In the 1980s the University of Virginia faced a dilemma: determining the University's proper role as steward of this superb cultural legacy and the steps that should be taken to arrest the decline of Jefferson's buildings. During this same period Jefferson's international importance to American culture and history was emphatically pronounced with the naming of the Academical Village and Monticello to the World Heritage List. Note: 1 Proper stewardship was no longer merely an option; it was now the only possible course of action. In acknowledging its responsibility to safeguard the site, the University took several steps. It began earnest discussions with the state government of Virginia to explain the need for increased financial support. As a result, some of the worst cases of decrepitude were stabilized to halt increasingly rapid decay. In 1983 the University appointed an Architect for the Historic Buildings and Groundsța new positionțto direct a comprehensive analysis of the condition of the buildings and to begin preservation work. Shortly thereafter the University created the Jeffersonian Restoration Advisory Board, a group of some twenty-five leaders in preservation and philanthropy that would serve as the institutional parent of the movement. Under their aegis, more than ten million dollars in grants, gifts, and government aid have been amassed or pledged to the restoration program, for immediate use or as endowment for long-term support. The philosophical underpinnings of this work have been nurtured by a smaller group of board trustees known as the Design Committee. The Board's two imperatives--funding and a preservation conscience to go with it--have found their rightful places in the University's understanding of its cultural and historical mission.
The second precept, and one that surprises many, is that the setting is not, and never should be, a museum. It is a living community that has been in continuous use since 1825, when classes were first held. If the buildings, the central terraced greenspace, or the gardens were isolated, it would violate the most compelling of Jefferson's reasons for designing a heterogeneous, tightly knit community of faculty and students. This place inspires and instructs through repeated use in everyday life; H is neither stage set nor museum piece.
By the 1970s preservation professionals in America had generally agreed that stewardship of historic sites, whether museum properties or not, should move away from romanticized attitudes about historic places toward more exact understandings based on thorough research and objective analysis of historic data, current conditions, and preservation options. Such an outlook is in accord with venerable international preservation creeds such as the Venice Charter, which as early as 1931 espoused a more clinical approach than had been customary in the nineteenth century. At its best, application of the Charter and similar dicta allows archaeological evidence to remain intact. Unrestrained exercise of one's will to create and alter can be so destructive to historic sites that their value is severely compromised. Thus, the Design Committee requires of itself a strong measure of ego suppression; the facts of a building and its history must be allowed to speak for themselves. Good stewardship is, in one sense, merely good caretaking. Note: 2
Finally, the philosophy guiding the present restoration program incorporates educational imperatives directed at several audiences. The most obvious audience is the collection of residents and colleagues who use the place each day. The pavilions still house faculty, and students still live in the small rooms between the pavilions. The Rotunda still serves as a magnet for students, faculty, and an increasing number of visitors. The gardens and grassy terraces continue to enchant the passerby. So where is the educational value for all these people? It lies in the sophisticating influence of Jefferson's rarefied architectural ensemble, which he had borrowed from antique sources with the precise motive of offering instructional models of architecture at its best. For those who did not grow up amidst the architectural glories of Europe, he built corresponding models close at hand. As long as it stands the Academical Village will never lose this capacity to teach by affording simple everyday exposure to utilitarian art. More explicit forms of teaching art are also possible, especially in relation to preservation of the setting. To preservation professionals, faculty, and students, the buildings and landscape offer unparalleled opportunities for research in primary and secondary resource materials, and for archaeological examination of conditions that in many instances have survived untouched from Jefferson's day. While documentary study and stylistic analysis common to art history have long found a warm recognition within the University, it is only in the past decade that the study of building fabric--which requires working with one's hands at the site--has been offered to students (fig. 70). Again, the desire is to reconnect in whatever way is possible with the pedagogical motive upon which Jefferson founded this university. We believe that he would also approve of the fact that his setting has become a laboratory for nurturing preservation students and craftspersons as they prepare for professional lives in a realm of architectural endeavor scarcely envisioned in his lifetime.
As the Design Committee has assessed conditions and opportunities for work each year, it has developed a series of practical guidelines:
1. Assess all historical evidence before making decisions about the property.
2. Fit the present use of the property to the specific historic conditions at hand, rather than radically alter historical conditions to accommodate passing notions. Once altered, archaeological conditions are of little value to future generations. Where alteration uncovers original conditions, action may indeed be very helpful.
3. Be as gentle as possible in carrying out intrusive research or alterations that might compromise the historic value of the place.
4. Where intrusion or alterations are necessary to accommodate current users, do so cautiously, respecting both user and artifact. Rarely can a building be all things to all people.
5. Strive to be as inclusive of as many audiences as the historic fabric can allow. For example, certain buildings or areas are more readily accessible to those with disabilities than others; some defy one's best efforts to provide universal access.
6. Let present work be planned in such a way that major interventions will not be necessary with each change of occupants, thereby reducing stress on the fragile and irreplaceable relic. On average, major work should occur every forty years, minor work every ten years.
7. In accordance with research of historic data and programmatic building needs, determine the best way to reveal as much as possible about early conditions that have been changed or hidden from view. The motive should be to give present-day viewers the clearest possible image of Jefferson's architectural intent in terms of building shapes, interior spatial configurations, finishes, and decorative details.
8. To render the buildings usable, some past alterations might be worthwhile, even desirable. Therefore, simple erasure of all past changes is not the aim. Reverse only those changes that are at odds with Jefferson's aim to have architecture that is handsome, well-built, and uplifting. And where awkwardness occurred in Jefferson's own day, keep those examples intact as chapters of the complete story each building must continue to tell.
9. To recreate early conditions, use evidence from this site rather than borrow evidence of the same general period from other sites which could lead to confusion among future researchers.
10. When new features are introduced, make them as passive in design as possible, neither competing for attention with original features nor confusing the viewer about what is old and what is new. The old and new should live harmoniously in both style and quality.
11. As the past is revealed, develop a cadre of skilled craftspersons who can adapt themselves to the techniques appropriate to these buildings. Especially important are techniques common in Jefferson's time but unused or radically different today.
12. Assure that all work is reversible, so that basic artifactual evidence will remain intact for future study.
13. Keep in mind that resuscitation of the Academical Village provides an ideal laboratory setting for those interested in the history of Jefferson and his community, as well as those interested in state-of-the-art techniques of conservation and restoration. The goal should be finessețin methods of research, in analyzing the resource, and in curing the physical problems.
14. To assist future caretakers of this historic place, thoroughly document all that has been done.
Among the recent discoveries of most consequence have been details of Jefferson's techniques for installing metal roofing, a growing body of knowledge about early finishes and decorative techniques, evidence of major interior changes, and facts about original hardware and features encapsulated by later work. In the absence of records describing early conditions or subsequent changes, such unanticipated information allows the physical truth to clear up vague notions about what might have been and offers a measure of certainty to many decisions that must be made. The single greatest result of research during the 1980s has been the clarification of our image of the ten pavilions, so that we can confidently saythatthe public is seeing the buildings in a truer, more faithful rendition. Such an approach is more conservative than would have been customary fifty years ago, when restoration was based on generalized understanding of a period or style as distinguished from knowledge of site-specific data.
The first major contact with hidden conditions at the pavilions occurred in 1985 at Pavilion VIII. Early sketches and site study indicated that the entry just outside the front door had been altered. A narrow bridge from the colonnade deck, linking the deck with the second-floor hallway, had been widened, probably in 1854 or 1855, thereby preventing light from spilling downward to the main doorway (fig. 71). Removal of material thought to have been added revealed carved moldings that confirmed the nature of the deck's original design; irregularities in adjacent brickwork answered many other questions. However, the design of the railing panels between deck and handrail remained a mystery. It was decided to rely on Jefferson's repeated use elsewhere of wooden railings in the manner of Thomas Chippendale's geometric studies, which had been inspired by Oriental motifs. This was the only conjectural feature in an otherwise provable restoration of an altered condition.
While this work was being done, another early condition was exposed: small bands of evidence suggesting that the plaster coating on Jefferson's brick columns had neither been painted nor sand-finished, in contrast to columns at Monticello. The bands remained only because of the widening of the bridge. The column finish that was exposed seemed to contradict the use of brilliant white paint throughout the Academical Village. At that stage in our work, the ramifications of changing the tonality of the entire precinct were considered so profound, both in terms of public reaction and overall cost, that the evidence was left exposed, yet protected, for further analysis and debate as more research is carried out in the future. It is generally felt that the use of brilliant white came about later in the nineteenth century, perhaps during the Greek Revival period.
Pavilion VIII also offered a look at Jefferson's early wood roofing system, which had been used above student rooms and, as later research has shown, on Pavilions V and VIII. Note: 3 The design of these shallow-pitched roofs was incompatible with the conditions of climate and vegetation to which they were subjected, probably causing the roofs to leak even during the first years of occupancy. All the pavilions were soon covered by more serviceable roofs far different in form, and in the process the older leftover roofs underneath were damaged. But much of the original Pavilion VIII roofing was intact, awaiting exploration as researchers entered the upper attic space. After work was completed in 1986, most of that early material still remained in place, protected for future generations of analysts.
A final comment about Pavilion VIII has to do with its function. At the outset all the pavilions served as both classrooms and residences, but over the years students and faculty lost access to them. In 1986, at the suggestion of the University's Committee on Residential Life, classes were reintroduced to Pavilion VIII. Since then it has served as a constant reminder of Jefferson's unique concepts regarding the intermingling of students and faculty, and it has also offered them an inspiring educational experience in the setting Jefferson originally intended. Note: 4
While restoration of Pavilion VIII was still underway, Pavilion III was ready for similar work, but as a residence without classroom space. On the exterior roof, leakage had caused extensive decay of the wood entablature, necessitating replacement of some members and restoration of elements that could be saved (fig. 72). As one of only two pavilions having no major extensions into its garden, this pavilion had experienced several episodes of interior change during earlier efforts to achieve a more commodious spatial arrangement.
Two of the alterations stand out. The most extensive involved removal of a windowless room on the second floor. The room had been created by the extension of a corridor from the stair at the rear northwest corner of the building to the parlor, at the southwest corner. The corridor's route had flanked the north wall and much of the east wall. Thus a windowless room of moderate size, huddled against an irregularly shaped central chimney mass, had been created. Later the positions of corridor and room were reversed, producing a room with windows and a windowless corridor winding its way awkwardly between rooms. Evidence of the original wall locations appeared as darkened floor varnishes were removed, showing clearly where early doorways had been placed opposite nearby windows. By general agreement the existing, though awkward, arrangement was left in place after original conditions had been documented.
The second surprise at Pavilion III involved alterations that had been made to the upper stair landing. For many years a bathroom had existed on that landing, thereby blocking light that would otherwise have brightened the stairway. Because the second floor required two full bathrooms, the landing had been enclosed some years ago. The possibility of reopening the landing was thoroughly analyzed, but it was concluded that the bathroom would have to remain for the present. The interesting note had to do not with current conditions but with a turn-of-the-century change no longer extant. Mrs. Walter Klingman, who had lived in Pavilion III as a child, heard of the restoration and the discussion of bathrooms. She remembered the stair when it was still open, and also recalled that her father, Professor Raleigh Colston Minor, had built the building's first bathroom as an appendage to the stair landing that protruded through the west window. Upon examination of brickwork in that area, it became clear that a structure had been built, then removed. Without Mrs. Klingman's oral history, we might never have uncovered the facts. Note: 5
The most noteworthy discovery of recent times occurred in 1987 and involved Pavilion X. Attempts to correct a simple leak in what appeared to be a very old slate roof led to the uncovering of tin-coated iron roofing consisting of a series of seven-by-ten-inch plates. These unusual plates could have represented a significant archaeological find, so we sought an evaluation by Mesick-Cohen-Waite, a specialist in nineteenth-century metal roofing (fig. 73). In the course of their investigation, the firm determined that we had uncovered another of Jefferson's experiments with technologies deriving from the Industrial Revolution. While metal roofing was not new, Jefferson's method of folding and attaching the plates appears to have been his own invention. Mesick-Cohen-Waite proposed a method of encapsulating the deteriorated historic roofing and reproducing the same technique on top of it, using stainless steel, a more durable metal. Before the work was begun University craftspersons were trained in appropriate preservation and restoration practices (fig. 74). When the project was completed in 1988, it not only corrected the original physical deterioration, but it also reestablished a forgotten roofing technique. The University was pleased to be of assistance to Monticello by offering this episode as a foundation for a similar, much mo complex roofing restoration there that was completed in 1993.
Beginning in 1987 Pavilion I benefitted from the lessons learned at Pavilions VIII and III. Investigative and restoration skills had been well-learned and it was felt that there would no surprises, butthat assumption was mistaken. Study of surviving remnants of early window-frames at the rear of the present first-floor parlor and dining room uncovered tracks for sashes hidden behind bookcases. The windows had originally opened out onto a garden but had been blocked by a nineteenth-century addition; although the sashes had been destroyed, most of the framing had survived. The Design Committee was thus faced with a dilemma: Should the blocked openings be obliterated, or should the original nature of the room somehow be indicated? After studying many alternatives, the Committee recommended that replicas of two of the windows be fabricated and installed. Not only is this strategy commonly used in classical buildings, but it had also been legitimized by Jefferson's own writings. Note: 6 Therefore it seemed fitting to use this concept in order to show the essential nature of the original parlor. even though one can no longer glimpse a garden beyond (fig. 75).
The real surprise at Pavilion I came from paint research, which provided an aesthetic jolt. For the first time since paint analysis of the Pavilions had begun in 1985, we had to reexamine the wisdom of our philosophy of color use. Both the front hall and stair hall showed clear evidence of an original yellow so intense that it became light orange under certain lighting conditions. Up to this time the reestablishment of exact tonalities had been considered crucial to the authenticity and professionalism of the program. Now we had to ask ourselves: Is wall color a crucial archaeological concern or is it simply a decorating issue? Debates were enthusiastic and helpful, and ultimately we adopted a position stressing the need for authenticity tempered by a measure of understanding. The architectural envelope, including paints, should be restored as authentically as possible, but there could be some negotiation in later additions or in upper-floor private areas as long as the overall palette were kept in mind; and inhabitants would be allowed to exercise personal taste in furnishings and artwork. Note: 7 The emphasis on authenticity was based upon the certainty that the buildings, as international monuments, should be viewed as exemplars of their time; as such they must be true to the historical facts even while they must serve as comfortable homes and usable, quasi-public buildings.
The other authors of this book have often mentioned discrepancies between early drawings and the buildings as they were finally constructed. Pavilion VI, the object of restoration between 1989 and 1991, is a perfect example of this phenomenon. An early sketch of the first floor shows a central chimney mass flanked by entry vestibules and two large rooms (fig. 31). By 1989 the building had come to resemble this arrangement, with minor discrepancies. However, study of the woodwork and flooring, as well as the comments of those who knew the building prior to the 1950s, revealed that the center of the building had been open with a central corridor extending from the front door to the rear. As had been the case at Pavilion III, practical considerations won out, and today Pavilion VI remains very much altered and closed. Nevertheless, it is satisfying to the Design Committee to have the record of changes so clearly described.
On the second floor a different situation emerged. The Committee had to decide the fate of a set of frescoes that had been installed in the original sitting room in 1929. The paintings depict historical scenes and personages identified with the early years of the Republic, and with the close relationships between France, the new nation, and Jefferson; however, while they seemed historically suitable, they were not of the highest artistic merit. Again, the answer came from the imperative to maintain archaeological integrity. The principal recommendation was to conserve the paintings as elements of the life history of the place, an appropriate solution considering their subject matter and the fact that the building had been used since 1960 for the teaching of Romance languages. In response to the decision to adopt the recommendation, a summer training session was held for selected students interns in order to provide field experience in conservation work. Led by internationally known fresco conservator Paul Schwartzbaum, this laboratory exercise was yet another example of a hands-on restoration program that rem, unique among American universities. Note: 8
The most recent restoration, at Pavilion V, illustrates well the informational gaps common to the history of the pavilions. Since the 1820s alterations have typically been made piecemeal, with no attendant written description or drawings describing the scope of work or reasons for changes. Records do mention construction at the west side of Pavilion V as early as about 1829. Note: 9 It was amended over the years, most recently in 1928 with the addition of a segment between the two larger masses (fig. 76). Note: 10 However, several other periods of change that are obvious from examination of building fabric are not recorded, particularly three or more phases of alteration in the middle zone. For example, stairs were hidden behind closets or cabinetwork; windows were embedded within walls; wall surfaces once exterior became interior; and walls were blocked off so that doors led nowhere. Such mysteries confound preservationists, and they clearly reinforce the beliefs that past evidence and present change must be fully documented and that it is appropriate to leave portions of each puzzling clue intact in the hope that future preservationists will find the answers. Now, workers encapsulate the undocumented feature behind a new surface or beneath layers of protective varnish, analogous to the encapsulation of early roofing materials or graining evidence. Although it had no doubt been covered over for reasons of expediency rather than preservation,
Since 1989 the Jeffersonian Restoration Advisory Board and the Design Committee have been studying options for the Academical Village beyond the year 2000. The activity of the past decade has touched many of Jefferson's buildings but has been concentrated at just over half of the pavilions. Major work remains for the other pavilions, the hotels, and the student rooms. Eventually even the Rotunda, already transformed by two major epochs of redesign, will require more attention. Indeed, the cycle of restoration can never be considered finite, because the University's buildings and landscape are always aging.
The principles that should guide architectural stewardship are based on the belief that no generation should assume that its solutions or attitudes are for all time, the only right ones. Work should therefore be based on research; and changes, when made, should be gentle and reversible, always leaving the basic historic image intact. Once a major program has been accomplished, episodes of minor alterationțoccurring about every ten yearsțshould be gentle indeed. All the while, allowing for the constant processes of aging and decay, intermittent maintenance is essential. The sum of all these actions serves but one goal: to pass along safely to future generations this phenomenal cultural artifact, which has survived as a gift to this age from the past.
Sustaining and reunifying Jefferson's aspirations for the Academical Village involves more than sound research, more than the physical processes of preservation, conservation, and restoration. There is a profound intellectual component. One must understand Paul Goldberger's comment that "of all the truly great pieces of architecture in this country, [Jefferson's Academical Village] is the most American, the one that best embodies our tendency both to look back at other cultures and to try to make something that is entirely our own. Note: 11 Therefore the Academical Village as artifact provides both lesson and catalyst for those who utilize it and for our entire culture, today and in the years to come.