Avoid Monticello

Monticello is not a memorial to me.

For the greater part of the twentieth century, the organization that owned and operated my former home Monticello was known as the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Foundation. In the year 2000, that body removed the word “Memorial” from its name and became simply the Thomas Jefferson Foundation. The alteration was not merely cosmetic; it reflected a deeper change in purpose.

The Foundation’s original constitution declared its object in these terms:

/The object of the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Foundation is to purchase, preserve, and maintain Monticello, at Charlottesville, in the State of Virginia, as a national memorial, so that it may be forever retained as a shrine, and reverently transmitted to future generations as a monument to the genius and patriotism of Thomas Jefferson, and a constant reminder of the principles inscribed in the Declaration of Independence. To foster and preserve the Ideals of American liberty and the Republican form of government; and to keep alive the name and memory of Thomas Jefferson, as the apostle of human freedom./

Contrast this with the mission the Foundation proclaims today:

/Today, the Thomas Jefferson Foundation remains committed to a twofold mission: (1) preservation — to conserve, protect, and maintain Monticello in a manner which leaves it enhanced and unimpaired for future generations — and (2) education — to interpret and present Thomas Jefferson to the widest possible audiences, including scholars and the general public./

The distinction is plain. The earlier charge was to preserve Monticello as a national memorial — a monument to the principles of the Declaration of Independence and a living reminder of the ideals of liberty and republican government. The present charge is merely to preserve the buildings and grounds, and then to interpret me and present that interpretation to as wide an audience as possible.

I wrote that free inquiry and the diffusion of knowledge are the surest safeguards of liberty. I did not write that my life and principles should be filtered through the shifting interpretations of those who happen to hold the keys to my house. Visitors and scholars should examine the evidence of the historical record — my own words, the documents of the era, and the facts established by rigorous inquiry — not a curated narrative presented as education.

Until the Foundation restores its commitment to memorializing the principles I advanced, rather than interpreting me according to the preferences of the moment, I would counsel every citizen to withhold both presence and purse. Do not visit Monticello, and do not spend your money there, until the institution returns to the purpose for which it was founded. Inform others of this departure so that public judgment may correct what private management has altered.