University of Virginia Library

THE PRIVATE LIFE OF THOMAS JEFFERSON

By Judge Richard Thomas Walker Duke, Jr., of Charlottesville, Va.

I deem myself peculiarly fortunate in being asked to speak at this time
and at this place and in this presence upon "The Private Life of Thomas
Jefferson."

We are "atmosphered"—to use Goethe's word—during these days with
the thoughts of this great man's work in the founding of the Institution
whose hundredth anniversary we are celebrating. We forget for the moment
the wonderful brilliancy of his statesmanship, the breadth of his philosophy,
the depth of his marvelous intellect. We think of him to-day as the Father
of the University of Virginia.

But I wish to speak to you of him as the tender and solicitous father of
most affectionate children; as the devoted and loving husband; the generous
neighbor; the good citizen; the faithful zealous, kind master of many slaves.
The place where we stand suggests all these things. In plain sight from yon
eastern portico we look down upon his birthplace—upon the fields "where
once his happy childhood played." Here stands the house he builded—
carefully watched over and preserved by its hospitable and patriotic owner.
Everything suggests the man. It is the man of whom I would speak. In the
august presence of the distinguished visitors who face me I am no less fortunate—representing,
as they do, so many peoples and countries. They
may—doubtless will—keep in no long memory the words I may speak, but I
wish them to remember the facts I briefly relate, so that they may be able to
recall those facts and know that, great as he was, Jefferson was no less great
in the beautiful characteristics which make up pure and noble manhood, and
that his private life should deserve the plaudits of mankind no less than his
public career.

And I do this because no man was ever so foully belied; no man more
wilfully and falsely attacked. Some of us believe that the ugly vituperation
of greatness—the besmirching of private character for political purposes—
has well-nigh reached the zenith in these later days; but compared to the
attacks made on Jefferson during his lifetime they are but zephyrs compared
to a whirlwind. His bitter political opponents—and they were of the bitterest
kind—slandered him in every possible way. His domestic life, his relations
with his slaves, were made the target for the slings and arrows of contemptible
penny-a-liners and paltry politicians. These creatures seem to
have had in mind what Sidney Smith was to say at a future period: "Select
for your attack a place where there can be no reply and an opponent who
cannot retaliate and you may slander at will." For Jefferson disdained to
notice the barking of these wretched curs. He was always repugnant to
"provings and fendings of personal character" and, too great to reply, too
highminded to attempt to retaliate, he stood firm in the knowledge that
those who knew him best—his friends, his neighbors, those who loved him—
knew him, and before them he needed no defense. Even when Tommy
Moore—the "Little" man, the licentious verses of whose youth were the
shame of his old age—sang of him in vulgar strains, it is said that when the
lines were read to him he smiled and murmured, "What a pity poetry could
not always be truth and truth ever poetical."

Standing upon this mountain top, the purity of whose air is no purer
than Jefferson's private life, I recall the beginning of his married life, when
in a dark and snowy winter night he brought his young and beautiful bride
to this place. At Blenheim, a few miles away to the southwest, the deep
snow compelled the young couple to abandon their carriage and they rode

eight miles to Monticello. They arrived late at night. The servants had
retired, the fires were out. Too kindly and thoughtful to awaken the sleeping
servants, they went to yonder little office on my left, and soon a fire of
oak and hickory was blazing on the hearth; a bottle of old Madeira was
found on a shelf behind some books; the beloved violin was taken down, and
with song and merry laughter they passed the night until daylight gleamed
through the lattices. Here commenced a romance that ended only when, in
the room just behind me to my left, in the mansion, a pure and gentle spirit
took its flight and a bereaved widower lay fainting by the bedside where lay
the inanimate form of the only woman he ever loved, with a devotion as
holy as it was passionate, and as strong as it was pure.

It was my good fortune to know well that grand old gentleman, Thomas
Jefferson Randolph, Mr. Jefferson's grandson and the staff of his old age,
as he called him. With him I once roamed over this mountainside and went
in every room of this house. Space will not permit me to tell you of the
anecdote after anecdote that this venerable man poured into my all-willing
ears. Standing within a few feet of where I now stand he pointed out the
office of which I have told you and related to me the instance I have just
related. Then in a burst of indignation he remarked to me, "You have
heard the miserable lies the dirty politicians and political enemies have told
of my grandfather, Mr. Jefferson. Let me tell you no better, purer man ever
lived. Neither I nor any one else ever heard him utter an oath, tell a story
he could not have told in the presence of the most refined women, or use a
vulgar expression. He loved but one woman and clave to her and her
memory all his long life, and no father in all the world was more loving or
beloved, more solicitous or careful of his children."

He told me then of the book his daughter—my dear friend, Sarah N.
Randolph—was preparing, to show the beautiful private life of her sire's
grandsire—The Domestic Life of Thomas Jefferson. The copy of this book
he gave my honored father is one of the most prized books in my library.
It should be re-published.

No one can read this book without being convinced of the peculiar
sweetness and beauty of Mr. Jefferson's private life. No man but of the
noblest character could have written those letters contained in this volume,
to his children and friends, and as incident after incident is related in it we
recognize that it reveals indeed a man

It is very pleasant for me to say that all of these slanders against Mr.
Jefferson came from a distance. His neighbors—and some of them were his
bitterest political opponents—never repeated them—never believed any of
them. I have known in my lifetime more than a dozen men who knew Mr.

Jefferson personally. Two men I knew who saw Jefferson and Lafayette
embrace one another at the foot of this lawn. Every one of them said that
no neighbor of Mr. Jefferson believed one word of the vile stories told of
him, but that he was beloved, respected and admired as a high-minded
gentleman, a pure and upright man.

His daughters worshipped him. The grandson of whom I have spoken
could not mention his name save with a reverence as remarkable as it was
touching. When he lay a-dying at Edge Hill, down yonder a mile or two
away, he bade them roll his bed into the drawing-room, through whose
windows Monticello could be plainly seen, and his last earthly gaze was
upon this "Little Mountain," where beside his great ancestor's ashes his
own were soon to rest.

It cannot be amiss at this time to say something of the house in front of
which we now stand and of Mr. Jefferson's life here. The house was commenced
in 1764. It then faced to the east and was very much on the order
of the average Virginia residence. But after Mr. Jefferson's visit to France,
where he was very much struck with the architecture of that country, he remodeled
the house in the style in which we now see it. It has really never
been entirely completed. In his lifetime it was filled with works of art,
paintings, engravings and statuary, and contained the largest private library
in the United States.

Mr. Jefferson's life here was that of the simple Virginia farmer. He
arose early; a book always lay upon the mantelpiece in the dining room, and
if the meals were not on the table he read from this book until called to the
meal. He generally rode over the plantation every fair day, looking carefully
after the overseer as well as the hands. He kept a minute diary of all
the work day by day upon the plantation, and in it records of the direction
of the wind, the thermometer and barometer were carefully set down; the
budding of every plant and tree, the first appearance of any vegetable upon
the table, and a thousand minutiæ which fill us with amazement to note
how a man of his multitudinous affairs could take such minute pains over
things most men would consider trifles. In the afternoon he attended to his
various and varied correspondence. Many of his letters were written with
his left hand, as his right was seriously injured whilst abroad, the wrist being
broken. He had an ingenious arrangement by which the light of the candles
was shed upon his book or paper and shaded from his eyes. His voluminous
correspondence shows that he could never have wasted a single moment,
but that his long life was filled with an industry seldom surpassed. He was
very moderate in his food and drink. He very seldom touched ardent spirits
but was fond of good French wines and had them always on his table, though
he partook of them very sparingly. He was a moderate man in everything
except in that which related to the welfare of the people. To advance that

he was perfectly willing to be called "Radical" or almost any other name
which political opponents chose to give him. He was a man of wonderful
self-restraint, seldom if ever replying to any attack upon him in any way in
the public print, and here at this place which he loved more than any other
place upon earth, he spent the happiest and as he says, the best years of his
life.

As a neighbor Mr. Jefferson was most kind and generous: Always ready
with counsel and often more material aid, his advice was sought by all the
countryside, and freely given. He planned homes, he suggested improvements
in husbandry, and whenever his superbly groomed horse was seen
bearing him through what was then the little hamlet of Charlottesville his
course was often checked by those who wanted to ask his advice or benefit
by his wonderful knowledge.

As a citizen he took part—when at home—in everything that related
to the welfare of the county and State, giving to their small affairs the same
thought and attention he gave to the Nation. He was always on the lookout
for improvements in agriculture. You know he invented the mould
board of the plow—a greater service to humanity, I believe, than even the
great Declaration. He imported rare plants and seeds; he brought the first
seed-rice into America. Nothing was too great for the range of his mind—
nothing too small to be considered, if any good could be found in it.

Of his religious life we can only say that his faith was of the Unitarian
order, though he was never a member of any church. But he contributed
to the building of the first Episcopal Church in Charlottesville, and when
the rector thereof was building himself a house he sent him a handsome
contribution, with a playful letter. He never professed—he lived. The
Searcher of all hearts alone knows what that meant. But surely the faith of
that man is not in vain whose last words were "Lord, now let Thy servant
depart in peace."

He was the soul of hospitality. Colonel Randolph told me that he had
seen as many as sixty horses of visitors in the stables at Monticello at one
time. He was literally eaten out of house and home.

He recognized the evils of slavery, but also its benefits. He desired to
emancipate as far as possible his slaves. As a master he was firm but kindly
and considerate, and his servants loved him with that devotion which the
oldtime slave ever showed to the master who treated him well.

I must hasten to a close. In the time allotted to me I could but briefly
outline the main characteristics of the private life of this great man. I said in
the outset I deemed myself peculiarly fortunate in being asked to do this.
For never more than in this hour of the world's great changes is pure and
upright character more needed in statesmen—and men of private life as well.
Only good men can give us good government; for government is of men.

And never was the force of good example needed more. And after all, the
private virtues are those which are of the Immortals. Kingdoms rise and
fall; governments perish with the peoples that made them; philosophies
change, and the belief of to-day is the mockery of to-morrow. But virtue
and truth and purity; benevolence, integrity and the love of God and of
fellow men—these things are alike of yesterday and of to-morrow—of the
years of the past, the æons of the future; they alone survive when all else
perishes. Of them and through them comes the health of the nations—the
salvation of the world. They have their origin and their destiny alike in the
home of our Father and the bosom of our God.