Chapter I: Inscribe This Volume as a (2)

Thomas Jefferson was born in 1743 and died in 1826, on the semi-centennial of the adoption of the immortal instrument of which he is the recognized father. Through the intercession of President Madison, his friend, neighbor and successor in the chair of state, Jefferson consented, in Browere’s words, “to submit to the ordeal of my new and perfect mode of taking the human features and form.” For this purpose Browere visited Monticello, on the fifteenth of October, 1825. At this time Jefferson was eighty-two years of age and was suffering the infirmities incident to his advanced years. During the operation, he was attended by his faithful man-servant Burwell, who prepared him for “the ordeal,” by removing all of his clothing to the waist, excepting his undershirt, from which the sleeves were cut. He was then placed on his back, and the material applied down to the waist, including both arms folded across the body. The entire procedure lasted ninety minutes, with rests every ten or fifteen minutes, during which rests Jefferson got up and walked about. The material was on Jefferson’s face for eighteen minutes, and the whole of the mould of his features was removed therefrom in three minutes. This was accomplished before the alarmed entrance of his granddaughters, the Misses Randolph, into the room. They were brought there by their brother, who had been peeping in at the window, and begging for admission, which was denied him. It was the exaggerated report of what young Randolph thought he saw, that induced the sudden entrance of his sisters, and this report found its way subsequently into the local newspapers of Virginia, with the remarkable result indicated.

The intrusion of the Randolphs into the room caused delay in removing other parts of the mould, and this did cause the venerable subject to feel a little faint and to experience some other discomforts. But Browere remained at Monticello overnight, dining with Jefferson and the Randolphs, and chatting with his host through the evening until bed-time, which would scarcely have been the case had the artist nearly suffocated and otherwise maltreated his subject, so that for his safety, the cast had to be shattered to pieces. But we do not have to speculate and surmise. We have direct and unimpeachable proof to the contrary.

The very day on which, according to Randall and his followers, the “suffocation” and “shattering” took place, Jefferson wrote:

At the request of the Honorable James Madison and Mr. Browere of
the city of New York, I hereby certify that Mr. Browere has this
day made a mould in plaster composition from my person for the
purpose of making a portrait bust and statue for his contemplated
National Gallery. Given under my hand at Monticello, in Virginia,
this 15th day of October, 1825.

TH: JEFFERSON.

Four days later President Madison, who, with his wife, was Browere’s next subject, writes: “A bust of Mr. Jefferson, taken by Mr. Browere from the person of Mr. Jefferson, has been submitted to our inspection and appears to be a faithful likeness.” That Jefferson did suffer some inconvenience, from the application of the wet material, is undeniable. Three

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days after the taking of the mould he wrote to Madison: “I was taken in by Mr. Browere. He said his operation would be of about twenty minutes and less unpleasant than Houdon’s method. I submitted without enquiry. But it was a bold experiment, on his part, on the health of an octogenary worn down by sickness as well as age. Successive coats of thin grout plastered on the naked head and kept there an hour, would have been a severe trial of a young and hale man.”

But the newspapers had gotten hold of the “suffocation” and “shattering” story, and any one familiar with the newspapers of that day knows what a scarcity of news there was. Therefore the press over the land laid the Virginia papers tribute for this bit of sensationalism. Richmond, Boston and New York vied with each other in keeping the ball moving. But “those teachers of disjointed thinking,” as Dr. Rush called the public press, were getting too rabid for Browere, so he published, in the Boston “Daily Advertiser” of November 30, 1825, a two-column letter, in which he calls the attack by the “Richmond Enquirer,” the most virulent of his assailants, “a libel false in almost all its parts and which I am now determined to prove so by laying before the public every circumstance relating to that operation on our revered ex-president, Thomas Jefferson.”

A copy of this published letter Browere sent to Jefferson under cover of the following important but effusive epistle:

NEW YORK, May 20, 1826.

_Most Esteemed and venerable Sir_:

As the poet says “there are strings in the human heart which once
touched will sometimes utter dreadful discord.” Per the public
vehicles of information, the ex-President has perceived the very
illiberal manner in which my character and feelings have been
treated, and that of those of his honor have been unintentionally
wounded. Mine have been publickly assaulted, upbraided and
lacerated. And why? Because through the error of youth, I
unwittingly, in a confidential letter to M. M. Noah, Esq., editor
of the New York National Advocate, had written in a style either
too familiar or that the whole of said letter (instead of extracts
therefrom) had been made public. In my address to the Boston
public, the ex-president will perceive I set down naught but facts.
That I intended not to wound your feelings or those of the ladies
at Monticello, I acknowledged the urbanity of Mr. Jefferson and the
hospitality of his family. Possibly the ex-president is not aware
that a young gentleman, one of his family, did, previous to my
departure from Monticello, (the very afternoon of the day on which
I took the bust) go to Charlottesville, and publickly declare I had
almost killed Mr. Jefferson, first almost separating the ears,
cutting the skull and suffocating him. What were my feelings? What!
would not any man of spirit and enterprise resent such assertions
and rebut them? I was in this state of feeling when I indited the
letter to M. M. Noah, which letter I fear has forfeited me your
confidence and regard. But a letter confidential and therefore not
to be attributed as malign or censorious.

Your character I have always esteemed, and I now intend evidencing
that regard by making a full-length statue of the “Author of the
Declaration of American Independence,” which (if the president be
not in New York on the 4th of July next) I intend presenting for
that day to the Honorable the Corporation of New York, to be
publickly exhibited to all who desire to view the beloved features
of the friend of science and of liberty.

The attitude of your statue will be standing erect; the left hand
resting on the hip; the right hand extended and holding the
unfolded scroll, whereon is written the Declaration of American
Independence. If possible, History, Painting, Sculpture, Poetry and
Fame will be attendant. The portrait busts of Washington, John
Adams, Franklin, Madison, John Q. Adams, Lafayette, Clinton and
Jay, will be on shields, hung on the column of Independence,
surmounted with the figure of Victory. May you enjoy health, peace
and competence. May the God of nature continue to shower down his
choicest blessings on your head and finally receive you to himself
is the prayer of your sincere friend,

J. H. I. BROWERE.

This communication Jefferson acknowledged, within a month of his decease, in a letter of such ruling importance in this connection, as it _settles the question forever_, that I am glad of the opportunity to publish it in full.

MONTICELLO, June 6, ’26.

_Sir_:

The subject of your letter of May 20, has attracted more notice
certainly than it merited. That the operé to which it refers was
painful to a certain degree I admit. But it was short lived and
there would have ended as to myself. My age and the state of my
health at that time gave an alarm to my family which I neither felt
nor expressed. What may have been said in newspapers I know not,
reading only a single one and that giving little room to things of
that kind. I thought no more of it until your letter brot. it again
to mind, but can assure you it has left not a trace of
dissatisfaction as to yourself and that with me it is placed among
the things which have never happened. Accept this assurance with my
friendly salutes.

TH: JEFFERSON.

Notwithstanding this “very kind and consolatory letter,” as Browere had good reason to call it, the report that the venerable Jefferson had been nearly suffocated and otherwise maltreated by the artist, was so widely circulated that Browere’s career was seriously affected by it; and so much easier is it to disseminate error than truth, that his hopes were not fulfilled that the publication of Jefferson’s letter would, as he wrote to Madison, “in some manner turn the current of popular prejudice, which at present is great against my _modus operandi_.”

In acknowledging Jefferson’s letter of the 6th, Browere writes concerning the statue: “On the very day of the receipt of yours, the 13th inst., I had completed your full length statue (nudity) and to-morrow I intend, if spared, to commence dressing it in the costume you wore at the time of your delivery of the Declaration of American Independence. Understanding that your dress corresponded with that of Mr. Laurens, President of Congress in 1778, I have commenced the suit. But if Mr. Jefferson would condescend to give a full and explicit account of the form and colour of his dress, at that very interesting period, he will be conferring a particular favor on me and on the whole American Nation. Dispatch in forwarding the same will be pleasing to the Honorable the Common Council of New York, for whom I am preparing your statue for the 4th of July, 1826.”

An examination of such of the New York newspapers of the period as could be found, fails to reveal any mention of this remarkable, colored and habited, statue of Jefferson, our whole knowledge of which is derived from the letters of the artist. It would seem to have belonged to the Eden Musée variety of freaks, from Browere’s own description of it. Here is what he writes to Madison from New York, July 17, 1826: “You are aware that two months ago I tendered to the Common Council of New York, my services and those of my son to complete a full length figure or statue of Jefferson. The memorial was unanimously accepted and referred to the Committee on Arts and Sciences, who would superintend its being placed in the Banqueting Room of the Common Council, on the approaching anniversary or jubilee. Without money and without power I was enabled in five weeks of unremitting exertions, to finish and place it in the Hall, exactly at the hour of the dissolution of Mr. Jefferson.” It may not be unamusing to read a description of his statue in the City Hall banqueting-room.

“His lofty and majestic figure standing erect; his mild blue and expressive eyes beaming with intelligence and good will to his fellow men. The scroll of the Declaration, which gave freedom to millions, clutched in his extended right hand, strongly contrasted with the decrepitude of his elder associate, the venerable John Adams, gave an effect to the whole which will not ever be forgotten here. His left hand resting on the hip, gave a carelessness yet dignified ease that pleased thousands. On his right hand was the portrait bust of the venerable Charles Carroll of Carrollton, like that of Adams, clothed with white drapery. Beside and behind these figures were placed various flowers and shrubbery. Immediately over the head of the author of the Declaration of American Independence hovered the American Eagle; a civic crown suspending from his beak was ready to drop on the temples and crown with immortal honors the wisest and best of men. His likeness is perfect. If the congratulations of Governor De Witt Clinton, His Honor the Mayor, the City authorities of New York and the general mass of reputable lives, can affix the seal of truth in likeness, rest assured the beloved features will not soon be forgotten.

“Now should the University of Virginia desire to erect in marble or bronze a statue to the memory of its founder be pleased, Sir, to note that I will be ready at all times to complete such a work. Moreover that, should appropriate funds at this period be lacking, it matters not: I will furnish one and await the pleasure of the institution for pecuniary emolument. All that would be required at first, would be a sufficiency to defray actual expenditures for materials and the indispensable requisites to the support of my young family. Should this proposition meet the approval of the visitors of the Virginia University and the citizens at large, a satisfactory answer will meet with my cordial thanks.”

Evidently the University of Virginia did not accept Browere’s proposition, as the only statue of its founder and architect, now to be seen there is an extremely bad one by a sculptor named Galt; and no trace of Browere’s curious work has up to the present time been found. Save for the truth of history, silence concerning it would seem to have been most expedient for Browere’s reputation as a serious artist.

Surely this story is as interesting as a romance, and but for fiction it might never have been told. How dare any man assume to write history and set down on his pages such statements, as did Randall about Browere’s mask of the living Jefferson, without first exhausting every channel of inquiry and every means of search and research to ascertain the truth? The material that I have drawn from was as accessible to Mr. Randall as it has been to me; in fact, he claims to have used the Jefferson papers in his compilation. It is true we have acquired more exact and scientific methods of writing history than were in vogue when Randall wrote, a generation or more ago. Yet this will not excuse his positive misstatements and false assumptions. The existence of an opportunity for such severe criticism only serves to emphasize the great necessity of observing the inflexible rule: take nothing for granted and nothing at second hand, without the most careful investigation and scrutiny. If the standard of life’s ordinary action should be the precept “Whatever is worth doing is worth doing well,” with what intensified force does it apply to the writing of history! Pains, infinite pains, are the requisites for good work. Nothing meritorious is ever accomplished without hard labor. Toil conquers everything; without it, the result is at best uncertain. While it is some gratification to have set wrong right and done tardy justice to Browere’s reputation, it is a far greater satisfaction to have rescued from oblivion and presented to the world his magnificent facsimile of the face and form of Thomas Jefferson.

VI

_Three Generations of Adamses_

The allied families of Adams and Quincy are the only instances in this country, that present themselves to my mind, of hereditary ability manifesting itself and being recognized in the public service, for three and more generations. The Quincy family has done its work in local and more narrow spheres than the Adamses; yet Josiah Quincy, Jr., of Boston Port Bill fame, and his son, bearing the same name, who for so many years was at the head of Harvard University, have had a wide field for the spread of their influence. But the Adams family is the only one that has given father and son to the Presidential chair, and father, son and grandson to the English mission. The series of double coincidences in the Adams family connected with missions to England and treaties with that power, is most curious. John Adams, just

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after having served as a commissioner to arrange the treaty of peace that concluded the Revolutionary War, was made minister to the court of St. James; his son John Quincy Adams, immediately after signing the treaty of Ghent, that concluded the war of 1812-15, was appointed minister to the same court; and his grandson, Charles Francis Adams, minister to England during the entire Civil War, took part in the treaty that disposed of the Alabama question.

John Adams was born in 1735 and died in 1826. The coincidences in his career, parallel with events in the career of Jefferson, are very remarkable. They were both on the committee of five to draft the Declaration of Independence; they both signed that American _Magna Charta_; they both represented this country in France; they both became successively Vice-President and then President of these United States, being the only signers of the Declaration of Independence thus elevated to the chair of state; and they both died, within a few hours of each other, on the fiftieth anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence. Is it possible that more curious historical parallels can be found in the lives of any two men?

From Monticello, the home of Jefferson, Browere journeyed to Quincy, the home of Adams, in order to secure a mask of the face of the distinguished nonagenarian. But the Virginian story of the maltreatment of Jefferson had gotten there before him, and it was with difficulty that Browere could persuade Mr. Adams to submit. However, the old Spartan finally yielded, and submitted not only once but twice, as appears by his certificate:

QUINCY, MASS., Nov. 23, 1825.

This certifies that John H. I. Browere of the city of New York, has
yesterday and to-day made two Portrait bust moulds on my person and
made a cast of the first which has been approved of by friends.

JOHN ADAMS.

To this certificate, his son, Judge Thomas B. Adams, added a postscript:

“I am authorized by the ex-President to say that the moulds were
made on his person without injury, pain or inconvenience.”

The bust from the mask of old John Adams is, next to that of Jefferson, the most interesting of Browere’s works. I do not mean for the subject, but for its truthful realism. There is an unhesitating feeling of real presence conveyed by Browere’s busts that is given by no other likeness. They present living qualities and characteristics wanting in the painted and sculptured portraits of the same persons. Such a comparison is easily made in the instance of John Adams, for the same

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year as that in which Browere made his life masks, Gilbert Stuart painted his famous portrait of “John Adams at the age of ninety”; and Browere’s bust will bear comparison with Stuart’s portrait. I must tell a story connected with the painting of this portrait by Stuart, which, while a little out of place, especially as we have a chapter devoted to Gilbert Stuart, comes in better here than there. Stuart had painted a portrait of John Adams as a younger man. It is the familiar portrait of the great statesman by that artist. John Quincy Adams was desirous that Stuart should paint another of his father at the advanced age of ninety, and applied to the artist for the purpose. But Stuart was too old to go down to Quincy, and John Adams was too old to come up to Boston. Finally, Stuart agreed that he would go down to Quincy, for the purpose, if he were paid half of the price of the picture before he went. To this John Quincy Adams gladly assented, and Stuart went to Quincy and had the first sitting. Then John Quincy Adams could not get Stuart to go down for a second sitting, and, as his father was past ninety, he feared he might die before the picture was finished. He at last succeeded in getting Stuart to go down for a second sitting by paying him the balance of the price of the picture. Then the artist would not go down to finish it, and the only way John Quincy Adams got him to complete the portrait was by promising him, if he would make the journey and do the work, he would pay him the agreed price over again. This is only one of many illustrations of the character of the greatest portrait-painter this country has produced, and the peer of any portrait-painter who has ever lived.

Browere broke his journey from Virginia to Massachusetts by a rest at the country’s capital, and while there he took a mask of the ruling President, John Quincy Adams, and one of his young son, Charles Francis Adams. It was this young man who wrote to Browere as follows:

WASHINGTON CITY, October [28], 1825.

The president requests me to state to Mr. Browere that he will be
able to give him two hours tomorrow morning at seven o’clock at his
(Mr. Browere’s) rooms on Pennsylvania Avenue. He is so much engaged
at present that this is the only time he can conveniently spare for
the purpose of your executing his portrait bust from life.