The Road to Monticello

by Hayes, Kevin J. ;

  Jefferson’s letter is divided into three sections, all roughly equal in length. After the long initial discussion of domestic textile manufacture, he started the second paragraph suggesting that Adams’s letter had jogged his memory and prompted him to recall past events in which both men played important parts. Much as he had done in some of his political writings, Jefferson presented a brief historical survey of his subject, encompassing past, present, and future. Imagining the future, he asserted that the United States would thrive, continuing “to multiply and prosper until we exhibit an association, powerful, wise and happy, beyond what has yet been seen by men.”11

  A rhetorical question separates the second section from the third, which is largely personal in nature: “But whither is senile garrulity leading me?” This question serves as an abrupt transition to the next topic, his personal life. He told Adams about what he has been reading in his retirement: “I have given up newspapers in exchange for Tacitus and Thucydides, for Newton and Euclid; and I find myself much the happier.”12 He informed Adams that he remained active, spending three or four hours a day on horseback and periodically making the seventy-mile trek to Poplar Forest. His health was not perfect. He could seldom walk more than a mile. This lack of mobility did not bother him much because there were few activities he enjoyed more than staying at home with his grandchildren and his first great-grandchild.

  Unused to writing about himself at such length, Jefferson stopped short, telling Adams that he would rather be reading about him than writing about himself. He asked Adams to respond with a letter “full of egotisms, and of details of your health, your habits, occupations and enjoyments.”13

  Rush was delighted to learn that his two friends and fellow signers had successfully resumed their correspondence. He told Jefferson, “Few of the acts of my life have given me more pleasure than the one you are pleased to acknowledge in your last letter.” Rush made Jefferson privy to some information about the health of Adams’s daughter Abigail, who had breast cancer and had recently undergone a mastectomy. Rush was not so specific about her affliction, but he did say that she had been “saved from certain death by a painful operation.”14 Rush also wrote Adams to congratulate him on the resumption of his correspondence with Jefferson.

  Adams received Jefferson’s letter on February 1. Noticing that it was postmarked January 23 at Milton, Virginia, he was amazed that the letter had traveled so far so fast. He made the speed of the mail the subject of the opening paragraph of his response. Adams knew that the improvement of post roads had been a pet project for Jefferson throughout his public life; his information about the speed of this letter let Jefferson know that his efforts to improve the American transportation infrastructure had not been in vain.

  In his response, Adams took advantage of the openings Jefferson had built into his letter. Actually, Adams’s response helps explain precisely what Jefferson had meant by his term “openings”: startling facts about his life in retirement, direct questions, and unusual diction designed to provoke comment. Jefferson’s discussion of his reading prompted Adams to exclaim, “What an Exchange have you made? Of Newspapers for Newton! Rising from the lower deep of the lowest deep of Dulness and Bathos to the Contemplation of the Heavens and the heavens of Heavens.”15 Adams also informed Jefferson about his health. He was walking every sunny day, sometimes three or four miles a day. He rode occasionally but never more than ten or fifteen miles at a stretch. His hands trembled sometimes. That tremble was really the only malady that bothered him.16

  A great literary stylist in his own right, Adams reacted to the most unusual instance of Jefferson’s diction with a synonymous phrase of his own. After writing several pages, Adams explained, “My Senectutal Loquacity has more than retaliated your ‘Senile Garrulity.”’17 Adams’s playfulness enhances his affection for Jefferson. Knowing Jefferson’s enjoyment of neologisms, Adams invented a word himself, making an adjective from the noun senectute. Adams’s new word further ingratiated Jefferson: it takes its inspiration from a favorite work of theirs, Cicero’s De Senectute.

  Jefferson eventually received both volumes of John Quincy Adams’s Lectures and realized what Adams had meant by the two pieces of homespun. Wanting to make Adams a similar present, he already had something in mind. The Proceedings of the Government of the United States, in Maintaining the Public Right to the Beach of the Missisipi Adjacent to New-Orleans, against the Intrusion of Edward Livingston was going through the press that winter. Informing Rush of his plan to send Adams a copy of the book, Jefferson said that the gift “may not be unassuming to one who is himself a profound lawyer.”18

  The cover letter accompanying this presentation copy of The Proceedings begins, “I have it now in my power to send you a piece of homespun in return for that I recieved from you. Not of the fine texture, or delicate character of yours, or, to drop our metaphor, not filled as that was with that display of imagination which constitutes excellence in Belles lettres, but a mere sober, dry and formal piece of Logic.”19 Unlike less accomplished politicians, Jefferson recognized the impropriety of carrying a metaphor too far and knew precisely when to drop it.

  Adams responded to the gift with gratitude, humor, and shock. Referring to the actions taken by Edward Livingston, he commented, “Neddy is a naughty lad as well as a saucy one.” His tone soon grows serious: “Good God! Is a President of U. S. to be Subject to a private Action of every Individual? This will soon introduce the Axiom that a President can do no wrong; or another equally curious that a President can do no right.”20

  As their correspondence developed, certain topics would dominate for a few months and then give way to others. The third week of May 1812, for example, Adams expressed curiosity about Native American traditions and asked Jefferson if he could recommend any books on the subject. He was especially curious about indigenous religious practices and wanted to know if the American Indians had “any order of Priesthood among them, like the Druids, Bards or Minstrells of the Celtic nations.”21

  Jefferson responded swiftly and at considerable length. Early American accounts contained much good information on Indian customs, but their information on religious traditions was scanty. He recommended three authors: Theodor de Bry, Joseph-François Lafitau, and James Adair. The works of all three were useful but flawed. Lafitau, for example, spent several years in Canada among the Iroquois collecting data. He documented his experience in Moeurs des Sauvages Amériquains Comparées aux Moeurs des Premiers Temps, which used the comparative method to show how the Native Americans resembled the Ancients. Lafitau actually concluded that the American Indians descended from the Ancients. Furthermore, he asserted that the religion of both could be traced back to a pure, primitive religion.

  The problem Jefferson had with Lafitau was not his theory but the way he derived it. While Jefferson greatly appreciated the comparative method, he realized the approach was valid only when it was applied inductively, not deductively. Lafitau began with a preconceived theory about the shared heritage between people of the New World and those of the Old. Consequently, he selected only those empirical facts that supported his theory. The same could be said about James Adair, who theorized that the American Indians were descendants of the Jews. Even with these drawbacks, Lafitau’s work contained numerous firsthand observations that made it a valuable sourcebook. Furthermore, his literary style made Moeurs des Sauvages Amériquains a pleasure to read. Jefferson observed, “He was a man of much classical and scriptural reading, and has rendered his book not unentertaining.”22

  Recognizing Adams’s curiosity about Native American religious practices, Jefferson discussed how Adair, De Bry, and Lafitau depicted the religious leaders among the Indians:

  Lafitau calls them by their proper names, Jongleurs, Devins, Sortileges; De Bry praestigiatores, Adair himself sometimes Magi, Archimagi, cunning men, Seers, rain makers, and the modern Indian interpreters, call them Conjurers and Witches. They are persons pretending to have communications with the devil and
other evil spirits, to foretel future events, bring down rain, find stolen goods, raise the dead, destroy some, and heal others by enchantment, lay spells etc. And Adair, without departing from his parallel of the Jews and Indians, might have found their counterpart, much more aptly, among the Soothsayers, sorcerers and wizards of the Jews, their Jannes and Jambres, their Simon Magus, witch of Endor, and the young damsel whose sorceries disturbed Paul so much; instead of placing them in a line with their High-priest, their Chief priests, and their magnificent hierarchy generally.23

  Though this passage begins as a summary of the texts Jefferson was discussing, it shifts toward a critique of Western religious practices. But Jefferson did not stop here. Speaking of Indian attitudes toward Christian ministers, Jefferson observed: “So little idea have they of a regular order of priests, that they mistake ours for their Conjurers, and call them by that name.”24 Jefferson may have been interpreting the attitude toward priests held by American Indians, but his tone suggests that their opinions, at least when it came to Christian ministers, were right on target.

  That fall he and Adams took up the topic of early American literature. Adams introduced the subject. He was motivated by a pamphlet volume John Quincy Adams had found in Berlin containing three early-seventeenth-century works of Americana: Edward Johnson’s Wonder-Working Providence, Thomas Morton’s New English Canaan, and William Wood’s New Englands Prospect. John Adams was especially happy to acquire New English Canaan. He had heard about this rare work but had never seen a copy. Though Adams was not a great bookman like Jefferson, he spoke of this pamphlet volume lovingly. Writing to Jefferson, he personified the volume, calling it an adventurer for having made it as far as Berlin. Adams explained, “I have enquired for it, more than half a Century: but have never been able to learn that any Copy of it ever was seen in this Country. The Berlin Adventurer is I believe the only one in America.” In truth, it was not quite the only copy in the nation. Abiel Holmes had located a copy earlier while preparing his American Annals. Curious to learn more about New English Canaan, Adams asked Jefferson if he knew anything about the book. He even named some reference works Jefferson could use as starting points.25

  Jefferson was happy to help his friend. He did not have a copy of New English Canaan at Monticello, but he did have some of the reference books Adams recommended. He checked these and examined other works of Americana. His search was hampered because he had loaned out many relevant books, some to Louis Hue Girardin, who was completing Burk’s History of Virginia, and others to William Waller Hening, who was compiling the Virginia Statutes. Jefferson found Thomas Morton’s New English Canaan listed in Bishop White Kennett’s Bibliothecae Americanae. The most useful volume he had at Monticello for Adams’s purpose was Nathaniel Morton’s New-England’s Memorial, which detailed Thomas Morton’s exploits in New England. Writing Adams in October 1812, Jefferson told him where he looked and took the time to transcribe several pages from Nathaniel Morton’s New-England’s Memorial.

  He did not write Adams again until May 1813. By this time, he had received the sad news that Benjamin Rush had died the previous month. Jefferson lamented, “Another of our friends of 76. is gone, my dear Sir, another of the Co-signers of the independence of our country. And a better man, than Rush, could not have left us, more benevolent, more learned, of finer genius, or more honest. We too must go; and that ere long. I believe we are under half a dozen at present; I mean the signers of the Declaration.”26 Jefferson’s fondness for Rush shows in this passage, which also recognizes the special bond the signers shared. Thirty-seven years earlier they had put their lives on the line by signing the Declaration of Independence. With the resounding success of American democracy, they took great pride in their accomplishment. And they took an ongoing interest in the welfare of one another.

  Jefferson tried to remember who else survived. Besides himself and Adams, he thought of Elbridge Gerry and Charles Carroll of Carrollton.

  It was impossible to forget Gerry: he had yet to retire from public service. The year before, in fact, he had been elected vice president. The only other signers who might survive were Robert Treat Paine and William Floyd, but Jefferson was unsure whether either one was alive. He asked Adams if he knew.

  Responding to Jefferson, Adams honored Benjamin Rush, too: “I know of no Character living or dead, who has done more real good in America.”27 He informed Jefferson that Paine was still alive. At eighty-two, he was alert, droll, and witty, but quite deaf. Adams thought Floyd was still alive, but he was unsure. Actually, Floyd was living in happy obscurity in western New York. Ten years earlier, he had relocated his family to a small town on the Mohawk River.28

  Charles Thomson, though not a signer, had been instrumental to the cause of American independence as secretary to the Continental Congress. He, too, was alive and would remain so into the next decade, when his longevity became a subject of discussion for Jefferson and Adams. In 1822, Jefferson wrote, “Charles Thomson still lives at about the same age [ninety-three], chearful, slender as a grasshopper, and so much without memory that he scarcely recognizes the members of his household. An intimate friend of his called on him not long since: it was difficult to make him recollect who he was, and, sitting one hour, he told the same story 4. times over.” Adams reassured Jefferson that Thomson was not quite as bad as all that.29

  A potential source of friction between Adams and Jefferson arose in late spring 1813. Adams had been reading Thomas Belsham’s Memoirs of the Late Reverend Theophilus Lindsey. Essentially a study of the rise of the Unitarian Church in England, Belsham’s work includes an appendix containing several related documents. Among these are two letters Jefferson wrote to Joseph Priestley. The earlier letter is the one Jefferson wrote Priestley soon after his inauguration in March 1801 informing him that he no longer had to worry about being persecuted for his ideas and beliefs. The second one was the 1803 letter to Priestley in which Jefferson outlined his ideas for a work tracing the history of moral philosophy from antiquity to the time of Christ.

  Adams took offense at what Jefferson had to say in the earlier letter, which hinted that President Adams had held little hope for intellectual or scientific advancement. Adams asked Jefferson to explain what he meant. Jefferson had not seen Belsham’s Memoirs, but he located copies of the letters in his files. Regarding the first, Jefferson said, “It recalls to our recollection the gloomy transactions of the times, the doctrines they witnessed, and the sensibilities they excited. It was a confidential communication of reflections on these from one friend to another, deposited in his bosom, and never meant to trouble the public mind.”30 Though Adams had asked him to explain what he had written, Jefferson did not really offer an explanation. Instead, he described his impressions upon rereading the letter now after a lapse of a dozen years. He reminded Adams of the circumstances under which the letter was written and emphasized the impropriety of publishing private messages.

  Adams could tell by this response that his question had put Jefferson on the defensive. He wrote a follow-up letter with a calming effect. “Be not surprised or alarmed,” Adams said. “You have right and reason to feel and to resent the breach of Confidence, I have had enough of the same kind of Treachery and Perfidy practiced upon me, to know how to sympathize with you. I will agree with you, in unquallified censure of such Abuses. They are the worst Species of Tyranny over private Judgment and free Enquiry. They supress the free communication of Soul to Soul.”31 Nevermore would the slightest hint of controversy enter their correspondence.

  The second letter from Jefferson to Priestley appended to Belsham’s Memoirs prompted Adams to ask about Jefferson’s religious views. Jefferson responded by supplying the background behind the “Syllabus of an Estimate of the Merit of the Doctrines of Jesus, Compared with Those of Others.” He even promised to send a copy of the syllabus with the proviso: “I enclose it to you with entire confidence, free to be perused by yourself and Mrs. Adams, but by no one else; and to be returned to me.”32
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br />   The confidence Jefferson expressed in Abigail Adams marks another important development in his correspondence. At the end of the July 15, 1813, letter from Adams to Jefferson, the following postscript appears in a different hand, a hand Jefferson had not seen for eleven years now. Reading this postscript gave him great personal satisfaction:

  I have been looking for some time for a space in my good Husbands Letters to add the regards of an old Friend, which are still cherished and preserved through all the changes and vicissitudes which have taken place since we first became acquainted, and will I trust remains as long as

  A Adams

  Once again, Abigail Adams was happy to call Jefferson her friend. He wrote her a chatty letter responding to her postscript and talking about how much he enjoyed reading. He also offered a charming comment about his grandchildren: “I have compared notes with Mr. Adams on the score of progeny, and find I am ahead of him, and think I am in a fair way to keep so. I have 10 1/2 grandchildren, and 2 3/4 great-grand children; and these fractions will ere long become units.”33

  Sadly, Mr. and Mrs. Adams had a death in the family to report. In August, John Adams informed Jefferson that their daughter Abigail had passed away. The mastectomy had not removed all the cancer, which had spread to other parts of her body. At forty-nine, she had lost her long battle with cancer. Burdened with extreme pain during the final months of the affliction, she was, in her father’s words, “a monument to Suffering and to Patience.”34

  Abigail Adams wrote Jefferson separately. Her grief reinforced the insignificance of past squabbles and the importance of Jefferson’s friendship. She summed up the situation with a literary allusion she knew he would appreciate: “But altho, time has changed the outward form, and political ‘Back wounding calumny’ for a period interrupted the Friendly intercourse and harmony which subsisted, it is again renewed, purified from the dross.”35 Abigail Adams was alluding to a speech by Duke Vincentio in Measure for Measure, which applies equally to the attacks that both John Adams and Thomas Jefferson had suffered throughout their public lives: