In Charlottesville, Virginia, at the University of Virginia, there is today - beneath the irregular rhythms of modern student comings and goings - a severely rhythmic expression of the Enlightenment, a philosophy concretized in brick and timber. The play of one architectural element into another is meant to express the interconnectedness of all knowledge. It is Jefferson’s last but not his least achievement, and one of the three things that he put on his own tombstone to be remembered by. In important ways, this architectural complex is a better expression of Jefferson’s mind than is his home on the hill overlooking the campus. Chance had a great deal to do with the way Monticello grew up over the years. But everything in the university’s structure was planned, to the last detail - a meticulous ordering that is both romantic and quixotic. It is a place of study that itself repays study, and makes the lost world of the eighteenth century only half-lost after all.