Steph: We already knew, of course, that some very unhappy people had lived at Tuckahoe, and that dark and heavy mood was reflected in both the restored black walnut paneling in the house’s foyer and the false windows on the brick sides. But nothing illustrated the oddness of Tuckahoe more than the date etched into a pane of glass in what may have once been a sitting room. Our tour guide told us it was part of a family tradition where the Randolph girls would carve into the glass to prove their engagement rings were made of diamond. But there was only one date in the glass—March 16, 1789, the day Tom’s mother died. Back outside, Laura was all but scaling the facade to get a decent picture of that pane, because we came up with an alternate explanation pretty much on the spot: It was Nancy Randolph’s vindictive departing gesture to Gabriella Harvey.
Laura: That house left such a strong impression on us! And, as if all of that wasn’t strange enough—the Randolph cemetery lies within a totally enclosed brick wall with no gate or door and not a single Randolph burial is marked with a headstone, only a shared plaque on one of the walls. It’s possible the original cemetery was destroyed by natural elements long ago, but it gave us the impression that the Randolphs took no more care of one another in death than they had in life. So in spite of its beauty, Tuckahoe gave us a sad, heavy, troubled feeling that seemed to fit Tom so well—and maybe all the trauma and anger that existed within those walls helps explain the troubles Tom had. Tuckahoe definitely had a “feeling” that informed our writing.
Steph: And the difference at Monticello was noticeable. It’s important to remember that Jefferson spent a part of his childhood at Tuckahoe, which must have informed his ideas about what a great house should be. Though it sits on a bluff above the James River, Tuckahoe’s face is on a flat plain, everything about it exhibiting a bleak, near-militant control over the landscape. And yet, Monticello, by contrast, sits at the top of a mountain, where Jefferson’s fields, orchards, and roads are carved gracefully into the slopes, as if he were in a continuous negotiation with nature. From zigzag rooftop gutters that collected water in the cistern, to the fifty-mile view of the countryside, everything about Monticello seems to have sprung from a vision. It was a reminder that Jefferson strove to find a balance between his idealism and his sense of ruthless reality, not just on his plantation but in the vast nation unfolding below it. Sometimes he succeeded in that, and sometimes he didn’t.
Laura: Which brings us to one thing both sites had in common: the presence of spaces related to the history of slavery. Tuckahoe has one of the oldest remaining plantation streets in Virginia, complete with slave quarters, kitchen, smokehouse, storehouse, and stable. Archaeologists at Monticello have found the remains of numerous workshops and quarters, which are now marked, interpreted, and in some cases rebuilt for visitors to see. One cannot visit either plantation and forget that enslaved labor made the social life, economy, and business of these places possible. Mulberry Row was the heart of the enslaved community at Monticello. It was where countless boys began their labor in the nailery and where numerous women manufactured cloth in the textile factory. It was where the Hemings family had their cabins, and where Sally Hemings lived and raised her children—Jefferson’s children. Just imagining how Sally made her way each day to Jefferson’s chambers—either through the private spaces of his greenhouse or past the kitchen, under the south terrace, into the basement, and up the stairs that came to the first floor right outside his rooms—reinforced to us how slavery was both ubiquitous and hidden in plain sight, how some of the people who were most important to not only Patsy’s life but to the founding of this nation were hidden.
Steph: Erased even. And I will never forget the particularly emotional tour we took focusing on slavery at Monticello. Our fellow tourists were a mix of all ages and backgrounds. At one point, a nine-year-old African American boy, wearing wire-rim spectacles much like Jefferson’s, asked what life would have been like for him if he had been a slave at Monticello. Our tour guide, Tom Nash, did not shy away from the question and his powerful explanation about the injustice of slavery prompted a white boy around the same age to ask how a man like Jefferson could have written all men are created equal while continuing to own slaves. It was a poignant moment for many reasons, not least of which was the clear demonstration that hundreds of years after the Declaration of Independence was signed, citizens of all ages and from across the country still gather on Jefferson’s mountaintop to wrestle with the painful contradictions of our nation’s founding.
Reading Group Guide
1. If Thomas Jefferson’s wife hadn’t died, how might he and his daughter have lived different lives? Historically, Jefferson is said to have made a deathbed promise to his wife, and in the novel his daughter makes one as well. How might their lives have differed if they hadn’t made those deathbed promises?
2. As portrayed in the novel and in their letters to each other, how would you describe Jefferson and Patsy’s relationship with each other? Was Jefferson a good father? Did he change as a father over the course of the novel? Was Patsy a good daughter?
3. Does seeing Jefferson through his daughter’s eyes make him more relatable as a Founding Father? How so or why not?