july 4, 1810 (wed.)

Mr. Jefferson likes to say, "The only birthday I ever commemorate

is that of our Independance [his spelling], the Fourth of July."

As he watches, through the window, his grandchildren playing, he thinks, "This is why we did it. It was for them, and their children, and their children's children's children ..."

Still, his memories of the of that day thirty-four years ago in Philadelphia are bittersweet. So many of his comrades who struggled to bring about the new nation are now gone. Only thirteen other men who were with him that day are still alive -- none from New Jersey or Delaware, and he himself is the only survivor from Virginia. There ought to be two, he thinks, with a wave of sorrow. The life of his dear friend and mentor, George Wythe, was cut short by murder just four years ago. Dr. Wythe would've been eighty-four years old this year, an advanced age, but not unreasonable.

Of the Declaration Committee, only himself, Robert Livingston, and John Adams remain. Another pang, this time of regret. Mr. Adams had been a good friend, but in recent years that stubborn old fellow has let politics run away with his common sense. Or maybe he's being the stubborn one. They're both out of office now. They struggled side by side in 1776. Mr. Jefferson has no real doubt that deep down Mr. Adams is a man of courage, a true patriot. Why should mere politics stand in the way of such a long friendship? Maybe he should write. But can he be sure his letter would be welcome? Let Adams write first.

Mr. Jefferson idly fingers the corner of a sheet of letter paper on his portable writing desk -- the same desk on which he wrote the first draft of the Declaration. Then he turns and looks out the window again, and smiles.

(Editor's note, 2010: We haven't the foggiest notion what the Jefferson family actually did to celebrate the Fourth.)

june 27, 1810 (wed.)

Even in retirement there's not enough time to follow every interest. Judge Thomas Cooper writes asking Mr. Jefferson to join him in the study of mineralogy, but fascinated as Mr. Jefferson is by natural philosophy, his time and energy right now are largely taken up with sheep and sheep dogs for the Merino project.

He forwards Judge Cooper's letter to James Cabell, writing that in his old age he is out of touch with the current state of the science, familiar with nothing past the time of Linnaeus. Tongue in cheek, he writes, "... [M]ihi Cui bono?" ("What good is it to me?") It's safe to joke around like this with a friend who knows he's not really that self-centered. Heaven help his image if some literal-minded historian in the future, who doesn't know him that well, misinterprets the remark. The early 19th century has no emoticons to designate "just kidding."

Science, religion, and politics are mixed in this age of enlightenment. Judge Cooper, along with Joseph Priestley and others, lives in Philadelphia now because the politico-religious climate in England was hostile to their ideas. Several years ago, angry mobs burned Dr. Priestley's house in a full-scale riot. It's a bit safer to hold dissenting and progressive ideas in this new country.

june 14, 1810 (thurs.)

As Mr. Jefferson sat at his writing desk this morning, two unrelated items of correspondence caused waves of memories of that awful summer twenty-nine years ago, when he helplessly watched as his wife lay dying, to batter down his careful defenses and wash over his mind.

Three days ago he sent what he hopes will be the final letter and document about the ongoing business of the Bathurst Skelton estate -- business that should've been settled three decades ago. Bathurst Skelton had been his dear Patsy's first husband.

Funny how having been a lawyer for other people's estate-related problems doesn't make it any easier to deal with his own.

Then yesterday he received word that Patsy's sister, Elizabeth, has died. He writes, "nearly the last of my early & most beloved friends has now dropt off, and I really view myself as a solitary trunk in the fields with all it's limbs fallen from it."

june 13, 1810 (wed.)

Mr. Jefferson got word from his cousin, George Jefferson, that more rods of iron are on their way for his nail factory. The nailery, which has been in operation since 1794, isn't really a factory full of large steam-powered machines, like the new spinning and weaving factories one hears about in England. Rather, it more resembles a smithy, although there is a simple machine to cut the iron to proper lengths. About ten or so enslaved teenaged boys work there. The nails are not only used at Monticello, but are also sold locally. Mr. Jefferson hopes that this profit-making business can help pay off his debts, that it can provide a more steady income than he gets from agriculture, which is dependent on widely fluctuating weather and market conditions.

june 4, 1810 (mon.)

Mr. Jefferson is always looking for ways to improve the new country he declared independent in 1776, especially in agriculture. One of his many ongoing projects is raising Merino sheep, a breed known for its fine wool. His friend, James Madison (currently in Washington, D.C. serving as President), is working with him on this scheme. Joseph Dougherty is getting a ram and a ewe for each of them from a shipment William Jarvis sent from Portugal, sending the animals from Alexandria. The plan is to breed them, and then to distribute rams for free around Virginia, thus making the usually expensive animals available for farmers to start their own flocks.

may 31, 1810 (thurs.)

Yesterday was not a very good day. Mr. Jefferson spent the morning writing to lawyers to try to get together the papers needed for his defense in a lawsuit.

Three years ago there was a land dispute in Louisiana. A certain Jean Gravier claimed that he owned some land in the Mississippi delta below New Orleans, and fenced it in. The governments and people of Louisiana and the city of New Orleans claimed it was public land, and, indeed, it had been used as such for years. It turns out the situation was somewhat complicated, but according to the best information President Jefferson and his cabinet had, the land was federal property. Mr. Gravier was evicted as an intruder in 1808.

Edward Livingston, a high-powered lawyer who happens to have a financial interest in the land in question, is now suing Mr. Jefferson for trespassing.

That's right; the former president, now a private citizen, is being sued as an individual for something he did in an official capacity while in office. So much for retirement from the cares of public life.

On the good side, Monticello finally got some rain yesterday after almost a month of drought. (Right after Mr. Jefferson wrote to Jemmy Madison complaining about the "desperate" dry spell. Oh, well.)

may 2, 1810 (wed.)

Mr. Jefferson accepts the honor of membership into the Dutch Royal Institute of Sciences. King Louis Bonaparte (yes, brother of that Bonaparte -- Napoleon controls much of Europe at this time) gave his approval of the invitation last May, but the letter from Gerardus Vrolik, the Secretary of the Society has taken a year to arrive.

Mr. Jefferson's reputation as a scholar of natural philosophy has spread far and wide indeed. He's sending his reply via Sylvanus Bourne, the United States Consul at Amsterdam, to make sure it gets through as quickly and surely a possible.