Chapter XIV

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]

[46] At Mont Blanco, a place near Petersburg.

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]

[47] Mrs. Adams's letters, vol. ii., p. 239.

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.