Washington’s head

Here’s an article analyzing George Washington’s head, via the Jean-Antoine Houdon bust. It’s a famous bust – Houdon poured plaster over Washington’s head – and I believe he had a bit of a dodgy time getting the dern stuff off of the father of our country … [ Update: or maybe that was Jefferson – Yeah, that’s right. It was Jefferson who had a really bad experience with a plaster-cast at the end of his life. Sorry, wrong Founding Father. It’s an awful story – Jefferson really panicked, the plaster hardened, and the artist had to conk him about the head and face with a hammer, in order to crack the hardened plaster. Jefferson thought he would suffocate, and was pretty shook up for a couple of months afterwards. He wrote about it in a letter to Adams. Sorry – it was haunting me for a bit: Was it George or Jefferson that happened to???]

But back to George! Here’s the bust:

Using this bust, they’re somehow trying to recreate what Washington really looked like. All of this is in preparation for an upcoming Washington exhibit at Mount Vernon, which will be called “The Real Washington”.

But what I found really interesting, because of the synchronicity, was that just this morning, I read in Miracle at Philadelphia the following section about Washington (and there’s a quote specifically about his head):

On the twenty-fifth of May, when a quorum was obtained, Washington was unanimously elected president of the Convention and escorted to the chair. From his desk on the raised dais he made a little speech of acceptance, depreciating his ability to give satisfaction in a scene so novel. “When seated,” wrote a member, “he declared that as he never had been in such a situation he felt himself embarrassed, that he hoped his errors, as they would be unintentional, would be excused. He lamented his want of qualifications.”

There is something touching in the way Washington always lamented his want of qualifications and called on God to help, whether it was a nomination as Commander in Chief of the army, as president of the Federal Convention or as President of the United States. One feels he meant it, this was not false modesty. To his colleagues it must have been reassuring. Washington was everywhere known as “the greatest character in America” — a man of prestige, with a landed estate and a magnificent physical appearance. An English traveler, impressed, wrote a detailed account, beginning with the General’s commanding height and going on to say that “his chest is full and his limbs, though rather slender, well shaped and muscular. His head is small … his eyes are of a light grey color … and, in proportion to the length of his face, his nose is long. Mr. Stewart, the eminent portrait painter, told me there are features in his face totally different from those he had observed in that of any human being. The sockets of the eyes, for instance, are larger than what he ever met with before, and the upper part of the nose broader. All his features … were indicative of the strongest passions, and had he been born in the forest … he would have been the fiercest man among the savage tribes.”

A person of such passions had need of control. “This Vesuvius of a man,” the biographer Beveridge has called him. Washington’s self-discipline is legendary, as is his anger when aroused. Officers who served under him in the war testified they had never seen him smile, that his countenance held something austere and his manners were uncommonly reserved.

An interesting coincidence, huh? Some random project going on right now to determine the size and shape of George Washington’s head, and I read that this morning.

Two tangential things:

— “Mr. Stewart” is, of course, the portrait painter Gilbert Stuart (nice bio of him here). He did quite a few portraits of Washington, and here is one you will probably recognize:

There are many more, though – he became known for his portraits of all “those guys”.

Stuart was born a town over from where I grew up in Rhode Island – born in 1755, and field trips to his birthplace were par for the course throughout school. If you’re ever driving through Rhode Island, by the way, his birthplace is quite nice, and very accessible. It’s right off the highway – there are signs from Route 1 telling you where to go. I remember that he had constructed a clock, making it himself – somehow – using paintbrushes as the hands of the clock.

— Every time I hear about Washington’s “uncommon reserve” (and the record is FULL of such mentions … apparently, his manners were just a wee bit glacial – and ALWAYS formal – except when he got enraged, and then he went batshit. If he was pissed off or frustrated, he had no problem with chewing someone – or all of Congress for that matter – out.) But anyway: I hear about his “reserve” and I can’t help but remember the anecdote about Alexander Hamilton: There was some party (dodgy on the details, forgive – maybe one of you will remember) – Anyway, a large gathering of all the main characters of the American Revolution. It was a party, though, not a business gathering. So there was liquor flowing, and a bit more of a free atmosphere. George Washington, however, remained – as always – perfectly correct. His correct-ness was interpreted by many as coldness. You couldn’t warm up to the guy, you could never just hang out with George. His sense of propriety would not allow it. So Alexander Hamilton, yukking it up in the corner (troublemaker!!) with a couple other fellows, dared one of them to walk up to Washington, throw his arm around him, and say, “Hello, George!” Not “General Washington”, not “Mr. Washington” – but “George”. This was an unthinkable prospect (which goes to show you the effect Washington’s reserve had on others – People couldn’t even imagine what would happen if anyone acted in a familiar way with him). Hamilton goaded this one particular gentleman, “I dare you, I dare you to go do it … I dare you” until finally the guy caved, and did it. While Hamilton watched from across the room, laughing hysterically. Washington was never rude, just always distant and chill. And this poor guy threw his arm around him and called him “George!” in a buddy-buddy way and Washington just would not have any of it. I think the gentleman in question never forgave himself for insulting George Washington, but I may be making up that part of the story.