governed mainly by motives of self-interest. He thought that England would
cease to legislate against American commerce, when it was once made plain
that such a course was prejudicial to her own interests. But nations, like
individuals, are influenced in their relations to others far more by pride
and patriotism, and even by prejudice, than by material self-interest. The
only way in which America could win respect and fair treatment from Europe
was by fighting, or at least by showing a perfect readiness to fight. This
she did by the war of 1812.
The embargo was an academic policy,—the policy of a philosopher rather
than that of a practical man of affairs. Turreau, the French ambassador,
wrote to Talleyrand, in May, 1806, that the President “has little energy
and still less of that audacity which is indispensable in a place so
eminent, whatever may be the form of government. The slightest event makes
him lose his balance, and he does not even know how to disguise the
impression which he receives.... He has made himself ill, and has grown
ten years older.”
Jefferson had energy and audacity,—but he was energetic and audacious only
by fits and starts. He was too sensitive, too full of ideas, too
far-sighted, too conscious of all possible results for a man of action.
During the last three months of his term he made no attempt to settle the
difficulties in which the country was involved, declaring that he felt
bound to do nothing which might embarrass his successor. But it may be
doubted if he did not unconsciously decline the task rather from its
difficulty than because he felt precluded from undertaking it.
Self-knowledge was never Mr. Jefferson’s strong point.
But he had done his best, and if his scheme had failed, the failure was
not an ignoble one. He was still the most beloved, as well as the best
hated man in the United States; and he could have had a third term, if he
would have taken it.
He retired, permanently, as it proved, to Monticello, wearied and
harassed, but glad to be back on his farm, in the bosom of his family, and
among his neighbors. His fellow-citizens of Albemarle County desired to
meet the returning President, and escort him to his home; but Mr.
Jefferson, characteristically, avoided this demonstration, and received
instead an address, to which he made a reply that closed in a fit and
pathetic manner his public career. “... The part which I have acted on the
theatre of public life has been before them [his countrymen], and to their
sentence I submit it; but the testimony of my native county, of the
individuals who have known me in private life, to my conduct in its
various duties and relations, is the more grateful as proceeding from
eyewitnesses and observers, from triers of the vicinage. Of you, then, my
neighbors, I may ask in the face of the world, ‘whose ox have I taken, or
whom have I defrauded? Whom have I oppressed, or of whose hand have I
received a bribe to blind mine eyes therewith?’ On your verdict I rest
with conscious security.”
XII
A PUBLIC MAN IN PRIVATE LIFE
Jefferson’s second term as President ended March 4, 1809, and during the
rest of his life he lived at Monticello, with occasional visits to his
more retired estate at Poplar Forest, and to the homes of his friends, but
never going beyond the confines of Virginia. Just before leaving
Washington, he had written: “Never did a prisoner released from his chains
feel such relief as I shall on shaking off the shackles of power. Nature
intended me for the tranquil pursuits of science by rendering them my
supreme delight. But the enormities of the times in which I have lived
have forced me to take a part in resisting them, and to commit myself on
the boisterous ocean of political passions.”
Though no longer in office, Jefferson remained till his death the chief
personage in the United States, and his authority continued to be almost
supreme among the leaders as well as among the rank and file of the
Republican party. Madison first, and Monroe afterward, consulted him in
all the most important matters which arose during the sixteen years of
their double terms as President. Long and frequent letters passed between
them; and both Madison and Monroe often visited Jefferson at Monticello.
The Monroe doctrine, as it is called, was first broached by Jefferson. In
a letter of August 4, 1820, to William Short, he said: “The day is not far
distant, when we may formally require a meridian through the ocean which
separates the two hemispheres on the hither side of which no European gun
shall ever be heard, nor an American on the other;” and he spoke of “the
essential policy of interdicting in the seas and territories of both
Americas the ferocious and sanguinary contests of Europe.” Later, when
applied to by Monroe himself, in October, 1823, Jefferson wrote to him:
“Our first and fundamental maxim should be never to entangle ourselves in
the broils of Europe. Our second, never to suffer Europe to meddle in
cisatlantic affairs.” The whole letter, a long one, deserves to be read as
the first exposition of what has since become a famous doctrine.
The darling object of Mr. Jefferson’s last years was the founding of the
University of Virginia at Charlottesville. For this purpose he gave $1000;
many of his neighbors in Albemarle County joined him with gifts; and
through Jefferson’s influence, the legislature appropriated considerable
sums. But money was the least of Jefferson’s endowment of the University.
He gave of the maturity of his judgment and a great part of his time. He
was made regent. He drew the plans for the buildings, and overlooked their
construction, riding to the University grounds almost every day, a
distance of four miles, and back, and watching with paternal solicitude
the laying of every brick and stone. His design was the perhaps
over-ambitious one of displaying in the University buildings the various
leading styles of architecture; and certain practical inconveniences, such
as the entire absence of closets from the houses of the professors, marred
the result. Some offense also was given to the more religious people of
Virginia, by the selection of a Unitarian as the first professor. However,
Jefferson’s enthusiasm, ingenuity, and thoroughness carried the scheme
through with success; and the University still stands as a monument to its
founder.
It should be recorded, moreover, that under Jefferson’s regency the
University of Virginia adopted certain reforms, which even Harvard, the
most progressive of eastern universities, did not attain till more than
half a century later. These were, an elective system of studies; the
abolition of rules and penalties for the preservation of order, and the
abolition of compulsory attendance at religious services.
Mr. Jefferson’s daily life was simple and methodical. He rose as soon as
it was light enough for him to see the hands of a clock which was opposite
his bed. Till breakfast time, which was about nine o’clock, he employed
himself in writing. The whole morning was devoted to an immense
correspondence; the discharge of which was not only mentally, but
physically distressing, inasmuch as his crippled hands, each wrist having
been fractured, could not be used without pain. In a letter to his old
friend, John Adams, he wrote: “I can read by candle-light only, and
stealing long hours from my rest; nor would that time be indulged to me
could I by that light see to write. From sunrise to one or two o’clock,
and often from dinner to dark, I am drudging at the writing-table. And all
this to answer letters, in which neither interest nor inclination on my
part enters; and often from persons whose names I have never before heard.
Yet writing civilly, it is hard to refuse them civil answers.” At his
death Jefferson left copies of 16,000 letters, being only a part of those
written by himself, and 26,000 letters written by others to him.
At one o’clock he set out upon horseback, and was gone for one or two
hours,—never attended by a servant, even when he became old and infirm. He
continued these rides until he had become so feeble that he had to be
lifted to the saddle; and his mount was always a fiery one. Once, in Mr.
Jefferson’s old age, news came that a serious accident had happened in the
neighboring village to one of his grandsons. Immediately he ordered his
horse to be brought round, and though it was night and very dark, he
mounted, despite the protests of the household, and, at a run, dashed down
the steep ascent by which Monticello is reached. The family held their
breath till the tramp of his horse’s feet, on the level ground below,
could faintly be heard.
At half past three or four he dined; and at six he returned to the
drawing-room, where coffee was served. The evening was spent in reading or
conversation, and at nine he went to bed. “His diet,” relates a
distinguished visitor, Daniel Webster, “is simple, but he seems restrained
only by his taste. His breakfast is tea and coffee, bread always fresh
from the oven, of which he does not seem afraid, with at times a slight
accompaniment of cold meat. He enjoys his dinner well, taking with his
meat a large proportion of vegetables.” The fact is that he used meat only
as a sort of condiment to vegetables. “He has a strong preference for the
wines of the continent, of which he has many sorts of excellent
quality.... Dinner is served in half Virginian, half French style, in good
taste and abundance. No wine is put on the table till the cloth is
removed. In conversation, Mr. Jefferson is easy and natural, and
apparently not ambitious; it is not loud as challenging general attention,
but usually addressed to the person next him.” His health remained good
till within a few months of his death, and he never lost a tooth.
Scarcely less burdensome than his correspondence was the throng of
visitors at Monticello, of all nationalities, from every State in the
Union, some coming from veneration, some from curiosity, some from a
desire to obtain free quarters. Groups of people often stood about the
house and in the halls to see Jefferson pass from his study to his
dining-room. It is recorded that “a female once punched through a
window-pane of the house with her parasol to get a better view of him.” As
many as fifty guests sometimes lodged in the house. “As a specimen of
Virginia life,” relates one biographer, “we will mention that a friend
from abroad came to Monticello, with a family of six persons, and remained
ten months.... Accomplished young kinswomen habitually passed two or three
of the summer months there, as they would now at a fashionable
watering-place. They married the sons of Mr. Jefferson’s friends, and then
came with their families.”
The immense expense entailed by these hospitalities, added to the debt,
amounting to $20,000, which Mr. Jefferson owed when he left Washington,
crippled him financially. Moreover, Colonel Randolph, who managed his
estate for many years, though a good farmer, was a poor man of business.
It was a common saying in the neighborhood that nobody raised better crops
or got less money for them than Colonel Randolph. The embargo, and the
period of depression which followed the war of 1812, went far to
impoverish the Virginia planters. Monroe died a bankrupt, and Madison’s
widow was left almost in want of bread. Jefferson himself wrote in 1814:
“What can we raise for the market? Wheat? we can only give it to our
horses, as we have been doing since harvest. Tobacco? It is not worth the
pipe it is smoked in. Some say whiskey, but all mankind must become
drunkards to consume it.” Jefferson, also, was so anxious lest his slaves
should be overworked, that the amount of labor performed upon his
plantation was much less than it should have been. And, to cap the climax
of his financial troubles, he lost $20,000 by indorsing to that amount for
his intimate friend, Governor Nicholas, an honorable but unfortunate man.
It should be added that Mr. Nicholas, in his last hours, “declared with
unspeakable emotion that Mr. Jefferson had never by a word, by a look, or
in any other way, made any allusion to his loss by him.”
In 1814, Mr. Jefferson sold his library to Congress for $23,950, about one
half its cost; and in the very year of his death he requested of the
Virginia legislature that a law might be passed permitting him to sell
some of his farms by means of a lottery,—the times being such that they
could be disposed of in no other way. He even published some “Thoughts on
Lotteries,”—by way of advancing this project. The legislature granted his
request, with reluctance; but in the mean time his necessities became
known throughout the country, and subscriptions were made for his relief.
The lottery was suspended, and Jefferson died in the belief that
Monticello would be saved as a home for his family.
In March, 1826, Mr. Jefferson’s health began to fail; but so late as June
24 he was well enough to write a long letter in reply to an invitation to
attend the fiftieth celebration, at Washington, of the 4th of July. During
the 3d of July he dozed hour after hour under the influence of opiates,
rousing occasionally, and uttering a few words. It was evident that his
end was very near. His family and he himself fervently desired that he
might live till the 4th of July. At eleven in the evening of July 3 he
whispered to Mr. Trist, the husband of one of his granddaughters, who sat
by him: “This is the fourth?” Not bearing to disappoint him, Mr. Trist
remained silent; and Mr. Jefferson feebly asked a second time: “This is
the fourth?” Mr. Trist nodded assent. “Ah!” he breathed, and sank into a
slumber from which he never awoke; but his end did not come till half past
twelve in the afternoon of Independence Day. On the same day, at Quincy,
died John Adams, his last words being, “Thomas Jefferson still lives!”
The double coincidence made a strong impression upon the imagination of
the American people. “When it became known,” says Mr. Parton, “that the
author of the Declaration and its most powerful defender had both breathed
their last on the Fourth of July, the fiftieth since they had set it apart
from the roll of common days, it seemed as if Heaven had given its visible
and unerring sanction to the work which they had done.”
Jefferson’s body was buried at Monticello, and on the tombstone is
inscribed, as he desired, the following: “Here was buried Thomas
Jefferson, author of the Declaration of American Independence, of the
Statute of Virginia for Religious Freedom, and Father of the University of
Virginia.”
Jefferson’s expectation that Monticello would remain the property of his
descendants was not fulfilled. His debts were paid to the uttermost
farthing by his executor and grandson, Thomas Jefferson Randolph; but
Martha Randolph and her family were left homeless and penniless. When this
became known, the legislatures of South Carolina and Louisiana each voted
to Mrs. Randolph a gift of $10,000. She died suddenly, in 1836, at the age
of sixty-three. Monticello passed into the hands of strangers.
Jefferson had his faults and defects. As a statesman and ruler, he showed
at times irresolution, want of energy and of audacity, and a
misunderstanding of human nature; and at times his judgment was clouded by
the political prejudices which were common in his day. His attitude in the
X Y Z business, his embargo policy, and his policy or want of policy after
the failure of the embargo,—in these cases, and perhaps in these alone,
his defects are exhibited. It is certain also that although at times frank
and outspoken to a fault, he was at other times over-complaisant and
insincere. To Aaron Burr, for example, he expressed himself in terms of
friendship which he could hardly have felt; and, once, in writing to a
minister of the gospel he implied, upon his own part, a belief in
revelation which he did not really feel. It seems to be true also that
Jefferson had an overweening desire to win the approbation of his
fellow-countrymen; and at times, though quite unconsciously to himself,
this motive led him into courses which were rather selfish than patriotic.
This was the case, perhaps, in his negotiations with the English minister
after the failure of the embargo. It is charged against him, also, that he
avoided unpleasant situations; and that he said or did nothing to check
the Republican slanders which were cast upon Washington and upon John
Adams. But when this much has been said, all has been said. As a citizen,
husband, father, friend, and master, Jefferson was almost an ideal
character. No man was ever more kind, more amiable, more tender, more
just, more generous. To her children, Mrs. Randolph declared that never,
never had she witnessed a _particle_ of injustice in her father,—never had
she heard him say a word or seen him do an act which she at the time or
afterward regretted. He was magnanimous,—as when he frankly forgave John
Adams for the injustice of his midnight appointments. Though easily
provoked, he never bore malice. In matters of business and in matters of
politics he was punctiliously honorable. How many times he paid his
British debt has already been related. On one occasion he drew his cheque
to pay the duties on certain imported wines which might have come in
free,—yet made no merit of the action, for it never came to light until
long after his death. In the presidential campaigns when he was a
candidate, he never wrote a letter or made a sign to influence the result.
He would not say a word by way of promise in 1801, when a word would have
given him the presidency, and when so honorable a man as John Adams
thought that he did wrong to withhold it. There was no vanity or smallness
in his character. It was he and not Dickinson who wrote the address to the
King, set forth by the Continental Congress of 1775; but Dickinson enjoyed
the fame of it throughout Jefferson’s lifetime.
Above all, he was patriotic and conscientious. When he lapsed, it was in
some subordinate matter, and because a little self-deception clouded his
sight. But in all important matters, in all emergencies, he stood firm as
a rock for what he considered to be right, unmoved by the entreaties of
his friends or by the jeers, threats, and taunts of his enemies. He shrank
with almost feminine repugnance from censure and turmoil, but when the
occasion demanded it, he faced even these with perfect courage and
resolution. His course as Secretary of State, and his enforcement of the
embargo, are examples.
Jefferson’s political career was bottomed upon a great principle which he
never, for one moment, lost sight of or doubted, no matter how difficult
the present, or how dark the future. He believed in the people, in their
capacity for self-government, and in their right to enjoy it. This belief
shaped his course, and, in spite of minor inconsistencies, made it
consistent. It was on account of this belief, and of the faith and courage
with which he put it in practice, that he became the idol of his
countrymen, and attained a unique position in the history of the world.
FOOTNOTES
1 It is to be remembered that the support of public worship was
compulsory in Massachusetts—the inhabitants of certain cities
excepted—down to the year 1833. An attempt to free the people from
this burden, led by Dr. Childs, of Berkshire County, was defeated at
the Constitutional Convention of 1820.
2 The father of Miss Catherine Sedgwick was a leading Federalist, and
his daughter records that, though a most kind-hearted man, he
habitually spoke of the people as “Jacobins” and “miscreants.”
3 Abraham Lincoln said in his first inaugural address:—“But if the
policy of the government upon a vital question affecting the whole
people is to be irrevocably fixed by the decisions of the Supreme
Court, the moment they are made, the people will cease to be their
own masters; having to that extent resigned their government into
the hands of that eminent tribunal.”
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Italic type is marked by underscore (_), black letter by asterisk (*).
The following changes have been made to the text:
page 65, “Charlotteville” changed to “Charlottesville”
page 73, “goverment” changed to “government”
page 93, “1795” changed to “1793”
page 98, “circumtances” changed to “circumstances”
Both “draught” and “draft” are used in the text.