PROFESSOR TUCKER'S LIFE OF THOMAS JEFFERSON.

csose examination of these two ample volumes has not very greatly changed the opinion we ventured, from a casual inspection, to express in regard to them more than four months since. The public

life of JEFFERSON, as we then suspected, is chiefly dwelt upon ; but as he was mostly occupied in the rcutine duties of civil

government, or, if engaged in great events, was engaged as an agent or in conjunction with others, his career possesses little interest in its minute details, however important in the results

which it produced. The execution of the biography is, as we guessed, more distinguished for temper, spirit, and elegance, than for characteristic touches ; whilst its leanings are in favour of JEFFERSON and Democracy. The nature of much of the work, however, prevents the frequent display of spirit. Abridgments of

State papers, debates in Congress, and the recapitulation of argu- ments against or in favour of particular political measures, can attain

no higher excellence than clearness and neatness; nor can these qualities save the reader from a feeling of weariness. Even oc- currences more personal to the hero are often too common for bio- graphical notice : unless a man he killed or invalided by getting wet through on a ride, it is not necessary to commemorate the circum- stance. Mr. TUCKER, in short, is an able man and an accom- plhed scholar, admirably fitted for historical or moral disquisi- tion, but scarcely qualified by nature for biography, and not even very clearly perceiving in what it consists. A properly-written life deals only with the character or the person. The studies of the author, or the artist, and the manner in which he planned and composed his works, are to be narrated at length, because such things are strictly personal ; but biography does not require an abridgment of his hook or a view of his pictures. For a similar reason, the training of a general, and his behaviour in fight, are to be told, and as minutely as may be ; but the account of his cum- paigns,and even of his battles save in so far as he himself decided them—belong to history, for others were engaged in the action as well as he. We are to be informed of the distinguishing excel- lences of a physician—of the mode, if it be possible, by which he attained them, and, should he be famous for any great discovery, of the first hint which suggested it, and of the thought and expe- riment which successfully worked it out ; but we do not wish the particulars even of HARVEY'S private practice, nor a synopsis of his prescriptions. Yet this is what Professor TUCKER has given of JEFFERSON ; and though done with eloquence and ability, itis impossible for either ability or eloquence to impart fitness or attraction to an unnatural plan.

The circumstance of having written the Declaration of Inde- pendence, has no doubt greatly contributed to the celebrity of THOMAS JEFFERSON. But, even bearing this fact in mind, an examination of the events and exploits of his life will scarcely account for the American fame lie has attained. As Mr. TUCKER observes, he neither gained a battle, made a speech, nor founded a religious sect ; his writings, apart from business documents, are unimportant ; and he was not distinguished by birth, wealth, or station. Educated at Virginia's only College, bred to the law, and marrying a fortune, he was induced, by the growing disagree- ments between Great Britain and America, to embark in public We; where his activity, prudence, and legal habits, rendered him useful and distinguished as a Committee-man both in Con- gress and the Virginian Legislature. On the acknowledg- ment of American Independence. he filled the post of Am- bassador to France for some years; and after sitting in the Cabinet of WASHINGTON as an Anti-Federalist, and discharging the functions of Vice-President of the Union, lie was elected by the Democratic party to the Presidentship itself, and "did the state some service." Between 1801 and 1809, his go- vernment reduced the public expenditure by a rigid economy ; paid off thirty-three millions of public debt, abolished the internal

taxes, with all their disagreeable inquisitions and agreeable pa- tronage; added Louisiana by purcha,e to the domain of the United States, not only extending its territory by more than a

million of square miles, but giving it the uncontrolled navigation of. the Mississippi. These things, however, would have been dis- missed to history, and JEFFERSON been forgotten as a popular

topic, had not circumstances made him the leader of the American people. From conviction, temperament, or the position of his family—merely respectable among the aristocrats of Virginia—or

perhaps from all combined, THOMAS JEFFERSON early became a Democratic Republican : and from his principles he never swerved,

keeping them unsullied when in possession of place and power; the same Democrat when at the bead of the commonwealth as when, a quarter of a century before, he announced in the memorable De- claration, " that all men are created equal"—that " governments are Instituted amongst men" to preserve the rights of men, and derive their just "powers ft-ore the consent of the governed." No Pomp or pal ade surrounded him as the First Magistrate of America :

the morning levees—the ceremonials on appearing in public—the raised seat, "obviously and purposely having an analogy to a throne," into which the Federalists had seduced WASHINGTON— were swept away. " THOMAS JEFFERSON" alone was read onttbe President's card; and it was the end and aim of his government to foster the popular power. He headed the movement, when the most distinguished of those who had raised the standard of resist- ance against Great Britain were for establishing a respectable aristocracy, that should govern the mass for their good. In despite of the most influential prejudices, and of occasional po- pular follies, he never abandoned his position either in thought or deed, till, favoured by circumstances, be lived to see public opinion annihilate the party of his opponents. The struggle, however, was severe whilst it lasted ; and with an intuitive aris- tocratical sagacity, his opponents directed their chief attacks against JEFFERSON, These, which were not wanting in virulence, wit, or ability, rendered him still more conspicuous; and some individual peculiarities gave zest and character to the numerous pasquinades. The almost sordid plainness of his public appear- ance—the singularity of his red breeches, and his alleged taste for African beauty—afforded fruitful themes for jest. The spectacle of the head of a civilized community not condescending to veil his disbelief in the common creed of the country, was a fruitful theme of invective, especially nearly forty years ago. His public invitation to Tost PAINE was another topic either for sarcasm or hypocritical wailings, and made the distant vulgar conceit that a personage with something like horns and tail had seated himself in the Presidential chair of the United Slates. Time indeed will reduce him to his true dimensions, apart from these things ; but that-time has not yet arrived ; for though the traditional instances may be often forgotten, their effects remain. The leader of the Democracy is still an object of hatred to the party he opposed, and many are even yet animated by the spirit of the Ken- tuckysn's toast—" Damnation to Thomas Jefferson."

From his retirement in 1809 till his death in 1826,—on the same day with his old colleague ADAMS, and, strange coin- cidence! on the fiftieth anniversary of the Independence,—Jee- FERSON tasted of the pains and pleasures of life; though the pains perhaps preponderated. His pleasures consisted of his studies in philosophy and the belles lettres, to both of which he was attached from his youth ; in correspondence with his intimate friends; in the public respect which was paid him, his opinion being frequently taken upon important affairs by his successors in- the Presidentship; and in founding the University of Virginia. The ill success of this establishment, at starting,—owing to his plan of ruling the students on his favourite principle of sea.- government,—may be reckoned as one of his pains ; and when he found his own nephew amongst the delinquents, his patience gave way, "and he could nut forbear from using, for the first time, [he was now upwards of eighty,) the language of indignation and reproach." his celebrity drew on bite another evil—that of an extensive correspondence with strangers or indifferent persons, which his habits would not allow him to neglect, but which en- croached grievously on his time and comfort. The death of some of his descendants affected him ; and he was disturbed by the im- prudence of his son-in-law. But the great torment of his de- clining years was pecuniary embarrassment. His natural hospi- tality was increased, of necessity, by the number of public visi- ters his reputation drew to him. His property was dependent On slave cultivation ; his farms, lying apart, were under the manage- ment of bailiffs, who contrived to cheat the man who had baffled factions and nations; the agricultural distress springing out of the war that followed his retirement, first involved him; those certain entanglers, interest, and living beyond the incomings, with a heavy loss through surety, rendered him at the close of his life almost insolvent. To have sold his property, would have deprived his family of all pecuniary benefit. THOMAS JEFFERSON there- fore became a suitor to the Legislature for permission to dis- pose of it by lottery. This was granted; a transient burst of public enthusiasm was exhibited in a subscription, as soon as the state of his affairs was published; and the author of the Declaration of Independence died with the notion that a con- siderable surplus would have been realized. But some mis- management took place; the public sentiment evaporated, the lottery was abandoned; and "it is understood that the property sold and unsold is not more than sufficient to pay his debts." When this was known, "strong symptoms of public eympathy were manifested throughout the Union." The States of South Carolina and Louisiana were, however, the only ones that did any thing ; and they secured the only surviving daughter of THOMAS JEFFERSON against indigence, by a Wm of about 24,000 dollars. The religion of JEFFERSON seems to have been a pure Theism; and, if the expressions in his letters to Mr. ADAMS are to be relied on as conveying his belief, he latterly had a firm conviction of the immortality of the soul. When questioned, very late in life, on the subject of his religion, (it must have required no common powers of impudence to put such questions to such a man,) he used to answer that he was a Unitarian.

Upon the subjects of his personal appearance and habits, as well as of the minutia) of some of the points we have mentioned generally, a few extracts from Mr. TUCKER may be agreeable.

TASTES, MANNERS, AND CHARACTER OF JEFFERSON.

His tastes were those which commonly distinguish a lively sensibility. He delighted in music, painting, and sculpture, and was an enthusiast in architec- ture. Though temperate in the pleasures of the table, he had a high relish for them ; and his discriminating palate soon learnt to appreciate the merits of French cookery. It was this supposed disloyalty of taste that Patrick Henri meant to reprove, when be said, " he had no notion of a man's abjuring his native victuals." In early life be was fond of dress, but in his latter yaws

Lis appears's:ft was rather plain than ebony. He was always scrupulously attentive to eleanlinees. His favourite exercise was riding, and his only game chess. He bad once been a good performer on the violin.

It In person he was above six feet high, thin, and erect. His complexion was light, his eyes blue, his nose long, pointed, and slightly- turned up. His hair, d which he had lost none, had !wen red, became gray, faintly tinged with its original hue. For some years before his death his hearing was somewhat im- paired, but be retained his sight, as well as his teeth, to the last. Hie manners were frank, mild, and courteous ; occasionally when he was par- ticularly desirous of pleasing, graceful, and irresistibly engaging. His conversa- tion was always cheerful, sometimes light and facetious, but seldom either im- passioned or witty. From the profound respect with which he was usually liste.ned to, be was occasinally abrupt and positive ; but in thus speaking, as it were, ex cathedra, he was never betrayed into haughtiness or ill-humour. Ac a practical statesman be was prompt, prudent, and judicious; in general emotions and politic, but occasionally bold, where boldness was wive. In his first contest with the Royalist party in the Revolutionary times; in that which re- lated to the church establishment, and other great inuovations in the civil polity of Virginia, he was adventurous, firm, and uncompromising. But whether exhibiting courage or caution, his unfailing complacency of temper stood in good stead both with friend and adversary. Noone better understood the management of a popular assembly than he did that of the House of Re- presentatives ; and be has been known, when he had a favourite measure to carry, to convey his opinion with so much address to those members who were likely to prove troublesome, that they have regarded it as a suggestion of their own. On one occasion, a member who had been thus unconeciouslv tutored, remarked, after having left the President, that he believed " he could make Mr. Jefferson adopt any opinion he pleased." He was diligent, punctual, and exact in all matters of business; never evading, neglecting, nor delaying his public duties, great or small ; and be was so methodical, that, at all time in his life, be could in a few minutes lay his hand on any paper he possessed. Know- ing how general and sensitive was personal vanity, he was careful never to offend it. At his public dinners, if he had forgotten the name of any member present, he would, on a signal to his secretary, withdraw to an adjoinine.° apart.

went for the purpose of ascertaining it. • • •

It appears from a letter written at this time (1818) by Jefferson, in answer to the inquiries of a correspondent, that he was in the enjoyment of a green old age. Ile lived temperately, chiefly on vegetables, using animal food rather as a condiment than nourishment, and drinking nothing stronger than malt liquor, cider, and French wines. That he used no spectacles in the day, heard pretty well, and had never lost a tooth from age. That his habit was to bathe Iii. feet every morning in cold water, to which he ascribes his remarkable ex- emption from catarrhs. That he walked little, but rode without fatigue six or eight miles a day, and sometimes thirty or forty. That he had been" blessed with organs of digestion which accepted and concocted, without ever murmuring, whatever the palate choosed to consign to them." He says he was a hard student until lie entered on the business of life, and then retired, and at the age of seventy-six he was still a hard student. This picture of himself would answer with very small exceptions for the remaining seven years of his life.

DRUDGERY OF MS CORRESPONDENCE.

He stated that from sunrise to one or two o'clock, and often from dinner to desk, he was drudging at the writing-table; and all this in answer to letteis into which neither interest nor inclination on his part entered, and often from persons whose names he never before beard.

And again he writes to ADAMS— "I do not know how far you may suffer, as Ida, under the persecution of let- ters, of which every mail brings a fresh load. They are letters of inquiry for the most part, always of good-will, sometimes froin friends whom I esteem, but imuch oftener from persons whose names are unknown to ow, but written kindly and civilly, and to which, therefore, civility requires answers. Perhaps the better. known failure of your hand in its function 01 writing may shield you in greater degree from this dist:esti, and so far qualify the misfortune of its disabi- lity. I happened to turn to my letter-list sonic time ago, and a curiosity was excited to count those received in a single year. It was the year before last. I found the number to be one thousand two hundred and sixty-seven, many of them requiring answers of elaborate research, and all to be answered with due attention and consideration. 'fake an average of this number for a seek or a day, and I will repeat the question suggested by other considerations in mine of the lat. Is this life? At best it is but the life of a mill-horse, who sees no end to his circle but in death. To such a life, that of a cabbage would be a paradise. It occurs, then, that my condition of existence, truly stated in that letter, if better known, might check the kind indiscretions which are so heavily oppressing the departing bouts of life."

INTELLECTUAL PURSUITS AT SEVENTY-FIVE.

"My repugnance to the writing•table becomes daily and hourly more deadly and insurmountable. In place of this has come on a canine appetite for read. ing ; and I indulge it, because I see in it a relief against the tcedium senectutia — a lamp to lighten my path through the dreary wilderness of time before nie, whose bourn I see not. Losing daily all intefest in the things around us, something else is necessary to fill the void. With me it is reading, which oc- cupies the mind, without the labour of producing ideas from my own stock."

JEFFERSON ON BONAPARTE.

The perusal of O'fileara's account of Bonaparte disposed Mr. Jefferson some- what to qualify his opinion of that extraotdinary individual. " It places him in a higher scale of understanding than I had allotted him. I had thought him the greatest of all military captains, but an indifferent statesman, and misled by unworthy passions. The flashes, however, which escaped from him in these conversations with O'Meara, prove a mind of great expansion, though not of distinct development and reasoning. He seizes results with rapidity and penetration, but never explains logically the process of reasoning by which he arrives at them." He thinks, too, that the book makes us " forget his atro- cities for a moment, in commiseration of his sufferings, and proves also that nature had denied him the motel sense, the first excellence of well-organized man." On this position Mr. Jefferson thus reason.: " If he could seriously and repeatedly affirm that he had raised himself to power without ever havieg committed a crime, it proves that he wanted totally the sense of right and wrong. If he could consider the million of human lives which he had de- stroyed, or caused to be destroyed, the desolations of countries by plunderings, burning*, and famine, the destitutions of lawful rulers of the world without the consent of their constituents, to place his brothers and sisters on their thrones, the cutting-up of established societies of men and jumbling them discordantly together spin at his caprice, the demolition of the fairest hopes of snankind for the recovery of their rights and amelioration of their condition,

and all the numberless train of his other enormities; the man, I say, who could consider all these as no crimes, must have been • moral monster, against whom every band should have been lifted to slay hint." Mr. Jefferson seems to regard

his confinement as justifiable by the necessity of the came, or on the plea of melt-preservation ; but he condemns the cold-blooded insults and vextitions to which he was subjected.

JEFFERSON ON PLATO.

lirt bad jest returned from Poplar Forest; and, daring the few weeks he awed there, be had emploted himself in reaming Plato's Republic. He speaks

most contemptuously of the " whimsies, the puerilities, and uuintelligible jers„„ of this work," and says he often asked himself how the world could long consented to give reputation to such nonsense. He thus Recnt,: ou Plato's influence among the niodeins. "In truth, he is one of the ell" of genuine sophists, who has escaped the oblivion of his brethren, fin, by th elegance of his diction, but chiefly by the adoption and incorporation es hi, • whimsies into the body of artificial Christianity. His foggy mind is melee, senting the sembliinces of objects, which, half seen through a mist, ean be t defined neither in form nor dimension. Yet this, which should have consigied him to early oblivion, really procured him immortality of fame and reverent., The Christian priesthood, finding the doctrines of Christ levelled to em, understanding, and too plain to need explanation, saw in the mystieisess4 Plato materials with which they might build up an artificial system, whict might, from its indistinctness, admit everlasting controversy, give employment Re their order, and introduce it to profit, power, and preeminence. The doctrisei which flowed from the lips of Jesus himeelf are within the comprehension of s child; but thousands of volumes have not yet explained the Platoniim. es. grafted on them,—and for this obvious reason, that nonsense cannot be et, plainer!.

DIPLOMATIC FORMS,

Mr. Jefferson was not content with the abolition of levees, of speeches to* Legislature, and with discountenancing every thing like a court ceremonial, hot he wished also to impress on the diplomatic corps at Washington that this fel,. tore of his administration was to be in harmony with the simplicity of our hal. onions; and opportunities soon presented themselves. The Danish Minister having called one morning to see him, the President appeared in slippers, enda4 veiling to the fact, spoke of his indifference to forms. The Minister hay* intimated in reply that they could not well be dispensed with, the Preside:I took occasion to relate the following anecdote, which, while It seemed torts. form to the Minister's views, still more furthered his own. Ferdinand of Naples complained one morning to his Miniiter, Caraccioli, of the irksame Our, to which he was subjected of conforming to the ceremonies of the court, us asked if some plan cOullil not be devised for his relief; whereupon Caraceieg endeavoured to show that his master's wishes could not be safely fulfilled, awl temarked, "Your Majesty must remember that you yourself are but a ceremony," The same temper gave rise to a collision with the British Minister, Ms Merry, which was made the subject of his correspondence with his own Govern. moment, and was a fruitful tource of gossip about Washington. Mr. and Mn, Merry having been invited to dine with the President, the latter, when diner was announced, conducted Mrs. Madison, whom he was standing near attbe time. For the President to have given any other lady the precedence, an deemed so serious an offence, that Mr. Merry would never accept another it. citation from the President. Mr. Madison made a full representation of the whole affair to Mr. Monroe, that he might give the requisite explanation to the British Government, if they should regard it as a studied insult, as the Federal papers affected to consider it. Mr. Monroe replied, that Mr. Merry hid no foundation for the claim of precedence he had asserted, and that in England Mrs. Alituroe was postponed to the lady of an Under Sicretary.

Mr. Jefferson's subsequent conduct was as illustrative of his amiable tempt as it accorded with real dignity. As he often had small unceremonious parties to dinner, and it was thought Mr. Merry would make a pleasant addition to them, lie inquired, through the Swedish Charge, whether, if Mr. Merry were invited to take a family dinner with the President, be would accept the levita- tion. The inquiry being made, and answered in the affirmative, a note ire accordingly sent under Mr. Jefferson's own hand ; on which Mr. Merry wrote to

the Secretary of State, Mr. Alailison, to know whether be was invited in liisi.

vate or his official character. If in the former, be must await his Majesty's permission to accept it ; if in the latter, he must first have assurance that he would receive the respect and attention due to his Majesty's Envoy. A cold tit y answer, "giving the question the go•by," was ieturned by Mr. Madison; sad thus ended the ridiculous affair.