Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1871-08-16
PRIVATE LIFE OF JEFFERSON.


volume entitled "Thomas Jefferson
and his family" 1t gives an inside
view of the private life of the great
statesman, derived from his letters
and family "reminiscences, that is
highly interesting, and will serve to
increase the reverence in which his
memory is held. We make some
extracts from the volume, and con-
dense some of the memoirs.
Aa1s YOUTHFUL AND COLLEGE DAYS.
Thomas Jefferson was born at Shad-
well, the family estate, five miles east
of Charlottesville, Virginia, April 13,
I742. The house was destroyed by fire
many years ago, and nothing now re-
mains to mark the spot but two or
three venerable sycamore trees, a part
of an avenue planted by his own hands
on his twenty-first birth day. The
location is q most beautiful one, and
standing on the summit of that gen.
tie hill, the traveller looks abroad over
fair landscape of stream, valley and
mountain, fruitful fields and grand
old forests-and can easily understand
why it was that Jefferson, from early
childhood to the hour of his death,
loved nature with such passionate de-
votion. Col. Peter Jefferson, his faith
er, was man of vigorous, though
not highly cultivated intellect, posses
sing that rare attribute, common sense
to a very remarkable degree; and this,
together with irm principles, un-
blemished honesty and dauntless
courage, he transmitted to his illustri-
GUS son. To his father, Jefferson was
also indebted for that fine physical
organization which enabled him to
attain the good old age of eighty
three, and retain full possession of all
his faculties to the very last. His
mother was Jane Randolph, and Shad-
well derived its name from the parish
in England where she was born.-
His father died when jefferson was
but fourteen years old, leaving a fami-
ly of six daughters and two sons,
Thomas being the elder, and from
that time forth the virtual head of the
house. At elementary schools, fol-
lowed by a regular course at William
and Mary's college, he gained not
merely sound education, but per-
haps as large an amount of real intel
lectual culture as any man of his day
in America. He excelled as a mathe-
matician, and was also. a finished
Greek, Latin, French, Spanish, and
italian scholar-acquirements not
often united in the same person even
in our own time. he once told
grandson that from the time when,
as boy, he had turned off weary from
play and first found pleasure in books
he had never sat down in idleness.-
In short, he was lifelong student
not of the printed page alone, but of
men and things and the world at large.
His manner of gathering practical
knowledge was simple, but wonder
fully sensible. No matter into whose
society he was thrown, he made it a
point to ascertain the subject with
which his companion was most famil-
lar, and if it happened to be one with
which he himself was not perfectly
conversant, he began series of in
quiries and soon knew all that the
other party had to tell. AS soon as
he returned home. he reduced the
items he had secured to writing, and
following this practice regularly he
accumulated store of information of
the greatest value, and which he was
always prepared to communicate to
others in a style suited to the compre-
hension of his audience. An anec-
dote will illustrate this peculiarity.-
While stopping one day at q country
inn, he entered into conversation
with a stranger, and after astoniSh-
ing him by the extent and variety of
his knowledge, bade him a courteous
adieu and departed. Going to the |
landlord, the man exclaimed, "Pray |
tell me who is that person? When !
be spoke of law, thought he was |
lawyer; when he spoke of medicine,
I felt sure he was physician; and |
when he touched on theology, I was
sure he must be clergyman" "Oh,"
replied the landlord, "I thought you |
knew the squire
HIS MARRIED LIFE.
In 1772 Jefferson married Martha
SHELTON, a young widow of twenty
three, who is described as q woman
Of great personal beauty, amiable, in
.elligeut, and unusually fascinating
IN manners. She died in 1882, having
been the mother of six children, only
.wo of whom, Martha and Mary, sur
Fived the period of infancy. The love
which Jefferson felt for his wife was
strong aud permanent, and her death
worked no change-for the memory
IF the lost one was as sacred to him
It three score years and ten as in the
irst month of his great sorrow. After
ne, too, had gone to the grave, there
we're found in private drawer in his
.oom, a number of little packages
locks OF hair of the wife,
laughter and infant children he had
ost. They were labeled in his own
andone bore this touch
ng inscription, which gives US
glimpse deep down into the mans
leart: "a lock of Lucy's hair, tCith
onle ofn1y dear, dear tcJe's tOy-iting."
His oldest daughter, Mrs. Randolph,
peaking of her mothers death, says:
GAS a nurse, no female ever had
more tenderness and anxiety than my
ather. He nursed my poor mother,
n turn with aunt Carr and her own
up and administering
Ter medicines and drink to the last.
For four months that she fingered he |
vas never out of calling when not
It her bedside, he was writing in a ]
mall room which opened immedi- ]
.tely at the head of her bed. A mo- |
nent before the closing scene, he was
ed from the room in a state of insen-
ibility by his sister, Mrs. Carr, who, {
With great difficulty, got him into the
library, where he tainted, and remain {
d so long insensible that they feared ]
le never would revive. The scene {
hat followed I did not witness, but
he violence of his emotion, when
.lmost by stealth, 1 entered his room
" night, to this day d.re not des- {
.ribe to myself. He kept his room
hree weeks, and Twas never q mo- !
nent from his side. He walked al
most necessarily night and day, only I
ying down occasionally, when nature ]
vas completely exhausted, on pallet '
hat had been brought in during his '
ong fainting fit. My aunts remained
With him constantly for some weeks {
L do not remember how many
When at last he left his room, he ]
ode out, and from that time was in
on horseback, rambling {
bout the mountains in the least fire. '
uented roads, and just as often thro' {
be woods. In those melancholy {
ambles I was hiseonstant companion
"a solitary witness to many burst '
{ grief, the remembrance of which {
Ias consecrated particular scenes of
nd y