Tulips Steal the Scene: Jefferson’s “Belles of the Day,” Act Two

Just as the intoxicatingly fragrant hyacinth blossoms begin to fade, another colorful charmer pulls back the curtain and takes the stage. Bold, brash, and beautiful, this next arrival displays a dizzying array of rich, vibrant floral shades and form. After long winter months of quiet anticipation, Monticello’s flower borders and beds suddenly erupt with thousands of spring’s indisputable superstar: the tulip.

If frequency is an indicator of preference, then the tulip, which is mentioned more than any other flower in Thomas Jefferson’s Garden Book, should be considered his all-time favorite. Jefferson was not unique in this, even in America. In the 1730s Williamsburg's John Custis received "Double Tulips" and "early tulips" from his mentor Peter Collinson of London, and a portrait of Custis clearly shows him holding a well-worn book with the words "of the Tulip" legible on its spine and a streaked tulip blossom beside it. Tulipomanea, a 17th-century European tulip "fever" where fortunes could be made or lost through the purchase of a single bulb, had long subsided from its peak in the 1630s. Yet, tulips retained universal appeal and remained the fervent focus of florists well into the 19th century.

Thanks to Philadelphia nurseryman and author Bernard McMahon, Jefferson was receiving some choice forms by 1806, when a shipment included such classics as: Bizarre (mustard yellow flowers marked red or brownish-black), Bybloemen (white ground marked deep rich purple), and Rose (white feathered with red or rose markings). Also in the package were Baguet Rigauts and Primo Baguets, which had rosy-purple or brownish-red markings on a white ground with pure white bases. According to Anna Pavord, in The Tulip: The Story of a Flower that has Made Men Mad, the Baguets, a Flemish specialty, were amongst the most sought-after tulips of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. They were wide-cupped, round-petalled flowers, said to be capable of holding "a pint of wine" in their blossoms. While we can be impressed with Jefferson's florist tulips, the major caveat of these types was that they were not really meant for the garden. Pavord stresses that they were aristocrats, meant to be cosseted, covered, and protected from harm. Better suited for the garden were the "2 Roots Parrot Tulips ... red, green and yellow mixed" and the “32 Roots best Tulips of Various kind,” sent by McMahon in 1812.

Intensive modern tulip breeding and selection results in hundreds of new introductions every year. This confounds our search for the truly historic varieties that were known in Jefferson’s day. Fortunately, Monticello has maintained a long association with heirloom bulb companies such as Old House Gardens Heirloom Bulbs out of Ann Arbor, Michigan, and Brent and Becky’s Bulbs in Gloucester, Virginia. In recent years, wholesale quantities are obtained from Hortus Bulborum, a Dutch Foundation, which serves as a gene bank, bulb museum, and resource for many historic varieties no longer commercially available. From these sources the Monticello gardens display some of the oldest tulips ever cultivated—including the legendary ‘Duc van Tol Red and Yellow’ (1595)—interspersed with early twentieth century cultivars.

Today we can feel the same excitement experienced by the Jefferson household as expressed in a touching and remarkably vivid remembrance made by Jefferson’s granddaughter Ellen Randolph Coolidge, as she describes the intimate moments of her childhood when the gardens were laid out and made ready for Jefferson’s retirement in 1809. She details the gardening activity to prepare the beds, when she would run after her grandfather as he directed the work, accompanied by the enslaved gardener Wormley Hughes, “armed with spade and hoe,” while Jefferson himself carried the measuring line.

She then continues: "I remember the planting of the first hyacinths and tulips, and their subsequent growth .... There was Marcus Aurelius, and the King of the Gold Mine, the Roman Empress, and the Queen of the Amazons ...." Their winter-long anticipation was answered when one of the grandchildren would "discover the tender green breaking through the mould, and run to grandpapa to announce, that we really believed Marcus Aurelius was coming up, or the Queen of the Amazons was above ground!" The entire family was in ecstasy "over the rich purple and crimson, or pure white, or delicate lilac, or pale yellow of the blossoms," and Jefferson would sympathize in their admiration and discuss new groupings, combinations, and contrasts. She concludes, "Oh, these were happy moments for us and for him!"