Mammoth Psychology

“Of this animal, it is said the following is a tradition, as delivered in the very terms of a Shawnee Indian: ‘Ten thousand moons ago, when naught but gloomy forests covered this land of the sleeping sun, long before the pale man . . . a race of animals were in being, huge as the frowning precipice, cruel as the bloody panther, swift as the descending eagle and terrible as the Angel of Night. The pines crashed beneath their feet; and the lake shrunk when they slaked their thirst’ … numerous have been the attempts of scientific characters of all nations to procure a satisfactory collection of bones.”

So read the Skeleton of the Mammoth broadside that Charles Willson Peale posted across Philadelphia in 1802 to draw people in to see, for the first time ever, the skeleton of a mammoth he was exhibiting in his Philadelphia Museum. Peale and his team had dug it up near Newburgh, New York, and painstakingly reconstructed it. If the broadside was not enough to pique Philadelphians’ attention and bring them into the museum, and it was, Peale had Moses Williams distribute the broadside throughout the city while on horseback wearing “feathered dress” and preceded by a trumpeter.

The Mercantile Advertiser ran tantalizing headlines like Bones of a Mammoth or Some Other Wonderful Animal, titillating readers with tales of “a monster so vastly disproportionate to every creature; as to induce a momentary suspension of every animal faculty but admiration and wonder ... a fearful figure—his head extended to the summit of an ordinary tree, he could seize his prey if sheltered among its branches.” Technically, the bones were those of a mastodon, not a mammoth, but it was not until many years later that this distinction was made, and everyone at the time used the mammoth moniker (as will I).

When visitors entered the room in the southeast corner of Peale’s Museum, the mammoth skeleton appeared even grander in contrast to the mouse he had placed right by its side. Charles Godfrey Leland recalls being a boy of eight “standing in awe before the tremendous skeleton.” Francis Hall, a British Army lieutenant who traveled through America, was struck by how “the human stature is, indeed, pygmean [sic] beside it.” John Duncan, a visiting Scotsman thought so as well, noting, “a human being shrinks into insignificance beside the bony fabric of this enormous antediluvian.”

The contrast between human and mammoth struck fear into some museum dwellers. “I looked on its enormous remains with astonishment,” recalled Deborah Logan, granddaughter of a former lieutenant governor of Pennsylvania. Mrs. Logan’s friend had told her of a lady that “went to bed after she returned home from seeing it with the terror it inspired.”

Rembrandt Peale's sketch of the mammoth.

Source: American Philosophical Society

Peale’s team actually pulled up enough bones from the marl pits near Newburgh to construct two mammoth skeletons: One skeleton sat on exhibit at the Philadelphia museum, and its doppelgänger went on tour in England, under the watchful eyes of Peale’s sons Rembrandt and Rubens, who kept their father abreast of the reaction to “their pet.” Before Rembrandt and Rubens set sail, they gave themselves a bon voyage present: hosting a dinner for 13 inside the rib cage of the mammoth that was staying put in the Philadelphia museum. The convivial atmosphere, combined with the ample supply of spirits on hand, led to a round of toasts, including one to “the biped animal man—may peace, virtue and happiness be his distinguishing character,” and another to “The American people—may they be as pre-eminent among the nations of the earth, as the canopy we sit beneath surpasses the fabric of the mouse,” referring to the mouse skeleton placed beside the mammoth skeleton.

Soon a mammoth craze, arguably the first craze to sweep the country, was underway. There was talk of mammoth squashes, mammoth radishes, mammoth peaches, and mammoth loaves of bread. Even these paled in comparison to the Columbia Repository newspaper story of a 1,300-pound mammoth cheese made from milking the cows of each of the 186 farmers in the town of Cheshire, Massachusetts. The cheese was sent to President Jefferson, who was delighted at what he deemed “an ebullition of the passion of republicanism.”