Two hundred years ago today, on 4 February 1815, two young Massachusetts bibliophiles arrived at Monticello to visit Thomas Jefferson. George Ticknor and Francis Calley Gray spent the better part of three days with Jefferson, and much of that time was spent viewing Jefferson's books, which would shortly make their way to Washington to reconstitute the Library of Congress. Both Ticknor and Gray wrote about the experience (Ticknor in a letter to his father, Gray in his journal), and Ticknor would go on to engage in a lengthy correspondence with Jefferson through the rest of the former president's life. I'm working on editing a small collection of their letters for the Ticknor Society (the Boston bibliophilic society named for Ticknor and his daughter Anna), and since I've already made preliminary transcriptions of the two accounts of the visit to Monticello, I thought I'd post them here to mark the bicentennial of their visit.
I should note, too, that John Adams's letter of introduction to Jefferson on Ticknor's behalf is one of my favorites: it contains the great line "As
you are all Heluones Librorum [gluttons for books] I think you ought to have a sympathy
for each other."
George
Ticknor to Elisha Ticknor, 7 February 1815
Charlottesville,
February 7, 1815.
We
left Charlottesville on Saturday morning, the 4th of February, for
Mr. Jefferson's. He lives, you know, on a mountain, which he has
named Monticello, and which, perhaps, you do not know, is a synonym
for Carter's mountain. The ascent of this steep, savage hill, was as
pensive and slow as Satan's ascent to Paradise. We were obliged to
wind two-thirds round its sides before we reached the artificial lawn
on which the house stands; and, when we had arrived there, we were
about six hundred feet, I understand, above the stream which flows at
its foot. It is an abrupt mountain. The fine growth of ancient
forest-trees conceals its sides and shades part of its summit. The
prospect is admirable. ... The lawn on the top, as I hinted, was
artificially formed by cutting down the peak of the height. In its
centre, and facing the south-east, Mr. Jefferson has placed his
house, which is of brick, two stories high in the wings, with a
piazza in front of a receding centre. It is built, I suppose, in the
French style. You enter, by a glass folding-door, into a hall, which
reminds you of Fielding's "Man of the Mountain," by the
strange furniture of its walls. On one side hang the hand and horns
of an elk, a deer, and a buffalo; another is covered with curiosities
which Lewis and Clarke found in their wild and perilous expedition.
On the third, among many other striking matters, was the head of a
mammoth, or, as Cuvier calls it, a mastodon, containing the only os
frontis,
Mr. Jefferson tells me, that has yet been found. On the fourth side,
in odd union with a fine painting of the Repentance of St. Peter, is
an Indian map on leather, of the southern waters of the Missouri, and
an Indian representation of a bloody battle, handed down in their
traditions.
Through this hall—or rather museum—we
passed to the dining-room, and sent our letters to Mr. Jefferson, who
was of course in his study. Here again we found ourselves surrounded
with paintings that seemed good.
We had hardly time to glance at the
pictures before Mr. Jefferson entered; and if I was astonished to
find Mr. Madison short and somewhat awkward, I was doubly astonished
to find Mr. Jefferson, whom I had always supposed to be a short man,
more than six feet high, with dignity in his appearance, and ease and
graciousness in his manners. ... He rang, and sent to Charlottesville
for our baggage, and, as dinner approached, took us to the
drawing-room,—a large and rather elegant room, twenty or thirty
feet high,—which, with the hall I have described, composed the
whole centre of the house, from top to bottom. The floor of this room
is tessellated. It is formed of alternate diamonds of cherry and
beech, and kept polished as highly as if it were of fine mahogany.
Here are the best pictures of the
collection. Over the fireplace is the Laughing and Weeping
Philosophers, diving the world between them; on its right, the
earliest navigators to America,—Columbus, Americus Vespuccius,
Magellan, etc.,—copied, Mr. Jefferson said, from originals in the
Florence Gallery. Farther round, Mr. Madison in the plain,
Quaker-like dress of his youth, Lafayette in his Revolutionary
uniform, and Franklin in the dress in which we always see him. There
were other pictures, and a copy of Raphael's Transfiguration.
We conversed on various subjects until
dinner-time, and at dinner were introduced to the grown members of
his family. These are his only remaining child, Mrs. Randolph, her
husband, Colonel Randolph, and the two oldest of their unmarried
children, Thomas Jefferson and Ellen; and I assure you I have seldom
met a pleasanter party.
The evening passed away pleasantly in
general conversation, of which Mr. Jefferson was necessarily the
leader. I shall probably surprise you by saying that, in
conversation, he reminded me of Dr. Freeman. He has the same
discursive manner and love of paradox, with the same appearance of
sobriety and cool reason. He seems equally fond of American
antiquities, and especially the antiquities of his native State, and
talks of them with freedom and, I suppose, accuracy. He has, too, the
appearance of that fairness and simplicity which Dr. Freeman has;
and, if the parallel holds no further here, they will again meet on
the ground of their love of old books and young society.
On Sunday morning, after breakfast, Mr.
Jefferson asked me into his library, and there I spent the forenoon
of that day as I had that of yesterday. This collection of books, now
so much talked about, consists of about seven thousand volumes,
contained in a suite of fine rooms, and is arranged in the catalogue,
and on the shelves, according to the divisions and subdivisions of
human learning by Lord Bacon. In so short a time I could not, of
course, estimate its value, even if I had been competent to do so.
Perhaps
the most curious single specimen—or, at least, the most
characteristic of the man and expressive of his hatred of royalty—was
a collection which he had bound up in six volumes, and lettered "The
Book of Kings," consisting of the "Mémoires de la
Princesse de Bareith," two volumes; "Les Mémoires de la
Comtesse de la Motte," two volumes; the "Trial of the Duke
of York," one volume; and "The
Book,"
one volume. These documents of regal scandal seemed to be favourites
with the philosopher, who pointed them out to me with a satisfaction
somewhat inconsistent with the measured gravity he claims in relation
to such subjects generally.
On Monday morning I spent a couple of hours
with him in his study. He gave me there an account of the manner in
which he passed the portion of his time in Europe which he could
rescue from public business; told me that while he was in France he
had formed a plan of going to Italy, Sicily, and Greece, and that he
should have executed it if he had not left Europe in the full
conviction that he should immediately return there, and find a better
opportunity. He spoke of my intention to go, and, without my even
hinting any purpose to ask him for letters, told me that he was now
seventy-two years old, and that most of his friends and
correspondents in Europe had died in the course of the twenty-seven
years since he left France, but that he would gladly furnish me with
the means of becoming acquainted with some of the remainder, if I
would give him a month's notice, and regretted that their number was
so reduced.
The afternoon and evening passed as on the
two days previous; for everything is done with such regularity, that
when you know how one day is filled, I suppose you know how it is
with the others. At eight o'clock the first bell is rung in the great
hall, and at nine the second summons you to the breakfast room, where
you find everything ready. After breakfast every one goes, as
inclination leads him, to his chamber, the drawing-room, or the
library. The children retire to their school-room with their mother,
Mr. Jefferson rides to his mils on the Rivanna, and returns at about
twelve. At half-past three the great bell rings, and those who are
disposed resort to the drawing-room, and the rest go to the
dining-room at the second call of the bell, which is at four o'clock.
The dinner was always choice, and served in the French style; but no
wine was set on the table till the cloth was removed. The ladies sat
until about six, then retired, but returned with the tea-tray a
little before seven, and spent the evening with the gentlemen; which
was always pleasant, for they are obviously accustomed to join in the
conversation, however high the topic may be. At about half-past ten,
which seemed to be their usual hour of retiring, I went to my
chamber, found there a fire, candle, and a servant in waiting to
receive my orders for the morning, and in the morning was waked by
his return to build the fire.
To-day, Tuesday, we told Mr. Jefferson that
we should leave Monticello in the afternoon. He seemed much
surprised, and said as much as politeness would permit on the badness
of the roads and the prospect of bad weather, to induce us to remain
longer. It was evident, I thought, that they had calculated on our
staying a week. At dinner, Mr. Jefferson again urged us to stay, not
in an oppressive way, but with kind politeness; and when the horses
were at the door, asked if he should not send them away; but, as he
found us resolved on going, he bade us farewell in the heartiest
style of Southern hospitality, after thrice reminding me that I must
write to him for letters to his friends in Europe. I came away almost
regretting that the coach returned so soon, and thinking, with
General Hamilton, that he was a perfect gentleman in his own house.
Two little incidents which occurred while
we were at Monticello should not be passed by. The night before we
left, young Randolph came up late from Charlottesville and brought
the astounding news that the English had been defeated before New
Orleans by General Jackson. Mr. Jefferson had made up his mind that
the city would fall, and told me that the English would hold it
permanently—or for some time—by a force of Sepoys from the East
Indies. He had gone to bed, like the rest of us; but of course his
grandson went to his chamber with the paper containing the news. But
the old philosopher refused to open his door, saying he could wait
till the morning; and when we met at breakfast I found he had not yet
seen it.
One morning, when he came back from his
ride, he told Mr. Randolph, very quietly, that the dam had been
carried away the night before. From his manner, I supposed it an
affair of small consequence, but at Charlottesville, on my way to
Richmond, I found the country ringing with it. Mr. Jefferson's great
dam was gone, and it would cost $30,000 to rebuild it.
There is a breathing of national philosophy
in Mr. Jefferson,—in his dress, his house, his conversation. His
setness, for instance, in wearing very sharp-toed shoes, corduroy
small-clothes, and red plush waistcoat, which have been laughed at
till he might perhaps wisely have dismissed them.
So,
though he told me he thought Charron, "De la Sagesse," the
best treatise on moral philosophy ever written, and an obscure Review
of Montesquieu, by Dupont de Nemours, the best political work that
had been printed for fifty years,—though he talked very freely of
the natural impossibility that one generation should bind another to
pay a public debt, and of the expediency of vesting all the
legislative authority of a State in one branch, and the executive
authority in another, and leaving them to govern it by joint
discretion,—I considered such opinions simply as curious indicia
of an extraordinary character.
Francis
Calley Gray Journal, February 1815
[...] On Saturday [4 February] it rained &
at twelve o'clock we went from our tavern in a hack to Monticello,
three miles east of Charlottesville on the same road we had passed on
the day before. Our road passed between Monticello & the S.W.
mountain which is much higher & along whose side runs the narrow
path which led us between these hills to the gate on the S.E. side of
Monticello. The sides of both these hills & the valley between
them are covered with a noble forest of oaks in all stages of growth
& of decay. Their trunks straight & tall put forth no
branches till they reach a height almost equal to the summits of our
loftiest trees in New England. Those which were rooted in the valley,
in the richest soil overtopped many which sprung from spots far above
them on the side of the mountain. The forest had evidently been
abandoned to nature; some of the trees were decaying from age, some
were blasted, some uprooted by the wind & some appeared even to
have been twisted from their trunks by the violence of a hurricane.
They rendered the approach to the house even at this season of the
year extremely grand & imposing. On reaching the house we found
no bell nor knocker & entering through the hall in the parlour,
saw a gentleman (Col. Randolph), who took our letters to Mr.
Jefferson.
Mr. Jefferson soon made his appearance. He
is quite tall, 6 feet, one or two inches, face streaked &
speckled with red, light gray eyes, white hair, dressed in shoes of
very thin soft leather with pointed toes and heels ascending in a
peak behind, with very short quarters, grey worsted stockings,
corduroy small clothes, blue waistcoat & coat, of stiff thick
cloth made of the wool of his own merinoes & badly manufactured,
the buttons of his coat & small clothes of horn, & an under
waistcoat flannel bound with red velvet — His figure bony, long and
with broad shoulders, a true Virginian. He begged he might put up our
carriage, send for our baggage & keep us with him some time. We
assented & he left the room to give the necessary directions,
sending as we requested the carriage back to Charlottesville. On
looking round the room in which we sat the first thing which
attracted our attention was the state of the chairs. They had leather
bottoms stuffed with hair, but the bottoms were completely worn
through & the hair sticking out in all directions; on the
mantel-piece which was large & of marble were many books of all
kinds: Livy, Orosius, Edinburg Review, 1 vol. of Edgeworth's Moral
Tales, &c. &c. There were many miserable prints & some
fine pictures hung round the room, among them two plans for the
completion of the Capitol at Washington, one of them very elegant. A
harpsichord stood in one corner of the room. There were four double
windows from the wall to the floor of fine large glass & a recess
in one side of the apartment. This was the breakfasting room. After
half an hour's conversation with Mr. Jeff. & Col. Randolph, we
were invited into the parlour where a fire was just kindled & a
servant occupied in substituting a wooden pannel for a square of
glass, which had been broken in one of the folding doors opening on
the lawn. Mr. J. had procured the glass for his house in Bohemia,
where the price is so much the square foot whatever be the size of
the glass purchased, and these panes were so large that, unable to
replace the square in this part of the country, he had been obliged
to send to Boston to have some glass made of sufficient size to
replace that broken, & this had not yet been received.
We passed the whole forenoon, which was
rainy, in conversation with Mr. Jeff and Mr. Randolph & at 4
o'clock toddy was brought us, which neither of us took, and which was
never handed again, & we were ushered back into the breakfast
room to dinner, where we were introduced to Mrs. Randolph, Miss
Randolph, & Mr. T. J. Randolph. The rest of the family were Mrs.
Marks, a sister of Mr. Jefferson & 2 other daughters of Col.
Randolph. The drinking cups were of silver marked G. W. to T. J.—
the table liquors were beer & cider & after dinner wine. In
the same room we took tea & at ten in the evening retired. Fires
were lighted in our bedrooms and again in the morning before we rose
— the beds were all in recesses.
At
15 minutes after 8, we heard the first breakfast bell & at 9, the
second, whose sound assembled us in the breakfast room. We sat an
hour after breakfast chatting with the ladies & then adjourned to
the parlour. Mr. Jefferson gave us the catalogue of his books to
examine & soon after conducted us to his library, & passed an
hour there in pointing out to us its principal treasures. His
collection of ancient classics was complete as to the authors, but
very careless in the editions. They were generally interleaved with
the best English Translations. The Ancient English authors are also
all here & some very rare editions of them: a black letter
Chaucer and the first of Milton's Paradise Lost, divided into ten
books, were the most remarkable. A considerable number of books
valuable to the Biblical critic were here, & various ancient
editions of all the genuine & apocryphal books, Erasmus' edition,
&c. Many of the most valuable works on the civil and maritime law
& on diplomacy, together with a complete collection of the laws
of the different states, those of Virginia in manuscript, & all
the old elementary writers & reporters of England formed the
legal library. The ancient and most distinguished modern historians
render this department nearly complete, & the histories &
descriptions of the Kingdoms of Asia were remarkably numerous. Rapin
was here in French, though very rare in that language. Mr. Jeff. said
that after all it was still the best history of England, for Hume's
tory principles are to him insupportable. The best mode of
counteracting their effect is, he thinks, to publish an edition of
Hume expunging all those reflections & reasonings whose influence
is so injurious. This has been attempted by Baxter, but he has
injured the work by making other material abridgments. D'Avila was
there in Italian, in Mr. J's opinion, one of the most entertaining
books he ever read. I was surprised to find here two little volumes
on Chronology by Count Potocki of St. Petersburg. Mr. J. has also a
fine collection of Saxon & mœso
Gothic books, among them Alfred's translations of Orosius and
Boethius—& shewed us some attempts he had made at facilitating
the study of this language. He thought the singularity of the letters
one of the greatest difficulties & proposed publishing the Saxon
books in four columns, the first to contain the Saxon, the second the
same in Roman characters, the third a strictly verbal translation &
the fourth a free one. Mr. J. said the French Dicty
of Trévoux was better than that of the Academy, thought Charron's
"de la Sagesse" an excellent work & brought us a
commentary & review on Montesquieu published by Duane the
translator from the French M.S. which he called the best book on
politics which had been published for a century & agreed with its
author in his opinion of Montesquieu.
Of all branches of learning however that
relating to the History of North & South America is the most
perfectly displayed in this library. The collection on this subject
is without a question the most valuable in the world. Here are the
works of all the Spanish travellers in America & the great work
of De Brie in which he has collected latin translations of the
smaller works published by the earliest visitors of America whose
original publications are now lost. It is finely printed &
adorned with many plates. Here also is a copy of the letters of
Fernando Cortes in Spanish, one of a small edition, & the copy
retained by the Editor the Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo for himself,
but given by him to the American Consul for Mr. Jefferson. This work
contains the official letters of Cortes to his court, his maps of the
country & plates representing the dress, armour & other
contents of the treasury of the Mexican Sovereigns. We saw here also
some beautiful modern M.S.S., one of [a] work which had been
suppressed in France, most of the Greek Romances. — Mr. Jeff took
us from his library into his bed chamber where, on a table before the
fire, stood a polygraph with which he said he always wrote.
Mr. Jefferson took his accustomed ride
before dinner & on his return told us that the ice was crowded &
thick on the banks of the Rivanna & had carried away 30 feet of
his mill-dam; this was all he said on the subject, & from his
manner I supposed his loss was probably about one or two hundred
dollars, but on our ride back to Richmond we heard it everywhere
spoken of as a serious loss & the countrymen, some of them, even
estimated it at $30,000. This to be sure must [have been] a most
wonderful miscalculation, but no doubt the loss was serious.
Ticknor's letter is published in The Life, Letters, and Journals of George Ticknor. Boston: J.R. Osgood, 1876. I:34-37. Gray's journal is published in Francis Calley Gray, Thomas Jefferson in 1814: Being an account of a visit to Monticello, Virginia (ed. Henry S. Rowe and T. Jefferson Coolidge, Jr.). Boston: The Club of Odd Volumes, 1924, pp. 65-74. Also published in The Papers of Thomas Jefferson: Retirement Series 8:232-236. The manuscript of Gray's journal is at Duke University.
Ticknor's letter is published in The Life, Letters, and Journals of George Ticknor. Boston: J.R. Osgood, 1876. I:34-37. Gray's journal is published in Francis Calley Gray, Thomas Jefferson in 1814: Being an account of a visit to Monticello, Virginia (ed. Henry S. Rowe and T. Jefferson Coolidge, Jr.). Boston: The Club of Odd Volumes, 1924, pp. 65-74. Also published in The Papers of Thomas Jefferson: Retirement Series 8:232-236. The manuscript of Gray's journal is at Duke University.
