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Authors: Hugh Howard
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remark that “he would not think so if he had been used to hear many.” 12 Later that summer, Washington suffered the ignominy of having to march out of Fort Necessity with his troops in full surrender
to the French.
The recapture of the smoking remnant of Fort Duquesne in 1758 by Washington and his men was an anticlimax (the French garrison
had abandoned and burned their stronghold), but Washington’s years of service in the frontier war left him with more military
experience than any other colonial officer, as well as a reputation for bravery under fire (he had two horses shot from beneath
him, and four bullets rent his clothing). Both would be invaluable credentials years later when the colonists decided to muster
their own army.
By the end of the month, Peale had completed his work at Mount Vernon. He and Washington had not become close friends; friendship
was a rare gift to which few of Washington’s many acquaintances could lay claim. But they found common ground. Recognizing
his guest’s mechanical cleverness, Washington had given Peale a personal tour of the new Mount Vernon gristmill, which had
gone into operation only the year before.
During the evenings at Mount Vernon, the easy sociability of the household meant that Peale had occasion to enjoy the Potomac
breezes in Washington’s company, and even to dance with the sixteen-year-old Patsy Custis, Martha’s daughter, who he believed
“did not enjoy a good state of health.” 13 His insight was sound: Twelve months later, as Washington reported to a brother-in-law, “she was seized with one of her usual
[epileptic] fits and expired in it in less than two minutes without uttering a word, a groan, or scarce a sigh.” As Washington
said sadly, “the sudden and unexpected blow . . . almost reduced my poor wife to the lowest ebb of misery.” 14
By then, Peale had gone other places and painted other portraits. On his departure from Mount Vernon on May 30, 1772, after
a most enjoyable stay, Peale had received full payment from Washington. The bill amounted to £18.4.0 for the 501.2-inch-by-411.2-inch
Washington portrait, and £13 for the three miniatures (each was just 11.2 inches high, 11.16 inches wide). The two men, their
first transaction complete, could not have guessed that this first image of George Washington, portrayed as a soldier in service
to the Crown, would be the first of many portraits Peale would paint of Washington as his role in the world evolved.
CHAPTER 3
The General
I am well acquainted with Gen.l Washington who is a Man of very few words but when he speaks it is to the purpose, [and] what
I have often admired in him is he [has] allways avoided saying any thing of the actions in which he was Engaged in the last
War . . . [H]e is uncommonly Modest, very Industrous and prudent.
—Charles Willson Peale, August 29, 1775 1
I.
1775–1776 . . . The Pennsylvania State House . . . Philadelphia
C HARLES WILLSON PEALE wrote the recipe in his diary. “To make a Vernish,” he noted, “Take Mastick & Seed Lac [and] deso[l]ve
them in Terpintine . . . mix this with the Oil.” The mastick and lac were imported resins extracted from mastic trees and
the shell of the lac beetle, respectively; turpentine and linseed oil were made in America. Once he had prepared it, Peale
applied the dense liquid to his finished oil paintings to protect them. 2
Over time, such varnishes tend to saponify , to yellow as they oxidize. Linseed oil requires years to dry completely, which means that dust adheres to the varnish. The
result can be the appealing patina of age or, more often, a darkening and ever-more-opaque membrane on a painting’s surface.
This makes Mr. Peale’s varnish a useful metaphor for considering the several portraits he painted of General Washington in
the 1770s. To understand the pictures, we must look through not only the haze of the varnish but through a layering of propaganda
and
to the French.
The recapture of the smoking remnant of Fort Duquesne in 1758 by Washington and his men was an anticlimax (the French garrison
had abandoned and burned their stronghold), but Washington’s years of service in the frontier war left him with more military
experience than any other colonial officer, as well as a reputation for bravery under fire (he had two horses shot from beneath
him, and four bullets rent his clothing). Both would be invaluable credentials years later when the colonists decided to muster
their own army.
By the end of the month, Peale had completed his work at Mount Vernon. He and Washington had not become close friends; friendship
was a rare gift to which few of Washington’s many acquaintances could lay claim. But they found common ground. Recognizing
his guest’s mechanical cleverness, Washington had given Peale a personal tour of the new Mount Vernon gristmill, which had
gone into operation only the year before.
During the evenings at Mount Vernon, the easy sociability of the household meant that Peale had occasion to enjoy the Potomac
breezes in Washington’s company, and even to dance with the sixteen-year-old Patsy Custis, Martha’s daughter, who he believed
“did not enjoy a good state of health.” 13 His insight was sound: Twelve months later, as Washington reported to a brother-in-law, “she was seized with one of her usual
[epileptic] fits and expired in it in less than two minutes without uttering a word, a groan, or scarce a sigh.” As Washington
said sadly, “the sudden and unexpected blow . . . almost reduced my poor wife to the lowest ebb of misery.” 14
By then, Peale had gone other places and painted other portraits. On his departure from Mount Vernon on May 30, 1772, after
a most enjoyable stay, Peale had received full payment from Washington. The bill amounted to £18.4.0 for the 501.2-inch-by-411.2-inch
Washington portrait, and £13 for the three miniatures (each was just 11.2 inches high, 11.16 inches wide). The two men, their
first transaction complete, could not have guessed that this first image of George Washington, portrayed as a soldier in service
to the Crown, would be the first of many portraits Peale would paint of Washington as his role in the world evolved.
CHAPTER 3
The General
I am well acquainted with Gen.l Washington who is a Man of very few words but when he speaks it is to the purpose, [and] what
I have often admired in him is he [has] allways avoided saying any thing of the actions in which he was Engaged in the last
War . . . [H]e is uncommonly Modest, very Industrous and prudent.
—Charles Willson Peale, August 29, 1775 1
I.
1775–1776 . . . The Pennsylvania State House . . . Philadelphia
C HARLES WILLSON PEALE wrote the recipe in his diary. “To make a Vernish,” he noted, “Take Mastick & Seed Lac [and] deso[l]ve
them in Terpintine . . . mix this with the Oil.” The mastick and lac were imported resins extracted from mastic trees and
the shell of the lac beetle, respectively; turpentine and linseed oil were made in America. Once he had prepared it, Peale
applied the dense liquid to his finished oil paintings to protect them. 2
Over time, such varnishes tend to saponify , to yellow as they oxidize. Linseed oil requires years to dry completely, which means that dust adheres to the varnish. The
result can be the appealing patina of age or, more often, a darkening and ever-more-opaque membrane on a painting’s surface.
This makes Mr. Peale’s varnish a useful metaphor for considering the several portraits he painted of General Washington in
the 1770s. To understand the pictures, we must look through not only the haze of the varnish but through a layering of propaganda
and
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