He had the good fortune to marry happily, finding a comrade and helpmate, as well as a wife, in beautiful Martha Skelton, with whom he rode away to his estate at Monticello when he was twenty-seven. She saw him write the Declaration of Independence, saw him war-governor of Virginia, and second only to Washington in the respect and affection of the people of that great commonwealth; and then she died. The shock of her death left Jefferson a stricken man; he secluded himself from the public, and declared that his life was at an end. Washington, however, eight years later, persuaded him to accept a place in his cabinet as secretary of state. Within a year he had definitely taken his place as the head of the Anti-Federalist, or Republican party, and laid the foundations of what afterwards became known as the Democratic party. His trust in the people had grown and deepened, his heart had grown more tender with the coming of affliction, and it was his theory that in a democracy, the people should control public policy by imposing their wishes upon their rulers, who were answerable to them--a theory which is now accepted, in appearance, at least, by all political parties, but which the Federalist leaders of that time thoroughly detested. Jefferson seems to have felt, too, that the tendency of those early years was too greatly toward an aristocracy, which the landed gentry of Virginia were only too willing to provide, and when, at last, he was chosen for the presidency, he set the country such an example of simplicity and moderation that there was never again any chance of its running into that danger. Everyone has read the story of how, on the day of his inauguration, he rode on horseback to the capitol, clad in studiously plain clothes and without attendants, tied his horse to the fence, and walked unannounced into the Senate chamber. This careful avoidance of display marked his whole official career, running sometimes, indeed, into an ostentation of simplicity whose good taste might be questioned. But of Jefferson's entire sincerity there can be no doubt. Inconsistent as he sometimes was--as every man is--his purposes and policies all tended steadily toward the betterment of humanity; and the great mass of the people who to this day revere his memory, "pay a just debt of gratitude to a friend who not only served them, as many have done, but who honored and respected them, as very few have done."