When Thomas Jefferson-a widower and ex-president-retired to his mountaintop retreat at Monticello, he enjoyed nothing so much as writing letters. This was before the days of envelopes, and the story is that Jefferson’s letters could be, and often were, read and discussed at every tavern along the postman’s route.
The great man knew this, so his letters were rarely controversial or confidential, says Charles Cullen, president of the Newberry Library and curator of a new exhibition titled “Thomas Jefferson: A Life With Letters,” which continues in the library’s R.R. Donnelley Gallery through May 1.
Nevertheless, it would have been interesting to witness such a reading of Jefferson’s mail on subjects ranging from slavery, to religion, to politics, to his difficulty in making ends meet at his farms. The men and women in taverns, after all, were the Americans on whom Jefferson depended to build a strong new nation.
Jefferson was the ultimate democrat, explained Cullen, a leading Jeffersonian scholar. “He argued that all power should rest in the hands of the people.”
Just what Thomas Jefferson meant to America lies beneath the surface of this finely wrought exhibit of some 40 letters (Jefferson almost always kept copies) along with several books, such as his copy of the “Federalist Papers,” and other printed material from the time. With the exception of a single letter, everything on display is from the Newberry collection.
Among material in “A Life With Letters” is one (1816) expressing opposition to a new Bank of the United States. Jefferson believed the nation suffered from “bank mania” as he called the fashion for easy credit and resulting inflation. Most of the writings in the exhibition, however, are of a more personal nature.
Two letters were written to close friend Thaddeus Kosciuszko, the Polish general who aided the cause of the American Revolution. Jefferson handled Kosciuszko’s personal finances-not without some disappointments-and even encouraged him to move to Monticello. There are letters about Jefferson’s interest in architecture as well as other arts and sciences. There is even a hand-drawn diagram of a plow, a technology that Jefferson, the farmer, was intent on improving.
What emerges is a man who was never the firebrand that other revolutionaries were. “He was conciliatory,” said Martha Briggs, co-curator of the exhibition along with Cullen. “He usually tried to make peace and not cause conflict. His letters show that he often said what people wanted to hear.”
The man whom we now regard as a politician for all seasons was actually introspective and even scholarly. “His interests ran from astrology to zoology,” explained Cullen. He was no backslapper; it was his understanding of political philosophy that made him the obvious choice to pen the Declaration of Independence, a printed copy of which is on display. (Its Rhode Island printer got the date wrong: June 13, 1776.)
There were times throughout his career when he seemed more keenly interested in life at Monticello than in politics. “My farm, my family & my books call to me irresistibly,” he wrote in 1793 as he prepared to retire as George Washington’s secretary of state, although higher elective office was still in his future.
“A Life With Letters” does not tell us much that is new about Jefferson, who has been microscopically studied for more than 200 years. Yet many simple observations in the letters might lead to additional insight and respect for a complex man.
History records him, for example, as a plantation owner uncomfortable with slavery. It is well known, for example, that the final draft of the Declaration excised passages that would have prohibited the slave trade. What we see in the exhibition is the personal side of the reluctant slaveholder: a letter to one of his overseers explains that three of his slaves were being allowed to visit friends at another farm.
He looked at immigration with a wary eye as well. As he wrote (here as always with frequent misspellings): “We recieve immense emigrations from Europe, those from France are the least valuable, being mostly men of high military rank, knowing nothing but war. . . . From Switzerland and Great Britain we get valuable people, especially the last who bring us good agriculture as well as the manufacturing arts.” He criticized the French even though he was regarded, even suspected, as a Francophile.
As objects in a museum should, these documents bring distant events closer and even familiar. While Jefferson was ambassador to France before his presidency, he wrote to ask his private secretary to find a specific part for a macaroni machine. In another letter he warned his daughter “of never buying any thing which you have not money in your pocket to pay for.”
Does real character come through in this exhibit? Jefferson was indeed guarded in his letters-perhaps he worried that his words could be misconstrued by the readers of his mail in taverns. What does emerge, however, is a man who found the world intensely interesting and who seemed accepting of change.
“Jefferson thought change was great, as the spread of democracy at the time exhibited,” Cullen said.
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“Thomas Jefferson: A Life With Letters” continues at the R.R. Donnelley Gallery at the Newberry Library, 60 W. Walton St., through May 1. Hours are 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Monday, Friday and Saturday, 9 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday. Admission to the exhibition is free.
A lecture series at the library to honor the 250th anniversary of Jefferson’s birth continues April 13 with “Thomas Jefferson: The Man Who Could Not Live Without Books,” about happiness in the pursuit of knowledge. Other lectures through early summer include topics related to American Indians, religious freedom and other aspects of Jefferson’s life. For information call 312-943-9090.
