Jefferson would have liked this biography, I think. Dumas Malone, who spent much of his career at the University of Virginia, composed his six-volume biography of Thomas Jefferson very much in the spirit of one Virginia gentleman paying homage to another. All six volumes of Jefferson and His Time (the formal title for the entire biography) are characterized by an elevated and elegant writing style, exhaustive research, and a strongly sympathetic attitude toward his subject -- "the biographer's trap," as a historian friend of mine once put it.
Jefferson the Virginian, the first volume of the biography, covers such topics as Jefferson's birth and upbringing in central Virginia; his education at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg; the beginnings of his career as a lawyer; his marriage; the process by which he traveled to Philadelphia as a member of the Second Continental Congress and came to write the Declaration of Independence; and his difficult term as war governor of Virginia. The book ends in 1784, as Jefferson sails from Boston on what will be a five-year sojourn in Europe -- and we readers know that what the 41-year-old Jefferson has done by that point is but the beginning of an achievement-filled life that will fill five more volumes' worth of conscientious biographical writing by Malone.
To call Malone’s picture of Thomas Jefferson favorable would be an understatement. For Malone, Jefferson is an “apostle of freedom” – a firm advocate of the Enlightenment doctrine "that the mind of man had emerged from shackles and darkness”, a natural-rights champion with “an attitude of hostility to arbitrary power of any sort, a belief in the vast improvability if not the perfectibility of man, and an impulse toward humanitarianism” (pp. 101-02).
Malone maintains that heroic picture of Jefferson throughout Jefferson the Virginian. When the tall, red-haired man from Albemarle County travels to Philadelphia in 1775, to participate in the First Continental Congress, it is not just “his entrance on the continental stage as a public man”; rather, “When [Jefferson] ferried across the Potomac, on his way to the Continental Congress, he crossed his Rubicon” (p. 201). I know that Malone means well, and is trying to praise Jefferson; but as Jefferson was such a strong believer in the principles of republican government, and an avid reader of Roman history withal, I can’t help thinking that Jefferson might not consider it a compliment to be associated, however indirectly, with Julius Caesar who did so much to bring down the Roman Republic.
Malone sets forth Jefferson’s experience of the American Revolution with characteristic thoroughness. The Declaration of Independence, as one might expect, receives a good deal of attention: “The literary excellence of the Declaration is best attested by the fact that it has stood the test of time. It became the most popular state paper of the American Republic not merely because it was the first, but because to most people it has seemed the best” (p. 223).
By contrast, when it comes to Jefferson’s difficult tenure as Governor of Virginia during the Revolution, Malone must acknowledge that things did not go well. Jefferson was almost captured at Monticello by British raiders, and was widely criticized by his political opponents for his actions as governor. Malone notes that the existing structure of Virginia’s state government placed severe limits on the power of any governor, and adds that “this polite and thoughtful man found out, all too soon, that war played havoc with philosophy and the amenities” (p. 308).
A characteristic example of Malone’s consistently laudatory picture of Jefferson comes near the end of the book – when Jefferson, in 1783, is getting his library in order, prior to his traveling to Philadelphia for service in the Confederation Congress at Philadelphia. Jefferson’s interest in organizing his library is, for Malone, evidence that “Jefferson kept the house of his mind in order. He collected books not merely to own, but to use them, and for the same purpose he assiduously assembled ideas and information” (p. 402). Malone's Jefferson is truly a heroic figure.
At the same time, Jefferson the Virginian might not altogether pass muster with modern readers. This first volume of Malone's biography was published in 1948, in the midst of an American society that was getting ready to undergo profound change -- indeed, in the very year in which segregationist Southern Democrats responded to the national Democratic Party's move toward civil rights by bolting the national party and forming their own rump party of "Dixiecrats." But one would not know much about the difficult times in which the book was written, or about the complexity of the antebellum American South as a cultural and historical context for Jefferson's life, or about Jefferson's tangled relationship with race and slavery, from reading Jefferson the Virginian.
The index for this 451-page book (including appendixes) features only seven references to slavery, and eight references to people held in slavery by Jefferson. Of those references, many are decidedly sympathetic to Jefferson: "Slavery, TJ's early efforts against, 141; in violation of natural law, 122, 228" (p. 482), etc. The biographer's trap. Later scholars and biographers, such as Fawn Brodie, Annette Gordon-Reed, and John Chester Miller, would look at Jefferson and slavery quite differently.
And yet the book is so beautifully written. It is as if Malone puts himself in the place of Jefferson, composing from within the serenity of that magnificent mountaintop home at Monticello. The young Jefferson is virtually a living presence on the campus of William & Mary, where as a student I would walk through the oldest part of the campus, or along Duke of Gloucester Street in the restored area of Colonial Williamsburg, and imagine that I (class of 1984) was walking in the footsteps of Thomas Jefferson (class of 1762) -- a simplified picture, suitable to the imagination of a very young man. Only as time went on, and I read more widely, did I get more of a sense of how very challenging is the task of trying to understand the brilliant, baffling complexity that is Thomas Jefferson. More than 30 years later, on this Presidents' Day, I am still trying to understand him better.
Jefferson the Virginian contains one map of the Jeffersons' part of central Virginia, but no other illustrations. One could argue, however, that Malone, a gifted writer, paints a compelling picture through the power of his prose style alone. Jefferson the Virginian and the five volumes that follow it represent a good start toward getting to know America's enigmatic third president -- the man whom historian Joseph Ellis aptly referred to as an "American sphinx." Think of Malone's work as the first word on Jefferson, but not necessarily the last.