Monticello, Pronounced Like Cello.
Mr. Jefferson’s Retirement Labor Camp - a Pictorial.
As a boy, Thomas Jefferson would play among the acres of Shadwell, looking up to this mountain top and dreaming of building a home overlooking Charlottesville. At least, that is what our guide told us - and I have no reason to doubt them.
My family and I had occasion to tour nearby Monticello over the holiday, something I struggled to pronounce correctly - but fortunately the tour guide referenced the linguistic roots as Italian, and since I do not pronounce a certain pasta as fettusine, I now sound like a local.
Thomas Jefferson was the son of a surveyor, Peter Jefferson. There is a familial connection here, as the Bride is descended from Peter’s good friend and colleague, Joshua Fry, who together with Peter surveyed and produced the first ever map of Virginia - the Fry/Jefferson map. Joshua Fry had been invited to the New World to become the first math(s) professor at the College of William and Mary. He also fought in the French and Indian War, and when he fell in Ohio he was replaced by a gentleman who took command for the first time in his military career: guy named George Washington.
At least, that’s how the family lore goes. I haven’t confirmed all those details, but I’m working on it.
The Fry/Jefferson map of 1755 is a real thing. This poorly framed photograph shows a copy hanging in the foyer for Monticello. The foyer itself is dramatic, intentionally so. While the artifacts now piled in for display may not represent how it appeared in Jefferson’s dotage, he did treat this foyer as a sort of global museum. He believed part of his mission in life was to advance individual knowledge for visitors. He would place things like the jawbone of a Mastodon there, and bore explain to people the importance of his possessions. Jefferson was the architect for this home, which took 40 years to complete. The tour focuses on the years he spent here - his last. Welcome to retirement, Thomas Jefferson.
The clock in the foyer is worth a brief discussion. The mechanism was activated using weights, pulleys, and gravity. This innovative tinkerer then got the idea that the weights themselves could indicate the days of the week, as they sunk to the ground.
It was quite remarkable in design, but the execution was lacking. You see, even in Jefferson’s time there were seven days to each week. He literally ran out of room to indicate Saturday. What would you do?
If you answered “cut a hole in the floor and put Saturday in the cellar,” congratulations: You share the genius instincts of our third President.
In many ways, this museum represents the dithering of a genius who has no concern for earning his daily bread, or even preparing it for his meal. While I remain in awe of the Framers of our Constitution - many of them were free (pun intended) to read of the Romans and Greeks and craft a government that stands today as a model of what is possible when monarchy is denied. Chores were outsourced to enslaved people. Jefferson enjoyed this abode in his retirement, no longer concerning himself with affairs of state in Paris, nor his time as governor of Virginia or third President of these United States.
A family member pulled me aside during this tour, asking: ”How did he reconcile individual rights while he enslaved human beings?” An excellent question, with an extremely dark answer: As he did not see Black people as fully human, he was being logically consistent. “All men are created equal?” As a Chinese philosopher is said to have insisted: First, define your terms. Who qualifies as “men”?
One of the more entertaining aspects of the home is a dining area. Hidden on the side of the fireplace is a (another) clever series of weights and pulleys - this time a dumbwaiter that functioned to deliver bottles of wine to the diners. Pulled from the basement area, these were stacked as needed and sent up a flight to be enjoyed by any number of Jefferson family and guests.
The view from the wine cellar was a bit more rude.
My 8 year old granddaughter asked why I was taking these photos. At first, I told her I was planning to install something like this in my home. She asked again later, and I mentioned this Substack piece I was drafting. “Papa, you can’t answer me with jokes.”
Oh, kitten, that’s what grandfathers do best. For example, one of the more arresting aspects of this dilettante’s life: his “pet” mockingbirds. Several of these flitted around the home at all hours. No word on who cleaned up after this indulgence. Had to be a joke.
One of the more arresting finds was the bed upon which Mr. Jefferson expired, in the room where it stopped happening.
And, lest I forget: One of Jefferson’s collectibles, sitting quietly on a shelf. A find sure to warm the heart of any Irishman. The death mask of Oliver Cromwell.
No cheerier note upon which to welcome the new year. If you have a museum, archeological dig, or history department nearby - make a pledge to visit and learn. The more we can touch and embrace the past, the better able we will be to confront what’s next.
Another excellent post. Thanks for sharing!
That was a perfect Saturday morning read! Awesome 😎