On another occasion he was crossing a river in a ferryboat, accompanied by his daughter Martha. The two ferrymen were engaged in high quarrel when Mr. Jefferson and his daughter came up. They suppressed their anger for a time and took in the passengers, but in the middle of the stream it again broke forth with renewed force, and with every prospect of their resorting to blows. Mr. Jefferson remonstrated with them; they did not heed him, and the next moment, with his eyes flashing, he had snatched up an oar, and, in a voice which rung out above the angry tones of the men, flourished it over their heads, and cried out "Row for your lives, or I will knock you both overboard!" And they did row for their lives; nor, I imagine, did they soon forget the fiery looks and excited appearance of that tall weird-like-looking figure brandishing the heavy oar over their offending heads.
The following extract is taken from a letter written towards the close of the year 1808 to Doctor Logan: "As the moment of my retirement approaches, I become more anxious for its arrival, and to begin at length to pass what yet remains to me of life and health in the bosom of my family and neighbors, and in communication with my friends, undisturbed by political concerns or passions."
Having heard that the good people of Albemarle wished to meet him on the road, and give him a public reception on his return home, with his usual dislike of being lionized, he hastened, in a letter to his son-in-law, Mr. Randolph, to put them off, with many thanks, by saying "the commencement and termination" of his journey would be too uncertain for him to fix upon a day that he might be expected. This letter was written on Feb. 28th, 1809. I give the following extract:
But it is a sufficient happiness to me to know that my fellow-citizens of the country generally entertain for me the kind sentiments which have prompted this proposition, without giving to so many the trouble of leaving their homes to meet a single individual. I shall have opportunities of taking them individually by the hand at our court-house and other public places, and of exchanging assurances of mutual esteem. Certainly it is the greatest consolation to me to know that, in returning to the bosom of my native country, I shall be again in the midst of their kind affections; and I can say with truth that my return to them will make me happier than I have been since I left them.
Two days before his release from harness he wrote to his friend Dupont de Nemours:
To Dupont de Nemours.
Within a few days I retire to my family, my books, and farms; and having gained the harbor myself, I shall look on my friends still buffeting the storm with anxiety indeed, but not with envy. Never did a prisoner, released from his chains, feel such relief as I shall on shaking off the shackles of power. Nature intended me for the tranquil pursuits of science, by rendering them my supreme delight. But the enormities of the times in which I have lived have forced me to take a part in resisting them, and to commit myself on the boisterous ocean of political passions. I thank God for the opportunity of retiring from them without censure, and carrying with me the most consoling proofs of public approbation. I leave every thing in the hands of men so able to take care of them, that, if we are destined to meet misfortunes, it will be because no human wisdom could avert them. Should you return to the United States, perhaps your curiosity may lead you to visit the hermit of Monticello. He will receive you with affection and delight; hailing you in the mean time with his affectionate salutations and assurances of constant esteem and respect.
On the day of the inauguration of his successor, Jefferson rode on horseback to the Capitol, being accompanied only by his grandson, Jefferson Randolph—then a lad in his seventeenth year. He had heard that a body of cavalry and infantry were preparing to escort him to the Capitol, and, still anxious to avoid all kinds of display, hurried off with his grandson. As they rode along Pennsylvania Avenue, Mr. Jefferson caught a glimpse of the head of the column coming down one of the cross-streets. He touched his hat to the troops, and, spurring up his horse, trotted past them. He again "hitched his horse to the palisades" around the Capitol, and, entering the building, there witnessed the transfer of the administration of the Government from his own hands into those of the man who, above all others, was the man of his choice for that office—his long-tried and trusted friend, James Madison. Thus closed forever his public career.
The perfect harmony between himself and his cabinet is alluded to in a letter written nearly two years after his retirement from office. He writes:
The third Administration, which was of eight years, presented an example of harmony in a cabinet of six persons, to which perhaps history has furnished no parallel. There never arose, during the whole time, an instance of an unpleasant thought or word between the members. We sometimes met under differences of opinion, but scarcely ever failed, by conversing and reasoning, so to modify each other's ideas as to produce an unanimous result.