Jefferson goes to Philadelphia.—Letters to his Daughters.—Returns to Monticello.—Letters to his Daughter.—Goes back to Philadelphia.—Family Letters.—Letters to Mrs. and Miss Church.—Bonaparte.—Letters to his Daughters.—Is nominated as President.—Seat of Government moved to Washington.—Spends the Summer at Monticello.—Letters to his Daughter.—Jefferson denounced by the New England Pulpit.—Letter to Uriah Gregory.—Goes to Washington.
The third session of the Fifth Congress compelling Mr. Jefferson to be in Philadelphia again, he left Monticello for that city the latter part of December, 1798, and arrived there on Christmas-day. During his stay in the capital he wrote the following charming and interesting letters to his daughters: To Mary Jefferson Eppes. Philadelphia, Jan. 1st, '99. My dear Maria—I left Monticello on the 18th of December, and arrived here to breakfast on the 25th, having experienced no accident or inconvenience except a slight cold, which brought back the inflammation of my eyes, and still continues it, though so far mended as to give hopes of its going off soon. I took my place in Senate before a single bill was brought in or other act of business done, except the Address, which is exactly what I ought to have nothing to do with; and, indeed, I might have staid at home a week longer without missing any business for the last eleven days. The Senate have met only on five, and then little or nothing to do. However, when I am to write on politics I shall address my letter to Mr. Eppes. To you I had rather indulge the effusions of a heart which tenderly loves you, which builds its happiness on yours, and feels in every other object but little interest. Without an object here which is not alien to me, and barren of every delight, I turn to your situation with pleasure, in the midst of a good family which loves you, and merits all your love. Go on, my dear, in cultivating the invaluable possession of their affections. The circle of our nearest connections is the only one in which a faithful and lasting affection can be found, one which will adhere to us under all changes and chances. It is, therefore, the only soil on which it is worth while to bestow much culture. Of this truth you will become more convinced every day you advance into life. I imagine you are by this time about removing to Mont Blanco. The novelty of setting up housekeeping will, with all its difficulties, make you very happy for a while. Its delights, however, pass away in time, and I am in hopes that by the spring of the year there will be no obstacle to your joining us at Monticello. I hope I shall, on my return, find such preparation made as will enable me rapidly to get one room after another prepared for the accommodation of our friends, and particularly of any who may be willing to accompany or visit you there. Present me affectionately to Mrs. and Mr. Eppes, father and son, and all the family. Remember how pleasing your letters will be to me, and be assured of my constant and tender love. Adieu, my ever dear Maria. Yours affectionately, TH. JEFFERSON.
The following are extracts from two letters to Mrs. Randolph: To Martha Jefferson Randolph. Philadelphia, Jan. 23d, '99. The object of this letter, my very dear Martha, is merely to inform you I am well, and convey to you the expressions of my love. It will not be new to tell you your letters do not come as often as I could wish. This deprives me of the gleams of pleasure wanting to relieve the dreariness of this scene, where not one single occurrence is calculated to produce pleasing sensations. I hope you are all well, and that the little ones, even Ellen, talk of me sometimes.... Kiss all the little ones, and receive the tender and unmingled effusions of my love to yourself. Adieu.
Philadelphia, Feb. 5th, '99. Jupiter, with my horses, must be at Fredericksburg on Tuesday evening, the 5th of March. I shall leave this place on the 1st or 2d. You will receive this the 14th instant. I am already light-hearted at the approach of my departure. Kiss my dear children for me. Inexpressible love to yourself, and the sincerest affection to Mr. Randolph. Adieu.
To Mary Jefferson Eppes. Philadelphia, Feb. 7th, '99. Your letter, my dear Maria, of January 21st, was received two days ago. It was, as Ossian says, or would say, like the bright beams of the moon on the desolate heath. Environed here in scenes of constant torment, malice, and obloquy, worn down in a station where no effort to render service can avail any thing, I feel not that existence is a blessing, but when something recalls my mind to my family or farm. This was the effect of your letter; and its affectionate expressions kindled up all those feelings of love for you and our dear connections which now constitute the only real happiness of my life. I am now feeding on the idea of my departure for Monticello, which is but three weeks distant. The roads will then be so dreadful, that, as to visit you even by the direct route of Fredericksburg and Richmond would add one hundred miles to the length of my journey, I must defer it, in the hope that about the last of March, or first of April, I may be able to take a trip express to see you. The roads will then be fine; perhaps your sister may join in a flying trip, as it can only be for a few days. In the mean time, let me hear from you. Letters which leave Richmond after the 21st instant should be directed to me at Monticello. I suppose you to be now at Mont Blanco, and therefore do not charge you with the delivery of those sentiments of esteem which I always feel for the family at Eppington. I write to Mr. Eppes. Continue always to love me, and be assured that there is no object on earth so dear to my heart as your health and happiness, and that my tenderest affections always hang on you. Adieu, my ever dear Maria. TH. JEFFERSON.
Mr. Jefferson left the Seat of Government on the first of March; and the following letters, written immediately on his arrival at Monticello, will show how much his affairs at home suffered during his absence. Indeed he seemed to be able only to get the workmen fairly under way on his house, when a call to Philadelphia would again suspend operations on it almost entirely until his return. To Mary Jefferson Eppes.[46] Monticello, March 8th, '99. My dear Maria—I am this moment arrived here, and the post being about to depart, I sit down to inform you of it. Your sister came over with me from Belmont, where we left all well. The family will move over the day after to-morrow. They give up the house there about a week hence. We want nothing now to fill up our happiness but to have you and Mr. Eppes here. Scarcely a stroke has been done towards covering the house since I went away, so that it has remained open at the north end another winter. It seems as if I should never get it inhabitable. I have proposed to your sister a flying trip, when the roads get fine, to see you. She comes into it with pleasure; but whether I shall be able to leave this for a few days is a question which I have not yet seen enough of the state of things to determine. I think it very doubtful. It is to your return, therefore, that I look with impatience, and shall expect as soon as Mr. Eppes's affairs will permit. We are not without hopes he will take a trip up soon to see about his affairs here, of which I yet know nothing. I hope you are enjoying good health, and that it will not be long before we are again united in some way or other. Continue to love me, my dear, as I do you most tenderly. Present me affectionately to Mr. Eppes, and be assured of my constant and warmest love. Adieu, my ever dear Maria.
Mrs. Eppes reached Monticello at last, and Jefferson was made happy by having all of his children and grandchildren once more assembled under his roof, where they spent the summer happily together. Jefferson returned to Philadelphia the last days of December; and we find the same weariness of the life he led there, and the same longing for home, in the following letters, as we have seen in the preceding. In these we find, however, a stronger spice of politics than in the former. To Mary Jefferson Eppes. Philadelphia, Jan. 17th, 1800. My dear Maria—I received at Monticello two letters from you, and meant to have answered them a little before my departure for this place; but business so crowded upon me at that moment that it was not in my power. I left home on the 21st, and arrived here on the 28th of December, after a pleasant journey of fine weather and good roads, and without having experienced any inconvenience. The Senate had not yet entered into business, and I may say they have not yet entered into it; for we have not occupation for half an hour a day. Indeed, it is so apparent that we have nothing to do but to raise money to fill the deficit of five millions of dollars, that it is proposed we shall rise about the middle of March; and as the proposition comes from the Eastern members, who have always been for sitting permanently, while the Southern are constantly for early adjournment, I presume we shall rise then. In the mean while, they are about to renew the bill suspending intercourse with France, which is in fact a bill to prohibit the exportation of tobacco, and to reduce the tobacco States to passive obedience by poverty. J. Randolph has entered into debate with great splendor and approbation. He used an unguarded word in his first speech, applying the word "ragamuffin" to the common soldiery. He took it back of his own accord, and very handsomely, the next day, when he had occasion to reply. Still, in the evening of the second day, he was jostled, and his coat pulled at the theatre by two officers of the Navy, who repeated the word "ragamuffin." His friends present supported him spiritedly, so that nothing further followed. Conceiving, and, as I think, justly, that the House of Representatives (not having passed a law on the subject) could not punish the offenders, he wrote a letter to the President, who laid it before the House, where it is still depending. He has conducted himself with great propriety, and I have no doubt will come out with increase of reputation, being determined himself to oppose the interposition of the House when they have no law for it. M. du Pont, his wife and family, are arrived at New York, after a voyage of three months and five days. I suppose after he is a little recruited from his voyage we shall see him here. His son is with him, as is also his son-in-law, Bureau Pusy, the companion and fellow-sufferer of Lafayette. I have a letter from Lafayette of April; he then expected to sail for America in July, but I suspect he awaits the effect of the mission of our ministers. I presume that Madame de Lafayette is to come with him, and that they mean to settle in America. The prospect of returning early to Monticello is to me a most charming one. I hope the fishery will not prevent your joining us early in the spring. However, on this subject we can speak together, as I will endeavor, if possible, to take Mont Blanco and Eppington in my way. A letter from Dr. Carr, of December 27, informed me he had just left you well. I become daily more anxious to hear from you, and to know that you continue well, your present state being one which is most interesting to a parent; and its issue, I hope, will be such as to give you experience what a parent's anxiety may be. I employ my leisure moments in repassing often in my mind our happy domestic society when together at Monticello, and looking forward to the renewal of it. No other society gives me now any satisfaction, as no other is founded in sincere affection. Take care of yourself, my dear Maria, for my sake, and cherish your affections for me, as my happiness rests solely on yours, and on that of your sister's and your dear connections. Present me affectionately to Mr. Eppes, to whom I inclosed some pamphlets some time ago without any letter; as I shall write no letters the ensuing year, for political reasons which I explained to him. Present my affections also to Mrs. and Mr. Eppes, Senior, and all the family, for whom I feel every interest that I do for my own. Be assured yourself, my dear, of my most tender and constant love. Adieu. Yours affectionately and forever, TH. JEFFERSON.
To Martha Jefferson Randolph. Philadelphia, Jan. 21st, 1800. I am made happy by a letter from Mr. Eppes, informing me that Maria was become a mother, and was well. It was written the day after the event. These circumstances are balm to the painful sensations of this place. I look forward with hope to the moment when we are all to be reunited again. I inclose a little tale for Anne. To Ellen you must make big promises, which I know a bit of gingerbread will pay off. Kiss them all for me. My affectionate salutations to Mr. Randolph, and tender and increasing love to yourself. Adieu, my dear Martha. Affectionately yours, etc.
To Mrs. Church. Philadelphia, Jan. 21st, 1800. I am honored, my dear Madam, with your letter of the 16th inst., and made happy by the information of your health. It was matter of sincere regret on my arrival here to learn that you had left it but a little before, after passing some time here. I should have been happy to have renewed to you in person the assurances of my affectionate regards, to have again enjoyed a society which brings to me the most pleasant recollections, and to have past in review together the history of those friends who made an interesting part of our circle, and for many of whom I have felt the deepest affliction. My friend Catherine I could have entertained with details of her living friends, whom you are so good as to recollect, and for whom I am to return you thankful acknowledgments. I shall forward your letter to my daughter Eppes, who, I am sure, will make you her own acknowledgments. It will find her "in the straw;" having lately presented me with the first honors of a grandfather on her part. Mrs. Randolph has made them cease to be novelties—she has four children. We shall teach them all to grow up in esteem for yourself and Catherine. Whether they or we may have opportunities of testifying it personally must depend on the chapter of events. I am in the habit of turning over its next leaf with hope, and though it often fails me, there is still another and another behind. In the mean time, I cherish with fondness those affectionate sentiments of esteem and respect with which I am, my dear Madam, your sincere and humble servant, TH. JEFFERSON.
To Catherine Church. Philadelphia, Jan. 22d, 1800. I wrote to your mamma yesterday, my dear Catherine, intending to have written by the same post to yourself. An interruption, however, put it out of my power. It was the more necessary to have done it, as I had inadvertently made an acknowledgment in my letter to her instead of yourself, of yours of the 16th. I receive with sincere pleasure this evidence of your recollection, and assure you I reflect with great pleasure on the scenes which your letter recalls. You are often the subject of our conversation, not indeed at our fireside, for that is the season of our dispersion, but in our summer walks when the family reassembles at Monticello. You are tenderly remembered by both Mrs. Randolph and Mrs. Eppes, and I have this day notified Maria that I have promised you a letter from her. She was not much addicted to letter-writing before; and I fear her new character of mother may furnish new excuses for her remissness. Should this, however, be the occasion of my becoming the channel of your mutual love, it may lessen the zeal with which I press her pen upon her. But in whatever way I hear from you, be assured it will always be with that sincere pleasure which is inspired by the sentiments of esteem and attachment with which I am, my dear Catherine, your affectionate friend and humble servant, TH. JEFFERSON.
In a letter to Mr. Randolph, written early in February, Mr. Jefferson makes the following remarks about Bonaparte: To Thomas Mann Randolph. Should it be really true that Bonaparte has usurped the Government with an intention of making it a free one, whatever his talents may be for war, we have no proofs that he is skilled in forming governments friendly to the people. Wherever he has meddled, we have seen nothing but fragments of the old Roman governments stuck into materials with which they can form no cohesion: we see the bigotry of an Italian to the ancient splendor of his country, but nothing which bespeaks a luminous view of the organization of rational government. Perhaps, however, this may end better than we augur; and it certainly will if his head is equal to true and solid calculations of glory.
And again, in a letter of a few days' later date, to Samuel Adams: To Samuel Adams. I fear our friends on the other side of the water, laboring in the same cause, have yet a great deal of crime and misery to wade through. My confidence has been placed in the head, not in the heart of Bonaparte. I hoped he would calculate truly the difference between the fame of a Washington and a Cromwell. Whatever his views may be, he has at least transferred the destinies of the Republic from the civil to the military arm. Some will use this as a lesson against the practicability of republican government. I read it as a lesson against the danger of standing armies.
We continue his family letters. To Martha Jefferson Randolph. Philadelphia, Feb. 11th, 1800. A person here has invented the prettiest improvement in the forte-piano I have ever seen. It has tempted me to engage one for Monticello; partly for its excellence and convenience, partly to assist a very ingenious, modest, and poor young man, who ought to make a fortune by his invention.... There is really no business which ought to keep us one fortnight. I am therefore looking forward with anticipation of the joy of seeing you again ere long, and tasting true happiness in the midst of my family. My absence from you teaches me how essential your society is to my happiness. Politics are such a torment that I would advise every one I love not to mix with them. I have changed my circle here according to my wish, abandoning the rich and declining their dinners and parties, and associating entirely with the class of science, of whom there is a valuable society here. Still, my wish is to be in the midst of our own families at home.... Kiss all the dear little ones for me; do not let Ellen forget me; and continue to me your love in return for the constant and tender attachment of yours affectionately.
To Mary Jefferson Eppes. Philadelphia, Feb. 12th. 1800. My dear Maria—Mr. Eppes's letter of January 17th had filled me with anxiety for your little one, and that of the 25th announced what I had feared. How deeply I feel it in all its bearings I shall not say—nor attempt consolation when I know that time and silence are the only medicines. I shall only observe, as a source of hope to us all, that you are young, and will not fail to possess enough of these dear pledges which bind us to one another and to life itself. I am almost hopeless in writing to you, from observing that, at the date of Mr. Eppes's letter of January 25th, three which I had written to him and one to you had not been received. That to you was January 17th, and to him December 21, January 22, and one which only covered some pamphlets. That of December 21st was on the subject of Powell, and would of course give occasion for an answer. I have always directed to Petersburg; perhaps Mr. Eppes does not have inquiries made at the post-office there.... I will inclose this to the care of Mr. Jefferson.... I fully propose, if nothing intervenes to prevent it, to take Chesterfield in my way home. I am not without hopes you will be ready to go on with me; but at any rate that you will soon follow. I know no happiness but when we are all together. You have, perhaps, heard of the loss of Jupiter. With all his defects, he leaves a void in my domestic arrangements which can not be filled. Mr. Eppes's last letter informed me how much you had suffered from your breasts; but that they had then suppurated, and the inflammation and consequent fever abated. I am anxious to hear again from you, and hope the next letter will announce your re-establishment. It is necessary for my tranquillity that I should hear from you often; for I feel inexpressibly whatever affects your health or happiness. My attachments to the world, and whatever it can offer, are daily wearing off; but you are one of the links which hold to my existence, and can only break off with that. You have never, by a word or deed, given me one moment's uneasiness; on the contrary, I have felt perpetual gratitude to Heaven for having given me in you a source of so much pure and unmixed happiness; go on then, my dear, as you have done, in deserving the love of every body; you will reap the rich reward of their esteem, and will find that we are working for ourselves while we do good to others. I had a letter from your sister yesterday. They were all well. One from Mr. Randolph had before informed me they had got to Edgehill, and were in the midst of mud, smoke, and the uncomfortableness of a cold house. Mr. Trist is here alone, and will return soon. Present me affectionately to Mr. Eppes, and tell him when you can not write he must; as also to the good family at Eppington, to whom I wish every earthly good. To yourself, my dear Maria, I can not find expressions for my love. You must measure it by the feelings of a warm heart. Adieu. TH. JEFFERSON.
To Mary Jefferson Eppes. Philadelphia, April 6th, 1800. I have at length, my ever dear Maria, received by Mr. Eppes's letter of March 24 the welcome news of your recovery—welcome, indeed, to me, who have passed a long season of inexpressible anxiety for you; and the more so as written accounts can hardly give one an exact idea of the situation of a sick person. I wish I were able to leave this place and join you; but we do not count on rising till the first or second week of May. I shall certainly see you as soon after that as possible, at Mont Blanco or Eppington, at whichever you may be, and shall expect you to go up with me, according to the promise in Mr. Eppes's letter. I shall send orders for my horses to be with you, and wait for me if they arrive before me. I must ask Mr. Eppes to write me a line immediately by post, to inform me at which place you will be during the first and second weeks of May, and what is the nearest point on the road from Richmond where I can quit the stage and borrow a horse to go on to you. If written immediately I may receive it here before my departure. Mr. Eppes's letter informs me your sister was with you at that date; but from Mr. Randolph I learn she was to go up this month. The uncertainty where she was, prevented my writing to her for a long time. If she is still with you, express to her all my love and tenderness for her. Your tables have been ready some time, and will go in a vessel which sails for Richmond this week. They are packed in a box marked J. W. E., and will be delivered to Mr. Jefferson, probably about the latter part of this month. I write no news for Mr. Eppes, because my letters are so slow in getting to you that he will see every thing first in the newspapers. Assure him of my sincere affections, and present the same to the family of Eppington, if you are together. Cherish your own health for the sake of so many to whom you are so dear, and especially for one who loves you with unspeakable tenderness. Adieu, my dearest Maria. TH. JEFFERSON.
To Martha Jefferson Randolph. Philadelphia, April 22d, 1800. Mr. Eppes informs me that Maria was so near well that they expected in a few days to go to Mont Blanco. Your departure gives me a hope her cure was at length established. A long and painful case it has been, and not the most so to herself or those about her; my anxieties have been excessive. I shall go by Mont Blanco to take her home with me.... I long once more to get all together again; and still hope, notwithstanding your present establishment, you will pass a great deal of the summer with us. I wish to urge it just so far as not to break in on your and Mr. Randolph's desires and convenience. Our scenes here can never be pleasant; but they have been less stormy, less painful than during the X Y Z paroxysms.
During the session of Congress the Republicans nominated as candidates for the coming Presidential election Mr. Jefferson for President and Aaron Burr for Vice-President. The opposite party chose as their nominees, Mr. Adams and Mr. Pinckney. The Seat of Government was moved to Washington in June, 1800. We can well understand how disagreeable the change from the comfortable city of Philadelphia to a rough, unfinished town must have been. Mrs. Adams seems to have felt it sensibly, and in the following letter to her daughter has left us an admirable and amusing picture of it: From Mrs. Adams. I arrived here on Sunday last, and without meeting with any accident worth noticing, except losing ourselves when we left Baltimore, and going eight or nine miles on the Frederick road, by which means we were obliged to go the other eight through woods, where we wandered two hours without finding a guide or the path. Fortunately a straggling black came up with us, and we engaged him as a guide to extricate us out of our difficulty; but woods are all you see from Baltimore until you reach the city, which is only so in name. Here and there is a small cot, without a glass window, interspersed among the forests, through which you travel miles without seeing any human being. In the city there are buildings enough, if they were compact and finished, to accommodate Congress and those attached to it; but as they are, and scattered as they are, I see no great comfort for them. The river which runs up to Alexandria is in full view of my window, and I see the vessels as they pass and repass. The house is upon a grand and superb scale, requiring about thirty servants to attend and keep the apartments in proper order, and perform the ordinary business of the house and stables; an establishment very well proportioned to the President's salary! The lighting the apartments from the kitchen to parlors and chambers is a tax indeed, and the fires we are obliged to keep to secure us from daily agues is another very cheering comfort. To assist us in this great castle, and render less attendance necessary, bells are wholly wanting, not one single one being hung through the whole house, and promises are all you can obtain. This is so great an inconvenience, that I know not what to do, or how to do. The ladies from Georgetown and in the city have many of them visited me. Yesterday I returned fifteen visits—but such a place as Georgetown appears—why, our Milton is beautiful. But no comparisons;—if they will put me up some bells, and let me have wood enough to keep fires, I design to be pleased. I could content myself almost anywhere three months; but, surrounded with forests, can you believe that wood is not to be had, because people can not be found to cut and cart it? Briesler entered into a contract with a man to supply him with wood. A small part, a few cords only, has he been able to get. Most of that was expended to dry the walls of the house before we came in, and yesterday the man told him it was impossible for him to procure it to be cut and carted. He has had recourse to coals; but we can not get grates made and set. We have, indeed, come into a new country. You must keep all this to yourself, and when asked how I like it, say that I write you the situation is beautiful, which is true. The house is made habitable, but there is not a single apartment finished, and all within side, except the plastering, has been done since Briesler came. We have not the least fence, yard, or other conveniences without, and the great unfinished audience-room I make a drying-room of to hang up the clothes in. The principal stairs are not up, and will not be this winter. Six chambers are made comfortable; two are occupied by the President and Mr. Shaw; two lower rooms, one for a common parlor, and one for a levee-room. Up stairs there is the oval-room, which is designed for the drawing-room, and has the crimson furniture in it. It is a very handsome room now; but when completed it will be beautiful. If the twelve years, in which this place has been considered as the future Seat of Government, had been improved, as they would have been if in New England, very many of the present inconveniences would have been removed. It is a beautiful spot, capable of every improvement, and the more I view it the more I am delighted with it.[47]
The whole summer of 1800 was spent by Jefferson quietly at home. He only left Monticello once, and that was to pay a short visit to Bedford. He was unusually busy on his farms and with his house. He took no part whatever in the political campaign, and held himself entirely aloof from it. In the following letter we find betrayed all the tender anxieties of a fond and loving father: To Mary Jefferson Eppes. Monticello, July 4th, 1800. My dear Maria—We have heard not a word of you since the moment you left us. I hope you had a safe and pleasant journey. The rains which began to fall here the next day gave me uneasiness lest they should have overtaken you also. Dr. and Mrs. Bache have been with us till the day before yesterday. Mrs. Monroe is now in our neighborhood, to continue during the sickly months. Our forte-piano arrived a day or two after you left us. It has been exposed to a great deal of rain, but being well covered was only much untuned. I have given it a poor tuning. It is the delight of the family, and all pronounce what your choice will be. Your sister does not hesitate to prefer it to any harpsichord she ever saw except her own; and it is easy to see it is only the celestini which retains that preference. It is as easily tuned as a spinette and will not need it half as often. Our harvest has been a very fine one. I finish to-day. It is the heaviest crop of wheat I ever had. A murder in our neighborhood is the theme of its present conversation. George Carter shot Birch, of Charlottesville, in his own door and on very slight provocation. He died in a few minutes. The examining court meets to-morrow. As your harvest must be over as soon as ours, we hope to see Mr. Eppes and yourself. All are well here except Ellen, who is rather drooping than sick; and all are impatient to see you—no one so much as he whose happiness is wrapped up in yours. My affections to Mr. Eppes and tenderest love to yourself. Hasten to us. Adieu. TH. JEFFERSON.
During the political campaign of the summer of 1800, Jefferson was denounced by many divines—who thought it their duty to preach politics instead of Christian charity—as an atheist and a French infidel. These attacks were made upon him by half the clergy of New England, and by a few in other Northern States; in the former section, however, they were most virulent. The common people of the country were told that should he be elected their Bibles would be taken from them. In New York the Reverend Doctor John M. Mason published a pamphlet attacking Jefferson, which was entitled, "The voice of Warning to Christians on the ensuing Election." In New England sermons preached against Jefferson were printed and scattered through the land; among them one in which a parallel is drawn between him and the wicked Rehoboam. In another his integrity was impeached. This last drew from Jefferson the following notice, in a letter written to Uriah McGregory, of Connecticut, on the 13th of August, 1800: To Mr. McGregory. From the moment that a portion of my fellow-citizens looked towards me with a view to one of their highest offices, the floodgates of calumny have been opened upon me; not where I am personally known, where their slanders would be instantly judged and suppressed, from a general sense of their falsehood; but in the remote parts of the Union, where the means of detection are not at hand, and the trouble of an inquiry is greater than would suit the hearers to undertake. I know that I might have filled the courts of the United States with actions for these slanders, and have ruined, perhaps, many persons who are not innocent. But this would be no equivalent to the loss of character. I leave them, therefore, to the reproof of their own consciences. If these do not condemn them, there will yet come a day when the false witness will meet a Judge who has not slept over his slanders. If the reverend Cotton Mather Smith, of Shena, believed this as firmly as I do, he would surely never have affirmed that I had obtained my property by fraud and robbery; that in one instance I had defrauded and robbed a widow and fatherless children of an estate, to which I was executor, of ten thousand pounds sterling, by keeping the property, and paying them in money at the nominal rate, when it was worth no more than forty for one; and that all this could be proved. Every tittle of it is fable—there not having existed a single circumstance of my life to which any part of it can hang. I never was executor but in two instances, both of which having taken place about the beginning of the Revolution, which withdrew me immediately from all private pursuits, I never meddled in either executorship. In one of the cases only were there a widow and children. She was my sister. She retained and managed the estate in her own hands, and no part of it was ever in mine. In the other I was a co-partner, and only received, on a division, the equal portion allotted me. To neither of these executorships, therefore, could Mr. Smith refer. Again, my property is all patrimonial, except about seven or eight hundred pounds' worth of lands, purchased by myself and paid for, not to widows and orphans, but to the very gentlemen from whom I purchased. If Mr. Smith, therefore, thinks the precepts of the Gospel intended for those who preach them as well as for others, he will doubtless some day feel the duties of repentance, and of acknowledgment in such forms as to correct the wrong he has done. Perhaps he will have to wait till the passions of the moment have passed away. All this is left to his own conscience. These, Sir, are facts well known to every person in this quarter, which I have committed to paper for your own satisfaction, and that of those to whom you may choose to mention them. I only pray that my letter may not go out of your own hands, lest it should get into the newspapers, a bear-garden scene into which I have made it a point to enter on no provocation.
Jefferson went to Washington the last of November, the length and tedium of the journey to the new capital being nothing in comparison to what it had been to the old.
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