1818. (Richmond and Monticello between Sessions.)

Once when at W[ashington]2 in 1818 having learnt that Mr. Charter, my former partner in the printing business at Walpole [New Hampshire], resided at Richmond, and never having seen the ocean except once or twice from its shore, I determined to visit that city, and return home to Boston by water. On my way thither, I called on a gentleman Mr. Pope, whom I had before seen; and from him I learned that the residence of Mr. Jefferson was not far distant. I expressed a desire to see him and he very civilly offered me a letter of introduction. The next day I rode to Charlottesville, and, on the following forenoon, I ascended to his residence on Monticello, by a steep road, which nearly encircled it. His dwelling house stood on the north border of a plateau containing several acres of level land, the middle of the house being an oblong, and each end a half circle. On enquiring at the door, I was told that Mr. Jefferson was taking his usual walk in his grounds, and was invited to enter and await his return. In a short time, I saw him thro the window among the trees, a tall, spare man, walking towards the house, throwing his legs about unmindful of his steps, like a man in a reverie. On entering he gave me a civil welcome, and, after reading the letter of introduction, took his seat, and began to converse on common topics, saying, however, nothing of politics. He spoke with interest of Lewis and Clark’s tour over the Rocky Mountains, a history of which lay on the table, and with animation and pathos of the feelings and sufferings of the revolutionary period. He observed, in substance, that he had read no history that gave such a glowing account of them as they deserved. Botta’s was the best. Marshall’s was an unimpassioned narrative of events, and failed to give a just idea of the intense feelings, lofty purposes, and constant sufferings of the people, during that period. The world did not know, and does not now know, how sad and dismayed, at various times, was the Continental Congress, to whom the posture of affairs was better known than to the people. It was at these times, when the rest of us were dispirited and silent, that the loud voice of John Adams, the Ajax of the body, resounded through the hall, revived our spirits and restored our confidence. To him, more than to any other man, is the country indebted for independence.

After staying an hour or two, I desired him to order a servant to lead my horse to the door. “Oh, no,” said he, “you must not leave me so soon; you must dine with me and sleep with me. But this is just the time when I invariably take a ride; and it is moreover my duty to visit, to day, the workmen on the University grounds and see what they are doing. Here are books, at your service, and you will find walks about the grounds. that may amuse you, till my return.”

I passed the time as he suggested very agreeably, and also in examining curiosities in the spacious hall, such as the skeleton, not wholly perfect, of a mammoth, and skeletons or bones, and stuffed skins, of other animals, which once inhabited Virginia, and of which some had been extinct. I saw there also a shirt, woven of steel wire, which he said was found in the southern part of the State.

On his return after an absence of a few hours, we were summoned to dinner. He offered me several kinds of wine, but said that he drank none but lachryma Christi, which was made from grapes that grew on the sides of Mount Vesuvius. I tasted of a dish, which was new to me, concocted of corn meal and grated cheese. He remarked that he was very fond of corn meal, in all the modes in which it could be presented as food for man; that when minister to France, he saw none, and longed for it; that when he visited Rome, observing “American Corn Meal,” on a shop door, he ordered a small quantity to be sent to his lodgings, and gave directions how to prepare it. “On tasting it, I found that the bread or cake had been made of your hard, dry northern corn—I’d as lief eat sawdust.” He offered me tomatoes, with the remark, that he introduced that plant, into this country, from Europe.

After dinner, the Christian religion became a topic of conversation. In the course of it I remarked that I had lately seen quoted, in a pamphlet, a letter from him, expressing a doubt whether Jesus Christ was the Son of God, and classing him with the great men of antiquity—Zoroaster, Socrates, Confucius, &c. He remembered no such letter; but after reflecting a while, he observed that something like that might have been said in his correspondence with Dr. Rush. This pamphlet, I observed, was the first of a series, seven or eight in all, on the subject of Unitarianism, and was published alternately by opponents and professors of that doctrine. The information interested him, and he was gratified when told that, on my return home, copies of all of them should be sent to him.