In 1797, Weld wrote, “his chest is full; and his limbs, though rather slender, well shaped and muscular.  His head is small, in which respect he resembles the make of a great number of his countrymen.  His eyes are of a light grey colour; and in proportion to the length of his face, his nose is long.  Mr. Stewart, the eminent portrait painter, told me, that there were features in his face totally different from what he ever observed in that of any other human being; the sockets for the eyes, for instance, are larger than what he ever met with before, and the upper part of the nose broader.  All his features, he observed, were indicative of the strongest and most ungovernable passions, and had he been born in the forests, it was his opinion that he would have been the fiercest man among the savage tribes.”

Other and briefer descriptions contain a few phrases worth quoting.  Samuel Sterns said, “His countenance commonly carries the impression of a serious cast;” Maclay, that “the President seemed to bear in his countenance a settled aspect of melancholy;” and the Prince de Broglie wrote, “His pensive eyes seem more attentive than sparkling, but their expression is benevolent, noble and self-possessed.”  Silas Deane in 1775 said he had “a very young look and an easy soldier-like air and gesture,” and in the same year Curwen mentioned his “fine figure” and “easy and agreeable address.”  Nathaniel Lawrence noted in 1783 that “the General weighs commonly about 210 pounds.”  After death, Lear reports that “Doctor Dick measured the body, which was as follows—­In length 6 ft. 3-1/2 inches exact.  Across the shoulders 1.9.  Across the elbows 2.1.”  The pleasantest description is Jefferson’s:  “His person, you know, was fine, his stature exactly what one would wish, his deportment easy, erect and noble.”

How far the portraits of Washington conveyed his expression is open to question.  The quotation already given which said that no picture accurately resembled him in the minute traits of his person is worth noting.  Furthermore, his expression varied much according to circumstances, and the painter saw it only in repose.  The first time he was drawn, he wrote a friend, “Inclination having yielded to Importunity, I am now contrary to all expectation under the hands of Mr. Peale; but in so grave—­so sullen a mood—­and now and then under the influence of Morpheus, when some critical strokes are making, that I fancy the skill of this Gentleman’s Pencil will be put to it, in describing to the World what manner of man I am.”  This passiveness seems to have seized him at other sittings, for in 1785 he wrote to a friend who asked him to be painted, “In for a penny, in for a Pound, is an old adage.  I am so hackneyed to the touches of the painter’s pencil that I am now altogether at their beck; and sit ‘like Patience on a monument,’ whilst they are delineating the lines of my face.  It is a proof, among many others, of what habit and custom can accomplish.