March 16, 1751—The son and grandson of slaveholders, James Madison, was born on the family plantation in the piedmont area of Virginia—the same estate where the “Father of the Constitution,” prime mover behind the Bill of Rights, and fourth President of the United States died 85 years later, unable to free his own slaves or to prevent the coming national crisis over its spread.
Two and a half years ago, I had the opportunity to visit Madison’s estate, Montpelier, at the midpoint of its restoration. (I took the accompanying photo, showing the portico--which will undoubtedly look much more impressive when the scaffolding is finally down.)
Two and a half years ago, I had the opportunity to visit Madison’s estate, Montpelier, at the midpoint of its restoration. (I took the accompanying photo, showing the portico--which will undoubtedly look much more impressive when the scaffolding is finally down.)
The handsome Georgian mansion is being returned in size, structure, form, and finishes to its look in the 1820s, the retirement era of Madison’s life. (Subsequent owners, the duPonts, had added two wings, increasing the number of rooms from 22 to 55.) That process will be completed in time for the mansion’s grand re-opening on September 17—Constitution Day—when visitors may visit free for the celebration.
What surprised me the most during my visit was not a fact that related directly to Madison so much as to his family. The institutional structures that Madison created—not just the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, but even the two-party system that he helped create as the trusted lieutenant of friend and mentor Thomas Jefferson—were designed to enhance freedom without unleashing disorder. Through family history, Madison may have already been all too familiar with the potential for violence when this process went out of joint.
About a half mile from Montpelier, next to the Madison family cemetery, I came to the original site of the Madison family estate, the ironically named Mt. Pleasant. A sign (from its battered looks, probably early in the 20th century) noted that James' grandfather, Ambrose Madison, "died suddenly" in 1732.
Well, that's one way of putting it. It would be more nearly correct to say he died slowly – a lingering death due to poisoning by two of his own house slaves and another from a neighboring estate.
Ambrose Madison enjoyed the dubious distinction of being the first recorded murder victim in the area. Insurrection was a looming threat, often unspoken but real, in those days, a concern that would only have multiplied with the size of what was euphemistically termed his "property." (Ambrose Madison possessed 29 slaves at the time of his death; his grandson had more than 100.)
Even in retirement, James Madison was reluctant to take a public stand against the institution he criticized often in private conversation and correspondence. In 1829, his old friend, the Revolutionary War hero Marquis de Lafayette, urged him to call for emancipation. Madison refused, calling the idea "a spark to gunpowder."
Clearly, this landed aristocrat feared the explosion of passion that could be unleashed by a slave revolt — the kind that occurred only two years later in Virginia with Nat Turner's rebellion.
Tragically, because of a set of interlocking factors—the precipitous decline of Virginia’s agriculture-based economy in the 1820s, the cost of maintaining the convivial lifestyle that he and wife Dolley enjoyed, and the estate’s mismanagement by Madison’s stepson, John Payne Todd, an alcoholic and gambler—Madison was unable to act on his wish to free his slaves in his will.
I hope someday to return to Montpelier to see how the estate looked during Madison’s time. However, I also hope that the archeological study being conducted during the renovation will have revealed by then more about how Madison was caught between recognizing the universal need for freedom and how far short he and his country fell at times in implementing where it counted most—at home.
What surprised me the most during my visit was not a fact that related directly to Madison so much as to his family. The institutional structures that Madison created—not just the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, but even the two-party system that he helped create as the trusted lieutenant of friend and mentor Thomas Jefferson—were designed to enhance freedom without unleashing disorder. Through family history, Madison may have already been all too familiar with the potential for violence when this process went out of joint.
About a half mile from Montpelier, next to the Madison family cemetery, I came to the original site of the Madison family estate, the ironically named Mt. Pleasant. A sign (from its battered looks, probably early in the 20th century) noted that James' grandfather, Ambrose Madison, "died suddenly" in 1732.
Well, that's one way of putting it. It would be more nearly correct to say he died slowly – a lingering death due to poisoning by two of his own house slaves and another from a neighboring estate.
Ambrose Madison enjoyed the dubious distinction of being the first recorded murder victim in the area. Insurrection was a looming threat, often unspoken but real, in those days, a concern that would only have multiplied with the size of what was euphemistically termed his "property." (Ambrose Madison possessed 29 slaves at the time of his death; his grandson had more than 100.)
Even in retirement, James Madison was reluctant to take a public stand against the institution he criticized often in private conversation and correspondence. In 1829, his old friend, the Revolutionary War hero Marquis de Lafayette, urged him to call for emancipation. Madison refused, calling the idea "a spark to gunpowder."
Clearly, this landed aristocrat feared the explosion of passion that could be unleashed by a slave revolt — the kind that occurred only two years later in Virginia with Nat Turner's rebellion.
Tragically, because of a set of interlocking factors—the precipitous decline of Virginia’s agriculture-based economy in the 1820s, the cost of maintaining the convivial lifestyle that he and wife Dolley enjoyed, and the estate’s mismanagement by Madison’s stepson, John Payne Todd, an alcoholic and gambler—Madison was unable to act on his wish to free his slaves in his will.
I hope someday to return to Montpelier to see how the estate looked during Madison’s time. However, I also hope that the archeological study being conducted during the renovation will have revealed by then more about how Madison was caught between recognizing the universal need for freedom and how far short he and his country fell at times in implementing where it counted most—at home.
No comments:
Post a Comment