She came of age in a time of war. Colonial girls of her age and social station scarcely left the plantation, but she accompanied her father across the country and to foreign shores. At a time when women were dissuaded from involvement in politics, her father made her witness to two revolutions and the secret torments of the men who fought them.
Intelligent, highly educated, and fiercely loyal, she lived an extraordinary life of her own, while defending her father’s legacy. And in his shadow, she became one of the most quietly influential women in American history. We wanted to write that history through her eyes, ever mindful that it would be biased in favor of her father and his politics. Knowing, too, that her perspective would be as flawed as she was. For what Patsy likely believed to be acts of family loyalty or even patriotism can be seen now in a much more troubling light.
At the time of this writing, the Thomas Jefferson Foundation and most historians believe that given the weight of the historical evidence—including DNA testing—Jefferson fathered the children of Sally Hemings. If true, it’s all but impossible that Jefferson’s daughter didn’t know about it.
And if she knew, a very different picture emerges.
A picture painted in this book.
A picture only hinted at in her famous portrait by Thomas Sully—the one she posed for at the end of this story.
In her time, Patsy was known as a conventional woman of perfect temper, but our research revealed her to be as complicated a heroine as any writer could wish for. She was a privileged, passive-aggressive, morally conflicted, gritty survivor with a facile relationship with the truth. She was also heroically devoted and capable of both enormous compassion and sacrifice. Her contradictions captivated us, and we hope you enjoyed reading the story she inspired.
Now, to the explanation of the choices we made.
WE COULDN’T HAVE INVENTED William Short if he didn’t exist. A political acolyte who was present at the most crucial junctures in the president’s life, and also carried on a doomed romance with Jefferson’s daughter? A man of radically progressive ideals for his time who challenged his mentor on matters of race and equality?
No one would have believed it.
But the romantic relationship has a basis in history, as explained by Patsy’s biographer, Cynthia Kierner. We did not have to invent William’s gallantry in procuring a miniature of Jefferson for Patsy, nor even William’s request to keep his involvement secret. Nor did we have to invent William’s indecorously frequent visits to Patsy at the convent in her father’s absence. Marie Botidoux believed that William was still in love with Patsy even after she left France, and we adopted that view.
Though the seriousness and duration of this romance is not known, nor even if Jefferson was aware of it, the remarkable frequency with which William Short’s life intersected Patsy’s at crucial junctions is astonishing. Short was reportedly there when her family fled Monticello. He was there in Paris, where their flirtation began. He was present when the Sally Hemings scandal broke. He visited Monticello just prior to the final destruction of Patsy’s marriage. And he was apparently involved in discouraging anyone from buying Monticello for her once it was put up for sale. Consequently, we’ve romanticized him for dramatic purposes and assumed that theirs was a very long love story.
Of course, when it comes to the personal lives of the Jefferson family, much must be assumed.
The Jefferson family papers were edited for posterity—a laborious family project. The letters they chose to share with the public are fascinating. But from what they held back or destroyed, much can also be discerned. With predictable regularity, letters missing in the historical record coincide with events that might prove embarrassing. One such example is Thomas Mann Randolph Jr.’s first election loss, where Jefferson’s letters hint at a troubling episode, but Tom’s letters from this period—the existence of which are recorded in Jefferson’s notes—are missing.
There is also the mysterious case of Jefferson’s letter index for the crucial year of 1788—the only volume missing from a forty-three-year record of correspondence. Even letters have disappeared to and from Jefferson’s daughters during this year, which is when the relationship with Sally Hemings is thought to have begun. Additionally, the very letters most likely to shed light on Sally’s pregnancy and whereabouts during the spring of 1790 are gone. All of which, of course, fits a very specific pattern supporting the charge of obfuscation by Jefferson’s heirs.