America's First Daughter: A Novel(191)
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.
No note to or from Sally has ever been found. That may be because Sally wasn’t literate, or because Jefferson never wrote her, or because someone made sure such letters vanished—and if so, that someone was assuredly his daughter Patsy. If Sally Hemings was with child upon her return from France, no evidence of that child remains—which left us to incorporate the contemporary rumors that the child was a boy and named after the president. And the Jefferson family would have had many reasons to keep all of this quiet, including a little-known fact that sexual congress between a man and his wife’s sister held the taint of incest until the nineteenth century.
As with most works of historical fiction, the most outlandish bits are the true ones. Patsy did, indeed, want to be a nun—an ambition frustrated by her father. Newly released private letters shared with the Thomas Jefferson Foundation reveal that she was also highly sought after by the eligible bachelors of Paris, including the Duke of Dorset who offered a diamond ring. The unsigned love poem we attributed to William Short is real but may have come from any one of her suitors, or possibly one of her convent friends, who, like Marie, expressed utter despair at her departure.
Patsy did give suspicious testimony after the scandal at Bizarre plantation. The colorful characters in that strange case are all drawn from history. The duels and threatened duels are all a matter of public record. Bankhead did beat his wife, Ann, at Monticello. He was set upon by Tom with a fire poker. He did stab Jefferson Randolph and live as a fugitive, even as the family sought to quiet matters, and Patsy mused on ways to let him finish himself off. Harriet and Beverly Hemings were permitted to “run away” from Monticello. Lafayette did, in fact, bow to Patsy Jefferson on that fateful day he escorted the king to Paris. And did also praise her publicly upon his return to America.