Jefferson’s manners were simple, his dress was plain, he was accessible to everybody, he was boundless in his hospitalities, he cared little for money, his opinions were liberal and progressive, he avoided quarrels, he had but few prejudices, he was kind and generous to the poor and unfortunate, he exalted agricultural life, he hated artificial splendor, and all shams and lies.  In his morals he was irreproachable, unlike Hamilton and Burr; he never made himself ridiculous, like John Adams, by egotism, vanity, and jealousy; he was the most domestic of men, worshipped by his family and admired by his guests; always ready to communicate knowledge, strong in his convictions, perpetually writing his sincere sentiments and beliefs in letters to his friends,—­as upright and honest a man as ever filled a public station, and finally retiring to private life with the respect of the whole nation, over which he continued to exercise influence after he had parted with power.  And when he found himself poor and embarrassed in consequence of his unwise hospitality, he sold his library, the best in the country, to pay his debts, as well as the most valuable part of his estate, yet keeping up his cheerfulness and serenity of temper, and rejoicing in the general prosperity,—­which was produced by the ever-expanding energies and resources of a great country, rather than by the political theories which he advocated with so much ability.

On his final retirement to Monticello, in 1809, after forty-four years of continuous public service, Jefferson devoted himself chiefly to the care of his estate, which had been much neglected during his presidential career.  To his surprise he found himself in debt, having lived beyond his income while president.  But he did not essentially change his manner of living, which was generous, though neither luxurious nor ostentatious.  He had stalls for thirty-six horses, and sometimes as many as fifty guests at dinner.  There was no tavern near him which had so much company.  He complains that an ox would all be eaten in two days, while a load of hay would disappear in a night, Fond as he was of company, he would not allow his guests to rob him of the hours he devoted to work, either in his library or on his grounds.  His correspondence was enormous,—­he received sixteen hundred and seven letters in one year, and answered most of them.  After his death there were copies of sixteen thousand letters which he had written.  His industry was marvellous; even in retirement he was always writing or reading or doing something.  He was, perhaps, excessively fond of his garden, of his flowers, of his groves, and his walks.  Music was, as he himself said, “the favorite passion of his soul.”  His house was the largest in Virginia, and this was filled with works of art, and the presents he had received.  But his financial difficulties increased from year to year.  He was too fond of experiments and fancy improvements to be practically successful as a farmer.