A Shrine to the Famous
Compass used on the Lewis and Clark expedition, 1804–6. President Thomas Jefferson dispatched Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, both experienced soldiers, to explore the uncharted northwest territory acquired from France through the Louisiana Purchase of 1803. Their mission was to assess the land’s resources, find a land route to the Pacific Ocean, and make contact with Native Americans. Early in their journey they were joined by Sacajawea, a Shoshone woman who helped guide the party westward across the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific Ocean. The compass Clark used to navigate the route was given to Captain Robert A. McCabe, a U.S. Army officer who later served as an Indian agent in Minnesota and Michigan. After his death in 1839, the compass was passed down through his brother’s family for nearly a century. In 1933 McCabe’s grandniece presented the compass and case to the Smithsonian. (photo credit p03.1)
Mementos of the famous do not simply materialize on pedestals. Like all artifacts, they must be brought to the Smithsonian by someone who believes they belong here. Embedded in every personal relic—from Washington’s sword to first ladies’ gowns, from Muhammad Ali’s gloves to Ed Roberts’s wheelchair—is a declaration about who is worth remembering and why.
ACCORDING TO WITNESSES on that February day in 1843, there was not a dry eye in the House. The occasion was Samuel T. Washington’s offering of a gift to the nation: the battle sword of his great-uncle, George Washington, and a walking stick bequeathed to him by Benjamin Franklin. G. W. Summers, U.S. representative from Virginia, rose to address the crowd. He gestured to Franklin’s cane, topped with a gold liberty cap, a prominent symbol of the Revolution. “Upon that staff once leaned the sage of whom it has been said, ‘He snatched the lightning from heaven, and the sceptre from tyrants.’ ” Summers then turned to Washington’s sword. “A mighty arm once wielded this sword in a righteous cause even unto the dismemberment of empire.… It was never drawn except in defense of public liberty.” He concluded with a ringing proclamation: “Let the sword of the hero and the staff of the philosopher go together. Let them have place among the proudest trophies and most honored memorials of our national achievements.”1
The House of Representatives erupted with cheers and applause. The sergeant-at-arms took custody of the precious relics, and the gentleman from Massachusetts, former president John Quincy Adams, rose to submit a resolution of acceptance. His voice charged with emotion, Adams contemplated the objects at hand and the men associated with them:
Framed display of U.S. presidents’ hair, 1850s. In the nineteenth century it was common to honor famous Americans by preserving locks of their hair. One of the historical relics transferred from the Patent Office museum in 1883 was this display featuring the hair of the first fourteen presidents of the United States, from George Washington to Franklin Pierce. As times change, how people remember is often as revealing as who they remember. (photo credit p03.2)
The sword of Washington! The staff of Franklin! Oh, sir, what associations are linked in adamant with those names.… Washington and Franklin! What other two men, whose lives belong to the eighteenth century of Christendom, have left deeper impression of themselves upon the age in which they lived, and upon all aftertimes?
In accepting on behalf of the American people “these venerable relics of the wise, the valiant, and the good founders of our great confederated Republic, these sacred symbols of our golden age,” Adams expressed a final hope:
May they be deposited among the archives of our Government; and may every American who shall hereafter behold them, ejaculate a mingled offering of praise to that Supreme Ruler of the universe, by whose tender mercies our Union has been hitherto preserved through all the vicissitudes and revolutions of this turbulent world, and of prayer for the continuance of these blessings, by the dispensations of his providence to our beloved country from age to age, until time shall be no more.2
Following this benediction the assembly once again burst into thunderous applause. Congressmen dabbed their eyes and gathered around for a closer look at the sacred relics, many asking to hold and caress them, like Christian pilgrims in the presence of saints’ bones or pieces of the true cross.3
George Washington’s battle sword and scabbard, 1770s. Washington carried this sword as commander-in-chief of the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War. He willed the sword to his nephew. Samuel Washington, a U.S. Army captain, with orders to use it “only in self-defense or in the defense of country and its rights.” In 1843 Washington’s grandnephew donated the sword to the U.S. government, and in 1922 it was transferred from the State Department to the Smithsonian. (photo credit p03.3)
Benjamin Franklin’s walking stick, about 1780. Franklin received this cane while serving as ambassador to France during the 1780s. In his will he bequeathed this reminder of the Revolution and its ideals to George Washington: “My fine crab-tree walking stick, with a gold head curiously wrought in the form of the cap of liberty. I give to my friend, and the friend of mankind, General Washington. If it were a Sceptre, he has merited it, and would become it.” Washington’s grandnephew donated the cane to the U.S. government in 1843: it was transferred to the Smithsonian from the State Department in 1922. (photo credit p03.4)