Art: PEALE’S PROJECTS

Charles Willson Peale was a sensitive little man with a long, thin nose, wide and bright blue eyes, an imposing store of energy. One of the few artists to fight in the American Revolution, he painted dozens of its heroes—four in the portraits opposite. He also inspired a whole family of artists, who will be honored next week with a comprehensive exhibition at the Cincinnati Art Museum. Star of the show will be gentle Charles himself, yet painting was only one of his talents.

Two hundred and one years ago, when Peale was twelve, his indigent mother apprenticed him to an Annapolis saddlemaker. Said he later: “[I] would much rather practice the use of my tools than ride in a coach drawn by six horses.” At 25, having practiced saddlemaking, watch repairing and portrait painting with some success, he set sail to learn more about art from Benjamin West in London.

Apples & Boots. The Revolution was brewing in Peale’s heart: he solemnly refused to tip his hat to King George. Home again, he painted flags for military companies, soon commanded a company himself, fought at Princeton and Trenton. Once, when his company suddenly deserted him to rob an orchard on the line of march, Peale had the presence of mind to call after them an order to fall out. Also, he made warm boots for his men in winter. But if they loved him, the enemy had little reason to fear him. He became a pacifist who passionately hated war and dueling (any duelist, he remarked, “stinks … as much while living as he would in four days after being shot”).

When victory approached, Peale settled in Philadelphia and opened a museum of his Revolutionary portraits. The resulting portrait commissions were just enough to support his greatest joy—a bustling, boisterous family. Of his ten children to reach maturity, most dabbled in art, two became professional painters: Raphaelle and Rembrandt. Raphaelle was by far the most talented, brought still-life painting to a pitch seldom equaled before or since, and died of drink.

Bones & Backgrounds. The versatility of Peale’s good friends Jefferson and Franklin helped inspire him to new labors. He gradually converted his museum into a huge panorama of natural history by mounting thousands of birds, insects, snakes and animals for display. In 1801 he paid a farmer $300, a rifle and a couple of dresses for an odd heap of bones and permission to dig for more. From these, in his greatest scientific coup, he pieced together the first mastodon ever assembled.

In his old age, Peale retired to a big farm, which he soon made a model of scientific agriculture. He started a small cotton mill, successfully manufactured porcelain teeth for his cronies, and urged a device which he had built for taking enemas on anyone who seemed peaked. At 86 Peale died, having served freedom, progress and art to his utmost. In art, his utmost was short of greatness and not nearly as varied as the whole of his life. But he left a fine picture record of great men and great times—times in which, among other things, the artist and the man of action had not yet become strangers to one another.