cutting, which I should esteem much more, though it were
a plain round one, than the nicest in the world cut by other
hands; however, I am afraid she would think this presumption,
after my suffering the other to get spoiled.
[4] His lady-love, doubtless--Rebecca Burwell.
A few weeks later, he writes to Page, from Shadwell:
To tell you the plain truth, I have not a syllable to write to
you about. For I do not conceive that any thing can happen in my
world which you would give a curse to know, or I either. All
things here appear to me to trudge on in one and the same round:
we rise in the morning that we may eat breakfast, dinner, and
supper; and go to bed again that we may get up the next morning
and do the same; so that you never saw two peas more alike
than our yesterday and to-day. Under these circumstances, what
would you have me say? Would you that I should write nothing
but truth? I tell you, I know nothing that is true. Or would
you rather that I should write you a pack of lies? Why, unless
they are more ingenious than I am able to invent, they would
furnish you with little amusement. What can I do, then? Nothing
but ask you the news in your world. How have you done since I
saw you? How did Nancy look at you when you danced with her at
Southall's? Have you any glimmering of hope? How does R. B. do?
Had I better stay here and do nothing, or go down and do less?
or, in other words, had I better stay here while I am here, or
go down that I may have the pleasure of sailing up the river
again in a full-rigged flat? Inclination tells me to go, receive
my sentence, and be no longer in suspense; but reason says, If
you go, and your attempt proves unsuccessful, you will be ten
times more wretched than ever.... I have some thoughts of going
to Petersburg if the actors go there in May. If I do, I do not
know but I may keep on to Williamsburg, as the birth-night will
be near. I hear that Ben Harrison [5] has been to Wilton: let me
know his success.
[5] This Ben Harrison afterwards married Miss Randolph, of
Wilton, and was a signer of the Declaration of Independence. He
was fond of the good things of this life, and was a high liver.
Mr. Madison used to tell, with great glee, the following good
story about him: While a member of the first Congress, which
met in Philadelphia, he was on one occasion joined by a friend
as he left the congressional hall. Wishing to ask his friend
to join him in a bumper, he took him to a certain place where
supplies were furnished to the members of Congress, and called
for two glasses of brandy-and-water. The man in charge replied
that liquors were not included in the supplies furnished to
Congressmen.
"Why," asked Harrison, "what is it, then, that I see the New
England members come here and drink?"
"Molasses and water, which they have charged as _stationery_,"
was the reply.
"Very well," said Harrison, "give me the brandy-and-water, and
charge it as _fuel_."
In his literary pursuits and plans for the future, Jefferson found
a most congenial and sympathizing companion, as well as a loving
friend, in his highly-gifted young sister, Jane Jefferson. Three
years his senior, and a woman of extraordinary vigor of mind, we
can well imagine with what pride and pleasure she must have watched
the early development and growth of her young brother's genius and
learning. When five years old, he had read all the books contained in
his father's little library, and we have already found him sought out
by the royal Governor, and chosen as one of his favorite companions,
when but a college-boy. Like himself, his sister was devoted to
music, and they spent many hours together cultivating their taste and
talent for it. Both were particularly fond of sacred music, and she
often gratified her young brother by singing for him hymns.
We have seen, from his letters to his friend Page, that, while a
student in Williamsburg, Jefferson fell in love with Miss Rebecca
Burwell--one of the beauties of her day. He was indulging fond dreams
of success in winning the young lady's heart and hand, when his
courtship was suddenly cut short by her, to him, unexpected marriage
to another.
In the following year, 1765, there took place in the House of
Burgesses the great debate on the Stamp Act, in which Patrick
Henry electrified his hearers by his bold and sublime flights of
oratory. In the lobby of the House was seen the tall, thin figure of
Jefferson, bending eagerly forward to witness the stirring scene--his
face paled from the effects of hard study, and his eyes flashing
with the fire of latent genius, and all the enthusiasm of youthful
and devoted patriotism. In allusion to this scene, he writes in his
Memoir:
When the famous resolutions of 1765 against the Stamp Act were
proposed, I was yet a student of law in Williamsburg. I attended
the debate, however, at the door of the lobby of the House of
Burgesses, and heard the splendid display of Mr. Henry's talents
as a popular orator. They were indeed great; such as I have
never heard from any other man. He appeared to me to speak as
Homer wrote.
It was when on his way to Williamsburg to enter William and Mary
College, that Jefferson first met Henry. They spent a fortnight
together on that occasion, at the house of Mr. Dandridge, in Hanover,
and there began the acquaintance and friendship between them which
lasted through life. While not considering Henry a man of education
or a well-read lawyer, Jefferson often spoke with enthusiasm to his
friends and family of the wonders and beauties of his eloquence, and
also of his great influence and signal services in bringing about
unanimity among the parties which were found in the colony at the
commencement of the troubles with the mother-country. He frequently
expressed admiration for his intrepid spirit and inflexible courage.
Two years before his death we find him speaking of Henry thus:
Wirt says he read Plutarch's Lives once a year. I don't believe
he ever read two volumes of them. On his visits to court, he
used always to put up with me. On one occasion of the breaking
up in November, to meet again in the spring, as he was departing
in the morning, he looked among my books, and observed, "Mr.
Jefferson, I will take two volumes of Hume's Essays, and try to
read them this winter." On his return, he brought them, saying
he had not been able to get half way into one of them.
His great delight was to put on his hunting-shirt, collect
a parcel of overseers and such-like people, and spend weeks
together hunting in the "piny woods," camping at night and
cracking jokes round a light-wood fire.
It was to him that we were indebted for the unanimity that
prevailed among us. He would address the assemblages of the
people at which he was present in such strains of native
eloquence as Homer wrote in. I never heard any thing that
deserved to be called by the same name with what flowed
from him; and where he got that torrent of language from is
inconceivable. I have frequently shut my eyes while he spoke,
and, when he was done, asked myself what he had said, without
being able to recollect a word of it. He was no logician. He was
truly a great man, however--one of enlarged views.
Mr. Jefferson furnished anecdotes, facts, and documents for Wirt's
Life of Henry, and Mr. Wirt submitted his manuscript to him for
criticism and review, which he gave, and also suggested alterations
that were made. We find, from his letters to Mr. Wirt, that when the
latter flagged and hesitated as to the completion and publication of
his work, it was Jefferson who urged him on. In writing of Henry's
supposed inattention to ancient charters, we find him expressing
himself thus: "He drew all natural rights from a purer source--the
feelings of his own breast."[6]
[6] Kennedy's "Life of Wirt," vol. i., p. 367.
In connection with this subject, we can not refrain from quoting from
Wirt the following fine description of Henry in the great debate on
the Stamp Act:
It was in the midst of this magnificent debate, while he (Henry)
was descanting on the tyranny of the obnoxious act, that he
exclaimed, in a voice of thunder, and with the look of a god,
"Cæsar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and
George the Third--" ("Treason!" cried the Speaker. "Treason!
treason!" echoed from every part of the House. It was one of
those trying moments which are so decisive of character. Henry
faltered not an instant; but rising to a loftier altitude, and
fixing on the Speaker an eye of the most determined fire, he
finished his sentence with the firmest emphasis)--"may profit by
their example. If this be treason, make the most of it."[7]
[7] Wirt's Life of Henry.
When we think of the wonderful powers of this great man, whose
heaven-born eloquence so stirred the hearts of men, how touching
the meekness with which, at the close of an eventful and honorable
career, he thus writes of himself: "Without any classical education,
without patrimony, without what is called the influence of family
connection, and without solicitation, I have attained the highest
offices of my country. I have often contemplated it as a rare and
extraordinary instance, and pathetically exclaimed, 'Not unto me, not
unto me, O Lord, but unto thy name be the praise!'"[8]
[8] Ibid.
Jefferson continued to prosecute his studies at William and Mary, and
we have in the following incident a pleasing proof of his generosity:
While at college, he was one year quite extravagant in his dress, and
in his outlay in horses. At the end of the year he sent his account
to his guardian; and thinking that he had spent more of the income
from his father's estate than was his share, he proposed that the
amount of his expenses should be deducted from his portion of the
property. His guardian, however, replied good-naturedly, "No, no; if
you have sowed your wild oats in this manner, Tom, the estate can
well afford to pay your expenses."
When Jefferson left college, he had laid the broad and solid
foundations of that fine education which in learning placed him head
and shoulders above his contemporaries. A fine mathematician, he was
also a finished Greek, Latin, French, Spanish, and Italian scholar.
He carried with him to Congress in the year 1775 a reputation for
great literary acquirements. John Adams, in his diary for that year,
thus speaks of him: "Duane says that Jefferson is the greatest
rubber-off of dust that he has met with; that he has learned French,
Italian, and Spanish, and wants to learn German."
His school and college education was considered by him as only the
vestibule to that palace of learning which is reached by "no royal
road." He once told a grandson that from the time when, as a boy, he
had turned off wearied from play and first found pleasure in books,
he had never sat down in idleness. And when we consider the vast
fund of learning and wide range of information possessed by him, and
which in his advanced years won for him the appellation of a "walking
encyclopædia," we can well understand how this must have been the
case. His thirst for knowledge was insatiable, and he seized eagerly
all means of obtaining it. It was his habit, in his intercourse with
all classes of men--the mechanic as well as the man of science--to
turn the conversation upon that subject with which the man was best
acquainted, whether it was the construction of a wheel or the
anatomy of an extinct species of animals; and after having drawn
from him all the information which he possessed, on returning home
or retiring to his private apartments, it was all set down by him in
writing--thus arranging it methodically and fixing it in his mind.
An anecdote which has been often told of him will give the reader an
idea of the varied extent of his knowledge. On one occasion, while
travelling, he stopped at a country inn. A stranger, who did not
know who he was, entered into conversation with this plainly-dressed
and unassuming traveller. He introduced one subject after another
into the conversation, and found him perfectly acquainted with each.
Filled with wonder, he seized the first opportunity to inquire of the
landlord who his guest was, saying that, when he spoke of the law, he
thought he was a lawyer; then turning the conversation on medicine,
felt sure he was a physician; but having touched on theology, he
became convinced that he was a clergyman. "Oh," replied the landlord,
"why I thought you knew the Squire." The stranger was then astonished
to hear that the traveller whom he had found so affable and simple in
his manners was Jefferson.
The family circle at Shadwell consisted of six sisters, two brothers,
and their mother. Of the sisters, two married early, and left the
home of their youth--Mary as the wife of Thomas Bolling, and Martha
as that of the generous and highly-gifted young Dabney Carr, the
brilliant promise of whose youth was so soon to be cut short by his
untimely death.
In the fall of the year 1765, the whole family was thrown
into mourning, and the deepest distress, by the death of Jane
Jefferson--so long the pride and ornament of her house. She died in
the twenty-eighth year of her age. The eldest of her family, and a
woman who, from the noble qualities of her head and heart, had ever
commanded their love and admiration, her death was a great blow to
them all, but was felt by none so keenly as by Jefferson himself. The
loss of such a sister to such a brother was irreparable; his grief
for her was deep and constant; and there are, perhaps, few incidents
in the domestic details of history more beautiful than his devotion
to her during her life, and the tenderness of the love with which
he cherished her memory to the last days of his long and eventful
career. He frequently spoke of her to his grandchildren, and even in
his extreme old age said that often in church some sacred air which
her sweet voice had made familiar to him in youth recalled to him
sweet visions of this sister whom he had loved so well and buried so
young.
Among his manuscripts we find the following touching epitaph which he
wrote for her:
"Ah, Joanna, puellarum optima,
Ah, ævi virentis flore prærepta,
Sit tibi terra lævis;
Longe, longeque valeto!"
After the death of his sister Jane, Jefferson had no congenial
intellectual companion left in the family at Shadwell; his other
sisters being all much younger than himself, except one, who was
rather deficient in intellect. It is curious to remark the unequal
distribution of talent in this family--each gifted member seeming to
have been made so at the expense of one of the others.
In the severe affliction caused by the death of his sister, Jefferson
sought consolation in renewed devotion to his books. After a five
years' course of law studies, he was, as we have seen from his
Memoir, introduced to its practice, at the bar of the General Court
of Virginia, in the year 1767, by his "beloved friend and mentor,"
George Wythe. Of the extent of his practice during the eight years
that it lasted, we have ample proof in his account-books. These show
that during that time, in the General Court alone, he was engaged
in nine hundred and forty-eight cases, and that he was employed
as counsel by the first men in the colonies, and even in the
mother-country.
An idea of the impression made by him as an advocate in the
court-room is given in the following anecdote, which we have from
his eldest grandson, Mr. Jefferson Randolph. Anxious to learn how his
grandfather had stood as a pleader, Mr. Randolph once asked an old
man of good sense who in his youth had often heard Jefferson deliver
arguments in court, how he ranked as a speaker, "Well," said the old
gentleman, in reply, "it is hard to tell, because he always took
the right side." Few speakers, we imagine, would desire a greater
compliment than that which the old man unconsciously paid in his
reply.
The works which Jefferson has left behind him as his share in the
revision of the laws of the State, place his erudition as a lawyer
beyond question, while to no man does Virginia owe more for the
preservation of her ancient records than to him. In this last work
he was indefatigable. The manuscripts and materials for the early
history of the State had been partially destroyed and scattered
by the burning of State buildings and the ravages of war. These
Jefferson, as far as it was possible, collected and restored, and it
is to him that we owe their preservation at the present day.
While in the different public offices which he held during his life,
Jefferson availed himself of every opportunity to get information
concerning the language of the Indians of North America, and to
this end he made a collection of the vocabularies of all the Indian
languages, intending, in the leisure of his retirement from public
life, to analyze them, and see if he could trace in them any likeness
to other languages. When he left Washington, after vacating the
presidential chair, these valuable papers were packed in a trunk and
sent, with the rest of his baggage, around by Richmond, whence they
were to be sent up the James and Rivanna Rivers to Monticello. Two
negro boatmen who had charge of them, and who, in the simplicity
of their ignorance, took it for granted that the ex-President was
returning from office with untold wealth, being deceived by the
weight of the trunk, broke into it, thinking that it contained gold.
On discovering their mistake, the papers were scattered to the wind;
and thus were lost literary treasures which might have been a rich
feast to many a philologist.
[Illustration: Marriage Licene-Bond (Fac-simile)]
In the year 1770 the house at Shadwell was destroyed by fire, and
Jefferson then moved to Monticello, where his preparations for
a residence were sufficiently advanced to enable him to make it
his permanent abode. He was from home when the fire took place at
Shadwell, and the first inquiry he made of the negro who carried him
the news was after his books. "Oh, my young master," he replied,
carelessly, "they were all burnt; but, ah! we saved your fiddle."
In 1772 Jefferson married Martha Skelton, the widow of Bathurst
Skelton, and the daughter of John Wayles, of whom he speaks thus in
his Memoir
Mr. Wayles was a lawyer of much practice, to which he was
introduced more by his industry, punctuality, and practical
readiness, than by eminence in the science of his profession.
He was a most agreeable companion, full of pleasantry and
humor, and welcomed in every society. He acquired a handsome
fortune, and died in May, 1773, leaving three daughters. The
portion which came on that event to Mrs. Jefferson, after the
debts were paid, which were very considerable, was about equal
to my own patrimony, and consequently doubled the ease of our
circumstances.
The marriage took place at "The Forest," in Charles City County.
The bride having been left a widow when very young, was only
twenty-three when she married a second time.[9] She is described as
having been very beautiful. A little above middle height, with a
lithe and exquisitely formed figure, she was a model of graceful and
queenlike carriage. Nature, so lavish with her charms for her, to
great personal attractions, added a mind of no ordinary calibre. She
was well educated for her day, and a constant reader; she inherited
from her father his method and industry, as the accounts, kept in
her clear handwriting, and still in the hands of her descendants,
testify. Her well-cultivated talent for music served to enhance
her charms not a little in the eyes of such a musical devotee as
Jefferson.
[9] The license-bond for the marriage, demanded by the laws of
Virginia, of which a fac-simile is given on the opposite page,
written by Jefferson's own hand, is signed by him and by Francis
Eppes, whose son afterwards married Jefferson's daughter. It
will be noticed that the word "spinster" is erased, and "widow"
inserted in another hand-writing.
So young and so beautiful, she was already surrounded by suitors
when Jefferson entered the lists and bore off the prize. A pleasant
anecdote about two of his rivals has been preserved in the tradition
of his family. While laboring under the impression that the lady's
mind was still undecided as to which of her suitors should be the
accepted lover, they met accidentally in the hall of her father's
house. They were on the eve of entering the drawing-room, when the
sound of music caught their ear; the accompanying voices of Jefferson
and his lady-love were soon recognized, and the two disconcerted
lovers, after exchanging a glance, picked up their hats and left.
The New-year and wedding festivities being over, the happy bridal
couple left for Monticello. Their adventures on this journey of more
than a hundred miles, made in the dead of the winter, and their
arrival at Monticello, were, years afterwards, related as follows, by
their eldest daughter, Mrs. Randolph,[10] who heard the tale from her
father's lips:
They left The Forest after a fall of snow, light then, but
increasing in depth as they advanced up the country. They were
finally obliged to quit the carriage and proceed on horseback.
Having stopped for a short time at Blenheim, where an overseer
only resided, they left it at sunset to pursue their way through
a mountain track rather than a road, in which the snow lay
from eighteen inches to two feet deep, having eight miles to
go before reaching Monticello. They arrived late at night, the
fires all out and the servants retired to their own houses for
the night. The horrible dreariness of such a house at the end
of such a journey I have often heard both relate.
[10] The manuscript from which I take this account, and from
which I shall quote frequently in the following pages, was
written by Mrs. Randolph at the request of Mr. Tucker, who
desired to have her written reminiscences of her father when he
wrote his life.
Too happy in each other's love, however, to be long troubled by the
"dreariness" of a cold and dark house, and having found a bottle
of wine "on a shelf behind some books," the young couple refreshed
themselves with its contents, and startled the silence of the night
with song and merry laughter.
Possessing a fine estate and being blessed with a beautiful and
accomplished wife, Jefferson seemed fairly launched upon the great
ocean of life with every prospect of a prosperous and happy voyage.
We find from his account-books that his income was a handsome one
for that day, being three thousand dollars from his practice and two
thousand from his farms. This, as we have seen, was increased by the
receipt of his wife's fortune at her father's death.
Of the many friends by whom he was surrounded in his college days
Dabney Carr was his favorite; his friendship for him was strengthened
by the ties of family connection, on his becoming his brother-in-law
as the husband of his sister Martha. As boys, they had loved each
other; and when studying together it was their habit to go with their
books to the well-wooded sides of Monticello, and there pursue their
studies beneath the shade of a favorite oak. So much attached did
the two friends become to this tree, that it became the subject of a
mutual promise, that the one who survived should see that the body of
the other was buried at its foot. When young Carr's untimely death
occurred Jefferson was away from home, and on his return he found
that he had been buried at Shadwell. Being mindful of his promise,
he had the body disinterred, and removing it, placed it beneath that
tree whose branches now bend over such illustrious dead--for this was
the origin of the grave-yard at Monticello.
It is not only as Jefferson's friend that Dabney Carr lives in
history. The brilliancy of the reputation which he won in his
short career, has placed his name among the men who stood first for
talent and patriotism in the early days of the Revolution. Jefferson
himself, in describing his first appearance in the Virginia House of
Burgesses, pays a warm and handsome tribute to his friend. He says:
I well remember the pleasure expressed in the countenance and
conversation of the members generally on this débût of Mr. Carr,
and the hopes they conceived as well from the talents as the
patriotism it manifested.... His character was of a high order.
A spotless integrity, sound judgment, handsome imagination,
enriched by education and reading, quick and clear in his
conceptions, of correct and ready elocution, impressing every
hearer with the sincerity of the heart from which it flowed.
His firmness was inflexible in whatever he thought was right;
but when no moral principle stood in the way, never had man
more of the milk of human kindness, of indulgence, of softness,
of pleasantry of conversation and conduct. The number of his
friends and the warmth of their affection, were proofs of his
worth, and of their estimate of it.
We have again from Jefferson's pen a charming picture of the domestic
character of Carr, in a letter to his friend John Page, written in
1770:
He (Carr) speaks, thinks, and dreams of nothing but his young
son. This friend of ours, Page, in a very small house, with a
table, half a dozen chairs, and one or two servants, is the
happiest man in the universe. Every incident in life he so takes
as to render it a source of pleasure. With as much benevolence
as the heart of man will hold, but with an utter neglect of
the costly apparatus of life, he exhibits to the world a new
phenomenon in life--the Samian sage in the tub of the cynic.
The death of this highly-gifted young Virginian, whose early life
was so full of promise, took place on the 16th of May, 1773, in
the thirtieth year of his age. His wife, a woman of vigorous
understanding and earnest warmth of heart, was passionately devoted
to him, and his death fell like a blight on her young life. She
found in her brother a loving protector for herself and a fatherly
affection and guidance for her six children--three sons and three
daughters--who were received into his family as his adopted children.
Among Jefferson's papers there was found, after his death, the
following, written on a sheet of note-paper:
INSCRIPTION ON MY FRIEND D. CARR'S TOMB.
Lamented shade, whom every gift of heaven
Profusely blest; a temper winning mild;
Nor pity softer, nor was truth more bright.
Constant in doing well, he neither sought
Nor shunned applause. No bashful merit sighed
Near him neglected: sympathizing he
Wiped off the tear from Sorrow's clouded eye
With kindly hand, and taught her heart to smile.
MALLET'S _Excursion_.
Send for a plate of copper to be nailed on the tree at the foot of
his grave, with this inscription:
Still shall thy grave with rising flowers be dressed
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast;
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,
There the first roses of the year shall blow,
While angels with their silver wings o'ershade
The ground now sacred by thy reliques made.
On the upper part of the stone inscribe as follows:
Here lie the remains of
DABNEY CARR,
Son of John and Jane Carr, of Louisa County,
Who was born ----, 1744.
Intermarried with Martha Jefferson, daughter of Peter
and Jane Jefferson, 1765;
And died at Charlottesville, May 16, 1773,
Leaving six small children.
To his Virtue, Good Sense, Learning, and Friendship
this stone is dedicated by Thomas Jefferson, who, of all men living,
loved him most.