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36. At Home at Monticello
he agricultural operations of Mr. Jefferson were conducted upon an extensive scale, and consequently engaged a great share of his attention. The domains at Monticello, including the adjoining estates, contained about eleven thousand acres, of which about fifteen hundred were cleared. In addition to this, he owned a large estate in Bedford county by right of his wife from which he raised annually about 40,000 weight of tobacco, and grain sufficient to maintain the plantation. He visited this estate, about seventy miles distant, once every year, which kept him from home six or seven weeks at a time. He had about two hundred Negroes on his farms who required a constant superintendence, more especially under the peculiar system of agriculture which he pursued. But his choicest labors in this department were bestowed on that delightful and beloved spot where all his labors were to end, as they had been begun. He had reclaimed its ruggedness when a very young man and of its wilderness made a garden; and now, in his old age, he returned to the further development and improvement of its natural beauties.
MONTICELLO is derived from the Italian. It signifies "little mountain" -- a modest title for an eminence rising six hundred feet above the surrounding country and commanding one of the most extensive and variegated prospects in the world. The base of the mountain, which is washed by the Ravanna, exceeds a mile in diameter, and its sides are encompassed by four parallel roads sweeping round it at equal distances and so connected with each other by easy ascents as to afford, when completed, a level carriage-way of almost seven miles. The whole mountain, with the exception of the summit, is covered with a dense and lofty forest. On the top is an elliptic plain of about ten acres formed by an artful hand, cutting down the apex of the mountain. This extensive artificial level is laid out in a beautiful lawn, broken only by lofty weeping willows, poplars, acacias, catalpas, and other trees of foreign origin, distributed at such distances as not to obstruct the view from the center in any direction. On the West, stretching away to the North and the South, the prospect is bounded only by the Alleghenies -- a hundred miles distant in some parts -- overreaching all the intervening mountains, commanding a view of the Blue Ridge for a hundred and fifty miles, and looking down upon an enchanting landscape, broad as the eye can compass, of intermingling villages and deserts, forest and cultivation, mountains, valleys, rocks, and rivers. On the East is a literal immensity of prospect bounded only by the horizon in which "nature seems to sleep in eternal repose." From this grand point, bringing under the eye a most magnificent panorama, are overlooked like pygmies all the neighboring mountains as far as Chesapeake Bay. Hence it was that the youthful philosopher, before the revolution, was wont to scrutinize the motions of the planets, with the revolutions of the celestial sphere, and to witness that phenomenon described in his Notes on Virginia as among the sublimest of nature's operations, the looming of the distant mountains. From this elevated seat he was wont to enjoy those scenes to which he reverted with so much fondness while in France: "And our own dear Monticello, where has nature spread so rich a mantle under the eye? --mountains, forests, rocks, rivers. With what majesty do we there ride above the storms! How sublime to look down into the workhouse of nature, to see her clouds, hail, snow, rain, thunder, all fabricated at our feet! and the glorious sun when rising as if out of a distant water, just gilding the tops of the mountains, and giving life to all nature!" (to Maria Cosway, October 12, 1786. ME 5:436) From this proud summit, too, "the patriot," in the language of a visitor, "could look down with uninterrupted vision upon the wide expanse of the world around, for which he considered himself born; and upward to the open and vaulted heavens, which he seemed to approach, as if to keep him continually in mind of his high responsibility. It is indeed a prospect in which you see and feel at once that nothing mean or little could live. It is a scene fit to nourish those great and high-souled principles which formed the elements of his character and was a most noble and appropriate post for such a sentinel over the rights and liberties of man."
In the center of this eminence rose the magnificent mansion of the patriarch. It was erected and furnished in the days of his affluence, and was such a one, in all respects, as became the character and fortune of the man. The main structure is one hundred feet in length from East to West, and above sixty in depth from North to South, presenting a front in every direction. The basement story is raised five or six feet above the ground, from which springs the principal story, above twenty feet in height, whereon rests an attic of about eight feet. The whole is surmounted by a lofty dome of twenty-eight feet in diameter rising from the center of the building. The principal front faces the East and is adorned with a noble portico balancing a corresponding one on the West. The north and south fronts present arcades or piazzas, under which are cool recesses that open upon a floored terrace projecting a hundred feet at right angles until terminated by pavilions of two stories high. Under the whole length of these terraces is a range of one-story buildings in which are the offices requisite for domestic purposes and the lodgings of the household servants. The exterior of the structure is finished in the Doric order complete with balustrades on the top of it; the internal contains specimens of all the different orders except the composite, which is not introduced. The hall is in the Ionic, the dining room in the Doric, the parlor in the Corinthian, and the dome in the Attic. Improvements and additions, both useful and ornamental, were continually going on as they were suggested by the taste of the owner. Indeed, the whole building had been almost in a constant state of rebuilding, commencing with its ante-revolutionary form, which was highly finished; "and so I hope it will remain during my life," said he to a visitor, "as architecture is my delight, and putting up and pulling down one of my favorite amusements."
On the declivities of the mountain are arranged the dwellings of artificers and mechanics of every description and their work shops; for it was the study of the illustrious proprietor to make himself perfectly independent. He had his carpenter's shop, his blacksmith's shop, cabinet shop, etc., etc., with a complete suite of manufactories for cottons and woollens, grain mills, sawing mills, and a nail factory conducted by boys. His carriage was made by his own workmen, as were also many articles of his fine furniture. The fabrication with his own hands of curious implements and models was one of his favorite amusements.
n entering the mansion by the east front, the visitor is ushered into a spacious and lofty hall whose hangings announce at once the character and ruling passions of the man. On the right, on the left, and around, one's eye is struck with objects of science and taste. On one side are specimens of sculpture in the form of statues and busts, disposed in such order as to exhibit at one view the historical progress of the art; from the first rude attempts of the aborigines of our country to the most finished models of European masters, including a bust of the patriot himself from the hand of Caracci. Among others are noticed the bust of a male and female sitting in the Indian position, supposed to be very ancient, having been ploughed up in Tennessee; a full length figure of Cleopatra in a reclining position after she had applied the asp; the busts of Voltaire and Turgot, in plaster. His own bust stands on a truncated column, on the pedestal of which are represented the twelve tribes of Israel and the twelve signs of the Zodiac. On the other side of the hall are displayed a vast collection of specimens of Indian art, their paintings, engravings, weapons, ornaments, manufactures, statues, and idols; and on another, a profusion of natural curiosities, prodigies of ancient art, fossil productions of every description, mineral and animal, etc., etc. Among others are particularly noticed a model of the great pyramid of Egypt; the upper and lower jaw bones and tusks of the mammoth, advantageously contrasted with those of an elephant.
From the hall, the visitor enters a spacious salon through large folding doors. In this apartment, the walls are covered with the modern productions of the pencil, historical paintings of the most striking subjects from all countries and all ages; scriptural paintings, among which are the ascension, the holy family, the scourging of Christ, and the crucifixion; the portraits of distinguished characters, both of Europe and America, with engravings, coins, and medallions in endless profusion. Here and in the other rooms are the portraits of Bacon, Newton, and Locke; of Columbus, Vespucius, Cortez, Magellan, Raleigh; of Franklin, Washington, Lafayette, Adams, Madison, Rittenhouse, Paine, and many other remarkable men. Here, too, are the busts of Alexander and Napoleon, placed on pedestals upon each side of the door of entrance.
The whole of the southern wing is occupied by the library, private study, and chamber of Mr. Jefferson. The library is divided into three apartments, opening into each other, the walls of which are covered with books and maps. It contained at one time the greatest private collection of books ever known in the United States and incontestably the most valuable, from the multitude of rare works and the general superiority of the editions. He had been fifty years enriching and perfecting his collection, omitting no pains, opportunities or expense. While in Paris, he devoted every afternoon he was disengaged, for a summer or two, in examining the principal book stores and putting by everything which related to America with whatever was valuable in the sciences. Besides this, he had standing orders during the whole time he was in Europe in its principal book marts for all such works as could not be found in Paris. After the conflagration of Washington in the War of 1812 and the destruction of the Congressional library, he sold about ten thousand volumes to the government "to replace the devastations of British Vandalism." Confiding in the honor of Congress, he made a tender of them to the government at their own price. In his private study, he was surrounded with several hundred of his favorite authors lying near at hand with every accommodation and luxury which ease or taste could suggest. This apartment opened into a greenhouse filled with a collection of rare plants, and he was seldom without some geranium or other plant beside him. Connected with his study were extensive apparatus for mathematical, philosophical, and optical purposes. It was supposed there was no private gentleman in the world in possession of so perfect and complete a scientific, useful, and ornamental collection as Mr. Jefferson.
uch is an imperfect representation of the patriarchal seat and appendages whose just celebrity has attracted the wayfarer of every land. But who shall describe its great architect and occupant? Let this duty be discharged by adopting the record of a distinguished guest:
"While the visitor was yet lost in the contemplation of these treasures of the arts and sciences, he was startled by the approach of a strong and sprightly step; and turning with instinctive reverence to the door of entrance, he was met by the tall and animated and stately figure of the patriot himself -- his countenance beaming with intelligence and benignity, and his outstretched hand, with its strong and cordial pressure, confirming the courteous welcome of his lips. And then came that charm of manner and conversation that passes all description -- so cheerful -- so unassuming -- so free and easy and frank and kind and gay -- that even the young and overawed and embarrassed visitor at once forgot his fears and felt himself by the side of an old and familiar friend. There was no effort, no ambition in the conversation of the philosopher. It was as simple and unpretending as nature itself. And while, in this easy manner, he was pouring out instruction like light from an inexhaustible solar fountain, he seemed continually to be asking instead of giving information. The visitor felt himself lifted by the contact into a new and nobler region of thought and became surprised at his own buoyancy and vigor. He could not, indeed, help being astounded now and then at those transcendental leaps of the mind which he saw made without the slightest exertion and the ease with which this wonderful man played with subjects which he had been in the habit of considering among the argumenta crucis of the intellect. And then there seemed to be no end to his knowledge. He was a thorough master of every subject that was touched. From the details of the humblest mechanic art up to the highest summit of science, he was perfectly at his ease and everywhere at home. There seemed to be no longer any terra incognita of the human understanding; for, what the visitor had thought so, he now found reduced to a familiar garden walk; and all this carried off so lightly, so playfully, so gracefully, so engagingly, that he won every heart that approached him as certainly as he astonished every mind."
lthough reposing in the bosom of his native mountains and happy in the indulgence of pursuits and enjoyments from which nothing but revolutionary duties would ever have separated him, his seclusion did not shield him from those annoyances which are inseparable from renown. He was persecuted with a deluge of letters, of which every mail brought a fresh accumulation: not those from his intimate friends, but from strangers and others who, as he said, oppressed him "in the most friendly dispositions with their concerns." This drew upon him a burden which formed a great obstacle to the delights of retirement; for it was a rule with Mr. Jefferson never to omit answering any respectful letter, however obscure the writer or insignificant the object. Happening on one occasion to turn to his letter-list, his curiosity was excited to ascertain the number received in the course of a single year; and on counting, it appeared there were one thousand two-hundred and sixty-seven, "many of them requiring answers of elaborate research, and all to be answered with due attention and consideration." Taking an average of this number for a week or a day, and he might well compare his drudgery at the writing table to "the life of a mill-horse who sees no end to his circle but in death," or to "the life of a cabbage which was a paradise in contrast." For these intrusions, however, not a murmur escaped from him in public; and when compelled to allude to them in his letters of friendship as apologies for his apparent remissness in this department, he would lament them only as "the kind indiscretions which were so heavily oppressing the departing hours of life."
To his persecutions from this source was occasionally superadded the treachery of correspondents in the publication of his letters, which subjected him to much mortification and uneasiness when his strongest desire was to die in the good will of all mankind. Conscious of his own singleness and honesty, he habitually trusted his fellowman; and though often betrayed, he would never surrender the happiness of this confidence. To the possession of this attribute are to be ascribed in great part the firmness and fidelity of that phalanx which, under every pressure of injustice, in every tempest of political dissension, supported him undismayed. He who so fondly trusted others was sure to be trusted himself. "Thus am I situated," he wrote to a friend. "I receive letters from all quarters, some from known friends, some from those who write like friends on various subjects. What am I to do? Am I to button myself up in jesuitical reserve, rudely declining any answer, or answering in terms so unmeaning as only to prove my distrust? Must I withdraw myself from all interchange of sentiment with the world? I cannot do this. It is at war with my habits and temper. I cannot act as if all men were unfaithful because some are so, nor believe that all will betray me because some do. I had rather be the victim of occasional infidelities than relinquish my general confidence in the honesty of man."
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