The Founding Fathers of American Invention
Christian Schussele’s ‘Men of
Progress’ portrays revolutionaries personifying the inventiveness at the heart
of the American character
By David M. Shribman in the Wall Street Journal
One invented the telegraph, another created the first revolver, still a
third was the father of the American sewing machine. One invented the
mechanical reaper, another a machine for the mass production of horseshoes. One
discovered vulcanization and transformed rubber into a consumer product. Two of
them changed how we use stoves, both industrial and domestic. One of them
invented the rotary press, which made the early editions of this newspaper
possible. All were revolutionaries, changing the character of the world they
inhabited and personifying the inventiveness at the heart of the American
character itself.
Let us, amid all our 21st-century
technological prowess, pause to give praise to American inventors—and to the 19
whom the artist Christian Schussele (1824-1879) assembled in a remarkable
painting called “Men of Progress’’ that hangs, most remarkably of all, in the
very structure in which it was set, the National Portrait Gallery building in
Washington that once was the headquarters of the U.S. Patent Office.
In that building, today often
dismissed as a snoozy repository of stodgy presidential portraits, the patents
for Samuel Colt’s repeating revolver, Cyrus McCormick’s reaper, Samuel F.B.
Morse’s electric telegraph, Elias. Howe’s sewing machine and many others were
registered, providing a bureaucratic record of the essence of a nation whose
founding myth was an agrarian ideal but whose growth was fueled by
manufacturing.
Unlike the characters in perhaps the
most famous American group portrait, John Trumbull’s “Declaration of
Independence,’’ which appears in the Rotunda of the Capitol, two subway stops
away on Washington Metro’s Red Line, these 19 men of progress didn’t appear
together—not in 1862, when the painting was finished, not ever. Most never met
one another. But they helped define American innovation and a poignant American
moment, one of (civil) war and (industrial) revolution.
The Schussele painting is in a great
tradition of Western group portraiture, from Johann Zoffany’s 1772-77 “Tribuna
of the Uffizi’’ (populated with diplomats and Florentine glitterati in a
gallery with paintings from Raphael, Correggio, Rubens and Caravaggio) and
Gustave Courbet’s 1855 “Painter’s Studio’’ (with the artist himself, along with
such luminaries as George Sand, Charles Baudelaire and Pierre-Joseph Proudhon)
all the way to Vanity Fair’s annual Hollywood magazine cover.
“The Schussele is not a schlocky
painting, far from it,’’ George T.M. Shackelford, deputy director of the
Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth, Texas, told me. “It holds its place perfectly
well in a history of American or European portraits of worthies.’’
A popular engraving of the painting
of these fathers of invention—sadly, no mothers of invention, such as Martha
Coston, who invented marine flare signals vital in Civil War combat—was
marketed in 1863 for $10 each by the mezzotint pioneer John Sartain. It was
accompanied by this explanation: “It is to such men...that modern civilization
owes its chief triumphs, and they should be all the more esteemed and honored
that their path has been a rough and thorny one.’’
Schussele is forgotten today outside
scholarly and curatorial circles, but he was an Ecole de Beaux-Arts-trained
lithographer and painter who favored imaginary assemblages of great men,
including another in the portrait gallery collection—“Washington Irving and his
Literary Friends at Sunnyside”—completed two years later and depicting Oliver
Wendell Holmes Sr., Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, William
Cullen Bryant, Ralph Waldo Emerson, James Fenimore Cooper and others at
Irving’s romantic Tarrytown, N.Y., homestead on the Hudson River.
But the painting of these men of the
book does not have the forward momentum of the men of action in the
industrialists’ painting, created while the Civil War raged and the destiny of
the nation was uncertain. There is a tension in “Men of Progress’’ that
reflects the era, and not only because Joseph Henry, who was the first
secretary of the Smithsonian Institution and is an important figure in the
painting, was locked at the time in a dispute with Morse over credit for the
invention of the telegraph.
The work that resides in the
Washington gallery (along with a similar one at Cooper Union, founded by Peter
Cooper, the inventor of the first American steam locomotive and a principal in
the painting) was commissioned by Jordan L. Mott, who produced the first
anthracite cooking stove and who selected the inventors who were portrayed.
Schussele visited each of the characters in the painting, which is how he produced
the full-length view of Charles Goodyear (vulcanized rubber), the waist-high
view of Erastus Brigham Bigelow (power looms for manufacturing carpets) and the
bust-length view of Eliphalet Nott (the Union College president who held 30
patents for various stoves and boilers).
And interspersed in the painting are
the products of this feast of invention: a Colt pistol and the telegraph, for
example, presided over by a seated portrait of Benjamin Franklin, a founding
father of the America Revolution and arguably the founding father of American
invention.
“This painting gathers some of the
most important innovators of the mid-19th century in one fictive gathering but
in a real space,’’ Brandon Brame Fortune, chief curator of the National
Portrait Gallery, told me. “There is almost no painting anywhere that is as
eloquent a tribute to the 19th-century belief in American progress.”
So evocative of the American spirit
is this work—painted by a Frenchman, just as the Statue of Liberty,
commissioned a dozen years later, was designed by France’s Frédéric Auguste
Bartholdi—that it was moved to the White House in 1947, where it resided until
1965. Harry Truman had been looking for a companion to the George P.A. Healy
“Peacemakers”—a portrait of Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses S. Grant, William Tecumseh
Sherman and David Dixon Porter aboard the steamer River Queen—and “Men of
Progress’’ was a natural choice. It was installed opposite the Healy in the
West Lobby of the executive mansion.
The painting had been given to the
nation in 1942 by Andrew W. Mellon and, like so much in the artistic and
political worlds, was improved by an afterthought. It originally included only
18 figures, but as Schussele neared completion of the work he learned of the
victory of the ironclad Monitor over the Confederate States’ Merrimack. So he
quickly added John Ericsson, who designed the Union vessel, crowding him into
the picture just above Frederick E. Sickels, who invented the valve that made
the steam engine efficient. The late addition of Ericsson thus stands as a
symbol itself, reminding us of another element of the American creed: that
invention and progress are never finished.
—Mr.
Shribman is the executive editor of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and the
Pittsburgh Press.
Posters
comments:
1)
The difference between invention and “jury
rigging” is pretty close to me.
2)
The
old expression about necessity being the mother of invention comes to mind,
too.
3)
Americans
tend to invent “pretty” things that can be manufactured in vast numbers at a
good price, too.
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