• U.S.

18th Century: Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826)

5 minute read
Lance Morrow

Of all the Founding Fathers, Thomas Jefferson has fared the worst at the hands of revisionists. If he has managed to keep his place on Mount Rushmore, he has been vilified almost everywhere else in recent years as a slave-owning hypocrite and racist; a political extremist; an apologist for the vicious, botched French Revolution; and in general, somewhat less the genius remembered in our folklore than a provincial intellectual and tinkerer.

The onslaught is unfair. But even ardent Jeffersonians admit that the man was an insoluble puzzle. The contradictions in his character and his ideas could be breathtaking. That the author of the Declaration of Independence (“All men are created equal”) not only owned and worked slaves at Monticello but also may have kept one of them, Sally Hemings, as a mistress–allegedly fathering children with her but never freeing her or them–was merely the most dramatic of his inconsistencies.

The brilliant American icon gets overtaken from time to time by his own apparent incoherence, his strangeness. He kept minutely detailed account books, for example–he was an obsessive record keeper who made daily notes on everything from barometric readings to the progress of 29 varieties of vegetables at Monticello–yet he somehow lost track of his debts and died bankrupt. The historian Paul Johnson has catalogued a few of the inconsistencies: Jefferson was an elitist who complained bitterly of elites; a humorless man whose favorite books were Don Quixote and Tristram Shandy; a soft-spoken intellectual sometimes given to violent, inflammatory language (“The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants”) that in our day gets quoted by paranoiacs holed up in the Idaho mountains. Both liberals and conservatives claim him as their own.

What does it mean to be a Jeffersonian? You must pick your Jefferson. Every other American statesman, Henry Adams wrote, could be portrayed “with a few broad strokes of the brush,” but Jefferson “only touch by touch with a fine pencil, and the perfection of the likeness depended upon the shifting and uncertain flicker of semitransparent shadows.”

Alas, indignant–or prurient–revisionism does not work with a fine pencil. Thomas Jefferson amounted to something infinitely more important–and more interesting–than one would know from the noise and scandal obscuring his achievement now.

He was arguably the most accomplished man (and in some ways the most fascinating one) who ever occupied the White House–naturalist, lawyer, educator, musician, architect, geographer, inventor, scientist, agriculturalist, philologist and more. His only presidential rival in versatility of intellect was Theodore Roosevelt. Though Jefferson wrote only one book, Notes on the State of Virginia, he was a magnificent writer and tireless correspondent. He left behind an astonishing 18,000 letters, including his memorable correspondence with John Adams. (Adams and Jefferson died on the same day, July 4, 1826, the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.)

Jefferson was a creature of the 18th century; he was the man of the 18th century. A dozen powerful strands of the Enlightenment converged in him: a certain sky-blue clarity, an aggressive awareness of the world, a fascination with science, a mechanical vision of the universe (much thanks to Isaac Newton) and an obsession with mathematical precision. The writer Garry Wills has suggested that Jefferson believed human life could be geared to the precision and simplicity of heaven’s machinery. Many of the contradictions in his character arose from the discrepancies between such intellectual machinery and the passionate, organic disorders of life.

Jefferson’s finest hour came when he was young, only 33. The Continental Congress, meeting in Philadelphia in June 1776, chose a committee of five (Benjamin Franklin, Adams, Roger Sherman, Robert Livingston and Jefferson) to draft a Declaration of Independence. Jefferson nominated Adams to compose the draft. Adams demurred, “I am obnoxious, suspected and unpopular. You are very much otherwise.” Besides, “You can write 10 times better than I.” The committee chose Jefferson.

The truths that Jefferson famously declared to be “self-evident” were not new. He drew his ideas from an extraordinarily wide range of reading, especially from the works of Francis Bacon, Sir Isaac Newton and John Locke, and from the Scottish moral philosophers–Francis Hutcheson, Thomas Reid, David Hume, Adam Smith.

Some have dismissed the Declaration as merely eloquent propaganda–a sort of fancy mission statement for an insurrection. The only response is to observe the power of language to alter history. Jefferson explained, “I did not consider it as any part of my charge to invent new ideas altogether… It was intended to be an expression of the American mind.”

The work of a life may transcend the biography; a civilized person, the slave-owning hypocrite–or whatever he may have been beneath the impenetrable enamels of his character–formulated, in the Declaration of Independence, the founding aspiration of America and what is still its best self, an ideal that retains its motive force precisely because it is unfulfilled and maybe unfulfillable: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, and that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights; and that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

In later years, he discerned how democracy could be distorted, pointing to Republican France and Napoleon (a “wretch,” Jefferson declared, of “maniac ambition”; he added “Having been, like him, entrusted with the happiness of my country, I feel the blessing of resembling him in no other point”). Jefferson stitched together popular sovereignty and liberty, all under divine sponsorship and legitimized by ancient precedent and English tradition. Writes the historian Merrill Peterson: “For the first time in history, ‘the rights of man,’ not of rulers, were laid at the foundation of a nation. The first great Colonial revolt perforce became the first great democratic revolution as well.”

With the Declaration, Jefferson gave the Enlightenment its most eloquent and succinct political expression. He lifted the human race into a higher orbit.

–By Lance Morrow

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