Returns to Washington.--Letters to his Daughters.--Meets with a
Stranger in his daily Ride.--Letters to his Daughter.--To his
young Grandson.--To his Daughter, Mrs. Randolph.--Last Letters
to his Daughter, Mrs. Eppes.--Her Illness.--Letter to Mr.
Eppes.--Goes to Monticello.--Death of Mrs. Eppes.--Account of it
by a Niece.--Letter to Page.--To Tyler.--From Mrs. Adams.-- Mr.
Jefferson's Reply.--Midnight Judges.--Letters to his Son-in-law.
Jefferson returned to Washington on the 5th of October, and, as will
be seen from the following note, was looking eagerly for the promised
visits of his daughters:
_To Mary Jefferson Eppes._
Washington, Oct. 7th, 1802.
My dear Maria--I arrived here on the fourth day of my journey
without accident. On the day and next day after my arrival,
I was much indisposed with a general soreness all over, a
ringing in the head, and deafness. It is wearing off slowly,
and was probably produced by travelling very early two mornings
in the fog. I have desired Mr. Jefferson to furnish you with
whatever you may call for, on my account; and I insist on your
calling freely. It never was my intention that a visit for my
gratification should be at your expense. It will be absolutely
necessary for me to send fresh horses to meet you, as no horses,
after the three first days' journey, can encounter the fourth,
which is hilly beyond any thing you have ever seen. I shall
expect to learn from you soon the day of your departure, that I
may make proper arrangements. Present me affectionately to Mr.
Eppes, and accept yourself my tenderest love.
TH. JEFFERSON.
While President, Jefferson retained his habitual custom of taking
regular daily exercise. He rarely, however, gave his coachman,
Joseph, the pleasure of sitting behind the four fiery bays; always
preferring his saddle-horse--the magnificent Wildair--being the same
which he had ridden to the Capitol and "hitched to the palisades,"
on the day of his inauguration. On his journeys to Monticello he
went most frequently in his one-horse chair or the phaeton. He never
failed, as I have elsewhere remarked, no matter what his occupation,
to devote the hours between one and three in the afternoon to
exercise, which was most frequently taken on horseback. Being very
choice in his selection of horses, and a bold and fearless rider, he
never rode any but an animal of the highest mettle and best blood.
[Illustration: JEFFERSON'S HORSE-CHAIR.]
We have from the most authentic source the account of an incident
which occurred on one of his rides while President. He was riding
along one of the highways leading into Washington, when he overtook
a man wending his way towards the city. Jefferson, as was his
habit, drew up his horse and touched his hat to the pedestrian.
The man returned the salutation, and began a conversation with the
President--not knowing, of course, who he was. He at once entered
upon the subject of politics--as was the habit of the day--and
began to abuse the President, alluding even to some of the infamous
calumnies against his private life. Jefferson's first impulse was to
say "good-morning" and ride on, but, amused at his own situation,
he asked the man if he knew the President personally? "No," was
the reply, "nor do I wish to." "But do you think it fair," asked
Jefferson, "to repeat such stories about a man, and condemn one whom
you dare not face?" "I will never shrink from meeting Mr. Jefferson
should he ever come in my way," replied the stranger, who was a
country merchant in high standing from Kentucky. "Will you, then,
go to his house to-morrow at -- o'clock and be introduced to him,
if I promise to meet you there at that hour?" asked Jefferson,
eagerly. "Yes, I will," said the man, after a moment's thought.
With a half-suppressed smile, and excusing himself from any further
conversation, the President touched his hat and rode on.
Hardly had Jefferson disappeared from sight before a suspicion of
the truth, which he soon verified, flashed through the stranger's
mind. He stood fire, however, like a true man, and at the appointed
hour the next day the card of Mr. ----, "Mr. Jefferson's yesterday's
companion," was handed to the President. The next moment he was
announced and entered. His situation was embarrassing, but with a
gentlemanly bearing, though with some confusion, he began, "I have
called, Mr. Jefferson, to apologize for having said to a stranger--"
"Hard things of an imaginary being who is no relation of mine,"
said Jefferson, interrupting him, as he gave him his hand, while
his countenance was radiant with a smile of mingled good-nature
and amusement. The Kentuckian once more began his apologies, which
Jefferson good-naturedly laughed off, and, changing the subject,
had soon captivated his guest by launching forth into one of his
most delightful strains of animated conversation, which so charmed
Mr. ----, that the dinner-hour had arrived before he was aware
how swiftly the pleasant hours had flown by. He rose to go, when
Jefferson urged him to stay to dinner. Mr. ---- declined, when
Jefferson repeated the invitation, and, smiling, asked if he was
afraid to meet Mr. ----, a Republican. "Don't mention him," said the
other, "and I will stay."
It is needless to add that this Kentuckian remained ever afterwards
firmly attached to Jefferson: his whole family became his staunch
supporters, and the gentleman himself, in telling the story, would
wind up with a jesting caution to young men against talking too
freely with strangers.
The following letters were written to Mrs. Eppes, after her return to
Virginia from a visit to Washington:
_To Mary Jefferson Eppes._
Washington, Jan. 18th, 1803.
My dear Maria--Yours by John came safely to hand, and informed
me of your ultimate arrival at Edgehill. Mr. Randolph's letter
from Gordon's, received the night before, gave me the first
certain intelligence I had received since your departure. A
rumor had come here of your having been stopped two or three
days at Ball Run, and in a miserable hovel; so that I had passed
ten days in anxious uncertainty about you. Your apologies,
my dear Maria, on the article of expense, are quite without
necessity. You did not here indulge yourselves as much as I
wished, and nothing prevented my supplying your backwardness
but my total ignorance in articles which might suit you. Mr.
Eppes's election [to Congress] will, I am in hopes, secure me
your company next winter, and perhaps you may find it convenient
to accompany your sister in the spring. Mr. Giles's aid, indeed,
in Congress, in support of our Administration, considering his
long knowledge of the affairs of the Union, his talents, and
the high ground on which he stands through the United States,
had rendered his continuance here an object of anxious desire
to those who compose the Administration; but every information
we receive states that prospect to be desperate from his ill
health, and will relieve me from the imputation of being willing
to lose to the public so strong a supporter, for the personal
gratification of having yourself and Mr. Eppes with me. I
inclose you Lemaire's receipts. The orthography will be puzzling
and amusing; but the receipts are valuable. Present my tender
love to your sister, kisses to the young ones, and my affections
to Mr. Randolph and Mr. Eppes, whom I suppose you will see soon.
Be assured of my unceasing and anxious love for yourself.
TH. JEFFERSON.
The following playfully-written note was sent to his young grandson:
_To Thomas Jefferson Randolph._
Washington, Feb. 21st, 1803.
I have to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 3d,
my dear Jefferson, and to congratulate you on your writing so
good a hand. By the last post I sent you a French Grammar,
and within three weeks I shall be able to ask you, "Parlez
vous Français, monsieur?" I expect to leave this about the
9th, if unexpected business should not detain me, and then it
will depend on the weather and the roads how long I shall be
going--probably five days. The roads will be so deep that I can
not flatter myself with catching Ellen in bed. Tell her that
Mrs. Harrison Smith desires her compliments to her. Your mamma
has probably heard of the death of Mrs. Burrows. Mrs. Brent is
not far from it. Present my affections to your papa, mamma, and
the young ones, and be assured of them yourself.
TH. JEFFERSON.
In a letter written to a friend in the winter of this year (1803) he
thus alludes to his health: "I retain myself very perfect health,
having not had twenty hours of fever in forty-two years past. I have
sometimes had a troublesome headache and some slight rheumatic pains;
but, now sixty years old nearly, I have had as little to complain of
in point of health as most people."
We have in the following letter one of the very few allusions to his
religion which he ever made to any of his family:
_To Martha Jefferson Randolph._
Washington, April 25th, 1803.
My dear Martha--A promise made to a friend some years ago, but
executed only lately, has placed my religious creed on paper.
I have thought it just that my family, by possessing this,
should be enabled to estimate the libels published against me
on this, as on every other possible subject. I have written to
Philadelphia for Dr. Priestley's history of the corruptions
of Christianity, which I will send you and recommend to an
attentive perusal, because it establishes the ground-work of my
view of this subject.
I have not had a line from Monticello or Edgehill since I parted
with you. Peter Carr and Mrs. Carr, who staid with me five or
six days, told me Cornelia had got happily through her measles,
and that Ellen had not taken them. But what has become of
Anne?[50] I thought I had her promise to write once a week, at
least the words "All's well."
[50] This little grand-daughter was now twelve years old.
It is now time for you to let me know when you expect to be able to
set out for Washington, and whether your own carriage can bring you
half-way. I think my Chickasaws, if drove moderately, will bring you
well that far. Mr. Lilly knows you will want them, and can add a
fourth. I think that by changing horses half-way you will come with
more comfort. I have no gentleman to send for your escort. Finding
here a beautiful blue cassimere, water-proof, and thinking it will
be particularly _à propos_ for Mr. Randolph as a travelling-coat for
his journey, I have taken enough for that purpose, and will send
it to Mr. Benson, postmaster at Fredericksburg, to be forwarded by
Abrahams, and hope it will be received in time.
Mr. and Mrs. Madison will set out for Orange about the last day of
the month. They will stay there but a week. I write to Maria to-day;
but supposing her to be at the Hundred, according to what she told me
of her movements, I send my letter there. I wish you to come as early
as possible; because, though the members of the Government remain
here to the last week in July, yet the sickly season commences, in
fact, by the middle of that month, and it would not be safe for you
to keep the children here longer than that, lest any one of them,
being taken sick early, might detain the whole here till the season
of general danger, and perhaps through it. Kiss the children for
me. Present me affectionately to Mr. Randolph, and accept yourself
assurances of my constant and tenderest love.
TH. JEFFERSON.
The following extract from a letter written December 1st, 1804, to
John Randolph by Jefferson, shows how little of a politician the
latter was in his own family, and how careful he was not to try and
influence the political opinions of those connected with him:
_To John Randolph._
I am aware that in parts of the Union, and even with persons
to whom Mr. Eppes and Mr. Randolph are unknown, and myself
little known, it will be presumed, from their connection, that
what comes from them comes from me. No men on earth are more
independent in their sentiments than they are, nor any one
less disposed than I am to influence the opinions of others. We
rarely speak of politics, or of the proceedings of the House,
but merely historically, and I carefully avoid expressing an
opinion on them in their presence, that we may all be at our
ease. With other members, I have believed that more unreserved
communications would be advantageous to the public.
I give now Jefferson's letters to Mrs. Eppes, scattered over a period
of several months. They possess unusual interest, from the fact
that they are the last written by this devoted father to his lovely
daughter. Mrs. Eppes being in extremely delicate health, and her
husband having to be in Washington as a member of Congress, she early
in the fall repaired to Edgehill, there to spend the winter with her
sister, Mrs. Randolph--Mr. Randolph also being a member of Congress.
_To Mary Jefferson Eppes._
Washington, Nov. 27th, 1803.
It is rare, my ever dear Maria, during a session of Congress,
that I can get time to write any thing but letters of business,
and this, though a day of rest to others, is not all so to me.
We are all well here, and hope the post of this evening will
bring us information of the health of all at Edgehill, and
particularly that Martha and the new bantling[51] are both well,
and that her example gives you good spirits. When Congress will
rise no mortal can tell--not from the quantity but dilatoriness
of business.
[51] Mrs. Randolph's sixth child.
Mr. Lilly having finished the mill, is now, I suppose, engaged in
the road which we have been so long wanting; and that done, the next
job will be the levelling of Pantops. I anxiously long to see under
way the work necessary to fix you there, that we may one day be all
together. Mr. Stewart is now here on his way back to his family, whom
he will probably join Thursday or Friday. Will you tell your sister
that the pair of stockings she sent me by Mr. Randolph are quite
large enough, and also have fur enough in them. I inclose some papers
for Anne; and must continue in debt to Jefferson a letter for a while
longer. Take care of yourself, my dearest Maria, have good spirits,
and know that courage is as essential to triumph in your case as
in that of a soldier. Keep us all, therefore, in heart of being so
yourself. Give my tender affections to your sister, and receive them
for yourself also, with assurances that I live in your love only and
in that of your sister. Adieu, my dear daughter.
TH. JEFFERSON.
_To Mary Jefferson Eppes, Edgehill._
Washington, Dec. 26th, 1803.
I now return, my dearest Maria, the paper which you lent me for
Mr. Page, and which he has returned some days since. I have
prevailed on Dr. Priestley to undertake the work, of which this
is only the syllabus or plan. He says he can accomplish it in
the course of a year. But, in truth, his health is so much
impaired, and his body become so feeble, that there is reason to
fear he will not live out even the short term he has asked for
it.
You may inform Mr. Eppes and Mr. Randolph that no mail arrived
the last night from Natchez. I presume the great rains which
have fallen have rendered some of the water-courses impassable.
On New-year's-day, however, we shall hear of the delivery of New
Orleans[52] to us! Till then the Legislature seem disposed to do
nothing but meet and adjourn.
[52] The reader will remember that the purchase of Louisiana was
made in Jefferson's administration.
Mrs. Livingston, formerly the younger Miss Allen, made kind
inquiries after you the other day. She said she was at school with
you at Mrs. Pine's. Not knowing the time destined for your expected
indisposition, I am anxious on your account. You are prepared to
meet it with courage, I hope. Some female friend of your mamma's (I
forget whom) used to say it was no more than a jog of the elbow. The
material thing is to have scientific aid in readiness, that if any
thing uncommon takes place it may be redressed on the spot, and not
be made serious by delay. It is a case which least of all will wait
for doctors to be sent for; therefore with this single precaution
nothing is ever to be feared. I was in hopes to have heard from
Edgehill last night, but I suppose your post has failed.
I shall expect to see the gentlemen here next Sunday night to take
part in the gala of Monday. Give my tenderest love to your sister,
of whom I have not heard for a fortnight, and my affectionate
salutations to the gentlemen and young ones, and continue to love me
yourself, and be assured of my warmest affections.
TH. JEFFERSON.
_To Mary Jefferson Eppes, Edgehill._
Washington, Jan. 29th, 1804.
My dearest Maria--This evening ought to have brought in the
Western mail, but it is not arrived; consequently we hear
nothing from our neighborhood. I rejoice that this is the last
time our Milton mail will be embarrassed with that from New
Orleans, the rapidity of which occasioned our letters often
to be left in the post-office. It now returns to its former
establishment of twice a week, so that we may hear oftener from
you; and, in communicating to us frequently of the state of
things, I hope you will not be sparing, if it be only by saying
that "All is well!"
I think Congress will rise the second week in March, when we
shall join you; perhaps Mr. Eppes may sooner. On this I presume
he writes you. It would have been the most desirable of all
things could we have got away by this time. However, I hope you
will let us all see that you have within yourself the resource
of a courage not requiring the presence of any body.
Since proposing to Anne the undertaking to raise bantams, I have
received from Algiers two pair of beautiful fowls, something
larger than our common fowls, with fine aigrettes. They are not
so large nor valuable as the East India fowl, but both kinds, as
well as the bantams, are well worthy of being raised. We must,
therefore, distribute them among us, and raise them clear of
mixture of any kind. All this we will settle together in March,
and soon after we will begin the levelling and establishing
of your hen-house at Pantops. Give my tenderest love to your
sister, to all the young ones kisses, to yourself every thing
affectionate.
TH. JEFFERSON.
_To Mary Jefferson Eppes, Edgehill._
Washington, Feb. 26th, 1804.
A thousand joys to you, my dear Maria, on the happy accession
to your family. A letter from our dear Martha by last post gave
me the happy news that your crisis was happily over, and all
well. I had supposed that if you were a little later than your
calculation, and the rising of Congress as early as we expected,
we might have been with you at the moment when it would have
been so encouraging to have had your friends around you. I
rejoice, indeed, that all is so well.
Congress talk of rising the 12th of March; but they will
probably be some days later. You will doubtless see Mr. Eppes
and Mr. Randolph immediately on the rising of Congress. I shall
hardly be able to get away till some days after them. By that
time I hope you will be able to go with us to Monticello, and
that we shall _all_ be there together for a month; and the
interval between that and the autumnal visit will not be long.
Will you desire your sister to send for Mr. Lilly, and to advise
him what orders to give Goliath for providing those vegetables
which may come into use for the months of April, August, and
September? Deliver her also my affectionate love. I will write
to her the next week. Kiss all the little ones, and be assured
yourself of my tender and unchangeable affection.
TH. JEFFERSON.
The relief of Mr. Jefferson's anxieties concerning his daughter's
health was of but short duration. Shortly after writing the preceding
letter, he received intelligence of her being dangerously ill. It is
touching to see, in his letters, his increasing tenderness for her
as her situation became more critical; and we find him chafing with
impatience at being prevented by official duties from flying at once
to her side on hearing of her illness.
_To Mary Jefferson Eppes._
Washington, Mar. 3d, 1804.
The account of your illness, my dearest Maria, was known
to me only this morning. Nothing but the impossibility of
Congress proceeding a single step in my absence presents an
insuperable bar. Mr. Eppes goes off, and I hope will find you in
a convalescent state. Next to the desire that it may be so, is
that of being speedily informed, and of being relieved from the
terrible anxiety in which I shall be till I hear from you. God
bless you, my ever dear daughter, and preserve you safe to the
blessing of us all.
TH. JEFFERSON.
The news of Mrs. Eppes's convalescence revived her father's hopes
about her health, and we find him writing, in the following letter
to Mr. Eppes, about settling him at Pantops (one of his farms a few
miles from Monticello), in the fond anticipation of thus fixing his
daughter near him for life.
_To John W. Eppes, Edgehill._
Washington, March 15th, 1804.
Dear Sir--Your letter of the 9th has at length relieved my
spirits; still the debility of Maria will need attention, lest
a recurrence of fever should degenerate into typhus. I should
suppose the system of wine and food as effectual to prevent as
to cure that fever, and think she should use both as freely as
she finds she can bear them--light food and cordial wines. The
sherry at Monticello is old and genuine, and the Pedro Ximenes
much older still, and stomachic. Her palate and stomach will be
the best arbiters between them.
Congress have deferred their adjournment a week, to wit, to the
26th; consequently we return a week later. I presume I can be
with you by the first of April. I hope Maria will by that time
be well enough to go over to Monticello with us, and I hope you
will thereafter take up your residence there. The house, its
contents, and appendages and servants, are as freely subjected
to you as to myself, and I hope you will make it your home till
we can get you fixed at Pantops. I do not think Maria should
be ventured below after this date. I will endeavor to forward
to Mr. Benson, postmaster at Fredericksburg, a small parcel of
the oats for you. The only difficulty is to find some gentleman
going on in the stage who will take charge of them by the way.
My tenderest love to Maria and Patsy, and all the young ones.
Affectionate salutations to yourself.
TH. JEFFERSON.
Jefferson reached Monticello early in April, where his great and
tender heart was to be wrung by the severest affliction which
can befall a parent--the loss of a well-beloved child. Mrs.
Eppes's decline was rapid; and the following line in her father's
handwriting, in his family register, tells its own sad tale:
"MARY JEFFERSON, _born_ Aug. 1, 1778, 1_h._ 30_m._ A.M. _Died_
April 17, 1804, between 8 and 9 A.M."
The following beautiful account of the closing scenes of this
domestic tragedy is from the pen of a niece of Mrs. Eppes, and was
written at the request of Mr. Randall, Jefferson's worthy biographer:
Boston, 15th January, 1856.
My dear Mr. Randall--I find an old memorandum made many years
ago, I know not when nor under what circumstances, but by my own
hand, in the fly-leaf of a Bible. It is to this effect:
"Maria Jefferson was born in 1778, and married, in 1797,
John Wayles Eppes, son of Francis Eppes and Elizabeth
Wayles, second daughter of John Wayles. Maria Jefferson died
April, 1804, leaving two children, Francis, born in 1801,
and Maria, who died an infant."
I have no recollection of the time when I made this memorandum,
but I have no doubt of its accuracy.
Mrs. Eppes was never well after the birth of her last child.
She lingered a while, but never recovered. My grandfather was
in Washington, and my aunt passed the winter at Edgehill, where
she was confined. I remember the tender and devoted care of my
mother, how she watched over her sister, and with what anxious
affection she anticipated her every want. I remember, at one
time, that she left her chamber and her own infant, that she
might sleep in my aunt's room, to assist in taking care of her
and her child. I well recollect my poor aunt's pale, faded,
and feeble look. My grandfather, during his Presidency, made
two visits every year to Monticello--a short one in early
spring, and a longer one the latter part of the summer. He
always stopped at Edgehill, where my mother was then living,
to take her and her whole family to Monticello with him. He
came this year as usual, anxious about the health of his
youngest daughter, whose situation, though such as to excite the
apprehensions of her friends, was not deemed one of immediate
danger. She had been delicate, and something of an invalid, if I
remember right, for some years. She was carried to Monticello in
a litter borne by men. The distance was perhaps four miles, and
she bore the removal well. After this, however, she continued,
as before, steadily to decline. She was taken out when the
weather permitted, and carried around the lawn in a carriage, I
think drawn by men, and I remember following the carriage over
the smooth green turf. How long she lived I do not recollect,
but it could have been but a short time.
One morning I heard that my aunt was dying. I crept softly from
my nursery to her chamber door, and, being alarmed by her short,
hard breathing, ran away again. I have a distinct recollection
of confusion and dismay in the household. I did not see my
mother. By-and-by one of the female servants came running in
where I was, with other persons, to say that Mrs. Eppes was
dead. The day passed I do not know how. Late in the afternoon
I was taken to the death-chamber. The body was covered with a
white cloth, over which had been strewed a profusion of flowers.
A day or two after I followed the coffin to the burying-ground
on the mountain-side, and saw it consigned to the earth, where
it has lain undisturbed for more than fifty years.
My mother has told me that on the day of her sister's death she
left her father alone for some hours. He then sent for her, and
she found him with the Bible in his hands. He who has been so
often and so harshly accused of unbelief--he, in his hour of
intense affliction, sought and found consolation in the Sacred
Volume. The Comforter was there for his true heart and devout
spirit, even though his faith might not be what the world calls
orthodox.
There was something very touching in the sight of this once
beautiful and still lovely young woman, fading away just as
the spring was coming on with its buds and blossoms--nature
reviving as she was sinking, and closing her eyes on all that
she loved best in life. She perished, not in autumn with the
flowers, but as they were opening to the sun and air in all the
freshness of spring. I think the weather was fine, for over my
own recollections of these times there is a soft dreamy sort of
haze, such as wraps the earth in warm dewy spring-time.
You know enough of my aunt's early history to be aware that she
did not accompany her father, as my mother did, when he first
went to France. She joined him, I think, only about two years
before his return, and was placed in the same convent where my
mother received her education. Here she went by the name of
Mademoiselle _Polie_. As a child, she was called Polly by her
friends. It was on her way to Paris that she staid a while in
London with Mrs. Adams, and there is a pleasing mention of her
in that lady's published letters.
I think the visit (not a very long one) made by my mother and
aunt to their father in Washington must have been in the winter
of 1802-'3. My aunt, I believe, was never there again; but after
her death, about the winter of 1805-'6, my mother, with all her
children, passed some time at the President's house. I remember
that both my father and uncle Eppes were _then_ in Congress, but
can not say whether this was the case in 1802-'3.
My aunt, Mrs. Eppes, was singularly beautiful. She was
high-principled, just, and generous. Her temper, naturally
mild, became, I think, saddened by ill health in the latter
part of her life. In that respect she differed from my mother,
whose disposition seemed to have the sunshine of heaven in it.
Nothing ever wearied my mother's patience, or exhausted, what
was inexhaustible, her sweetness, her kindness, indulgence, and
self-devotion. She was intellectually somewhat superior to her
sister, who was sensible of the difference, though she was of
too noble a nature for her feelings ever to assume an ignoble
character. There was between the sisters the strongest and
warmest attachment, the most perfect confidence and affection.
My aunt utterly undervalued and disregarded her own beauty,
remarkable as it was. She was never fond of dress or ornament,
and was always careless of admiration. She was even vexed by
allusions to her beauty, saying that people only praised her for
that because they could not praise her for better things. If
my mother inadvertently exclaimed, half sportively, "Maria, if
I only had your beauty," my aunt would resent it as far as she
could resent any thing said or done by her sister.
It may be said that the extraordinary value she attached to
talent was mainly founded in her idea that by the possession of
it she would become a more suitable companion for her father.
Both daughters considered his affection as the great good of
their lives, and both loved him with all the devotion of their
most loving hearts. My aunt sometimes mourned over the fear that
her father _must_ prefer her sister's society, and _could_ not
take the same pleasure in hers. This very humility in one so
lovely was a charm the more in her character. She was greatly
loved and esteemed by all her friends. She was on a footing of
the most intimate friendship with my father's sister, Mrs. T.
Eston Randolph, herself a most exemplary and admirable woman,
whose daughter, long years after, married Francis, Mrs. Eppes's
son.
I know not, my dear Mr. Randall, whether this letter will add
any thing to the knowledge you already possess of this one of
my grandfather's family. Should it not, you must take the will
for the deed, and as I am somewhat wearied by the rapidity with
which I have written, in order to avoid delay, I will bid you
adieu, with my very best wishes for your entire success in your
arduous undertaking.
Very truly yours
ELLEN W. COOLIDGE.
How heart-rending the death of this "ever dear daughter" was to
Jefferson, may be judged from the following touching and beautiful
letter, written by him two months after the sad event, in reply to
one of condolence from his old and constant friend, Governor Page:
_To Governor Page._
Your letter, my dear friend, of the 25th ultimo, is a new proof
of the goodness of your heart, and the part you take in my
loss marks an affectionate concern for the greatness of it. It
is great indeed. Others may lose of their abundance, but I,
of my want, have lost even the half of all I had. My evening
prospects now hang on the slender thread of a single life.
Perhaps I may be destined to see even this last cord of parental
affection broken! The hope with which I had looked forward to
the moment when, resigning public cares to younger hands, I was
to retire to that domestic comfort from which the last great
step is to be taken, is fearfully blighted.
When you and I look back on the country over which we have
passed, what a field of slaughter does it exhibit! Where are
all the friends who entered it with us, under all the inspiring
energies of health and hope? As if pursued by the havoc of war,
they are strewed by the way, some earlier, some later, and
scarce a few stragglers remain to count the numbers fallen, and
to mark yet, by their own fall, the last footsteps of their
party. Is it a desirable thing to bear up through the heat
of action, to witness the death of all our companions, and
merely be the last victim? I doubt it. We have, however, the
traveller's consolation. Every step shortens the distance we
have to go; the end of our journey is in sight--the bed wherein
we are to rest, and to rise in the midst of the friends we have
lost! "We sorrow not, then, as others who have no hope;" but
look forward to the day which joins us to the great majority.
But whatever is to be our destiny, wisdom, as well as duty,
dictates that we should acquiesce in the will of Him whose it
is to give and take away, and be contented in the enjoyment of
those who are still permitted to be with us. Of those connected
by blood, the number does not depend on us. But friends we have
if we have merited them. Those of our earliest years stand
nearest in our affections. But in this, too, you and I have been
unlucky. Of our college friends (and they are the dearest) how
few have stood with us in the great political questions which
have agitated our country: and these were of a nature to justify
agitation. I did not believe the Lilliputian fetters of that day
strong enough to have bound so many.
Will not Mrs. Page, yourself, and family, think it prudent to
seek a healthier region for the months of August and September?
And may we not flatter ourselves that you will cast your eye
on Monticello? We have not many summers to live. While fortune
places us, then, within striking distance, let us avail
ourselves of it, to meet and talk over the tales of other times.
He also wrote to Judge Tyler:
I lament to learn that a like misfortune has enabled you to
estimate the afflictions of a father on the loss of a beloved
child. However terrible the possibility of such another
accident, it is still a blessing for you of inestimable value
that you would not even then descend childless to the grave.
Three sons, and hopeful ones too, are a rich treasure. I rejoice
when I hear of young men of virtue and talents, worthy to
receive, and likely to preserve, the splendid inheritance of
self-government which we have acquired and shaped for them.
Among the many letters of condolence which poured in upon Mr.
Jefferson from all quarters on this sad occasion, was the following
very characteristic one from Mrs. Adams. It shows in the writer a
strange mixture of kind feeling, goodness of heart, and a proud,
unforgiving spirit.
_From Mrs. Adams._
Quincy, 20th May, 1804.
Sir--Had you been no other than the private inhabitant of
Monticello, I should, ere this time, have addressed you with
that sympathy which a recent event has awakened in my bosom; but
reasons of various kinds withheld my pen, until the powerful
feelings of my heart burst through the restraint, and called
upon me to shed the tear of sorrow over the departed remains
of your beloved and deserving daughter--an event which I most
sincerely mourn. The attachment which I formed for her when you
committed her to my care upon her arrival in a foreign land,
under circumstances peculiarly interesting, has remained with me
to this hour; and the account of her death, which I read in a
late paper, recalled to my recollection the tender scene of her
separation from me, when, with the strongest sensibility, she
clung around my neck, and wet my bosom with her tears, saying,
"Oh, now I have learned to love you, why will they take me from
you?"
It has been some time since I conceived that any event in
this life could call forth feelings of mutual sympathy. But I
know how closely entwined around a parent's are those cords
which bind the parental to the filial bosom, and, when snapped
asunder, how agonizing the pangs. I have tasted of the bitter
cup, and bow with reverence and submission before the great
Dispenser of it, without whose permission and overruling
providence not a sparrow falls to the ground. That you may
derive comfort and consolation, in this day of your sorrow and
affliction, from that only source calculated to heal the broken
heart, a firm belief in the being, perfections, and attributes
of God, is the sincere and ardent wish of her who once took
pleasure in subscribing herself your friend.
ABIGAIL ADAMS.[53]
[53] The original of this letter is now in the possession of
Jefferson's grandson, Colonel Jefferson Randolph.
To this letter Mr. Jefferson replied as follows:
_To Mrs. Adams._
Washington, June 13th, 1804.
Dear Madam--The affectionate sentiments which you have had the
goodness to express, in your letter of May the 20th, towards
my dear departed daughter have awakened in me sensibilities
natural to the occasion, and recalled your kindnesses to her,
which I shall ever remember with gratitude and friendship. I can
assure you with truth, they had made an indelible impression
on her mind, and that to the last, on our meetings after
long separations, whether I had heard lately of you, and how
you did, were among the earliest of her inquiries. In giving
you this assurance, I perform a sacred duty for her, and, at
the same time, am thankful for the occasion furnished me of
expressing my regret that circumstances should have arisen
which have seemed to draw a line of separation between us. The
friendship with which you honored me has ever been valued and
fully reciprocated; and although events have been passing which
might be trying to some minds, I never believed yours to be of
that kind, nor felt that my own was. Neither my estimate of
your character, nor the esteem founded in that, has ever been
lessened for a single moment, although doubts whether it would
be acceptable may have forbidden manifestations of it.
Mr. Adams's friendship and mine began at an earlier date. It
accompanied us through long and important scenes. The different
conclusions we had drawn from our political reading and
reflections were not permitted to lessen personal esteem--each
party being conscious they were the result of an honest
conviction in the other. Like differences of opinion among
our fellow-citizens attached them to one or the other of us,
and produced a rivalship in their minds which did not exist
in ours. We never stood in one another's way; but if either
had been withdrawn at any time, his favorers would not have
gone over to the other, but would have sought for some one of
homogeneous opinions. This consideration was sufficient to keep
down all jealousy between us, and to guard our friendship from
any disturbance by sentiments of rivalship; and I can say with
truth, that one act of Mr. Adams's life, and one only, ever gave
me a moment's personal displeasure. I did consider his last
appointments to office as personally unkind. They were from
among my most ardent political enemies, from whom no faithful
co-operation could ever be expected; and laid me under the
embarrassment of acting through men whose views were to defeat
mine, or to encounter the odium of putting others in their
places. It seems but common justice to leave a successor free
to act by instruments of his own choice. If my respect for him
did not permit me to ascribe the whole blame to the influence of
others, it left something for friendship to forgive; and after
brooding over it for some little time, and not always resisting
the expression of it, I forgave it cordially, and returned to
the same state of esteem and respect for him which had so long
subsisted.
Having come into life a little later than Mr. Adams, his career
has preceded mine, as mine is followed by some other; and it
will probably be closed at the same distance after him which
time originally placed between us. I maintain for him, and shall
carry into private life, an uniform and high measure of respect
and good-will, and for yourself a sincere attachment.
I have thus, my dear madam, opened myself to you without
reserve, which I have long wished an opportunity of doing; and
without knowing how it will be received, I feel relief from
being unbosomed. And I have now only to entreat your forgiveness
for this transition from a subject of domestic affliction to one
which seems of a different aspect. But though connected with
political events, it has been viewed by me most strongly in its
unfortunate bearings on my private friendships. The injury these
have sustained has been a heavy price for what has never given
me equal pleasure. That you may both be favored with health,
tranquillity, and long life, is the prayer of one who tenders
you the assurance of his highest consideration and esteem.
Several other letters were exchanged by Jefferson and Mrs. Adams, and
explanations followed, which did not, however, result at the time in
restoring friendly intercourse between them, that not being resumed
until some years later.[54] Mrs. Adams, it seemed, was offended
with him because, in making appointments to fill certain Federal
offices in Boston, her son, who held one of these offices, was not
reappointed. Jefferson did not know, when he made the appointments,
that young Adams held the office, and gave Mrs. Adams an assurance to
that effect in one of the letters alluded to above, but she seems not
to have accepted the explanation.
[54] See pages 352, 353.
The history of the midnight judges referred to in Jefferson's first
letter to Mrs. Adams was briefly this: Just at the close of Adams's
Administration a law was hurried through Congress by the Federalists,
increasing the number of United States Courts throughout the States.
At that time twelve o'clock on the night of the 3d of March was
the magical hour when one Administration passed out and the other
came in. The law was passed at such a late hour, that, though the
appointments for the new judgeships created by it had been previously
selected, yet the commissions had not been issued from the Department
of State. Chief-justice Marshall, who was then acting as Secretary
of State, was busily engaged filling out these commissions, that the
offices might be filled with Federal appointments while the outgoing
Administration was still in power. The whole proceeding was known to
Jefferson. He considered the law unconstitutional, and acted in the
premises with his usual boldness and decision. Having chosen Levi
Lincoln as his Attorney General, he gave him his watch, and ordered
him to go at midnight and take possession of the State Department,
and not allow a single paper to be removed from it after that hour.
Mr. Lincoln accordingly entered Judge Marshall's office at the
appointed time. "I have been ordered by Mr. Jefferson," he said
to the Judge, "to take possession of this office and its papers."
"Why, Mr. Jefferson has not yet qualified," exclaimed the astonished
Chief-justice. "Mr. Jefferson considers himself in the light of
an executor, bound to take charge of the papers of the Government
until he is duly qualified," was the reply. "But it is not yet
twelve o'clock," said Judge Marshall, taking out his watch. Mr.
Lincoln pulled out his, and, showing it to him, said, "This is the
President's watch, and rules the hour."
Judge Marshall could make no appeal from this, and was forced to
retire, casting a farewell look upon the commissions lying on the
table before him. In after years he used to laugh, and say he had
been allowed to pick up nothing but his hat. He had, however, one or
two of the commissions in his pocket, and the gentlemen who received
them were called thereafter "John Adams's midnight judges."
In his message to Congress some months later, Jefferson demonstrated
that, so far from requiring an increased number of courts, there was
not work enough for those already existing.
_To John W. Eppes._
Monticello, August 7th, 1804.
Dear Sir--Your letters of July 16th and 29th both came to me on
the 2d instant. I receive with great delight the information
of the perfect health of our dear infants, and hope to see
yourself, the family and them, as soon as circumstances admit.
With respect to Melinda, I have too many already to leave here
in idleness when I go away; and at Washington I prefer white
servants, who, when they misbehave, can be exchanged. John
knew he was not to expect her society but when he should be
at Monticello, and then subject to the casualty of her being
here or not. You mention a horse to be had--of a fine bay; and
again, that he is of the color of your horse. I do not well
recollect the shade of yours; but if you think this one would
do with Castor or Fitzpartner, I would take him at the price
you mention, but should be glad to have as much breadth for the
payment as the seller could admit, and at any rate not less than
ninety days. I know no finer horse than yours, but he is much
too fiery to be trusted in a carriage--the only use I have for
him while Arcturus remains. He is also too small. I write this
letter in the hope you will be here before you can receive it,
but on the possibility that the cause which, detained you at
the date of yours may continue. My affectionate salutations and
esteem attend the family at Eppington and yourself.
TH. JEFFERSON.
P.S.--By your mentioning that Francis will be your constant
companion, I am in hopes I shall have him here with you during
the session of Congress.