“You are standing, Mr. Trist, beneath the worst executed painting in the nation, Not to mention the least accurate.”
Henry Adams voice cut easily through the clamor of the lobby. He pointed his furled umbrella up toward the gilt-framed painting that hung just above their heads. “The Signing of the Declaration of Independence,” he read. “History at its most fictitious. That’s supposed to be my grandfather John Adams over but no Adams males has ever reached the middle age with so much hair. Jefferson over here” –the umbrella swung right–“was in reality quite coarsely redheaded, and entirely feline. Franklin was taller than everyone thinks. The whole thing is a fraud, of course, because the Continental Congress never did assemble for the purpose of signing the Declaration of Independence–they went to the clerk’s office, one by one, over the space of two months–and they adopted the resolution on July second, not July fourth. Otherwise–“,,,,
“The artist John Trumbull, was also blind in one eye.”
–from Grant by Max Byrd