*LONG READ ALERT*
In the opening pages of his 1988 book The Price of Admiralty, British historian John Keegan contrasts the difference between the waters of history and the grounds of history. His theory was that if we were to stand on the fields of Gettysburg, we would always wonder exactly where a thing happened. However, if we were to stand on the deck of a ship-of-war, we would be able to feel that history more deeply. I admire the late Mr. Keegan, but I think that the opening pages of his book were wrong – the ground holds powerful feelings.
This past week, I had the privilege of taking part in an archaeology expedition with the archaeology team at Montpelier. They are one department that comprises the small army that are caretakers of the home of the fourth President, James Madison. It is unique: It’s not close to a large city like George Washington’s Mount Vernon, or Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello. Also, unlike those places, there were several owners over the life of the property before it became what we know it as today. What is even more astonishing is who helps to determine what happens there: The Montpelier Descendant’s Committee, comprised of the descendants of the enslaved, have a seat at the table.
The ground at Montpelier holds things that you can feel. This is a place of pain, suffering, hatred, and somehow, hope. I don’t want to ruin the surprise for any of you that may make your way out to Orange, Virginia, but I will tell you this: There is something about this place. The challenge with discomfort is that it forces you to get familiar with what makes you uncomfortable. Come out. Do an expedition with the team. You will not only see the house, but also play a major part in unearthing the secrets in the soil. The full story of this place and how it connects the story of early America, has yet to be told. I’ll be back to help tell the story. Will you join me?
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