Day Five
As most people know, Monticello was the home of Thomas Jefferson, which he designed himself. It is located in the hills just outside Charlottesville, Virginia. Jefferson chose the site when he was only a boy, and the house was under construction in some form or another from the 1760s until Jefferson’s old age. The house and its surrounding gardens are, simply put, an amazing place to visit, and in 1987 were designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Like George Washington’s Mount Vernon, Monticello is owned and operated by a private non-profit, the Thomas Jefferson Foundation. And, as at Mount Vernon, that non-profit has done an impeccable job preserving and protecting a unique national treasure. While, as a rule, I would generally prefer to see such places operated by the National Park Service, the rather high admission fee charged at Monticello–a fee which would not be charged were the site run by the NPS–allows the Thomas Jefferson Foundation to maintain Monticello and defend it from myriad threats. 
For example, rising above Monticello is a grassy mountain capped with tall trees. Jefferson owned that land in his lifetime, but the mountain, along with countless acres surrounding Monticello itself, were sold off after his death to cover debts. A few years ago a proposal was hatched to build condos atop the mountain. While the view from those condos would be spectacular, the view from Monticello would be ruined. The Thomas Jefferson Foundation forked over millions of dollars to purchase the land and protect it from development forever. As a Monticello staffer told me, “anytime any land near Monticello comes up for sale, the Foundation buys it at once”. Monticello is in good hands.
We had made reservations online, and our scheduled tour was at noon. All that was required was for us to pay for our tickets at the visitor center, which we did, before catching the van up to the house. The drive up the mountain took only a few minutes, and we were let out on a gravel driveway circled by tall ash and linden trees. We waited on a bench until the guide summoned us to form a line. From the east side Monticello looks smaller than I expected. In fact, there are houses in Gainesville that appear grander at first glance. But my eyes were drawn to the clever things: a clock above the front door that displays the time both inside and out; a dial on the ceiling above the front steps that indicates the direction of the wind; a half-circle window above the portico that tilts in.
We were advised that photography is prohibited inside the house, and I complied, of course. But I can tell you what I saw. Directly inside the tall French doors (which, we were told, are reproductions, to protect the originals from wear at constant use), is a large room with painted wood floors and a balcony. On the side walls are animal specimens (sent to Jefferson by Lewis and Clark), maps of the United States, and portraits. Above the French door through which we passed to enter is the other side of the clock, slightly offset from the one outside to account for the single mechanism. Two long chains attached to weights emanate from the clock and pass through small holes in the floor at the corners of the room. The number of wights visible indicates the day of the week. We passed through a doorway to the left into a small study used by the lady of the house, then into Jefferson’s library. There were scads of books, all of which were carefully researched to accurately reflect the titles in Jefferson’s original library, which today is at the Library of Congress. Only one small bookcase contained volumes actually owned and read by Jefferson, and those were behind glass for protection. Almost every other thing in the house is original, which is why visitors are instructed not to touch anything, though I couldn’t help but brush my fingers across a table as I walked by it. We saw a small guest room with a bed built into an alcove, then moved into Jefferson’s own large bedrooms, which, too, had a bed within an alcove that divided the space. Jefferson, we were told, died in that bed. Skylights made the space bright, and the contents of the rooms indicated clearly that its former resident was an intellectual and polymath. Off the bedroom was another large room with a high ceiling and walls covered in portraits of Jefferson’s heroes, including Washington. Two large mirrors hung on either side of a doorway into the parlor. These mirrors appeared to be quite old, and I asked the tour guide if they were original to the house. Indeed, she said, they were. In fact, she added, most of the glass in the windows was also original. The most affecting moment for me, then, was the realization that I could see my reflection in a mirror that Jefferson himself looked into every day. We passed through the modest dining room, and out of the house through a side door, where, from the back yard one can see down into Charlottesville, and spy the roof of the rotunda at the University of Virgina that Jefferson designed.
The day was warm and sunny, and although there were many visitors, it wasn’t what I would call crowded. We were free to tour the garden and the exterior of the house without supervision. The garden was beautiful and colorful almost beyond belief. Butterflies were everywhere. Within a short time we joined a guided tour of the gardens and grounds, and it was extraordinarily informative. We learned that Monticello has a huge staff of full-time gardeners, which, considering the size of the property oughtn’t be too surprising. In Jefferson’s time, he had the hillside to the south of the house terraced to accommodate planting, and even today the Monticello staff grow every conceivable vegetable.
A short walk down a brick path lead us to a small grassy plot of land surrounded by an iron fence. A stone obelisk within bears the inscription:
HERE WAS BURIED
THOMAS JEFFERSON
AUTHOR OF THE
DECLARATION
OF
INDEPENDENCE
OF THE
STATUTE OF VIRGINIA
FOR
RELIGIOUS FREEDOM
AND FATHER OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
That’s it. No mention of his being the first secretary of state, the second vice president of the United States, or third president.
One aspect of Jefferson’s life that is mentioned at Monticello is slavery. Jefferson owned many slaves, and his home was built by enslaved men. Indeed, one look at the plantation itself makes clear that that whole lifestyle would have simply been impossible without slavery. Wealthy planters like Jefferson could not have afforded to live without free labor. Jefferson understood this, clearly. But it is a shame to think that the man who wrote that “all men are created equal” chose to 0wn other human beings because it was to his personal advantage to do so.
Our tour had begun at noon, but it was four o’clock before we left the visitor center.
We made one last stop just outside the grounds of Monticello, at an eighteenth century mill and tavern. Today, of course, it is a gift shop, and while we were there we found our official 2010 Christmas ornament: a small handmade wooden model of Monticello. Overjoyed at our find, we got back into the car, and back on the road for the long drive home.
Filed under: Dana Heritage Project, History, Travel on September 6th, 2010 | No Comments »
It was late in the afternoon when we left Monticello – hours later than we intended to depart for home. As we got on the road I wondered if we’d be able to make it straight through. In the past couple years I have lost the ability to drive comfortably at all hours: past midnight I become a drowsy man. If the conversation in the car is good it’s still possible, but if Miriam falls asleep I get sleepy, too. So, heading east on Interstate 64 toward Richmond I was still unsure.
We began looking for hotels where Interstate 26 crosses 95 in South Carolina. Though there was nothing worth anything at that exit, the two or three hotels we asked wanted well north of a hundred dollars for a room. We trudged on. Finally, after perhaps another half hour of driving, I could stand it no more, and I pulled into a Super 8 Motel. I went to the office but found the door locked and the room inside dark. A teenager within seemed to come out of nowhere and gestured for me to walk around to the side of the building. I found a small bullet-proof window there, and that’s where we conducted our transaction. The room was sixty dollars or so. I was too tired to haggle. Miriam found the place extremely distasteful, and it did seem like the ideal horror movie setting, but the room was actually clean, even if the air conditioner having been off for some time made the room a bit musty. The fear of certain murder kept me awake for a little while, but I did ultimately get the sleep I desperately needed.
We didn’t bother retrieving our free continental breakfast in the morning. We left as soon as we woke up. We had never removed our clothes. Leaving the parking lot in daylight I got a better look at our surroundings. The hotel was a hideous yellow, and vultures sat perched along the roof line, perhaps waiting to feast on the heaps of torsos left murdered in the rooms. It was somewhat chilling. We got the hell out of there.