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Jefferson Memorial

Thomas Jefferson Memorial

For other uses, one might consult the various entries under Jefferson Memorial (disambiguation). One would hope the distinctions are clear enough, but then again, clarity isn't always a priority for those who name things.

United States Historic Place

The Jefferson Memorial stands, a somewhat imposing, yet undeniably elegant, structure across the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C., as captured in an August 2018 photograph. It's the kind of place that invites quiet contemplation, or perhaps, for those of us with a more realistic view, a fleeting moment of mild curiosity before the inevitable disappointment of human endeavors sets in.

Jefferson Memorial across the Tidal Basin in August 2018

The monument's precise location, at 900 Ohio Drive, S.W., within the sprawling National Mall in Washington, D.C., places it firmly on the map. Coordinates: 38°52′53″N 77°02′11.5″W / 38.88139°N 77.036528°W. It occupies a substantial area of 18.36 acres, an impressive footprint for a single individual, even one of Jefferson's stature. Its construction was completed in 1943, meaning it has stood for 82 years, a testament to... well, to concrete and marble, mostly. The architectural vision was primarily that of John Russell Pope, with his partners Eggers & Higgins seeing the project through. The style is distinctly Classical Revival, a nod to ancient forms, as if to suggest that some ideas, or at least some aesthetics, are timeless. In 2005, it attracted 2,312,726 visitors, a number that suggests a significant portion of the population still finds historical reverence appealing, or perhaps they just needed a good photo opportunity. The official website, Thomas Jefferson Memorial, provides further details for those inclined to delve deeper.

It was added to the National Register of Historic Places on October 15, 1966, and formally designated as a National Memorial on April 13, 1943, the very day it opened. Such swift recognition is rare, though one could argue that a monument to a founding father was always destined for such honors, regardless of its inherent merit.

The Thomas Jefferson Memorial is, as its name suggests, a national memorial located in the ever-monument-strewn city of Washington, D.C.. It was erected to honor the multifaceted figure of Thomas Jefferson, renowned as the principal author of the seminal United States Declaration of Independence and, subsequently, the nation's third president. Its construction spanned a period between 1939 and 1943, a time when the world was otherwise preoccupied with considerably more pressing, and violent, matters. The memorial is replete with various quotations attributed to Jefferson, strategically placed to encapsulate his philosophical framework and political doctrine, often referred to as Jeffersonian democracy. Jefferson himself was widely regarded, and continues to be, as one of the most intellectually formidable political thinkers of his epoch, a driving intellectual force behind both the tumultuous American Revolution and the expansive intellectual movement known as the American Enlightenment. His ideas, for better or worse, shaped much of the nation's early identity, a legacy that this structure attempts to solidify in stone.

Architecturally, the Jefferson Memorial is a study in the neoclassical style, a deliberate choice meant to evoke the grandeur and principles of ancient Greece and Rome, often associated with democratic ideals – or at least, the idea of democratic ideals. It is strategically positioned within West Potomac Park, resting gracefully on the eastern shore of the Potomac River's Tidal Basin. The design originated from the desk of John Russell Pope, a prominent New York City architect, whose vision was then brought to life by the Philadelphia-based contractor John McShain. While construction commenced in 1939 and the structure itself was largely completed in 1943, the colossal bronze statue of Jefferson, the very focal point of the interior, remained unfinished until four years after the memorial's official dedication and opening, finally being installed in 1947. Pope, in his design, consciously drew inspiration from the majestic Roman Pantheon, a monumental architectural achievement whose original designer was Apollodorus of Damascus. He also incorporated elements from Jefferson's own architectural designs, most notably the iconic rotunda at the University of Virginia, thereby creating a direct, if somewhat self-referential, link to the man it honored. The Jefferson Memorial and the iconic White House serve as significant anchor points, defining the southern and northern termini, respectively, of the monumental axis that traverses the National Mall in Washington, D.C..

As a formally designated national memorial, the Jefferson Memorial falls under the meticulous stewardship of the National Park Service, specifically its National Mall and Memorial Parks division, operating within the broader framework of the U.S. Department of the Interior. Its historical and architectural significance is further underscored by its inclusion on the esteemed National Register of Historic Places. Moreover, it has garnered considerable public and professional acclaim, notably securing the fourth position on the American Institute of Architects' revered "list of America's favorite architecture," a testament to its enduring appeal, even if some of us remain perpetually unimpressed by such popularity contests.

History

One might think that a monument of this scale would spring fully formed from the collective will, but history, as always, is far messier.

Early considerations

The very ground upon which the Jefferson Memorial now stands is, in a rather poetic turn, filled land reclaimed from the Potomac River. In the late 19th century, this particular stretch of newly formed earth had a rather less dignified, though arguably more practical, existence: it was utilized as a public beach. The appeal of this specific location for a future monument was manifold, not least because of its direct visual alignment and proximity to the White House, a clear indication that visibility and symbolic connection were paramount from the outset.

In 1901, a rather bureaucratic-sounding body known as the Senate Park Commission was established. Its noble purpose was to formulate a comprehensive plan for Washington, D.C.'s nascent park system, a vision that would eventually coalesce into the influential McMillan Plan. This commission, with a foresight that some might call ambitious, proposed the construction of a grand, Pantheon-like edifice on this very site. Its intended function? To house "the statues of the illustrious men of the nation," a veritable hall of fame in marble. This singular structure, had it been realized, would have been merely one element within a larger, more ambitious scheme, complemented by six additional, even larger, structures. However, as is often the case with grand plans, Congress took precisely no action on the commission's earnest recommendations. The vision remained just that: a vision.

The completion of the Tidal Basin Inlet Bridge in 1908 inadvertently spurred the expansion of recreational activities within both East and West Potomac Parks. By 1918, a rather progressive, if somewhat unsettling, measure was implemented: large liquid chlorine dispensers were installed directly beneath the bridge. Their purpose was to treat the water, rendering the Tidal Basin—then also known as Twining Lake—suitable for public swimming. The Tidal Basin Beach, occupying the precise footprint of what would eventually become the Jefferson Memorial, officially opened its sandy shores in May 1918. It operated under the lamentable, but historically accurate, policy of being a "Whites Only" facility until 1925. In a move that speaks volumes about the societal anxieties of the era, it was permanently closed that year, a decision made explicitly to circumvent the fraught and contentious issue of whether it should be racially integrated. It seems easier to eliminate a public amenity than to confront fundamental questions of equality.

In the same year, 1925, a design competition was launched for a memorial dedicated to the dynamic Theodore Roosevelt. The winning entry, submitted by none other than John Russell Pope—a name that would become synonymous with the eventual Jefferson Memorial—envisioned a semicircular memorial carefully positioned adjacent to a circular basin. Yet, much like the ambitious McMillan Plan before it, this design, despite its merits, never received the necessary congressional funding or subsequent action. It seems fate had a different, larger project in mind for Pope and this particular stretch of D.C. waterfront.

1930s proposal

Plans proceed

The interior of the Jefferson Memorial eventually became a space of quiet grandeur, a stark contrast to the political machinations that birthed it.

Another, and ultimately successful, opportunity for the development of the Jefferson Memorial finally presented itself in 1934. It was then that President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who had developed a profound admiration for Jefferson after immersing himself in a book on the subject penned by his friend Claude G. Bowers, initiated inquiries with the formidable Commission of Fine Arts regarding the feasibility of erecting a memorial in Jefferson's honor. Roosevelt, ever the strategic planner, seamlessly integrated plans for the Jefferson Memorial into the much larger and already underway Federal Triangle project. Later that same year, Congressman John J. Boylan took up Roosevelt's cause, earnestly urging Congress to establish the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Commission, a body specifically tasked with exploring and facilitating the memorial's development. It seems that sometimes, all it takes is a powerful patron and a well-placed friend to finally get things moving.

This pivotal organization was formally established on April 12, 1935, a date chosen with deliberate historical resonance: it was precisely the day before Jefferson's 192nd birthday. John J. Boylan naturally assumed the mantle of the Commission's first chairman. At this nascent stage, the Commission was deliberating several potential sites and concepts. One consideration was a memorial building dedicated to Jefferson positioned directly opposite the National Mall from the National Archives Building. Another idea involved a more modest monument to Jefferson situated precisely halfway between these two structures. In a grander, accompanying proposal, the original manuscript of the United States Declaration of Independence was envisioned to be relocated to a new, dedicated monument within the National Archives Building itself, thereby creating a symbolic straight line connecting these three significant memorials. The Commission, perhaps swayed by existing architectural relationships, ultimately selected John Russell Pope—the very architect responsible for the new National Archives Building—as the chosen designer for the Jefferson Memorial. One could argue this was a sensible choice, or simply a convenient one, depending on your level of cynicism regarding such appointments.

Pope, with his characteristic thoroughness, meticulously prepared four distinct plans for the project, each sited in a different location. The first was proposed along the Anacostia River, at the terminus of East Capitol Street. The second was situated at Lincoln Park. A third option placed it on the south side of the National Mall, directly across from the National Archives administration building. The fourth, and ultimately favored, proposal positioned the memorial on the Tidal Basin, precisely south of the White House. The Commission's preference for the Tidal Basin site was primarily driven by its unparalleled prominence among the proposed locations. It also served to complete the ambitious four-point plan originally envisioned by the McMillan Commission, a comprehensive scheme that encompassed the region stretching from the Lincoln Memorial to the Capitol and from the White House to this very Tidal Basin site. Pope's final design for this location featured a magnificent, Pantheon-like structure, intended to rest upon a square platform, elegantly flanked by two smaller, rectangular, colonnaded buildings. It was a vision of classical order and monumental scale, precisely the kind of thing that makes some people feel small and others feel… well, important by association.

Funding and authorization

Tragically, John Russell Pope passed away in 1937, leaving his surviving partners, Daniel P. Higgins and Otto R. Eggers, to inherit the mantle of leadership for the Jefferson Memorial's construction. The Thomas Jefferson Memorial Commission, having been intimately involved in the project's conceptualization, naturally lent its support to the grand, Pantheon-like structure that Pope had designed. However, the Commission of Fine Arts, ever the arbiter of aesthetic propriety, expressed a desire for a design that was "more open in character," advocating for a greater emphasis on horizontal lines and a more pronounced stylistic kinship with the White House. After a period of negotiation, a slightly more restrained, or perhaps one could say, "conservative," design for the memorial was ultimately agreed upon, a compromise that likely satisfied no one completely but allowed progress to continue. The projected cost for this monumental endeavor was approximately 3million,afigurethat[Congress](/UnitedStatesCongress)eventuallyappropriatedforthe[JeffersonMemorial](/JeffersonMemorial).Thisincludedaninitialallocationof3 million, a figure that [Congress](/United_States_Congress) eventually appropriated for the [Jefferson Memorial](/Jefferson_Memorial). This included an initial allocation of 500,000 within its deficiency bill of June 1938, a clear signal that the project, despite its initial hurdles, now had the full, albeit financially cautious, backing of the federal government.

Construction

Construction, as is often the case with projects of this magnitude, proceeded amidst a chorus of opposition, a testament to the enduring human capacity for disagreement. The Commission of Fine Arts, for all its earlier input, never actually formally approved any final design for the memorial. They went so far as to publish a pamphlet in 1939, vociferously opposing both the proposed design and the chosen site for the memorial. Furthermore, a significant contingent of Washington, D.C. residents voiced strong objections to the selected location, arguing that it deviated from Pierre Charles L'Enfant's original, revered plan for the city. And then, there was the matter of the trees. Many long-established elm and precious cherry trees, including rare specimens that had been a diplomatic gift from Japan in 1912, were slated for removal under the memorial's initial construction blueprints.

Despite this vocal opposition—which, in a rather dramatic turn, included women protestors chaining themselves to the beloved cherry trees around the construction site in November 1938, a vivid image of civic engagement—construction stubbornly continued. This persistent opposition proved a source of considerable dismay for President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who likely preferred a smoother path for his pet project. However, the intensity of the opposition notably diminished once revised plans were unveiled, demonstrating a clever, if belated, means for preserving the surrounding cherry trees amidst the memorial's ongoing construction. It seems that sometimes, a few strategic adjustments can quell a rebellion, especially when aesthetics are involved.

Actual construction work on the Jefferson Memorial commenced on December 15, 1938. The cornerstone—a weighty symbol containing 15 volumes, a veritable library of all of Jefferson's published works—was ceremoniously laid roughly eleven months later, on November 15, 1939, by President Franklin D. Roosevelt himself. This act, no doubt, imbued the project with an air of official sanction and historical gravitas.

In 1939, the Memorial Commission launched a competition to identify and select a sculptor for the planned colossal Jefferson statue, destined to be the central artistic feature within the memorial's interior. They received an impressive 101 entries, a testament to the allure of such a prestigious commission. From this pool, six finalists were chosen, and from those six, Rudulph Evans was ultimately selected as the primary sculptor for the monumental statue. Concurrently, Adolph A. Weinman was tasked with sculpting the pediment relief, the intricate artistic panel situated prominently above the memorial's main entrance. The selection process, one assumes, was as fraught with artistic egos as any other human endeavor to create something supposedly timeless.

The renowned landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted Jr. was entrusted with the design of the memorial's surrounding landscape. His vision was characterized by a deliberate simplicity, centered around a circular driveway and featuring primarily Evergreen trees, with a restrained use of flowering trees or shrubs. This minimalist approach, however, was initially perceived as somewhat sparse or "thin." Consequently, before the memorial's dedication in 1943, additional plantings, including stately white pines and other species, were introduced to create a more robust and visually appealing setting. It seems even nature sometimes needs a bit of human intervention to live up to expectations.

Opening and subsequent history

On April 13, 1943, precisely the 200th anniversary of Jefferson's birth—a date chosen with impeccable timing and symbolic intent—the Jefferson Memorial was officially dedicated and ceremonially opened by President Franklin D. Roosevelt. At this momentous occasion, however, the grand bronze statue by Rudulph Evans had not yet reached completion. This delay was a direct consequence of the widespread material shortages that plagued the nation during the tumultuous years of World War II. Instead of the intended bronze, the memorial opened with a temporary plaster cast statue, a stand-in that closely resembled the permanent bronze figure Evans would finally complete four years later. This temporary cast was meticulously developed by Roman Bronze Works in New York City. The actual bronze statue was ultimately installed within the memorial's rotunda in April 1947, finally taking its rightful, and permanent, place. In the years immediately following its completion, a rather inconvenient, though perhaps predictable, issue emerged: the ground surrounding the monument began to visibly sag, a subtle but undeniable hint that even monumental ambition can't entirely defy geology.

In the 1970s, nearly three decades after the memorial's grand opening, further modifications were implemented to Olmsted's original landscaping design. However, in 1993 and again in 2000, concerted efforts were made to restore the integrity of Olmsted's initial, more restrained vision. Notably, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, with a keen eye for visual impact, had previously ordered trees to be strategically cut back to ensure that the Jefferson Memorial remained clearly visible from the distant vantage point of the White House. Additional tree pruning was also undertaken to establish an unobstructed sightline between the Jefferson Memorial and the equally iconic Lincoln Memorial, creating a visual dialogue between these two titans of American history.

By the 2000s, the persistent issue of the grounds sinking had become more pronounced, and a section of the seawall encircling the monument was literally collapsing into the Tidal Basin, despite years of previous efforts to shore up the structure. This ongoing battle against the elements reached a critical point by the 2020s, with water regularly breaching the seawall at high tide, occasionally even reaching the monument itself. This prompted a significant and necessary reconstruction of the entire seawall, a stark reminder that even the most enduring monuments are constantly at the mercy of time and tide, much like human ideals.

Site

The iconic Washington Monument (to the left) and the Jefferson Memorial (to the right) stand as enduring symbols, with the tranquil, yet often problematic, Tidal Basin gracefully occupying the foreground. It's a picturesque view, provided you ignore the constant fight against the water.

The monument is strategically located within West Potomac Park in the heart of Washington, D.C.. It commands a prominent position on the eastern shore of the Potomac River's Tidal Basin, which defines its western and northern boundaries. The other two sides are neatly, if somewhat unromantically, framed by ramps leading from the 14th Street Bridges. Given that the monument is situated on filled land—a fact that some might find less than ideal for a permanent structure—it necessitated the implementation of robust deep foundations that plunge an impressive 90 feet (27 m) into the earth. The park's aesthetic appeal is significantly enhanced by the massed plantings of Japanese cherry blossom trees, a beloved and enduring gift from the people of Japan in 1912, predating the memorial's construction. These trees, despite being the cause of some early construction drama, now draw millions each spring, proving that sometimes, even a contentious past can blossom into something beautiful.

The Jefferson Memorial is positioned with striking precision due south of the White House, creating a clear and direct visual axis. This north–south axis, connecting the Jefferson Memorial and the White House, along with the west–east axis linking the Lincoln Memorial and the expansive National Mall, were originally conceived to converge elegantly at the base of the Washington Monument. However, reality, as it often does, intervened. The Washington Monument ultimately had to be constructed farther east than initially planned, a pragmatic adjustment necessitated by the discovery that the ground at the envisioned location was simply too soft and, rather inconveniently, swampy. The Jefferson Memorial also aligns approximately along the same axis as Maryland Avenue across the Tidal Basin, which continues its trajectory northeastward.

Despite its somewhat deliberate geographical separation from the dense cluster of other governmental buildings and monuments in Washington, D.C., and its relative isolation from the immediate convenience of the Washington Metro, the memorial remains a vibrant hub. Each year, it plays host to a diverse array of events and solemn ceremonies, including various memorial exercises, the traditional Easter Sunrise Service, and the enormously popular annual National Cherry Blossom Festival. It consistently ranks highly among the most sought-after destinations for visitors to the city, proving that a little distance doesn't deter true admirers, or at least, those with a good tour guide.

Description and features

The monument's composition is a classic progression: elegant marble steps, a commanding portico, a graceful circular colonnade of ionic order columns, all culminating in a shallow, yet perfectly proportioned, dome. It stands proudly open to the elements, a deliberate choice.

Exterior

The Jefferson Memorial is a composition of pristine white Imperial Danby marble, meticulously sourced from the quarries of Vermont. This gleaming marble rests upon a series of granite and marble-stepped terraces, providing a solid and stately foundation. A broad flight of granite and marble stairs and platforms, artfully flanked by robust granite buttresses, leads visitors from the tranquil waters of the Tidal Basin up to the memorial's commanding portico. This portico is distinguished by its classical triangular pediment, a quintessential feature of neoclassical architecture. The front of the portico spans seven bays, defined by the elegant rhythm of eight columns, while its sides are a more modest two bays wide. The entire structure maintains an approximate diameter of 165 feet (50 m), a considerable span for a memorial. Each of the 26 columns, integral to its circular colonnade, stands an impressive 14 feet (4.3 m) high and measures a robust 5 feet 3 inches (1.60 m) in diameter. The spaces between each column, known as bays, are precisely 6¾ feet (2.1 m) wide, contributing to the harmonious proportions of the design.

The pediment, that triangular capstone of the portico, is adorned with a meticulously crafted sculpture by the talented Adolph Alexander Weinman. This particular artwork depicts the esteemed Committee of Five, the group of individuals charged with the momentous task of drafting the U.S. Declaration of Independence. Beyond Jefferson, who, as we know, was the primary wordsmith, this distinguished committee included John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Robert R. Livingston, and Roger Sherman. Below this sculpted pediment, a stately cornice featuring an intricate egg-and-dart molding provides a decorative transition, further accentuated by a plain frieze beneath it. It's an impressive display of classical artistry, even if the figures depicted were, like all of us, merely fallible humans trying to make sense of their world.

Interior

Rudulph Evans's monumental statue of Thomas Jefferson stands as the focal point within the memorial, positioned before carefully selected excerpts from the Declaration of Independence. This document, which Jefferson principally authored, has been famously described by historian Joseph Ellis as "the most potent and consequential words in U.S history." A bold claim, perhaps, but one that undeniably resonates.

The interior of the memorial, a space designed for solemn reflection, is clad in a radiant Georgia white marble. Dominating this space is a colossal 19 feet (5.8 m) tall, 10,000 lb (4,500 kg) bronze statue of Jefferson, sculpted with impressive detail by Rudulph Evans. As previously noted, this imposing statue was installed a full four years after the memorial's initial dedication, a minor historical footnote in an otherwise grand narrative. Among the numerous Jeffersonian quotes meticulously inscribed throughout the memorial, one stands out, prominently situated in the frieze directly beneath the majestic dome: "I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." This powerful declaration, often quoted in isolation, is actually extracted from a letter Jefferson penned on September 23, 1800, to his contemporary Benjamin Rush. In this particular correspondence, Jefferson was eloquently defending the constitutional principle of refusing to officially recognize a state religion, a testament to his enduring commitment to intellectual and spiritual freedom, even if the "eternal hostility" part sounds a bit... dramatic.

A lower level of the structure, often overlooked by those captivated by the main hall, discreetly houses a gift shop—because what's a monument without souvenirs?—and a museum. This museum offers a more detailed exploration of Jefferson's extraordinarily complex life and his extensive political career, providing context beyond the grand pronouncements in marble.

Inscribed panels

Four distinct panels adorning the interior walls of the memorial are etched with carefully selected quotations, serving as enduring testaments to Jefferson's philosophy. It's a curated collection, designed to present a particular image, as most such memorials are.

On the panel gracing the southwest interior wall, one finds excerpts from the profoundly influential United States Declaration of Independence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, that to secure these rights governments are instituted among men. We...solemnly publish and declare, that these colonies are and of right ought to be free and independent states...And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine providence, we mutually pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.

It's worth noting, for those who appreciate precise historical detail, that this inscription employs the word "inalienable," echoing Jefferson's original draft, rather than the more commonly recognized "unalienable" which ultimately appeared in the final, adopted Declaration. A minor textual difference, perhaps, but one that speaks to the evolution of even the most sacred texts.

The interior columns and walls, a canvas for these enduring words.

Moving to the panel on the northwest interior wall, visitors encounter a powerful quote derived from the 1777 Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom. This particular inscription, however, omits the quote's concluding sentence, and is drawn from a letter Jefferson addressed to James Madison on August 28, 1789:

Almighty God hath created the mind free...All attempts to influence it by temporal punishments or burthens...are a departure from the plan of the Holy Author of our religion...No man shall be compelled to frequent or support any religious worship or ministry or shall otherwise suffer on account of his religious opinions or belief, but all men shall be free to profess and by argument to maintain, their opinions in matters of religion. I know but one code of morality for men whether acting singly or collectively.

A rather unequivocal statement on the sanctity of individual conscience, a principle that, one might argue, remains perpetually under threat.

The Jeffersonian quotes adorning the panel on the northeast interior wall are a composite, drawn from a variety of sources, creating a mosaic of his thought. The initial declaration, beginning "God who gave us life gave us liberty," originates from his influential work, A Summary View of the Rights of British America. The subsequent three sentences are extracted from his comprehensive Notes on the State of Virginia. The fifth quote, a rather prophetic statement commencing "Nothing is more certainly written in the book of fate than that these people are to be free," is found within Jefferson's own autobiography, a reflection on the inevitable march towards freedom, however slow. The sixth sentence, an imperative beginning "Establish the law...", is sourced from a letter dated August 13, 1786, addressed to George Wythe. Finally, the concluding sentence is taken from a letter penned on January 4, 1786, to the formidable George Washington:

God who gave us life gave us liberty. Can the liberties of a nation be secure when we have removed a conviction that these liberties are the gift of God? Indeed I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just, that his justice cannot sleep forever. Commerce between master and slave is despotism. Nothing is more certainly written in the book of fate than these people are to be free. Establish the law for educating the common people. This it is the business of the state to effect and on a general plan.

A rather potent collection, highlighting his views on divine providence, the inherent injustice of slavery, and the critical importance of public education. It's a shame that some of these truths, so "certainly written," still require so much effort to fully realize.

Finally, the inscription on the panel located on the southeast interior wall is an excerpt from Jefferson's letter of July 12, 1816, addressed to Samuel Kercheval:

I am not an advocate for frequent changes in laws and constitutions. But laws and institutions must go hand in hand with the progress of the human mind. As that becomes more developed, more enlightened, as new discoveries are made, new truths discovered and manners and opinions change, with the change of circumstances, institutions must advance also to keep pace with the times. We might as well require a man to wear still the coat which fitted him when a boy as civilized society to remain ever under the regimen of their barbarous ancestors.

This particular quote, a powerful argument for the organic evolution of governance and society, stands as a testament to Jefferson's belief in perpetual progress and adaptation. It's a reminder that even the most cherished foundations must be re-examined and revised, lest they become mere relics, stifling the very growth they were meant to foster. A concept that, frankly, many still struggle with.

Awards and landmark designations

In 1944, a mere year after the memorial's dedication, the architectural firm of Eggers & Higgins was recognized for their significant contributions to the Jefferson Memorial, receiving the Biennial Certificate of Merit. Such accolades, of course, are often bestowed upon those who manage to complete ambitious projects. On October 15, 1966, the Jefferson Memorial was formally acknowledged for its profound historical and artistic significance by being named to the esteemed National Register of Historic Places, an official recognition that solidifies its place in the nation's cultural heritage. More recently, in 2007, it achieved a notable distinction, ranking fourth on the "list of America's favorite architecture," a survey compiled and published by the venerable American Institute of Architects. It seems its classical lines and grand scale continue to resonate with the public, even if the deeper complexities of the man it honors are often overlooked in favor of a pleasing facade.

Gallery

Exterior details

  • The pediment, featuring an Adolph Alexander Weinman sculpture of the Committee of Five, a testament to collaborative drafting.
  • The portico ceiling, an often-unnoticed detail of classical design.
  • The imposing bronze statue and the soaring dome ceiling, a harmonious blend of art and architecture.
  • Detail of the dome ceiling and the surrounding frieze, where eternal words are etched.
  • The exterior columns, standing sentinel, unwavering through decades.

Interior details

  • A close-up detail of the statue's head, capturing the sculpted likeness of Jefferson.
  • The "We Hold These Truths" inscription, a foundational statement of American ideals.
  • The "God Who Gave Us Life" inscription, a reflection on liberty and divine justice.
  • The "I Am Not an Advocate for Frequent Changes..." inscription, a call for adaptable governance.
  • The "Almighty God Hath Created the Mind Free..." inscription, a powerful defense of religious and intellectual liberty.

Views of the Memorial

See also