Soon after Mr. Jefferson entered upon the duties of his second term, a portentous storm darkened the horizon of his country, charged with the forked lightning of discord. In consequence of being disappointed in obtaining the presidential chair amidst the confusion he created when Mr. Jefferson was first elected, and superseded by Mr. Clinton as vice president at the expiration of four years, Aaron Burr mounted upon the whirlwind of his wild ambition, and attempted the formation of a new republic in the Spanish provinces on the Mississippi; apparently aiming at an ultimate division, if not dissolution of the United States. Although he was acquitted, after being tried for high treason, owing to his deep cunning in not committing the overt acts necessary to convict, yet the dark stigma of a traitor is marked upon the splendour of his brilliant talents, in traces so deep, that time, nor angels’ tears, can never remove it. Like a comet, propelled by its own centrifugal force from its constitutional orbit, he fell to rise no more, and our country was preserved from his Catiline grasp.
About the same time, France and Great Britain were at war, both of which, and more especially the latter, had repeatedly insulted the American flag under various but unwarranted pretences. Redress was promptly demanded, and measures pursued to obtain it. Anxious to preserve the peace of his country, but determined to vindicate her rights and maintain her dignity, Mr. Jefferson, whilst he prosecuted a vigorous negociation for the arrangement of a friendly intercourse and the adjustment of existing differences, prepared for the final alternative of war. He knew well the importance to England of the importing and exporting trade, and as a means of bringing her to honourable terms, recommended to congress the embargo law, which was passed on the 22nd of December, 1807. This measure was violently assailed by the opponents of the administration. It, however, had a salutary effect upon the British government, and caused a relinquishment of the most odious features of the assumptions of power that had been set up, followed by more conciliatory propositions on the part of England, for a final settlement of all difficulties and wrongs. Thus situated were the foreign relations of the United States when the second term of Mr. Jefferson expired, at which time he bid a final farewell to public life, and left the destinies of his beloved country in other hands. He had been an efficient and faithful labourer in the vineyard of American liberty for nearly forty years; he left it richly covered with foliage and fruit; in the full bloom of its vigour and health; enclosed by the palisades of honesty and truth; and adorned with the crowning glory of patriotism and philanthropy.
On the 3d of March, 1809, Thomas Jefferson surrendered the responsibilities of chief magistrate, ceased to be the active statesman, withdrew from the political arena, and again became a private citizen, surrounded by the halo of his country’s gratitude, consoled by the approbation of a pure conscience, and cheered by the plaudits of admiring millions.
From that time forward, he declined all public honours, and remained in peaceful retirement till the day of his death, seldom leaving his favourite Monticello. But he did not enter upon a life of inglorious ease. The same innate activity that had marked his brilliant career from his youth, the same nobleness of mind and energy of character that had raised him to the loftiest pinnacle fame could rear, still prompted him to action. He immediately reduced his time to a harmonious arrangement, and his whole business to the most perfect system. He uniformly rose before the sun, and held a supervision over all the concerns of his plantation. The various publications from his pen, during the period of his retirement, show that he laboured arduously in the fields of science and philosophy. For the promotion of literature and general intelligence he opened an extensive correspondence with men of letters, in this country and in Europe. He considered the diffusion of knowledge, among the great mass of the human family, the greatest safeguard against tyranny and oppression, the purest source of earthly bliss, and the surest passport to freedom and happiness.
Acting from this impulse, he submitted the plan of a University to the legislature of Virginia, to be erected at Charlottesville, a town situated at the foot of the mountain that reared its romantic scenery in front of his mansion. It was to be built with funds raised by donations from individuals and from the state, himself to be a liberal contributor. The plan of the buildings, the course of instruction, the mode of discipline, the duties and accountabilities of the officers and instructors, were all devised and drawn by Mr. Jefferson, and were so much admired and approved by the members of that legislative body, that they passed an act authorizing its adoption, and appointed its author Rector, to carry the design into effect. Upon the completion of that object he then devoted all necessary time, and more money than strict prudence called for. It became the doating object of his old age, and his strongest efforts were exerted in its accomplishment. These were crowned with success, and he had the happiness to live and see the University completed and filled with students. The course of instruction was designed to prepare the scholars for the general routine of business, both public and private, without being strictly classical. The library was selected by him with great judgment and care, and was confined to what may be termed useful books, treating upon subjects necessary to be understood by every citizen, to prepare him to discharge properly the duties he owes to himself, his family, his country, and his God. A catalogue, written by the hand of Jefferson, is still there, and carefully preserved. He exercised a parental care over this institution as long as his physical powers would permit; and was often seen viewing it with an exquisite pleasure and an honest pride. Much of his time was devoted to visiters, to whom his hospitality was liberally and kindly extended. Thousands of his own countrymen paid their grateful respects to him, and Europeans of distinction thought their tour in the United States incomplete, until they took by the hand the PATRIOT, the SAGE, the PHILOSOPHER, and the PHILANTHROPIST of Monticello. To delight, to instruct, and to please, he was peculiarly calculated. He was familiar with every subject; his mind united the vigour of youth with the experience of age; the strength of a giant with the innocence of a babe. The broad expanse of the universe, the stupendous works of nature, the Pierian fields of science, the deep recesses of philosophy, and the labyrinthian avenues of the intellect of man, seemed spread before him like a map of the world. He was an encyclopedia of the age he adorned, a lexicon of the times he enlightened, and one of the brightest diadems in the crown of his country’s glory.
With calm dignity and peaceful quietude, Mr. Jefferson glided down the stream of time towards the ocean of eternity, until he reached the eighty-fourth year of his age. Forty-four years had rolled over his head, since his amiable companion, the daughter of Mr. Wayles, an eminent lawyer of Virginia, had slumbered beneath the clods of the valley. One of two interesting daughters, the only children he ever had, was also resting in the silent grave. The charms of earth began to fade before him, and he felt sensibly that he was fast approaching the confines of another and a better world. The physical powers and mechanical structure of his frame were fast decaying; the canker worm of disease was doing its final work; and the angel of death stood over him with a keen blade, awaiting Jehovah’s signal to cut the thread of life, and set the prisoner free. Early in the spring of 1826, his bodily infirmities increased, and from the 26th of June to the time of his decease, he was confined to his bed. He then remarked to his physician, “my machine is worn out and can go no longer.” His friends who attended him, flattered themselves that he would again recover, but he was convinced that his voyage of life was about to close, and that he would soon cast his anchor in the haven of rest. To those around him he said, “do not imagine that I feel the smallest solicitude as to the result. I do not indeed wish to die, but I do not fear to die.” To his last moments, he manifested a peculiar anxiety for the future prosperity of the university which he had founded, regarding it as the youngest child of his old age. Assured that it would receive the fostering care of the state, he could say, now Lord, dismiss me. On the 2nd day of July, his body became extremely weak, but his mental powers remained as clear as a crystal fountain. He called his family and friends around him, and, with a cheerful countenance and calm dignity gave directions for his funeral obsequies. He requested that he might be interred at Monticello, without pomp or show, and that the inscription upon his tomb should only refer to him as “The author of the Declaration of Independence, of the Statutes of Virginia securing religious freedom, and as the father of the University.” He then conversed separately with each of his family: to his surviving daughter, Mrs. Randolph, he presented a small morocco case, which he requested her not to open until after his death, and when opened, was found to contain