We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal… -- Declaration of Independence
The Christmas break last week afforded a family escapade to
western North Carolina, where Andrea, the girls and I visited with my parents
and their new dog, Sassy. This year I opted to drive, and thus we embarked on a
650-mile trek across six states and a vast expanse of the American landscape. It
is on these trips that I am reminded of the physical beauty of America; of the
rugged grandeur of the Shenandoah Valley, the majesty of the Blue Ridge
Mountains, and the lush greenery of the Virginia countryside. We ventured
through old industrial cities, past small towns that haven’t changed for 50 years,
and beside countless farms, valleys and rolling hillsides that seem straight
out of a Norman Rockwell painting. On these drives, one becomes rooted to a
deeply American story, a pathway of time and history that connects us all as
one nation.
At the week’s end, we chanced a stop in Charlottesville,
Virginia, to walk the historic grounds of the University of
Virginia, designed and founded by Thomas Jefferson. A genuine intellectual, the
man who would write the Declaration of Independence and become the third
president of the United States believed education essential to a vibrant
citizenry, a building block for a modern democracy. “I think by far the most
important bill in our whole code,” Jefferson wrote George Wythe in 1786, “is
that for the diffusion of knowledge among the people. No other sure foundation
can be devised for the preservation of freedom and happiness.”
Following lunch at a local produce market, we headed to
Monticello, the grand and impressive setting from which much of Jefferson’s
inspiration was born. It was a beautiful December day, unseasonably warm with a
bright sunshine glistening from the high, blue sky above. Upon arrival, one
finds the plantation situated atop an 850-foot mountain in Virginia’s Piedmont
region, which in Jefferson’s time encompassed 5,000 acres of surrounding land. As
I stood in front of his elegant mansion, I sensed the spirit of Jefferson on
these grounds and understood immediately why he chose this setting for his magnificent
house, working farms and gardens.
The view from Monticello is spectacular, the entire
countryside visible from all points. Standing atop the South Terrace, I envied Jefferson who, as much as anyone, embodied the notion of a meaningful life. He
recognized politics as a public duty, an obligation of citizenship, and he
possessed a broad and expansive view of an intellectually engaging life. A
lover of books, a prolific writer and public philosopher, an architect, scientist,
and lifelong student of literature and the arts, Jefferson was a true
renaissance man. And he was a rational thinker and voice of reason when America
most needed one. It was an age of revolution and radical change.
Walking the grounds of Monticello, I could almost experience
the daily rhythm of his life; waking at sunrise, reading and writing until
noon; long afternoon walks and rides on horseback exploring and surveying his
vast property. In the evening, he entertained distinguished guests with French
cuisine and the finest wines inspired by his years in Paris. And through it
all, he attended to the affairs of a young nation.
Jefferson envisioned and articulated the high ideals of the
newly formed United States, and put into words the principles to which we as a
people have aspired in our best and brightest moments. “We hold these truths to
be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their
Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and
the pursuit of Happiness.” These are the most uniquely American of aspirations
and embody to this day the promise that is America. Through his written words,
he bequeathed to the nation a lasting legacy, a progressive vision of equality
and liberty for all.
To examine the life and accomplishments of Thomas Jefferson
is to be impressed. Author of the Declaration of Independence and the Virginia
Statute of Religious Freedom, founder of the University of Virginia (the three
accomplishments he permitted on his tombstone), thoughtful writer and thinker on
politics, philosophy, religion, and science, a man of refined tastes, Jefferson
was a true national leader and admired public figure. He was all of these
things and more.
And yet…there is always “and yet” is there not? To visit
Monticello today requires one to reconcile the many contradictions and hypocrisies
of Jefferson’s life, and to reflect on another, darker side of Jefferson’s
character. This becomes immediately apparent when one discovers that the mansion
he designed and built sits atop a long tunnel through which dozens of slaves, unseen,
labored all day in tight quarters preparing meals, cleaning linens and tableware,
and serving the needs of Jefferson and his guests. Dozens of others toiled in
the tobacco fields and, later, wheat farms spread across the plantation’s
acreage. The same man who wrote of equality and the natural rights of mankind
owned over 600 enslaved African Americans in his lifetime.
As he began to craft
the words that became the Declaration of Independence on his way to Philadelphia
in 1776, he was accompanied by some of his personal slaves. In later years,
when many of his contemporaries, inspired in part by the words of the
Declaration, freed their slaves during and after the American Revolution,
Jefferson by the time of his death freed just nine. Through his inaction, Jefferson
effectively condemned to the auction block another 200 human beings.
Like all other southern plantations, violence was used at
Monticello to enforce productivity and to discipline Jefferson’s human
property. It was a necessity of the slave trade. And though as a young man he denounced
the morality of slavery and occasionally advocated for its abolition, in his
lifetime he did nothing personally to end the institution and benefited
profitably from its existence.
As president, when Jefferson acquired the Louisiana
Territory and thereby doubled in one stroke of the pen the entire landmass of
the United States, he did nothing to prevent the spread of slavery into what he
called the vast “empire of Liberty.” In one ten-year period, Jefferson sold 85 of
his slaves as chattel so that he could raise cash to buy wine, art, and other
luxury goods. And he carried on a 40-year sexual liaison with his slave
mistress, Sally Hemings, with whom he fathered six children. Defender of
liberty. Proponent of religious freedom. Slave owner. This is the great paradox
of Jefferson and Monticello.
The view from Monticello approaches the perfection of
Jefferson’s high ideals, but his life and times are a stark reminder of the
imperfection of man. Jefferson was a paragon of virtue in his public life and
written testaments. But history and time have exposed him also as a man of
enormous vice. As Jon Meacham, author of Thomas Jefferson: The Art of Power
(Random House, 2012), has explained, Jefferson “allowed himself to be trapped
by the economic, political and cultural circumstances into which he was born.” It
was a trap that the great Thomas Jefferson, a man of enlightened idealism, the
founder of a nation and a great university, and a leading proponent of
individual liberty, was unable to overcome. Whether a product of pure hypocrisy
or selfish aggrandizement, it is a complexity with which we must contend, as
Americans and as human beings.
Walking the grounds of Monticello, I thought of the many
complexities, the shades of gray that so often permeate the human condition. Is
anyone really ever the embodiment of pure goodness, or pure evil? So often, we
place people and nations in black-and-white boxes, for it is easier to justify
our actions when we do so. It is how nations build support for warfare and
organized violence. It allows us to place on pedestals our own designated
heroes. But rarely are the people who occupy the nations with whom we disagree
full of pure evil, or the people who inspire us made of pure goodness.
Criminals and prostitutes, businessmen and thieves, generals and inspiring
leaders – all are at one time infants and children; all at some point in life long
for the loving embrace of a mother or the prideful moments of a child’s
accomplishments; and all are imperfect.
Jefferson was a complex man. His greatness remains, as does
his legacy to America. But just as it does a disservice to our ideals to ignore the
blemishes of American history and the shortcomings of our democratic tradition,
so too does it ill-serve us as a people to ignore the sins of Jefferson’s past.
We can never know how Jefferson’s thinking may have evolved over time. I would
like to believe that, had he lived another half century, Jefferson would have been
horrified by the contradictions between his spoken ideals and his lived reality. It
is a testament to those who run Monticello today that we are blessed with a
complete picture of Jefferson the man, Jefferson the public servant, and
Jefferson the slaveholder. It is the blessing and the curse of America, and a
legacy we must continue to address.
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