■^■■i
EX LIBRIS
The Cooper Union
THE GIFT OF
Mrs. Edward C. Mogn
r
D.ClWii'Ct|
THE MERMAID.
ORIGINAL ETCHING
F. S. CHURCH.
Though not so boldly treated as most of his early plates, in substance it is quite typical, Mr, Church being best known to the public by his quaint conceits, in which the fantastic and the real, animal life and human life, are mingled together in a seemingly inextricable manner, as in a dream.
Copies of most of Mr. Church's etchings are rare, and the possessors may treasure them, for future cataloguers will certainly mark them "rare," "very rare," and "almost unique."
MERICAN ART
AND
American Art Collections
Cssapi on grttsttc Subjects
BY THE BEST ART WRITERS, FULLY ILLUSTRATED WITH ETCHINGS, PHOTO- ETCHINGS. PHOTOGRAVURES, PHOTOTYPES, AND ENGRAVINGS
ON STEEL AND WOOD
BY THE MOST CELEBRATED ARTISTS
EDITED BY WALTER MONTGOMERY
Vol. II.
BOSTON E. W. WALKER & CO.
ioi CHAUNCY STREET
V'<
Copyright, 1889 By E. W. Walker and Company
The Original Drawings, Paintings, and Engravings, from which this work was compiled are covered by the following copyright formulas : -
Copyright, 1878 and 18S0, by D. Appleton & Co.
Copyright, 1876, by Samuel Walker & Co.
Copyright, 1SS5, by Charles E. Wentworth
Copyright, 1882, by C A. Stephens
Copyright, 1SS3, 1884, 1885, 1886, 1887, 1888, 1889, by Russell Publishing Co.
Copyright, 1879, 1SS0, 1881, 1882, 18S3, 1884, 1885, 1886, 1887, 1888, 1889, by Estes & Lauriat
JSrctncrsttg i|ress John Wilson and Son, Cambridge
329916
TABLE OF CONTENTS
VOLUME II.
PAGE
XLIII. Frederick S. Church 529
XLIV. J. Francis Murphy 541
XLV. Maud Humphrey 545
XLVI. J. Wells Champney 561
XLVII. Albert Bierstadt 579
XLVIII. E. Wood Perry ' . . . 585
XLIX. Seymour Joseph Guy 589
L. American Stained Glass 593
LI. Henry Sandham 609
LII. J D. Woodward 625
Lin. J. Carroll P.eckwith 641
LIV. John Trumrull 659
LV. John Trumbull 67S
LVI. Jessie Curtis Shepherd 689
LVII. Sanford R. Gifford 705
LVIII. Peter Moran 712
LIX. Winslow Homer 716
LX. Washington Allston 721
LXI. William L. Sheppard 741
LXII. W. H. Shelton 753
LXIII. F. Childe Hassam 761
LXIV. Frederick Edwin Church 771
LXV. George Inness . 779
LXVI. J. Appleton Brown 787
LXVII. Thomas Moran 793
LXVIII. M. J. Ezekiel • 803
LXIX. Frederick Dielman 811
PAGE
LXX. C. S. Reinhart 814
LXXI. Charles Copeland 817
LXXII. Alfred R. Waud 833
LXXIII. C. H. Miller 841
LXXIV. Louis Meynelle 851
LXXV. W. P. Snyder 861
LXXVI. H. P. Barnes 865
LXXVII. E. P. Hayden S73
LXXVIII. Alice and Carl Hirschbero . . . 8S1
LXXIX. W. J. Mozart . . .- S92
LXXX. Samuel Colman 899
LXXXI. Arthur Quartley 903
LXXXII J. Rollin Tilton 908
LXXXIII. A. F. Bellows 913
LXXX IV. Fred B. Scheli 924
LXXXV. Thomas Hovenden . . : 931
LXXXVI. H. Bolton Jones 937
LXXXVH. John G. Brown 941
LXXXVIII. George Fuller 945
LXXXIX. George Loring Brown 963
XC. Alexander H. Wyant 967
XCI. Artist and Amateur 969
XCII. Mauritz F. H. De Haas 979
XCIII. Frank Duveneck 9S4
XCIV. A. Wordsworth Thompson .... 991
XCV. Tendencies of Art in America . . . 993
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
ETCHINGS AND
PAGE
The Mermaid. Original Etching by F. S. Church Facing 529
The Drover's Halt. By F. O. C. Darley.
Photo-Etching " 545
Portrait of a Lady. By J. Wells Champney. Photo-Etching " S6'
The- Peacemaker. By Edmund H. Garrett.
Photo-Etching " 57?
Old Boat House, Gloucester. Original Etch- ing by Charles A. Piatt " 593
A Moonlight Revery. By H. Sandham. Photo- Etching " 609
Moonlight on the Bay. By H. Sandham.
Photo-Etching " 625
Esther Lyon. By Frederick Dielman. Photo- Etching " 941
On New York Bay. Original Etching by Henry
Farrar " 657
A Daring Act. By F. T. Merrill. Photo- Etching • " 673
In the Swing. By H. Winthrop Peirce. Photo- Etching " 689
The Caribou Hunter. By W. L. Taylor.
Photo-Etching " 705
Landscape and Cattle. By Van Marcke.
Etched by Peter Moran " 711
A Bonny Lass. By K. L. Langdon. Photo- Etching " 721
The Explanation. By Wni. St. John Harper.
Photo-Etching " 741
PHOTO-ETCHINGS.
PAGE
Peek-a-boo. By Henry F. Spread. Photo- Etching Facing 753
Up the Hill. Original Etching by James I).
Smillie " 769
A Storm at Sea. By Frank Hendry. Photo- Etching " 785
Gwendolen. By Frederick Dielman. Photo- Etching . .' " 811
The Unwilling School-Boy. F. O. C. Darley.
Photo-Etching " 817
Landscape and Sheep. By Charles Jacque.
Etched by James D. Smillie " 833
Shooting the Rapids. By W. L. Taylor. Photo- Etching " 849
At Milking Time. By H. Winthrop Peirce.
Photo-Etching " 865
At Close Quarters. By F. T. Merrill. Photo- Etching " 881
Durham, England. Original Etching by Sam- uel Coleman " 897
Confidential Friend. By Walter Satterlee.
Photo-Etching " 913
Mrs. Philip Nicklin. By Gilbert Stuart.
Etched by Stephen J. Ferris " 937
Amid the Apple Blossoms. By John L. Breck.
Photo-Etching " 961
Gananoque Lake. By F. O. C. Darley. Photo- Etching " 977
December. Original Etching by Henry Farrar. " 993
FULL PAGE WOOD-CUT ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
The Mermaid. Drawn by Frederick S. Church. . . . 535 "Clasps her tiny hands above me." Drawn by
Maud Humphrey 549
" Silver trebled laughter." Drawn by Maud Hum- phrey 553
" Robed in soften'd light." Drawn by Maud Hum- phrey 557
On the Lake at Vassar. Drawn by J. Wells Champ- ney 567
Study of a Child. Drawn by J. Wells Champney . . 575 Mount Corcoran, Sierra Nevada. Painted by Albert
Bierstadt 578
Near the Black Hills Painted by Albert Bierstadt. 581 Fireside Stories. Painted by E. Wood Perry .... 583 The Old Story. Painted by E. Wood Perry .... 587 The Orange Girl. Painted by Seymour J. Guy ... 591 A Memory of Mexico. Drawn by Henry Sandham . . 615 The Desolate Creek. Drawn by J. D Woodward. . 627 The Delaware Water-Gap. Drawn by J. D. Wood- ward 633
The Falconer. Painted by James Carroll Beckwith . . 643
Study. Drawn by James Carroll Beckwith 647
Study. Drawn by James Carroll Beckwith 651
Study of Drapery. Drawn by James Carroll Beck- with 655
Head of Sir Thomas Lawrence. Sketched by John
Trumbull 658
Death of General Warren. Sketched by John Trum- bull 661
The Battle of Princeton, Phototypic reduction of a
sketch by John Trumbull 665
Academical Study. By John Trumbull. Drawn by
Charles Mettais 669
Academical Study. By John Trumbull. Drawn by
Charles Mattais 674
The Sortie from Gibraltar. Phototypic Fac-simile
of Pen-and-ink Sketch by John Trumbull 685
A Mother's Kisses. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd. 697
Venice. Painted by Sanford R. Gifford 707
Sunset in the Adirondacks. Painted by Sanford
R. Gifford 709
Twilight. Painted by Peter Moran 711
The Return of the Herd. Painted by Peter Moran. 713 Watermelon-Eaters. Painted by Winslow Homer . . 717 In the Fields. Painted by Winslow Homer .... 719 Angels from Jacob's Dream. Drawn by Washington
Allston 725
Ship at sea. From a chalk drawing by Washington
Allston 729
Titania's Court. Drawn by Washington Allston . . 733 Study for " Prometheus." Drawn by Washington
Allston 739
Endicott cutting down Morton's Maypole. Drawn
by W. L. Sheppard 743
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Madame La Tour a Prisoner at Penobscot. Drawn
by W. L. Sheppard 747
Autumn. Drawn by F. Childe Hassam 763
The Parthenon. Painted by Frederick E. Church . . 770 A Tropical Moonlight. Painted by Frederick E.
Church 773
Chimborazo. Painted by Frederick E. Church . . . 775
Light Triumphant. Painted by George Inness . . . 777 Pine Grove, Barberini Villa, Albano. Painted by
George Inness . . . ' 7S1
Landscape. Painted by J. Appleton Brown 7S6
Storm at the Isle of Shoals. Painted by J. Appleton
Brown 789
The Upper Merrimac. Painted by J. Appleton Brown. 791
Dream-Land. Painted by Thomas Moran 795
Solitude. Painted by Thomas Moran 799
Michael Angelo. By M. J. Ezekiel S02
Albert Durer. By M. J. Ezekiel S05
Christ. By M. J. Ezekiel S09
The Husking Frolic. Drawn by C. S. Reinhart . . 815 The House on the Marsh. Drawn by Charles Cope- land S21
John Gallup's Exploit. Drawn by A. R. Waud. . . S35
A Western Mazeppa. Drawn by A. R. Waud . . . S37 A Trading Ship on the Northwest Coast. Drawn
by A. R. Waud 839
Old Mill at Springfield. Painted by Charles Henry
Miller S43
Return to the Fold. Painted by Charles Henry
Miller 845
March. Drawn by Louis Meynelle 850
Building the Nest. Drawn by Louis Meynelle . . . 853 Arcadia in North Carolina. Drawn by W. P. Sny- der S60
Illustrations for Tennyson. Drawn by H. P. Barnes. 869
PAGE
In Winter. Drawn by E. P. Hayden 875
Snow-Birds. Drawn by E. P. Hayden 878
The Dandelion Girl. Drawn by Alice Hirschberg. . 8S3 The Gratitude of Sir John. Drawn by Alice and
Carl Hirschberg 885
The Imprisoned Kid. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg . . 889 Andernach on the Rhine. Painted by Samuel Col- man S9S
A Street Scene in Caen, Normandy. Painted by
Samuel Colman 901
An Afternoon in August. Painted by Arthur Quartley 905
Devonshire Cottages. Painted by A. F. Bellows . . 915 A By-way near Torquay, Devonshire. Painted by
A. F. Bellows 919
The Vendean Volunteer. Painted by Thomas Ho-
venden 930
The Puzzled Voter. Drawn by Thomas Hovenden . 933
Tangier, Morocco. Drawn by H. Bolton Jones . . . 936 A Cloudy Day in October, Brittany. Painted by
H. Bolton Jones 939
" By the Sad Sea-waves." Painted by John G. Brown. 943
Winnikred Dysart. Painted by George Fuller . . . 947
The Romany Girl. Painted by George Fuller . . 953
The Lake of Nemi. Painted by George Loring Brown . 962 The Temple of Peace. Painted by George Loring
Brown 965
A Midsummer Retreat. Painted by Alexander H.
Wyant 969
On the Ausable River. Painted by Alexander Wyant . 973 Long Island Sound by Moonlight. Painted by
M. F. H. De Haas 978
The Coast of France. Painted by M. F. H. De Haas . 981 The Turkish Page. Painted by Frank Duveneck . . 985 May-Day in Fifth Avenue. Painted by A. W. Thomp- son 990
ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT.
Head-piece. Drawn by Frederick S. Church .... 529
A Serenade. Drawn by Frederick S. Church .... 529
The Rehearsal. Drawn by Frederick S. Church . . . 530
A Girl Feeding Chickens. Drawn by Frederick S. Church 530
Scamp in the Cellar. Drawn by Frederick S. Church . 531
Scamp and his Master. Drawn by Frederick S Church. 531
Maggie Tulliver. Drawn by Frederick S. Church . . 532
The Little Peacemaker. Drawn by Frederick S. Church 533 Frontispiece, "Rock me to Sleep, Mother." Drawn by
Frederick S- Church 534
From " Rock me to Sleep, Mother." Drawn by Frederick
S. Church . 537
From " Rock me to Sleep, Mother." Drawn by Frederick
S. Church 53S
Madam Owl and her Chickens. Drawn by Frederick S.
Church 539
Tail-piece. Drawn by Frederick S. Church 540
A Spring Landscape. Drawn by J. F. Murphy . . . 542
The Winding Brook. Drawn by J. F. Murphy .... 543
Head-piece. Drawn by Maud Humphrey 545
Initial I. Drawn by Maud Humphrey 545
Eating Pop-corn. Drawn by Maud Humphrey .... 546
Doll's Secrets. Drawn by Maud Humphrey .... 546
" Five o'Clock Tea." Drawn by Maud Humphrey . . 547
Asking for a Kiss. Drawn by Maud Humphrey . . . 547
My Valentine. Drawn by Maud Humphrey 548
Christmas Carollers. Drawn by Maud Humphrey . . 551
Troubles of Childhood. Drawn by Maud Humphrey . 552
Joys of Childhood. Drawn by Maud Humphrey . . . 555
Mother Goose. Drawn by Maud Humphrey 556
Little Bo-Peep. Drawn by Maud Humphrey .... 559
Young Street Artists. Drawn by Maud Humphrey . . 560
Head-piece. Drawn by J. Wells Champney 561
Fishing. Drawn by J. Wells Champney 561
Looking over the Photographs. Drawn by J. Wells
Champney 562
Fortuny's Model. Drawn by J. Wells Champney . . . 563
Calliope at Work. Drawn by J. Wells Champney . . 564 Sallie, Sketching in the Dove-cot. Drawn by J. Wells
Champney 566
" Under New England Apple-Trees." Drawn by J. Wells
Champney 569
Children roasting Apples. Drawn by J. Wells Champney 569
View in Bruges. Drawn by J. Wells Champney . . . 570
The American in Rome. Drawn by J. Wells Champney 570
" I'se gwine Ress, I is." Drawn by J. Wells Champney . 570
A Toccata. Drawn by J. Wells Champney 571
Pigeons of St. Marks. Drawn by J. Wells Champney . 571
Reunited. Drawn by J. Wells Champney 572
The Rose Harvest. Drawn by J-. Wells Champney . . 572
In Murillo's Studio. Drawn by J. Wells Champney . . 573
The ^Esthetic Clique. Drawn by J. Wells Champney . 574
A Seminole Girl. Drawn by J. Wells Champney . . . 574
Guiding the Rudder. Drawn by J. Wells Champney . . 576
VI
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Head-piece and Initial M 579
Tail-piece : 5^°
Head-piece and Initial F 5S5
Head-piece and Initial T 5^9
Initial I. Drawn by R. Riordan 593
Adoring Angel, from the " Window of the Virgin " Ven-
dome, Twelfth Century 595
From a Window of the Twelfth or Thirteenth Century,
Saint Remi, Reims 595
Portrait of Henri De Mez. Chartres, Thirteenth Century . 595 Specimens of American " Antique " Glass. Drawn by K.
Riordan 597
Window Screen in pure Mosaic Glass, Egg-Plant. By
Louis C. Tiffany. Drawn by R. Riordan 598
Initial T. Designed by R. Riordan 599
Design for Harvard Memorial Window. By John La
Farge. Drawn by Will H. Low 600
Fac-simile of Study for Harvard Memorial Window. By
John La Farge. Drawn by Charles Mettais .... 601
Varieties of American Opal Glass ■ . 602
Tail-piece. Designed by R. Riordan 603
Initial O. Designed by R. Riordan 604
Portrait of Henri De Mez. Chartres, Thirteenth Century 605 Reduced Working Drawing of a Window in pure Mosaic.
By John La Farge 606
Tail-piece. Designed by R. Riordan 60S
Head piece. Drawn by H. Sandham 609
" Ah, broken is the Golden Bowl." Drawn by H. Sand- ham 609
Illustration from Lenore. Drawn by H. Sandham . . . 610
Felix Holt Wounded. Drawn by H. Sandham .... 61 1
Eppie and Silas Marner Drawn by H. Sandham . . . 612
A splendid Specimen. Drawn by H. Sandham .... 613
The Home of the Moose. Drawn by H. Sandham . . 613
Low Tide, St. John Harbor. Drawn by H. Sandham . 614
Horses Bathing. Drawn by H. Sandham 614
A Canadian Boat Song. Drawn by H. Sandham . . . 617
Illustrations from Lenore. Drawn by H. Sandham . . 618
Illustrations from Lenore. Drawn by H. Sandham . . 619
A Milk Cart of Havana. Drawn by H. Sandham . . . 620 "An Anthem for the queenliest Dead." Drawn by H.
Sandham 621
" From Grief and Groan to a Golden Throne." Drawn by
H. Sandham 621
"For her, the fair and debonair." Drawn by H. Sandham 622 " And when she fell in feeble Health." Drawn by H.
Sandham 622
" Let the Bell Toll." Drawn by H. Sandham .... 623
Lenore. Drawn by H. Sandham 624
" The Splendor falls on Castle Walls." Drawn by J. D.
Woodward 62 r
" O Love, they die in yon rich Sky." Drawn by J. D.
Woodward 626
The Dying Swan. Drawn by J. D. Woodward .... 629
Song of the Brook. Drawn by J. D. Woodward . . . 630
The City Wharves. Drawn by J. D. Woodward . . . 631
Outward Bound. Drawn by J. D. Woodward .... 632
The Village Church. Drawn by J. D. Woodward . . . 635
A Glimpse of the River. Drawn by J. D. Woodward . 636
The Shining Sea. Drawn by J. D. Woodward .... 637
Tail-piece. Drawn by J. D. Woodward 640
Study of a Head. Drawn by J. C. Beckwith 641
James Carroll Beckwith. From a Photograph .... 641
Study of a Head. Drawn by J. C. Beckwith 642
The Christian Martyr, Drawn by J. C. Beckwith ... 645
Study. Drawn by J. C. Beckwith 649
Study. Drawn by J. C. Beckwith 653
Tail-piece. Drawn by J. C. Beckwith 656
PAGE
Priam in the Tent of Achilles. Sketch by John Trumbull 659 Portrait of Col. John Trumbull. Painted by Waldo and
Jewett. Engraved by G. Kruell 663
Academical Study by Trumbull. Drawn by Charles Mettais 671 Sketch by Trumbull for a group in " Priam returning to
his family " 67c
Sketch by Trumbull 677
Sketch for the Death of Miss MacCrea. By John Trumbull 67S The Deluge. India Ink Sketch by John Trumbull. En- graved by Wm. Miller 680
Head-piece. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd .... 689
Thinking. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd .... 689
The empty Birds'-Nest. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd 690
Hide and Seek. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd . . 691
Caught. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd 691
A Mother's Advice. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd . 692 " Round the Carpet here we Stand." Drawn by Jessie
Curtis Shepherd 692
Rocking the Cradle. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd . 693 Illustration from " Rock me to Sleep, Mother." Drawn
by Jessie Curtis Shepherd 694
Fairyland. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd .... 694 " Where have the Birdies gone ? " Drawn by Jessie Curtis
Shepherd . ■ 695
A Happy Family. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd . . 695 A Careful little Mother. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd 696 Sea Fairies. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd .... 699 The little Somnambulist. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shep- herd . . 700
Ready for a Ride. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd . 701 An Inquisitive Child. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd 701 The Naughty little Girl. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shep- herd 702
Six Years old. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd . . . 703
Tail-piece. Drawn by Jessie Curtis Shepherd .... 704
The Matterhorn at Sunrise. Drawn by S. R. Gifford . 708
Head-piece and Initial A 712
My Lady's Friend. Drawn by Peter Moran 714
Head-piece and Initial 1 716
Study of a Head. Drawn by W. Allston 721
Initial T 721
Study for Head of Astrologer in Belshazzar's Feast.
Drawn by W. Allston 722
Study for figure of Belshazzar. Drawn by W. Allston . 722
Uriel. Drawn by W. Allston 723
Study of a Head. Drawn by W. Allston 724
Pen-drawing by W. Allston 726
Pen-drawing by W. Allston 728
Pen-drawing by W. Allston 731
Study for a Portrait. Drawn by W. Allston .... 735
Angel from "Jacob's Dream." Drawn by W. Allston . 740
Head-piece. Drawn by W. L. Sheppard 741
A Funny Bundle. Drawn by W. L. Sheppard .... 741
A Dinner in China. Drawn by W. L. Sheppard ... 742
Giving the Dolls a ride. Drawn by W. L. Sheppard . . 742
The Little Tyrant. Drawn by W. L. Sheppard .... 745 " Far from the madding Crowd's ignoble Strife." Drawn
by W. L. Sheppard 74°
Illustration from Eliot's Poems. Drawn by W. L. Shep- pard : 749
Illustration from Eliot's Poems. Drawn by W. L. Shep- pard 75°
Freeing the Captive Drawn by W. L. Sheppard ... 751
The Bath Drawn by W. L. Sheppard 752
Sheep. Drawn by W. H. Shelton 753
Initial W 753
Scamp at the Dime Museum. Drawn by W. H. Shelton 754
The Musical Critic. Drawn by W. H. Shelton .... 755
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Vll
PAGE
The Naughty Kid. Drawn by \V. H. Shelton .... 756
Two Little Pigs. Drawn by W. H. Shelton 757
Catching the Horse. Drawn by \V. H. Shelton . . . 758
Brother and Sister. Drawn by W. H. Shelton .... 759
Beppo. Drawn by W. H. Shelton ,760
Head-piece. Drawn by F. Childe Hassam ..... 761
Initial F 761
The Fisherman. Drawn by F. Childe Hassam .... 762
Going Boating. Drawn by F. Childe Hassam .... 765
Rowing. Drawn by F. Childe Hassam 765
Looking for the " Dipper." Drawn by F. Childe Hassam 766 A Stroll through the Woods. Drawn by F. Childe Has- sam 7°7
Tail-piece. Drawn by F. Childe Hassam 76S
Head-piece and Initial T 771
Head-piece and Initial N • . 779
Head-piece and Initial T S03
Tail-piece 80S
Head-piece and Initial C Si 1
Companions. Drawn by Frederick Dielman 812
Dorothea. Drawn by Frederick Dielman S13
Good Advice. Drawn by G. S. Reinhart S14
Tail-piece 816
An Adventuresome Lad. Drawn by Charles Copeland . S17
What's that? Drawn by Charles Copeland S17
A Sleigh-ride. Drawn by Charles Copeland 818
Feeding the Fishes. Drawn by Charles Copeland . . . 81S
The Fiery Trace. Drawn by Charles Copeland .... S19
Watching the Ships go by. Drawn by Charles Copeland 820
A Strange Elevator Boy. Drawn by Charles Copeland . S23 The Little Boy that locked himself in. Drawn by Charles
Copeland 824
The Winding Brook. Drawn by Charles Copeland . . S25
The Waterfall. Drawn by Charles Copeland .... S25
Taking Dolly for a Walk. Drawn by Charles Copeland S26
An Unlucky Shot. Drawn by Charles Copeland . . . S27
The Fisherman's Last Sail. Drawn by Charles Copeland 829
Good Morning. Drawn by Charles Copeland .... S31
Tail-piece. Drawn by Charles Copeland 832
Head-piece. Drawn by A. R. Wand 833
Tail-piece. Drawn by A. R. Waud 840
A South-side Lane, Long Island. Drawn by C. H. Miller 842
Oak and Water-Willow. Drawn by C. H. Miller . . . 844
Head-piece. Drawn by Louis Meynelle 851
Initial O. Drawn by Louis Meynelle 851
The Mermaid. Drawn by Louis Meynelle 852
Picking Buttercups. Drawn by Louis Meynelle .... 855
A Cavalryman. Drawn by Louis Meynelle 856
Gathering Wood. Drawn by Louis Meynelle 857
Bess. Drawn by Louis Meynelle 85S
Tail-piece. Drawn by Louis Meynelle 85S
Head-piece and Initial W. Drawn by Louis Meynelle 861
The Bicycle Club Saluting. Drawn by W. P. Snyder . . 862
Turning the Sign. Drawn by W. P. Snyder S63
The Owl. Drawn by H. P. Barnes 865
Out for a Play in the Snow Drawn by H. P. Barnes . 866
PAGE
Waiting for Darkness. Drawn by H. P. Barnes . . . . 867
Pelicans. Drawn by H. P. Barnes 867
Chimney Swallows. Drawn by H. P. Barnes 863
After the Rain Drawn by H. P. Barnes 868
Winter Woods. Drawn by H. P. Barnes 871
Moonrise. Drawn by H. P. Barnes 871
Tail-piece. Drawn by H. P. Barnes 872
Fall. Drawn by E. P. Hayden ... 873
The Cricket. Drawn by E. P. Hayden ..... . 874
The Express Train. Drawn by E. P. Havden .... 874
Tending the Plants. Drawn by E. P. Hayden .... 877
A Game of Fox and Geese. Drawn by E. P. Hayden . . S77
A Walk by the River. Drawn by E P. Hayden . . . . S79
Tail-piece. Drawn by E. P. Hayden 880
Headpiece, Winter Scene. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg . 881
Initial H. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg 881
Calling in Vain. Drawn by Alice Hirschberg .... 882
The Well in Winter. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg . . . 884
The Rescue. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg 884
A Dozen Geese. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg .... S86
Mother and Child. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg .... 887
Learning to Skate. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg .... 887
Taking a Short Cut to School. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg 888
The Homely Doll. Drawn by Alice Hirschberg . . . 890
Tail-piece. Drawn by Carl Hirschberg 891
Head-piece, On the Coast. Drawn by W. J. Mozart . . 892
Halifax in Snowstorm. Drawn by W. J. Mozart . . . 893
Shepperton Church. Drawn by W. J. Mozart .... 894
Tail-piece. Drawn by W. J. Mozart 896
The Bathing Season at East Hampton. Drawn by Sam- uel Colman 899
The Tower of St. Mark's. Drawn by Samuel Colman . 900
Morning on the Sound. Drawn by A. Quartley .... 904
Initial T 908
Landscape. Drawn by A. F. Bellows 913
The Brook. Drawn by A. F. Bellows 913
The Dell. Drawn by A. F. Bellows 914
A Shady Nook. Drawn by A. F. Bellows 914
The Cascade. Drawn by A. F. Bellows 917
A Quiet Pool. Drawn by A. F. Bellows 917
Into the Sea. Drawn by A. F. Bellows 918
Building Castles in the Air. Drawn by A. F. Bellows . . 921
Tail-piece. Drawn by A. F. Bellows 923
Head-piece and Initial F 924
The Gentle Stream. Drawn by F. B. Schell . . . . . 925
" This deep Mountain Gorge." Drawn by F. B. Schell . 926 " Come with me to the Mountain." Drawn by F. B.
Schell 927
The New Moon. Drawn by F. B. Schell 92S
Headpiece and Initial T 931
Head-piece and Initial M 937
October, near South Orange, N. J. Drawn by H. B.
Jones 938
Head-piece and Initial A 941
The Challenge. Drawn by J. G. Brown 942
The Quadroon. Painted by George Fuller 957
Drawn by F. S. Church.
FREDERICK S. CHURCH.
Chapter Forty-third.
T3ROMINENT among our animal painters is Mr. Frederick S. Church, — born at Grand Rapids, Michigan, in 1842. He started his artistic career at the age of ten, by paint- ing on foolscap papers, in crude water-colors, long lines of Indians, pirates, and highway- men, enacting all sorts of wild and savage deeds. At thirteen years of age, he left home, and went to Chicago to work for the American Express Company, where he employed all his spare moments making comic sketches.
After the war broke out, at the age of seventeen, he entered the Federal Army, and served until the close, when he returned to Chicago, and again entered the service of the American Express Company. At twenty-six he made drawings of machinery for a wood-engraver, but was considered the poorest draughtsman in the engraver's em- ploy. He persevered, however, and became a pupil of the Academy of Design, in Chicago, where Walter Shirlaw was then teaching art; and later, when he went to New York to reside, he entered the National Academy of Design as a pupil. While studving there he supported himself by drawing comic sketches for " Harper's Weekly," and " Har- per's Bazar." One of these sketches, issued in the "Weekly" of June, 1873, and called the Latest from the Front, Our Friends the Mosquitoes, represents a group of these tormentors sharpening
Drawn by F. S. Church
530
AMERICAN ART
Drawn by F. S. Church.
their bills on a grindstone, under the watchful eye of their leader; others dip- ping their bills into a bot- tle labelled, " Appetizer " ; and still others flying off on their wicked mission with grip-sack and um- brellas.
About this time the Elgin Watch Company made a contract with him for an illustrated almanac, which occupied him part of his time for several years.
At the same time he
commenced drawing il- lustrations for magazines and comic papers, but it was only by dint of hard work that he man- aged to eke out a living. His pictures, as a rule, in the beginning did not contain human figures, but later he introduced them, — and in the pic- ture before us, — A Girl Feeding Chickens, — we find an inclination to- wards the higher art which Mr. Church has since shown in his works.
In his many draw- ings of all classes of animals, he has shown great attention to the ar- tistic detail which makes them so true to nature. His subjects are mostly humorous or fanciful sketches of some curious phase of animal or bird life, or poetic phantasy in which dainty maidens and saucy cupids play a leading part.
Drawn by F. S. Church.
AMERICAN ART
531
"Mi
In the engraving before us, we have the picture of a lit- tle pug dog, called Scamp, drawn for the " Our Little Ones' " Magazine. Poor Scamp, as the story goes, was locked in the cellar one day, and not liking the dark and being, moreover, afraid of rats, he was about to bark, when he dis- covered a barrel in the corner, and as he was a curious lit- tle dog, thought he
would investigate; so he climbed up on a pile lost his balance, and fell into a lot of soap-
Drawn by F. S. Church.
Not until 1875, in his thirty-third year, a black and white drawing, entitled Up
Drawn by F. S. Church.
of coal which was behind the barrel, peeped over,
fat. The next cut shows how his master coming
home and finding him such a pretty sight, holds Scamp up to have a good look at himself in a mirror. One of the greatest characteristics of Mr. Church's work, par- ticularly in his earliest draw- ings, is the comical vein in many of his animal pictures. Later when he could not make them a financial suc- cess, he turned his hand to quite another style. Among the best known of his works in oil are, As Mad as March Hares, Wei dues s, Solo, Sea Princess, Back from the Beach (1879), Mi/skrafs Nest (1883), and in water- colors, Hard Times, A Chilly Day, Foraging Party, Elfin Tandem, Phantom, Ostrich Dance, Awkward Squad, Pandora (1884), and Pea-- cocks in the Snow ( 1 8 8 5 ) . Of his laterworksweshall speak further on, in this article,.
did Mr. Church produce any serious work; when.
in a Crows Nest, representing a young woman
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AMERICAN ART
standing in a rustic outlook of a Hudson River country seat, and gazing at the scenery,
made its appearance, folLowed rapidly by a series of similar drawings. All of these were
created because the artist's comical sketches were not in sufficient demand, and, as it was
a matter of bread and butter, he determined to try a new field of labor, and so began what may be termed his allegorical period.
Maggie Tulliver. Drawn by Frederick S. Church.
But before we enter further into this period, let us look at the wood-cut of Maggie Tulliver taken from the " Mill on the Floss." It represents Maggie, out on the turbulent waters of the river, — which have risen and flooded the fields, — her hair loose and tossed about by the wind, her eager eyes strained to catch a sight of the old Mill, and her heart beating wildly for the dear ones who are there, while her strong, brave hands grasp the oars, ready to go to their rescue. In the words of George Eliot: —
" With new resolution, Maggie seized her oar, and stood up again to paddle ; but the now ebbing tide added to the swiftness of the river, and she was carried along beyond the bridge. She could hear shouts from the windows overlooking the river, as if the people there were calling to her. It was not until she had passed on nearly to Tofton that she could get the
AMERICAN ART
533
boat clear of the current. Then with one yearning look towards her Uncle Deane's house that lay further down the river, she took both oars and rowed with all her might across the watery fields, back towards the Mill. Color was beginning to awake now, and as she approached the Dorlcote fields, she could discern the tints of the trees — could see the old Scotch firs far to the right, and the brown chestnuts — oh, how deep they lay in the water! deeper than the trees on this side the hill. And the roof of the Mill, — where was it? Those heavy fragments hurrying down the Ripple, — what had they meant? But it was not the house, — the house stood firm, drowned up to the first story, but still firm — or was it broken in at the end towards the Mill?
- <
Drawn by F. S. Church. for "Our Little Ones."
"With panting joy she was there at last— joy that overcame all distress, — Maggie neared the front of the house. At first she heard no sound; she saw no object moving. Her boat was on a level with the upstairs window. She called out in a loud, piercing voice —
'"Tom, where are you? Mother, where are you? — Here is Maggie!'
" Socn, from the window of the attic in the central gable, she heard Tom's voice: —
"'Who is it? Have you brought a boat?'
'"It is I, Tom — Maggie.'"
And now we come to a new phase in Mr. Church's works, — the beginning of an ideal period. Before we consider his latest figures, let us look at the illustrations made for Elizabeth Ackers Allen's beautiful poem, "Rock Me to Sleep, Mother." In the frontispiece,
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AMERICAN ART
we have idealized die sleeping baby and die angel mother, — "come back from die echoless shore," — and we unconsciously utter the words, — ■
" Backward, turn backward, O Time in your flight, Make me a child again, just for to-night, — "
and again, in the next illustration, where the child has grown into a sad, weary woman, —
" Over my slumbers your loving watch keep, — Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep."
"'^ ^
k
From " Rock Me to Sleep, Mother." Drawn by F. S. Church.
Mr. Church's artistic transformation is an interesting and curious study ; from a soldier and comic illustrator he has been transformed, for it can be called nothing else, into a delineator of what may be termed classic art. His figures as shown in his latest works are marvels of womanly loveliness. His greatest distinction as a painter consists in his having created in a series of idyls the most beautiful woman in American art, — that lovely maid who as the Viking's Daughter stands on the seashore in a pale-green robe, listening to the whisperings of the sea gulls ; who as Pandora kneels on the lid of the box to prevent the escape of the mischievous elves; who as the heroine in a Fairy Tale walks, surrounded by four tigers, under flowering trees ; who in Subdued plays on a pipe to a group of the king of beasts ; who in Beneath the Sea tells the tale of a skeleton to her fair sister; who as Peace sits
THE MERMAID.
DRAWN BY FREDERICK S. CHURCH.
AMERICAN ART
537
beside the sheep, holding in her hand a shepherd's crook; who acts as a Sorceress among a group of crocodiles ; who, together with the flamingoes, wanders along the river bank ; who in Pegasus Captured leads the white-winged horse; and who as Sybil gathers knowledge from the Egyptian mummy. And then the lovely Mermaid who — but let us hear what Tennyson says of her.
From "Rock Me to Sleep, Mother." Drawn by F. S. Church.
' Who would be
A mermaid fair, Singing alone,
Combing her hair Under the sea,
In a golden curl
With a comb of pearl, On a throne?
II.
" I would be a mermaid fair ;
I would sing to myself the whole of a day ;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair ;
And still as I combed I would sing and say,
' Who is it loves me ? who loves not me ? '
53*
AMERICAN ART
I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall
Low adown, low adown, From under my starry sea-bud crown,
Low adown and around, — And I should look like a fountain of gold Springing alone
With a shrill inner sound, Over the throne
In the midst of the hall ; Till that great sea-snake under the sea From his coiled sleeps under the deeps Would slowly trail himself sevenfold Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate With his large calm eyes for the love of me.
And all the mermen under the sea
Would feel their immortality
Die in their hearts for the love of me.
III.
" But at night I would wander away, away,
I would fling on each side my low-flowing locks, And lightly vault from the throne and play With the mermen in and out of the rocks ; We would run to and fro, and hide and seek, On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson shells,
AMERICAN ART
539
Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea.
But if any came near I would call, and shriek,
And adown the steep like a wave I would leap
From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells ; For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list, Of the bold merry 'mermen under the sea ; They would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me, In the purple twilights under the sea ; But the king of them all would carry me,
Drawn by F
Church.
Woo me, and win me, and marry me,
In the branching jaspers under the sea ;
Then all the dry pied things that be
In the hueless mosses under the sea
Would curl round my silver feet silently,
All looking up for the love of me.
And if I should carol aloud, from aloft
All things that are forked, and horned, and soft
Would bear out from the hollow sphere of the sea,
All looking down for the love of me.
The cut which appears on this page, " Madam Owl and her Chickens," is one of the best things that Mr. Church has done for " Our Little Ones," and is suggestive of the following lines : —
54o AMERICAN ART
" Ho, ho ! Madam Owl, not so fast, Your feathers are dripping with dew ;
I fear, from your hurrying past, The tales that are told must be true.
" I heard a great cackling, just now,
Where my Brahma hen broods her soft chicks ; By the looks of your bill, ma'am, I trow,
You've been playing some more of your tricks."
" Now open your claws, let me see, Don't struggle and bite at me so ;
My dear little chickens so wee You 've taken, I very well know."
Have we not every reason to feel proud of this, our truly American artist — American in every sense, as all his art studies have been pursued here, he never having set foot on the soil of Europe. To him we owe the creation of an ideal of American womanly beauty; a creature full of poetic loveliness, happy and joyous, in the midst of singing birds, gay flowers, and enchanting nature, wearing only sunshine and smiles, and leaving a lasting benefit with those who see and know her, Mr. Church's young women are purely ideal, — in none of the idyl series, does a portrait of his model appear, — the figures are full of winning grace, and are clothed in drapery, rather than in gowns, and the drawing and dainty coloring blend into one harmonious whole. While his work is not perfect, and he has still much to learn, perhaps there is no other American painter, who has done so much towards creating a national art, as Mr. F. S. Church.
J. FRANCIS MURPHY.
Chapter Forty-fourth.
HEN the long, hot summer is dying, and one knows that we shall soon have more " comfortable " weather, who does not hail with delight the approach of the " Indian summer," that most beautiful of all our seasons. Then is the time — when walking is not synonymous with sweatbath, and climbing will exhilarate instead of exhaust — for tasting the delights of the mountains ; and the White Hills, Chocorua, Moosilauke, Monadnock, and the rest of the stately heights, have each their procession of worshipping pilgrims. Happy days ! and yet we sometimes breathe a sigh of regret
for the royal summer, when the white yacht flew over the foam, or we dove through the
breaker on the beach, — the summer that is gone.
" The clarion Wind, that blew so loud at morn. Whirling a thousand leaves from every bough Of the purple woods, has not a whisper now ; Hushed on the uplands is the huntsman's horn, And huskers' whistling round the tented corn :
The snug warm cricket lets his clock run down, Scared by the chill, sad hour, that makes forlorn The autumn's gold and brown.
" The light is dying out on field and wold ; The life is dying in the leaves and grass, The World's last breath no longer dims the glass Of waning sunset, yellow, pale, and cold."
These beautiful lines by an American poet perfectly describe such a picture as Murphy is especially gifted in fixing on canvas. He is one of the most poetic of our landscape painters, and prefers to delineate autumnal scenes filled with a vague and tender melancholy and steeped in tints of yellow. For other painters are the rocky shore and the sandy beach, the " moun- tain in its azure hue" and the elm-bestudded intervales, the placid lake and the stormy sea; and, better than the flow of the broad river or the dash of the falling torrent, he loves the quiet pond, or the gentle tinkle of the little brook, as it winds among the meadows and through the copse. Sometimes he depicts a New England spring with its wealth of pink and white blossoms and fresh greenery, or a sultry noontide swimming in heat; but most of his land- scapes reflect the soft calm and hazy distances of autumn days, the hues of whose golden
542
AMERICAN ART
pumpkins and russet apples are blended in the misty richness of his colors. Murphy's treatment of autumn effects is as different as possible from that of most of our other landscape- painters whose brushes portray the beauties of the " fall." His presentment of the theme shows
■WJf't. ■.i.'SW"'1
i f NV«<[Vi
A Spring Landscape. Drawn by J. F. Murphy.
nothing of the gorgeous foliage which glows in the works of the veteran George L. Brown, nor has it much affinity with the sober grays of the pictures of Jervis McEntee, to mention only two of the many artists who have busied themselves with the reproduction of Nature's changing tableaux, in that season which is accompanied in this country with such a wealth of splendid color. Murphy rather chooses to envelop his pictures in a veil of a golden tone,
AMERICAN ART
543
through which we see the blending outlines of hillside, meadow, and tree. He paints us Nature in repose, leaving to others the task of showing her in stormier moods, when the great trees toss their branches before the might of the gale, and the flying clouds drive across
The Winding Brook. Drawn ey J. F. Murphy.
the sky. To trespass on the sister domain of poetry, his gifts are Wordsworthian rather than Byronic, and he expresses in paint the gentle aspect of the country in autumn with a success akin to that of Buchanan Read in his poem of "The Closing Scene," where he sings: —
" AH sights were mellowed and all sounds subdued, The hills seemed farther and the streams sang low ; "
544
AMERICAN ART
or Mrs. Whitman, whose verse says:
" I love to wander through the woodlands hoary In the soft light of an autumnal day, When Summer gathers up her robes of glory, And like a dream of beauty glides away.
" How through each loved, familiar path she lingers, Serenely smiling through the golden mist !
" Warm lights are on the sleepy uplands waning Beneath soft clouds along the horizon rolled, Till the slant sunbeams through their fringes raining Bathe all the hills in melancholy gold."
John Francis Murphy was born in Oswego, N. Y., in 1853, and came to the metropolis in 1875. As an artist he is self taught, and is a credit to his teacher. His first picture was exhibited at the National Academy in 1876, nine years afterward he was elected one of its associates, and in 1887 he was made Academician. He is also a member of the Society of American Artists and of the American Water Color Society. In 1885 he won the second Hallgarten prize at the Academy with his painting, entitled, Tints of a Vanished Past, and in 1887 he took the Webb prize at the Society of American Artists. Some of his most important works bear the following titles : Apj'il Weather ; Sunny Slopes ; A n Upland Cornfield ; The Sultry Season; The Yellow Leaf; Neglected Lands ; Indian Summer; Stony Fields; Edge of a Pond; Signs of Autumn; and After the Frosts, — names which are more descriptive of their subjects than many, and which fairly indicate the range of the painter's sympathies.
I
THE DROVER'S HALT.
PHOTO-ETCHING
FROM PAINTING
F. O. C. DARLEY.
This charming bit of country life is artistic in all its details. The absorbing interest in the gossip from the neighboring towns which the drover is imparting to the lazy old innkeeper is well -portrayed in his face. Even the negro stable-boy is on the alert for news which he may repeat to the hostlers and hangers-on about the inn. That the business of the place is not particularly stirring is well shown by the tameness of the animals and fowls around the yard.
The picture, as a whole, is very well balanced and an excellent example (if the painter's genius.
Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
MAUD HUMPHREY.
Chapter Forty-Fifth.
N this age of progress, nothing perhaps has taken such a step forward as children's books; both inside and out they attract the eye, not only of the little ones, but of their elders. Teeming with bright pictures and merry stories, they appeal to the hearts of the children and bring joy and happiness into thousands of homes. Each Christmas-tide brings out fresh stories and gay colored picture-books for these little ones. Indeed, we hardly need a text, so well drawn and graphic are the illustrations, telling a tale for the age alone.
Rosy-cheeked boys and girls glance over the pages. Mother Goose, in many new garbs and gowns; Jack the Giant-Killer ; P7tss in Boots; Little Red Riding-Hood, — both old friends and new are presented to us in so many new and charming ways that we never weary of renewing the acquaintance.
We almost wish we were children again, "just for to-night," sitting by the nursery fire, eagerly drinking in the wondrous fairy-tales, and shuddering at the giants and hob-goblins. In fact, if the truth be told, we do become children again, for a time at least, and sit entranced at the bright, merry faces that gaze at us so enticingly from the pages of the beautiful books and magazines that this Golden Age has brought with her, to make our lives brighter and healthier, and to fill our homes with sunshine and good-will, when there are some- times clouds without. Many hearts are made glad, many lives cheered and helped- by this great work, which often finds its way into the remotest corners of the world, carrying with it a blessing we but little realize. Paintings can be seen, only by a few, comparatively, while these reproduc- tions in black and white are spread broadcast throughout the land, breathing an influence for good, and working many marvels. Among the many illustrators, Maud Humphrey is especially happy in her delineations of figures, particularly in those of children.
546
AMERICAN ART
Here we have five small children who have undoubtedly been popping corn. What visions of our own happy childhood does it not call up, — the great fireplace in our grandmother's
house, where we have gone to spend Thanksgiving or the Christmas holi- days with the dear old lady, and our elders, tired of our incessant chatter, and our ability to be every- where at once, have banished us to the kitchen, where we are free to laugh and shout to our hearts' content.
Or, see these two dolls, sitting on the floor, whispering secrets into each other's ears. Do you suppose we might hear what they are saying?
" ' I declare,' said Arabella, ' It really gives me pain To think that my dear mamma Should go away to Maine,
" ' And leave me here so lonely, And take the younger doll ! I just believe I '11 run away, And not come home at all ! '
" And then these two doll cousins Cried until their eyes were red, And their grandma found them sobbing, And put them both to bed."
Poor dollies, what memories of " the days that are no more," do these wee mites unconsciously awaken in our minds.
Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
AMERICAN ART
547
And so we might keep on turn- ing over page after page filled with these charming illustrations, each one telling us an old story, but in a new way ; appealing to our sym- pathies, and holding our attention, while we ponder on " the tale that is told."
Sometimes it is a mother-love, which speaks to us so sweetly, when tiny hands, like those in the picture, are stretched up beseech- ingly, and a sweet rosebud mouth asks for a kiss. Never mind how cross and tired we may feel, we have only to look at the dear baby face, and all our frowns are turned to smiles, and we catch the little one in our arms and cover the curly head with caresses. Sometimes we walk through green fields filled with sweet wild flowers, and gay butterflies flitting here and there ; and then our hearts are filled with joy and happiness. But, sometimes, in these pictures, we see sorrow and suffering,
Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
and poor pinched little faces out in the frost and snow; and then we think of those whose homes are never cheered and brightened as ours are, and so we learn to " lend a hand " where one is needed, — because of all these beautiful stories, with their dainty illustra- tions, which have found their way into our homes.
Miss Humphrey seems to have caught the very life and spirit of the little ones, and each drawing, as we look at it, is ready to speak for itself.
Could you resist the smile of this bright little lady, who is waiting to serve you with " five o'clock tea?"
See this dear little Valentine. One could easily say with the poem, —
" I know a little lady,
And she is sweet and fair, Her eyes are blue as violets, And golden is her hair.
Drawn by Maud Humphef.y.
548
AMERICAN ART
" I love her very dearly,
I know her heart is mine, And to myself I call her, My dainty Valentine.
Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
" And of this little lady Let me tell you this : Her lips are like a rose-bud, And very sweet to kiss."
CLAPS HER TINY HANDS ABOVE ME.'
DRAWN BY MAUD HUMPHREY.
AMERICAN ART
5Si
Or what more charming than these little Christmas Carollers. One can almost hear them singing, —
" We are a band of carollers ;
We march through frost and snow, But care not for the weather,
As on our way we go.
Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
" At every hall or cottage
That stands upon our way, We stop to give the people Best wishes of the day."
552
AMERICAN ART
Here is a little maiden that one fairly longs to take in one's arms and comfort, in spite of the possibility that it may be naughtiness and not sorrow that is causing those tears to flow.
Look at the wee baby mouth, with the corners drawn down so pathetically, the great tears drop- ping from the sad, questioning eyes, and the tiny dimpled hands, full of so much expression. Dear little baby-girl, the smiles are having a battle with the tears, and look as if they might come off
Troubles of Childhood. Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
victorious. Who could resist you, little one, if you walked in upon us now, even if you had been a naughty little girl, and pulled the pussy's tail, until she ran away or scratched you, and then you cried, because pussy refused to be longer tormented.
And who is the little one with tiny hands held above her? But let us hear how the Poet- Laureate describes her : —
" Airy, fairy Lilian,
Flitting fairy Lilian, When I ask her if she loves me, Claps her tiny hands above me,
Laughing all she can ; She '11 not tell me if she love me,
Cruel little Lilian.
/
"SILVER TREBLED LAUGHTER."
DRAWN BY MAUD HUMPHREY.
AMERICAN ART
" When my passion seeks
Pleasance in love-sighs, She, looking thro' and thro' me Thoroughly to undo me,
Smiling never speaks, So innocent-arch, so cunning-simple, From beneath her gather'd wimple
Glancing with black beaded eyes, Till the lightning laughters dimple
The baby-roses in her cheeks ;
Then away she flies."
555
Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
Surely there must be a bright future for this clever young illustrator, — for Miss Maud Humphrey is only beginning her career, having but lately passed her twenty-first birthday. Miss Humphrey was born in Rochester, New York, on March 30, 1868, — where she has always made her home.
At the age of twelve she began to study art, taking lessons in charcoal for about two years, and also, during that time, she received two quarters instruction in the use of water-colors.
When fourteen years old she was obliged to discontinue her work for about two years, on account of the failure of her eyesight. At the end of that time, when she had reached the age of sixteen, she commenced illustrating, and her first drawings were made for " Our Little Ones." At seventeen, Miss Humphrey went to New York, and took a course of instruction for about eight months, at the Students' Art-League.
556
AMERICAN ART
Since then Miss Humphrey has been steadily illustrating for magazines, making also the drawings for three books, in colors, and numerous designs for birthday and Christmas cards. With the exception of an occasional black and white oil for the purpose of illustration, Miss Humphrey paints entirely in water-colors, and devotes her time and attention almost exclusively to drawing figures, and principally those of children.
Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
Let us take another look at some of her little people, — here is Old Mother Goose (grown young we should say), wearing a wonderful high-crowned hat, with her staff in her hand ready to sing the oft-told nursery tales, — and there, peeping out from one side of the curtain, is Little Miss Moffet with her spider, longing to taste her " curds and whey," — and surely some of the bonnie faces looking eagerly over the top of the curtain must belong to Little Jack Horner, Simple Simon, and the Pie-man, — and see the bewitching Little Bo-Peep, come to look for her sheep.
Look at the difference between these little people and the pictures that were our childhood's joys. No such dainty boys and girls looked out from our plain-covered books ; great patches of gaudy colors and often badly drawn figures were what our eyes feasted on ; but, after all, every thing is comparative, and knowing no better we were pleased and satisfied. But that does not in any way lessen our appreciation of the present artistic efforts, but rather causes us to rejoice, that the " old things have been made anew," and that the present generation starts on a higher plane, and is better able to grasp and enjoy this great, wonderful world and its manifold works of art.
ROBED IN SOFTEN'D LIGHT."
DRAWN BY MAUD HUMPHREY.
AMERICAN ART
559
»s f*r
ix^
Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
Miss Humphrey's work gives great promise, the third full-page illustration, showing, we think, a step forward in our artist.
" Thou who stealest fire From the fountains of the past To glorify the present ; oh, haste,
Visit my low desire ! Strengthen me, enlighten me !
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
Come not as thou earnest of late P'linging the gloom of yesternight On the white day ; but robed in soften'd light
Of orient state Whilome thou earnest with the morning mist, Even as a maid, whose stately brow The dew-impearled winds of dawn have kissed,
When, she, as thou, Stays in her floating locks the lovely freight Of overflowing blooms, and earliest shoots
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AMERICAN ART
Of orient green, giving safe pledge of fruits,
Which in wintertide shall star
The black earth with brilliance rare.
The eddying of her garments caught from thee
The light of this great presence ; and the cope
Of the half-attained futurity,
Tho' deep, not fathomless, Was cloven with the million stars which tremble O'er the deep mind of dauntless infancy. Small thought was there of life's distress ; For sure she deemed no mist of heart could dull Those spirit-thrilling eyes so keen and beautiful, Listening the lordly music flowing from
The illimitable years. O strengthen me, enlighten me !
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou .dewy dawn of memory."
Drawn by Maud Humphrey.
PORTRAIT OF A LADY
PHOTO-ETCHING
FROM A PASTEL
J. Wells champney.
During the past few years this artist has made a specialty of pastel, pictures, and has achieved remarkable success in this branch of the art. His delicate and beautiful coloring, coupled with a remarkably faithful likeness in almost every one of his portraits, have combined to gain him his well-earned reputation in this work.
We have selected this portrait of a New York society lady as a fine example of artistic drawing, and, at the same time, a portrait of a very beautiful woman.
J. WELLS CHAMPNEY.
Chapter Forty-Sixth.
PEN-NAMES are common enough but brush names are seldom met. That of " Champ," which its owner adopted in 1869 to distin- guish himself from two other painters of the same cognomen then also working in Boston, is well and pleasantly known to most Americans. Of late years, however, Champney has aban- doned the use of this abbreviation, and now signs his pictures with his full name.
James Wells Champney is a Boston boy, having been born in the Hub city in 1843. He studied drawing in the Lowell Institute, entering a wood engraver's shop at the age of sixteen. In 1863 he entered the army, and served in the Forty-fifth Massachusetts Volunteer Regiment, at a later date teaching drawing in the school of Dr. Dio Lewis, at Lexington, Mass. He and studied in Paris, spending the summer of 1867 at Ecouen as Frere, and afterwards studying in Antwerp, under Van Lerius. This next few years were consumed in further study with Frere, in Rome painting in Boston, until 1873 came, and " Champ " accompanied Mr. Edward King on a trip through the Southern States. This was to make sketches illustrative of a series of articles on " The Great South," published in " Scribner's Monthly." During this journey our artist travelled over twenty thousand miles, and produced some five hundred drawings. Not long after this he married, and sailed again for Europe, exhibiting at the Paris Salon of 1875 his painting entitled Not so ugly as lie looks (now owned in Boston), and making a visit to Northern Spain. An interesting episode of this journey was a trip taken in company with the famous war-correspondent McGahan, to the camp of Don Carlos, who was then fighting to obtain the crown of Spain. " Champ " heard the bullets whistle, and met with many adventures during his campaign with the Carlists, and returned to America the same year with a commission from the editors of the French journal, " L'lllustration," to furnish them with drawings of American character and scenery, which he duly and satisfactorily carried out. He built himself an attractive studio at Deerfield, Mass., in 1876, and was appointed Professor of Art at Smith College the following year. 1878. saw him off on his travels again, this time to Brazil to make drawings in illustration of some articles on that country, written for " Scribner's Monthly " by Mr. Herbert
went abroad in 1866, a pupil of Edouard was in 1 868, and the and Germany, and in
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AMERICAN ART
Smith. Soon after his return to his native soil he established himself in New York, where he has since maintained his studio, with the exception of the summer of 1880, which he spent in Spain and Portugal, and of a trip to England and France made a couple of years later, with the especial purpose of practising painting in water-colors. He was elected an associate of the National Academy of Design in 1882, about ten years after he had exhibited his first picture at that institution, and is a member of the American Water-Color Society and of the Salmagundi Sketch Club.
Looking over the Photographs. Drawn by Champney.
His most successful paintings are genre subjects, quiet and simple in their nature ; and those which portray old people and children are the most pleasing. Among his best works are Hearts or Diamonds f owned, with several other of his pictures, by Thomas VVigglesworth of Boston; Don't Touch, belonging to Dwight Cheney of Manchester, Conn.; and Speak, Sir! owned by the late J. L. DeWolf, of Boston. The two last named were, with others at the
AMERICAN ART
563
Centennial Exposition. Hearts or Diamonds ? shows four people sitting at a table, engaged in a game of euchre. There is the rich but rather elderly suitor for the hand of the charming girl opposite him ; the mother, a fine looking woman who looks inquiringly at her daughter ; and a tall, manly fellow who is, of course, the rival of the older man. It is the young lady's turn and, looking over her shoulder, we can see that she is going to play a heart. Its color is reflected in the blush which is covering her pretty face, and Cupid triumphant sings : —
Fortuny's Model. Drawn by Champney.
" Cheer up, lover bold and true, Don't be in the dumps ;
Wealth is not preferred to you, This time, hearts are trumps ! "
Champney's later pictures include The Squire's Daughter, A Boarding-school Green-room, Bonny Kilmeny, Ophelia, Indian Summer, Pamela, The Arrival of the Stage, A Song without Words, and For the Squire. The Best Scholar was reproduced in photogravure, and published by Knoedler & Co., and For the Squire has been copied by the same process and issued under the title of
5<54
AMERICAN ART
Flower of New England. It shows a fair maid in white bending over a basket of mayflowers, which she is preparing for a gift to the squire. Champney has been a constant contributor to the Water-Color exhibitions and his Boon Companions, shown in 1880, is a type of many charming subjects with which, both in this medium and in oil, he has delighted the public.
Calliope at Work. Drawn by Champney.
It is in an old-fashioned farm kitchen, in front of whose great fireplace sits an elderly man in his shirtsleeves, pulling the string which makes a jumping-jack kick frantically in air, to the rapturous joy of a little tot sitting opposite in his high chair. Of late years Champney has turned his attention, with marked success, to pastel, and has produced some lovely heads by that method, two of which, called, respectively, Sylvia and Mignon, have been published in photogravure. His only exhibit at the Academy of 1889 was a large pastel, bearing the name
AMERICAN ART 565
of Little Mistress Dorothy, and representing a pretty young girl in a pink dress in a garden with hollyhocks, which has also been reproduced in print form. So exquisite a creation as the Sylvia is worthy to illustrate Shakspeare's lines : — •
" What light is light, if Silvia be not seen ?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ?
Unless it be to think that she is by,
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale ;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon :
She is my essence ; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom :
Tarry I here, I but attend on death ;
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life."
The list of Champney's achievements in the medium of pastel numbers over one hundred works, the greater part of which are portraits. Among them are those of Rev. Robert Collyer (which was at the Fall exhibition of the academy in 1889); the Hon. John Bigelow, diplomat and writer, formerly our minister to France; William E. Dodge, the noted New York merchant and philanthropist; F. D. Williams, the Boston landscape painter; Miss Kate Sanborn, and Miss Elizabeth Bisland. Many excellent portraits of ladies prominent in New York society could be added to the catalogue, and a number of admirable likenesses of children. Champney's pastel portraits have won such high appreciation that most of his time is now, and has been for several years, occupied with commissions of this nature.
It may not be out of place to say a few words about the art of pastel-painting, which is now once more fashionable. Pastels, or " Swiss chalks," are simply a kind of colored crayons, which are used very much in the same way as charcoal is, the substance worked on being usually rough paper, to the burr of which the color particles adhere. It is not possible to cite their first invention, but they were used to a certain extent by Da Vinci and some of his near successors. It was in the eighteenth century, however, that pastel painting won its greatest glory in the hands of La Tour, Liotard, Rosalba Carriera, Raphael Mengs, and others. Its vogue was tremendous, and all the dabblers in art, as well as those whose profession it was, tried their hands at pastel. The most widely known pastel is doubtless the Belle Chocolatiere. by Liotard, in the Dresden Gallery, but a much finer work — La Tour's large portrait of Madame de Pompadour — ■ graces the Louvre collection of drawings. For this, which was first shown at the Salon of 1755, the artist received twenty-four thousand francs. La Tour was of an eccentric, and impetuous nature, and a characteristic anecdote is related about this very picture. It seems that, after being entreated for a long time to make the portrait of the reigning favorite, he had at last consented, stipulating, however, that none should be allowed to interrupt the sittings. This being agreed to, the Pompadour came at the appointed hour, and La Tour, as was his custom, made himself comfortable before beginning work by undoing his gaiters, removing his collar and wig, and putting on his painter's cap. In this easy studio costume he was proceeding with the portrait when Louis XV. came in, and seemed rather surprised at the unceremonious attire of the artist. La Tour rose, said to the lady, " You promised me, madame, that your door would remain closed," and despite the king's gentle insistance on his remaining, left the room and did not return for some days, when Madame de Pompadour assured him that there would be no further interruptions. Pastel painting fell into disrepute in the early years of this century, and, except in France where its traditions always lingered, was practically abandoned,
566
AMERICAN ART
until in our own day it has been revived, — in an altered form, however. Millet used it largely and with the most beautiful results, widely extending its range in the rendering of landscape, which before had been little treated of in this medium, portraits monopolising the talents of
Sallie Sketching in the Dove-cot. Drawn by Champney.
most of its devotees. Whistler and De Nittis followed him with new and brilliant effects, and now Messieurs Besnard, Cazin, Lhermitte, Roll, Montenard, and Fantin-Latour, with other able men, in France ; Shannon, Stott, Aumonier, Solomon, Britten, and Clausen, in England ; and Blum, Chase, Beckwith, and others in our own country, worthily continue the good work of their predecessors. The American Society of Painters in Pastel held their initial exhibition in
ON THE LAKE AT VASSAR.
DRAWN BY J. W. CHAMPNEY.
AMERICAN ART
569
New York as long ago as 1884; in England the movement has taken shape later, the first, collection to be publicly shown being at the Grosvenor Gallery several years afterwards ; in France, the Society of French Pastellists has shown the productions of its members annually for some time, and had the distinction of occupying a special pavilion at the Paris Exposition of 1889.
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'Under New England Apple Trees."
Drawn by Champney.
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" Champ" has executed some delicate and attractive etchings, comprising the companion plates of Cupid and The Young Psyche, May Blossoms, and others. He has been very prolific in il- lustrative work, a. portion of which has been mentioned. Charles Dud- ley Warner's inimitable " Being a Boy" he embellished with many bright pen-and-ink sketches ; and one of his occupations of the last few years has been to illustrate those popular series of books of travel and history for girls, which tell the adventures of the Three Vassal' Girls and Great- Grand- mother s Girls, the text being from the clever pen of the artist's wife, Mrs. Elizabeth W. Champney. This lady, well known as a writer on art subjects, and as a contribu- tor to " Harper's " and " The Cen-
Children Roasting Apples. Drawn ey Champney, from his own Painting. tury " and many Other periodicals,
is also the author of " In the Sky Garden " and " All around a Palette," and of two successful novels, — " Rosemary and Rue " and "Bourbon Lilies." Their co-operation in the production of books such as those which
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AMERICAN ART
follow ("Saint") Cecilia Boylston, Maud Van Vechten, and Barbara Atchison (was this charming trio intended to represent Boston, New York, and the West?) in their swallow- flights through Europe and America has been a happy one, and it is pleasant to be able to reproduce here some of the most at- tractive of the drawings which illustrate them.
Naturally, art and artists
often form the subject of their
labor. The more intimate side
of the work of two great Span- ish painters, Murillo and For-
tuny, is brought before us in
an interesting manner. The for- mer is depicted painting in his
studio at Seville, into which
enters one of Mrs. Champney's
heroines, the little Mexican girl,
Monita : —
" Monita heard some one
speaking behind a half-open
door, and she entered a large
room strangely appointed. Pic- tures on large canvases of angels and saints rested upon easels or stood against the wall. She recognized that these were only pic- tures ; but at the end of the room on a dais or platform stood a living lady, dressed like Our Lady of Guadalupe in the picture in the little chapel at home, — in a rich brocade with a dark-blue velvet mantle, studded with golden stars, thrown overhead, which was surmounted with a golden crown. Her little hands were folded in the same attitude, and she had the same sweet smile as the Virgin at San Juan ; and Monita did not doubt that this was in very deed the gracious lady whom she had been taught to revere. She threw herself at her feet and burst into a passion of supplication in the Indian language, telling her of all her loneliness and trouble, and begging her favor.
View in Bruges. Drawn by Champney.
The American in Rome. Drawn by Champney.
1 I 'SE GWINE RESS, I IS." DRAWN BY CHAMPNEY.
" The lady smiled and extended her hand. At the same time a gentleman, holding a palette and brushes, stepped from behind one of the canvases.
AMERICAN ART
S7i
I wish
Who is she? What can she want? ' he asked.
She is evidently an Indian girl,' replied the lady. ' I heard that several had arrived in the city.
that I could understand what she says. I ought to, for you know that I am part Indian.'
" The idea that the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patroness of the Indians, could not understand their language, was a severe blow to Monita; but she repeated her petitions in the best Span- ish which she could muster.
" ' My poor girl,' replied the lady, ' you are greatly mistaken. I am not the blessed Madonna for whom you evidently take me. I am only a maiden like yourself. My name is Maria Geronima Montezuma. These are my parents' apartments, in which my father has fitted up a studio so that this good gentle- man can paint my portrait without the neces- sity of my going every day to his house ; and in return for his kindness in coming to us they have allowed him to paint from me a picture of the Madonna for himself. This
^^=-
\ Toccata. Drawn by Champney.
is why you see me dressed in this way; and if it had been the picture and not I which deceived you, I could not have wondered, for every one says that Sefior Bartolome Estevan Murillo paints the Madonna as though he had seen her in a heavenly vision.' "
One of Fortuny's models in the happy days which he passed in Granada — ■ and this time it is fact and not fancy — is admirably rendered in a pen-and-ink drawing by Mr. Champney.
" One day there came to the hotel a rough water-carrier, who said that he had served For- tuny as model ; this was enough for Maud. She engaged the man as guide, and made a sketch of his head ; unkempt hair and bristling chin, low forehead and stolid look, there was nothing
either picturesque or attractive about him, and she wondered what the great painter could have seen in him. He rewarded her pains, however, with many an anecdote of the brilliant artist, to whom he seemed fondly attached."
' Two of Mr. Champney's most satisfactory illustrations represent studios associated with none of the great names of art, but they are still full of interest to us, for they show the surroundings
Pigeons of St. Mark's. Drawn by Champney.
572
AMERICAN ART
of some Am the brave an
erican girls studying art abroad. The first one depicts the workshop of Calliope Carter, d talented young sculptor from the West, which Mrs. Champney thus describes : —
" Calliope's studio is in the queerest old cara- vansary I ever saw. Just behind the Capitol, and fronting toward the Tiber, not far from the fish- market, stands the ancient theatre of Marcellus, begun by Julius Caesar, finished by Augustus, and named for his nephew. It was built of Titanesque blocks of stone somewhat in the style of the Coli- seum, the lower story ornamented with Doric col- umns, the second with Ionic, and the third with Corinthian. The building has fallen sadly from its ancient grandeur; the great archways are filled. in with inferior masonry, three stories are crowded in the space originally occupied by one, and the lower floor is an arcade of grimy little shops. Venders of charcoal, of wine, vegetables, and second-hand merchandise, have established their depots here, and the entire neighborhood was malodorous in the ex- treme. The interior of the theatre was very ruinous. We mounted a narrow staircase to the upper story, till my breath forsook me and I clung panting to Nat. On the upper landing we found ourselves opposite a little door on whose green paint was scratched, — whittled, Nat said, — ' C. Carter.' Nat
Reunited. Drawn by Champney.
rang and Calliope herself admitted us. She had on a great apron, and her fingers were coated with moist clay; but she embraced me all the same, and I did not mind it in the least. The interior of the apartment was as odd as its surroundings. It was lighted by a large studio-window opening on the court, and was half sitting-room and half workshop. The sitting-room part was di- vided off by a wooden partition, boasted a large piece of carpet, and contained many little articles suggestive of feminine comfort, — a rocking chair, a small desk, a bird-cage, and some flowering plants. But the studio proper was rigidly simple, even bare, with its great barrel of clay, a modelling table, and, high on a shelf running around the
wall, a quantity of plaster busts covered with a satin-like film of dust. Nat, having seen me safely in, descended once more, and left Calliope and me to our confidences.
' How can you bear to live here all alone in this shocking quarter of Rome? ' I asked. " Calliope laughed. ' This is a very aristocratic mansion, I assure you,' she replied. ' During the Middle Ages it was the fortress of the Pierleoni, the rivals of the Frangipani, who occupied the Coliseum. Later the Savelli palace was built upon and out of its ruins, and then it passed
^Mi
The Rose Harvest. Drawn by Champney.
AMERICAN ART
573
into the hands of the Orsini. In modern times it has been the residence of the historian Niebuhr. And then, I am not alone; I have a delightful girl for a chum, a Miss Finger from Cincinnati, who writes for the newspapers. Then right across the entry are the Weinbergers, whom I met first in Munich ; the father is a scene-painter, the son Carl a violinist in one of the orchestras here, and the girls are studying music' "
In Murillo's Studio. Drawn by J. W. Champney.
The second picture is of an open air studio, Mere Babettes's Dove-cot at Ferrieres, which was " one of the buildings on a farm belonging to the Rothschild estate. Sallie had an oppor- tunity of viewing the exterior of the great chateau which Baron Rothschild has built on the site of an old castle of the Montmorency's. The guide-book told her that the architecture was in bad taste ; but for all that, it had an imposing effect quite in harmony with the great banker's fortunes, and she could readily believe the driver when he told her that, besides the
574
AMERICAN ART
The jEsthetic Clique. Drawn by Champney.
part of the building reserved for the family, the chateau contained ' eighty complete suites of apartments for as many guests, and stables for one hundred horses.'
A Seminole Girl. Drawn by Champney.
STUDY OF A CHILD.
DRAWN BT J. W. CHAMPNET.
576
AMERICAN ART
"'How delightful to be able to dispense such princely hospitality!' Sallie murmured; and then she thought of simple Matthew Vassal-, with his three hundred guest-rooms, and added, ' but I have been for four years the guest of an American who entertained more royally than that.'
" Passing the park, the driver paused at a little wood. ' If you follow this footpath,' he said, ' you will come out at the colombier.'
" Presently they saw Mere Babette coming to meet them. She was glad to see her guests, and welcomed them heartily, leading them to the picturesque dove-cot. Sallie clapped her hands with pleasure as soon as she caught sight of it."
It is a pleasant reminiscence of those happy days when the young Champney himself was sketching picturesque old grandmothers and chubby little ones under Frere's kindly guidance at Ecouen. Twenty years and more have passed since then and the good old master is dead ; but " Champ," still on the sunny side of fifty, lives and works with us in- well-earned success. Long may he do so and find life no harsher than his pictures, fortune as smiling as the faces of the children he has loved to paint !
Guiding the Rudder. Drawn by Champney.
I
The Peacemaker.
PHOTO-ETCHING FROM PAINTING
Edmund h. Garrett.
A domestic incident in the Middle Ages. Painted in water-color with great delicacy and strength, and with minute attention to correct costume and environment. The significance of pose, gesture, and facial expression is not only unmistakable, but indicates a degree of observation and insight not often seen in the pictures of to-day.
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ALBERT BIERSTADT.
Chapter Forty-Seventh.
R. ALBERT BIERSTADT, one of the most widely-known American painters, was born in Diisseldorf, Germany, in 1829, and came to this country in 1831. In early manhood he returned to Europe and studied in the city of his birth and also in Rome. When General Lander's expedition to the Rocky Mountains was organized, he became a member of it, and made his reputation as an artist by painting some of the striking scenery of that region. His celebrated Rocky Mountains was displayed in public for the first time at the great Fair of the Sanitary Commission in the city of New York, in 1863, where it and Mr. Church's Heart of the Andes were the principal pictorial attractions. In 1878, Mr. Bierstadt left America for an extended journey in Europe and the East. .
His Mount Corcoran, Sierra Nevada, recently purchased by the trustees of the Corcoran Gallery in Washington, and presented in this article, has been described as follows : " The peak rises to a height of fourteen thousand eight hundred and eighty- seven feet, and is about five miles distant from the little lake fed by the snows of the mountain-range. The picture is considered to be a happy combination of the best points in Mr. Bierstadt's style, and, while treated with a bold, broad effect, abounds in finished truthfulness of form and color. The engraving well conveys the impression made by the drawing, but none of the effect of the fine local and aerial color in the rolling mass of clouds, the gigantic trees, the exquisite green depths of the water into" which recede the submerged rocks and trees of the foreground, and the yellow curve of the shore dotted with the scarlet dwarf willows. From the sombre skirts of the storm-clouds, swooping down the mountain-gorge, leaps a glittering cascade that is mirrored by a trail of light in the lake. The sentiment of wild, solemn solitude, blended with a beauty not too intrusive, is heightened by the figure of a black bear crossing the beach for a bath or a drink. The picture is five feet by eight, and occupies a prominent position in the main gallery."
One of Mr. Bierstadt's earliest works is a street-scene in Rome, painted in 1853, and hanging in the Boston Art Museum. It is rich in color, skilful in composition, and simple in design. Its greeting surprises the visitor, who has known Mr. Bierstadt through his great Western land- scapes only. But these landscapes it is that have made the artist's reputation. Especially in England have they been praised and prized, and for the reason, perhaps, among others, that they described to a people, fonder than all others of travel and books of travel, the novel and majestic beauty of our vast Territories. When the Storm in the Rocky Mountains was on exhibition in London, a leading review of that city was enthusiastic in the recital of its merits. " We are somewhere," it said, " in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, at a height of a few hundred feet from the level of a lake below us. This lake, which is small and very beautiful, receives a stream from another lake, on a considerably higher level and at a distance of several miles.
580 AMERICAN ART
Over the distant lake broods an immense mass of dark storm-cloud, which attracts our attention because it is so terrible, and, toward its toppling summits, so elaborate. In the middle distance the rocky barrier between the two lakes rises to a great elevation at the right, and a still nearer mass, also to the right, fills the field of vision in that direction. Near a little pool, and on the sloping pasture land in the foreground, are groups of many trees, and an alluvial plain near the lake is watered by a winding river, on whose banks grow beautiful clusters of wood. The qualities which strike us in Mr. Bierstadt as an artist are, first, a great audacity, justified by perfect ability to accomplish all that he intends. He is not a mere copyist of Nature, but an artist having definite artistic intentions, and carrying them out with care and resolution. . . . He is always trying for luminous gradations and useful oppositions, and he reaches what he tries for. The excess of his effort after these things may be repugnant to some critics, because it is so obvious, and seems incompatible with the simplicity and self-oblivion of the highest artist-natures. We believe, however, that in art of this kind, where the object is to produce a powerful im- pression of overwhelming natural grandeur, a painter must employ all the resources possible to him. This may be condemned as scene-painting, but it is very magnificent scene-painting, and we should only be too happy to see more of the same kind. . . . Mr. Bierstadt's picture is full of courage and ability, and his nature, which has a strong grasp of realities, is well fitted for the kind of work he has undertaken."
Mr. Bierstadt's frequent trips across the continent have furnished him with abundant oppor- tunities for sketching and for study, and have cultivated to the fullest extent his tastes for grandeur and sublimity in mountain-scenery. The pictures, of which those sketches were the foundation, can be seen in almost all the principal galleries of the United States.
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FIRESIDE STORIES.
FROM A PAINTING BY E. WOOD PERRY.
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E. WOOD PERRY.
Chapter Forty-Eighth.
OR the quality of some of his still-life painting, especially for the faithfulness and delicate feeling with which he has portrayed the mysteries of old-china cupboards and mantel-ornaments, Mr. E. Wood Perry has distinguished him- self among American artists. The tiles, the tongs, the fender, the hanging brush, in Fireside Stories, are delightful specimens of pictorial representation, and the large tin pail which the milkmaid carries while listening to The Old Story is probably as skilfully done as most persons would care to see it. But when Mr. Perry " attempts to tell a story, and to introduce into it a woman's face, the excellences of his work are less striking. Of one thing, however, the spectator may be confident when about to examine a canvas from the easel of this artist: if there is a story told, it is domestic, simple, and per- spicacious. To call Mr. Perry a genre painter would be entirely correct, as the present popular art-nomenclature counts correctness ; but -the connoisseur who desired to contemplate him on his brightest and best side would devote attention chiefly to that admirable quality of his still-life painting of which mention has just been made, and good examples of which have been seen in New York at almost every Academy exhibition during the last ten years.
Mr. Perry was born in Boston, Massachusetts, in the year 1831. When seventeen years old he became a clerk in a commission-house in New Orleans, where in three years he succeeded in saving the sum of eleven hundred dollars. This money enabled him to study art and to develop his artistic capacities. With it in his pocket, he bade adieu to the counting-room and went to Europe The late Mr. Emanuel Leutze, a figure-painter of no mean cisatlantic reputation at that time, was living in Diisseldorf, and to him, as was altogether natural, the aspiring young clerk- turned, after making the usual tour of London and Paris. So well did Mr. Leutze treat him, and so pleased mutually were scholar and teacher, that it was not until the end of a pupilage of two years and a half that Mr. Perry found himself departing from Diisseldorf. Then he went to Paris and took lessons of Couture, in whose studio Daniel Huntington, Thomas Hicks, and other American painters had already served an apprenticeship of longer or shorter duration, and whose methods Mr. Huntington once described to the present writer as follows : " After making the outline of the picture in charcoal, oil, and turpentine, Couture rubbed over the canvas a transparent, warm tint of a deep-toned salmon-color. Next, with another warm tint, he deepened the strongest shadows of the sketch, developing the light and shade. Next he painted, with a neutral gray inclining to green, the masses of shadow in the flesh, and into that neutral gray dragged some bloody tints, giving it fleshy illumination. Where the masses of light in the flesh were to be, he first painted in a lower tone, rather negative and gray, and over that spread, or dragged, some very solid color, warm and rich. The under-painting in each case shone through
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in little specks, giving sparkle and life to the surface; and the whole treatment was as easy as it was masterly. Couture had as much facility and certainty in every touch as any man that ever lived. He never tried again. If he failed in one attempt, he must take a new canvas or blacken over the old one. For the lights of his flesh he used Naples-yellow and vermilion, with cobalt broken in ; and for the deep shadows, cobalt and brown-red."
Couture's inspiration left upon Mr. Perry's mind an impression less deep than upon Mr. Huntington's, and more deep than upon Mr. Hicks's; and since many of Couture's notions and processes have latterly lost caste somewhat, it is in order to say that Mr. Perry's realistic instincts and modes are quite different from those of his French master. One year in Couture's studio was followed by a few months in Rome, and then by about three years in Venice, where our unpaternal government was nevertheless paternal enough to appoint the young American a consul. The salary of the position made him comfortable, and the atmosphere of the place made him happy. Perhaps no American consul would respond more warmly than Mr. Perry to the impassioned descriptions in " Childe Harold," or in M. Yriarte's " Venise," of the queen city of the Adriatic.
In i860, after an absence of eight years, the artist returned home and opened a studio in Philadelphia; but, yielding to the promptings of his natural and acquired love of travel, he made a tour to the South and West, supporting himself by painting portraits. San Francisco was attractive enough to hold him for three or four years. He visited the Sandwich Islands, and, on his way back to the Atlantic, stopped for some time at Salt Lake City for the purpose of committing to canvas the verisimilitudes of the late Brigham Young and the luminaries of the Mormon Church. In 1866 he settled in New York, and began his career as a still-life and figure painter. Two years afterward he was elected an Associate of the National Academy, and the next year an Academician, in recognition chiefly of his painting The Weaver, which, like most of his best pictures, is a transcript of humble American life.
THE OLD STORY.
FROM A PAINTING BY E. WOOD PEKRY.
SEYMOUR JOSEPH GUY.
Chapter Forty-Ninth.
^.juURNING for a moment from landscape to genre painting, we are confronted with the pictures of Mr. Seymour Joseph Guy, whose reputation has been earned as fairly as that of any other American artist. He was born in Greenwich, Kent, England, on the 16th of January, 1824, and in his boyhood was fond of painting horses and dogs. At the age of fifteen he took lessons of Mr. Buttersworth, a marine painter, whose name might never have been mentioned on this side of the Atlantic but for the success of his pupil. His parents were dead, and his guardian objected to his becoming a painter because of the precariousness of the emoluments of that profession, advising him to study engraving instead. But the " premium " asked by employers of an apprentice was too much for Guy's circumstances, and all that the young aspirant could do was to wait. He learned to labor also, — at his favorite easel, — and in six years Death took the pains of removing the obstacle to his pursuit of his art. His guardian died. " Now," said Guy to himself, " I 'm going to turn painter in earnest," although, as he has since confessed, he " did n't know where to get his salt." To begin poor, however, is the regulation method in art, as he had already learned in the little he had read of the best of the masters. His heart was not cast down nor his ambition lessened. He gathered about him his mental resources, girded himself like an athlete, and set out in search of Fortune. She came to him as seldom she fails to come to a brave, young, self-reliant seeker, — this time in the person of a friend named Mtiller. "Would you," asked Midler, "like to enter the Royal Academy?" "I should like to get into the British Museum as a student," replied the youth; and next day came an invitation to go there. The gladness of the recipient may be imagined ; it is scarcely worth while to attempt to describe it. To this day, Mr. Guy himself is bothered by the attempt. Good things, like that, rarely coming single-handed, it was natural for him to succeed in finding a studio also where he could put into practice the lessons learned at the Museum. He articled himself to Mr. Ambrose Jerome, a London painter, whose reputation, like that of Mr. Buttersworth, owes a debt of gratitude to his pupil, and made an arrangement by which he should work three days each week for his master and three days for himself. His time was devoted to portrait-painting, to designs for naval basins, to " effects " for architects, to plans for vessels in isometrical perspective, to anything, in a word, that came to hand, — neither he nor Jerome were at all particular concerning what it was, so long as it brought with it pounds, shillings, or pence.
It was not in the nature of events for this sort of life to continue forever; and accordingly, in the year 1854, Mr. Guy found himself in America, a country at that time the El Dorado of enthusiasts, and the isles afar off that waited to enrich emigrants. His first works here were portraits, the contemplation of which, occasionally in the year 1878, causes him to smile. The best of them, perhaps, is the picture of Mrs. Falconer, a cabinet-work of considerable interest, now in the possession of Mr. John M. Falconer, himself an artist and a friend of artists, a
S90 AMERICAN ART
gentleman to whom was largely due the formation of the American Water-Color Society, and without the mention of whose name and services no history of the Artists' Fund Society would be complete.
In 1 86 1 Mr. Guy was elected an Associate of the National Academy, and in 1865 an Academician. A pleasant little portrait, entitled The Spring, and painted in the latter year, has found a lasting welcome in the home of Mr. James M. Hart, the artist. The Sorrows of Little Red Riding Hood was exhibited at the same time. His favorite subjects are incidents in children's lives. His Orange-Girl, engraved herewith, is a good example of them. The scene — a familiar one to New-Yorkers, at least — is a young girl standing, with hands crossed, near a basket of oranges, which she has evidently been carrying a good while, and has set down on a broken box in order to rest herself. She is on the pavement near the piers, the shipping, and the drays, but her thoughts are elsewhere, and are sad. The story is a good deal more than a paragraph-picture of an event, and the best part of it can be felt but not described — an observation, indeed, which might with truth be made concerning any work of art.
Mr. Guy has never been a rapid painter, and he has not a particle of dash in execution. He works slowly, carefully, and perseveringly ; and he is very conscientious about keeping his canvases in his studio until they have received the finishing touches. Before beginning a picture he knows precisely what effect he intends to produce, and he hammers away at the nail until it can be driven in no farther. Then he stops — that is to say, he docs not load his delineations with more than they can bear. He knows when he is done, and he lets well enough alone. But to send -away an incomplete work, one to which he feels justice has not been done, would be almost impossible with him. Should he by chance or necessity do so, he would be miserable until he got it back again, which is the same as saying that for the commercial aspects of art he has a profound disrespect. He does not paint for dollars, but for love, and in order to satisfy himself it is necessary for him to paint steadily, evenly, and long. His Fair Venice, a young lady of fine personal attractions leaning over the railing of a balcony and gazing upon the blue Adriatic, is a painstaking performance if ever there was such a thing. It is beautiful also.
Mr. John H. Sherwood, of New York, owns Mr. Guy's Supplication and his Knot in the Skein; Mr. P. Van Valkenberg, of New York, The Gamut and Children catching the Bird; Mr. Jay Gould, The Father's Return, a girl with her hand before a candle, standing at a cottage door, and listening to the footsteps that are approaching; and Mr. Polhemus, of Brooklyn, The Broken String and also The Orange-Girl. The artist's industry compensates for the absence of celerity, and his pictures may be found in most of the collections in the principal cities of the continent. The painting of portraits, a department to which Mr. Guy once devoted almost exclusive attention, has very little consideration from him now. He is a genre painter almost exclusively, a painter of scenes in American domestic life, an historian in a sense, but never a moralist.
THE ORANGE-GIRL.
FROM A PAINTING BY SEYMOUR JOSEPH GUY.
Old Boat-House, Gloucester
ORIGINAL ETCHING
CHARLES A. PLATT.
In this etching the artist shows his skill in selection of scene and appreciation of the picturesque wherever it occurs, be it in Egypt or in a humble fishing town in New England.
To all frequenters of the famed North Shore of Massachusetts this will be a familiar scene, repeated as it is in nearly every harbor along the coast.
Mr. Piatt has made shore scenes something of a specialty through all of his artistic career.
AMERICAN STAINED GLASS.
Chapter Fiftieth.
First Article.
T was not until quite recently that much could be said (or anything in the way of praise) about American stained glass. Yet, to-day, much of our work can stand comparison with good contempo- rary European work, and not a little is far superior to the best of it in very important respects. A short while ago there were but eighteen makers of stained glass in the United States, and the work which they turned out was of the very worst description. Properly speaking, it was not stained glass at all. The enamel method was that which was most used. Coated glass — clear glass with a thin layer of color on one side — was employed to a certain extent. And when something ex- traordinarily fine was demanded, a few bits of imported " pot- metal," colored en masse, were used to bring the work up to the highest standard that our people had any idea of. Speci- mens of this sort of work may be seen in plenty everywhere. The colors are dull, thin, and raw, and, especially when the imported glass has been used with American, startlingly in- Drawn by r. riordan. harmonious. The design is almost invariably stolen or " cooked
up." The workmanship is feeble and uncertain ; the heavy lines of the leading being sometimes properly used when a good original was followed, sometimes rendered an eye-sore by being led across the design like the sashes of an ordinary window, sometimes run at random for no other purpose than to give the work an . antique appearance. In all this, the makers were but follow- ing the European practices of a generation ago, and could not claim any originality in evil-doing. Our people had simply reached the lowest point possible in the art at the moment when in England and France its true principles were being revived.
Any one who has passed an hour in one of the great mediaeval churches of Europe, lit by windows that seem made of jewels, or even seen in a loan exhibition some fragments of ancient glass, knows at least what rich effects of color the old masters of the art produced with rude means and imperfect material, while modern workmen, with perfectly clear and even glass, tints at command, and a comparatively free technique, could not until lately attain to similar results. This must seem all the more paradoxical when it is added that our recent progress is due to the fact that we have in a great measure renounced these seeming advantages. It is explained, however, by an examination of the mediaeval glass and the methods employed by its makers.
Windows were originally glazed with colored rather than colorless glass because it was easier to obtain the former. The Romans certainly knew how to make perfectly clear glass, — so clear as to be mistaken for crystal ; but the earliest glass objects, Egyptian beads and Phoenician bottles and vases, such as those of the Cesnola collection, were always tinted, purposely or by
594 AMERICAN ART
impurities which the makers did not know how to ^remove. In the fourth and fifth centuries, when the art of glass-making was reintroduced into Western Europe by Byzantine workmen, it had fallen back into its primitive condition in this respect. Even in the twelfth century the clearest glass was a rather dark horn-green or dingy nacreous gray. Of other colors they had a splendid red, obtained by mixing little scales {pailettes) of copper in the melted glass, and blues much finer than the modern, got from pellets of blue Roman glass sold by the Byzantines under the name of " sapphires." They had several good greens, purple, and mordore. Their yellows only were inferior, being dull and smoky. Of all these colors there were endless tints, gained perhaps by accident, but used with the finest judgment. Their coloring-matters were incorporated with the glass in the melting-pot, and thoroughly fused. Their colors were there- fore deeper than those of modern coated glass, and both richer and brighter than those of enamelled glass, which, besides being only on the surface, are seldom perfectly fused, and conse- quently tend towards dulness and opacity. Their pot-metal — the glass colored in its sub- stance— -was heavy, of varying thickness and uneven surface; each piece had tone, changing in depth of shade from dark to light, and in tint from warmer to colder, according to its inequali- ties of thickness. The red alone was coated on uncolored glass ; but they knew how to dispose the laminae of copper which colored it so as to let the light pass between, and thus were en- abled to make the red coating of about half the thickness of the sheet. Modern reds, on the contrary, whether of copper, gold, or iron, are so dense that they can only be used in layers thin as paper. So much for the " limited palette " of which some writers speak, and which held two of the three primary colors of a strength and brilliancy that we cannot yet equal after years of experimenting, on which every color was a tone in itself, and which included almost as many tints as ours, although obtained by hazard. They had no entirely colorless glass to look like a hole in the window, and none that was without gradation.
As to the texture of the glass, it was full of what a modern glass-blower would be apt to regard as imperfections. In making a sheet of glass the workman takes a quantity of the " metal " from the melting-pot on the end of his iron blow-pipe, blows it into a somewhat glob- ular or bottle-shaped vessel, and, if following the modern method for making crown glass, shapes that into a cylinder, which, being detached from the blow-pipe and slit longitudinally, is opened into a flat, square sheet in the " flattening oven." To obtain the cylinder form, the hollow glowing sphere has to be removed from the blow-pipe by applying a solid iron rod, called a " ponty," tipped with melted glass, to its opposite extremity. The opening left where the end of the blow-pipe was attached is then enlarged into a circle of the full diameter of the vessel. A straight strip of glass is placed across this opening, adhering firmly to its edges, and the blow-pipe is again fastened to that. The other end of the vessel is then removed from the " ponty," and liquefied by heat until an opening is made in it, which is enlarged as before. The twelfth and thirteenth century workmen had a simpler but more imperfect way of producing thin sheets of glass. The blown globe, always attached to the blow-pipe, was opened at the opposite side by being heated to liquefaction, and then, the tube being rapidly twirled around by the fingers, the edges of the opening diverged by centrifugal force until a disk was produced, striated concentrically, and thicker at the centre and circumference than elsewhere. In the flat- tening oven, and when firing after painting, their methods were as primitive and careless. There resulted a rich variety of " imperfections," which gave interest as well as tone to the glass, and lessened its transparency without at all diminishing its translucency and lustre.
Lastly, as to technique. The ancient windows were composed of pieces of glass, colored all through, with the exception of the red coated glass, cut into the required forms, and leaded together. When shading was required to express folds of drapery, small ornaments, and the like, a thick brown enamel was applied in firm hatchings and burnt in. Later, at the best period of the antique style, broad shadows of a thinner preparation of the enamel were added, .and lights were taken out before the second firing by removing some o'f this "smear" with a
AMERICAN ART
595
style or the handle of the brush. In very perfect work, to be looked at from no great distance, a second application of the "smear" was made in parts, and the dark hatchings were reinforced with absolutely opaque black. The background, if too brilliant, was toned down by a very fine cross-hatching of dark lines, or covered with conventional ornamentation in the same manner. All this work was of extreme boldness and vigor, the object being to gain strongly marked
Fig. I. — Adoring Angel, from ?he "Window of the Virgin." Vendome, Twelfth Century.
Fig. 2.-
•From a Window of the Twelfth or Thirteenth Century. Saint-Remi, Reims.
form and to subdue the glare of light without interfering with the purity of the color. Broad
lights were left, particularly near the edges of a color-mass, and the shadows were full of minor
lights in the interstices of the dark hatchings and where the broader shading had been removed
with the style. The effect was highly decorative and very little pictorial. The figures or other
subjects, strongly outlined in every part by the leads which held them together, were easily
distinguishable from a great distance ;
overspread with subdued color by
shaded parts; and compound tints
the juxtaposition of two primitive
aerial perspective or pictorial illu-
were frankly observed. It was not
duce the effects proper to reflected
of the indispensable leading. Fig. I
given without color, of these early
managed to express itself, in spite
Fig. 3. — Portrait of Henri de Mez. Chartres, Thir- teenth Century.
the dark shading was softened and the radiation of light from the un- were gained, in the same way, by colors. No attempt was made at sion. The limitations of the art sought with transmitted light to pro- light, nor to disguise the presence will give some idea, such as can be windows, in which strong feeling of poverty of acquirements and of
means. Tig. 2, which is from Viollet-le-Duc, shows the manner of shading with enamel, and of taking out lights, and Fig. 3 shows the use of the leading as outline, and also, as will be explained in another article, to give the effect of narrow lines of shade. Figs. 1 and 3 are from Gailhabaud, L' Architecture et les Arts qui en dependent.
By the pure enamel method it is possible to do without much leading, but impossible to avoid it altogether. Very large sheets of glass painted with enamel colors cannot be burnt so
596 AMERICAN ART
as to vitrify the enamel without running great risk of spoiling the color. Still, much of the leading being got rid of, a softer and more delicate style of drawing and shading may be em- ployed, and the work becomes, so far, like a painting in oils rather than a mosaic. Unhappily, the mind resents this perfection as if it were a trick. The window so converted into a painting is no longer a window. It does not merely subdue the light in letting it pass. It excludes the light without, and reflects the light within. It does not play its part in the general decoration, but is an independent work of art, badly placed. It has no appearance of structure or solidity. One wants to thrust his fist through it to make sure that something real is there. It is a night- mare, — an anomaly. This unsatisfactory feeling is increased by the dulness and thinness of the colors ; and, at a little distance, all the fine drawing and detail is lost, — eaten away by such light as struggles through. The light which the old glass-stainers knew how to make use of in giving softness and finish and harmony to their work, is the enemy of their more pretentious successors, and destroys what they have taken so much pains to create.
" The discovery of enamel colors," says Winston, the English authority on stained glass, " was made at an unlucky moment." There is no doubt that, if the masters of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries had known of other enamels than the brown, they would have used them as freely and legitimately as they used that. But in the sixteenth century the art had already abandoned its proper decorative and structural functions, and the discovery of the other enamels only encouraged the glass-painters in attempting to compete with oil. To do that they sacri- ficed color, solidity, and intelligibility, and then, as might have been expected, failed of their aim. There is, I believe, some use in art for every imaginable process, and it is quite possible that enamel on unstained glass may have peculiar advantages, as well as defects. It is its abuse in the production of windows, which look better by reflected than transmitted light, that is to be unreservedly condemned. At the same time, I have never seen the work in pure enamel which, for a window, I would not prefer to have done in mosaic, or enamel on mosaic. The cheapness of the enamel method, both as regards material and labor, was perhaps as powerful an induce- ment to its abuse as any other; for the decline which had already taken place in stained glass was, in part, due to the great cost of the ancient method. The twelfth-century windows were narrow and not numerous ; but as the architects made their wall-piers lighter and farther apart, the great spaces between had to be filled with glass, and the costliness of colored pot-metal led to the use of more and more white glass or grisaille windows. The invention of the yellow stain of silver led to the almost complete disuse of the pot-metal colors. The growth of the Renaissance feeling helped the downward progress of the art by introducing designs unsuited to the material, and, finally, the growth in purity and clearness of the unstained glass deprived the grisaille windows of their last glory of pearly or greenish lustre, and left the whole field clear for the enamellers. The new form of glass-painting did not flourish long, though great artists tried their hands at it. It fell into disuse and disesteem as oil-painting multiplied its triumphs; and in 1768, according to Le Vieil, there was but one glass-painter in Paris, and he could not maintain himself by his art, but had to gain a living by carrying on a trade in glass.
To whom belongs most credit for the revival in Europe of the antique style it would be hard to say. The Germans were the first in the field, but the pot-metal that they make is so thin that it must be backed up with thick plate-glass to prevent it from being blown in by the wind, and so glaring that they have been in the habit of coating it with a layer of enamel over all, " of the thickness and color of pea-soup." Winston was perhaps unduly elated over the result of his analyses of ancient glass when he boasted that he had " beaten the French glass- stainers so hollow that it is quite laughable." Viollet-le-Duc is not likely to have been far mistaken in maintaining that some of the modern French restorations are not to be distinguished from the ancient work. It is certain that the opinion became general in England, France, and Germany about the same time, that, if the ancient windows were to be equalled, a return must be made to the ancient methods. That opinion was long in making its way across the Atlantic.
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597
Our manufacturers and their customers were equally opposed to it; the former, because the "antique" glass required labor, taste, and skill; the latter, because it was costly, old-fashioned, and lacked the false finish which distinguished the better specimens of enamelled glass. A people like ours, new to art, and accustomed to admire in all their surroundings the regularity and evenness of machine-work, could hardly be expected to appreciate at once the mosaic style. It required some courage and a great deal of constancy to introduce it. But when the universal revival of interest in artistic matters began to touch us, it was inevitable that its effects should be seen most decidedly in stained glass. The very narrowness of the limitations within which it is properly bound guaranteed rapid progress as soon as the true path was entered. And, on the other hand, the strong temptation to experiment with the material could hardly prove to be thrown away on American workmen. No other material used in any of the fine arts so well re- pays experiment. The infinite variety of effects afforded by its natural accidents of stria?, bubbles, unequal blending or distribution of the coloring matter, etc. leaves always room to hope for something not yet attained. As a consequence, notwithstanding the immense progress which all
b. a. c.
Fig. 4. — Specimens of American "Antique" Glass. — Drawn by R. Riordan.
the forms of decorative art have made with us in the last few years, it is safe to say that none of them have improved as much as our work in stained glass.
Page, McDonald, and McPherson, of Boston, were among the first to make good pot-metal glass in America. Some of Page's glass was shown to Mr. Russell Sturgis in 1870, and he found it difficult to believe that it was made here. Baker, of New York, began to make " antique " glass some years later. His work was and is distinguished by good feeling for color and a determination to use artistic material only.
Cottier & Co., " of Fifth Avenue and Pall Mall," about the same time introduced here what is known as the English Domestic Style of Stained Glass. This is in some respects a new departure, but we cannot say that it is one which ought to be widely followed. The glass used is English pot-metal, clearer and poorer in effect than the American. The coloring is low, thin, but harmonious. The drawing is reasonably good. The- distant effect is better than that of many American windows, while still far from admirable. The prevalent English "fads" — the affectations and the unintelligible symbolism of modern British painting — have a weak echo in the figure designs of this school, and the purely decorative part of the work is as far removed from a healthy style of art. The leaded lines are little insisted on. The beauties of the material are never fully developed. The surface painting and staining are not calculated to help
598
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Fit
it, but are used for their own sake ; and weakly conventional- ized forms of foliage, sunflowers, etc., are drawn upon the glass as if it were paper. The cartoon is gen- erally as interesting as the window.
On the contrary, good American pot- metal, such as is now made, is often as heavy and as rich in color, tone, and tex- ture as any of the twelfth-century glass. In Fig. 4 (drawn from specimens fur- nished by Messrs. Louis C. Tiffany & Co., Associated Art- ists) we have attempted to convey some notion of its varied surface and markings. Fig. 4 a is a clear, slightly greenish glass, streamed with ruby, black, and purple. Fig. 4 b is full of bubbles and long tangled fibres of iron-red. Fig. 4 c is of a changeable blue-green, and impressed on both sides with an irregular linear pattern. There are almost countless other varieties as inter- esting and as firm in color. The "opal" glass which has been introduced by Mr. La Farge and Mr. Tiffany is one of these, which is itself capable of an infinity of uses, and of entering into combinations, more or less intimate, with every other variety. A full account of it will be given in a second article.
The stained glass window screen represented in Fig. 5 is a good example of the mode in which Mr. Tiffany handles his splendid material. The thick stalks of the vine, the outlines of the lattice-work which supports it, and the veinings of the leaves, are all designed by the lead- ing. The modelling of the leaves and fruit is given by the inequalities of the glass itself, and the play and gradation of color in its substance. When the sunlight streams in through such a window the effect is as if the real object, rendered transparent in all its tissues by some unwonted intensity of the ray, filled the space. No enamel painting, no work in any other medium, could be anything like so " realistic " ; yet it is plainly glass, and one is fully as much impressed with its decorative and structural as with its picturesque value. It is like one of those little landscapes by Dupre, in which the loaded sky, while manifestly and unmistakably paint, is yet more distant, aerial, and full of motion than if the painter had taken the greatest pains to hide his methods and his means.
R RlORDAN.
5. — Window Screen in Pure Mosaic Glass. Egg-Plant. By Louis C. Tiffany. —Drawn by R. Riordan.
AMERICAN STAINED GLASS.
Second Article.
|RINITY CHURCH, Boston, in addition to its architectu- ral merits and the wealth of ornamentation which Mr. La Farge has lavished on its interior, contains what will probably be considered in the near. future as the first example of an American school of stained glass. The beautiful grisaille window appearing in the walls of the church is in fact the first now extant which was . designed by .Mr. La Farge, and consequently the first which we owe to an American of any prominence as an artist, for Mr. Tiffany did not enter the field until some time later. The failure of the other windows, in the modern English style, to harmonize with the mural decorations, was what caused Mr. La Farge seriously to turn his attention to the making of stained glass, and the first fruit of this was the strikingly successful win- dow in question, the only one in the church which is in keeping with the general scheme. It was made as an experiment, of the cheapest pot-metal, painted and put together in the simplest manner, yet the effect is as admirable as it is unique. It was not designed . for its present position, and therefore does not give to the full the effect of pearly light, at once illumining and toning the wall decoration, which it ought to produce. Still the eye instinctively turns to that part of the building where it is situated, finding there a degree of completeness and harmony of which the other windows rob the rest of the interior. In mediseval churches either the wall decoration was distinctly subordinated to the glass, or an attempt was made by the use of the strongest and most brilliant tones, often glazed over gold, to bring it up to the same pitch of power and lumi- nosity. At the same time the intensity of the glass was lowered, as described in the first article, by the application of the brown enamel; still it was impossible to completely harmonize it with -the wall surfaces. For this reason the borders of the windows are in all mediaeval work a very prominent part of the design, and the outer edge was almost invariably left white. The two incongruous elements of the decoration were thus kept separate from one another, and the eye was not offended by the immediate contrast of the strongest tones of the glass with the neces- sarily darker wall paintings. The trouble was, however, still so apparent, that it certainly had its share in bringing about the final disuse of stained glass ; and if the reader will bear in mind that the problem presented to Mr. La Farge by his own previously executed work in
Designed by R. Riordan
6oo
AMERICAN ART
Trinity Church was even more embar- rassing, though not, as it turned out, so hopeless, and that it was solved with perfect success, he will begin to per- ceive why it is that this hundred-dollar window, made with a little cheap glass and some brown paint, should be worthy of attention even now, when so much has been done by Tiffany, La Farge himself, and others, and when so much more may be confidently looked for- ward to. The general tone of the in- terior of Trinity Church is rich and mel- low, but not overpowering or " heady." Highly finished figure subjects like that of Christ and the woman of Samaria, which is shown in our illustration, form the most striking part of it. It is evi- dent that no similar subjects should be introduced in the windows, for while, owing to their brilliancy, they might distract attention from the wall paint- ings, they could not possibly compare with them in expressive power, even if done by the same hand. It is the worst fault of the other windows that they are thus unsuited to their sur- roundings. In color, also, they are too weak and glaring, and while the strong coloring of the mediaeval glass, if any- thing comparable with it had been at- tainable at the time, would be equally out of key, what was wanted was a design which should be at once rich and subdued, neither falling behind the general scheme nor standing apart from it. The grisaille answers these condi- tions ; the other windows do not, and are a positive eyesore. The complicated wheel-work of Mr. La Farge's window serves to con- tinue the convolutions of the painted mouldings and friezes which lead up to it. Though only black and white, it positively has more value as color than the stained glass windows near it, and its ornament is so disposed as to lead the eye gently across it, and allow it to dwell at full leisure on the more important wall paintings.
Mr. La Farge had, however, made an earlier attempt in stained glass, which it is important to mention, as it led him to the adoption on a large scale, in his subsequent work, of what is practically a new material, — opal glass. He had, while still engaged on the frescos of Trinity, begun to make a small colored window from specimen pieces of glass which he had collected, combined with thin slices of onyx and other semi-precious stones to give the richness that was then unattainable with the best modern glass to be found. Some pieces of opal glass acciden- tally produced at one of our glass-houses were found to be a good substitute for the onyx. He
Fig. i — Design for Harvard Memorial Window. By John La Farce. —Drawn by Will H. Low.
AMERICAN ART
60 1
tried to get the glass-makers to make him some in panes. The process was perfectly simple, but was not apparently believed in. The window was abandoned.
Next came the commission for the Harvard memorial window, which was to be one of a number; and, after an unsatisfactory carrying out of his design by other hands, he set to work in earnest to produce or procure good colored glass, and do the work himself. Much of the window now in place is made of his own material. We give an outline of it (Fig. 1), and also of one of the remaining studies for the other windows not yet done (Fig. 2). Re- productions of the other two designs will be found in Scribner's Monthly for Feb. 1 881, in an article on La Farge by Mr. G. P. Lathrop. On entering into the practical business of making the colored pot-metal, Mr. La Farge found himself again confronted, as all modern makers have been, by the difficulty of obtain- ing the richness and tone so observable in ancient glass. The Munich artists, as already pointed out, tried to obviate this difficulty by using a backing of enamel of the color and consistency of pea-soup. Many English mak- ers purposely dirtied their work wifh a smear of brown paint and wax. La Farge returned to the idea he had had of making use of the opal glass. This in its chemical composition is the same as the opaque white glass, known as fusible porcelain. Phosphate of lime (bone- dust), peroxide of tin, or arsenic, are the coloring matters. The arsenic gives the shift- ing orange tinge which simulates the fire of the opal. If evenly mixed in the melting- pot, and not pressed, any or all of these in- gredients would only give a plain opaque white, or, if subjected to an even pressure, a milky white glass, slightly tinged with or- ange if the arsenic is used ; but if corru- gated or rolled by hand, different degrees of translucency and a shifting play of color are produced, which render the material invalu- able to the glass-stainer. The opal " body " can be used in positive-colored glass with somewhat of the same result as if it were backed up with opal glass. Used as a color among others, it takes the place of the medi- aeval nacreous white, and gives value to all
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-Fac-simile of Study for Harvard Memorial Window. By John La Farge. —Drawn by Charles Mettajs.
602
AMERICAN ART
the other colors in a window, making the red redder, etc., serving, when properly chosen, as a pearly gray with a slight tinge of the complementary. Small window-screens of glass mosaic are sometimes entirely lined with opal, for the purpose of breaking and diffusing the direct sun- rays, which would otherwise penetrate into the room in pencils of colored light. However beautiful this effect may be high up in the vaulted roof of a cathedral, it may be incon- venient in a dwelling-house. The " warm gules " may not always, as in Keats's poem, fall on "Madeline's fair breast"; and patches of prismatic colors wandering across one's pictures or one's face may produce an impression the reverse of agreeable. The outer casing of opal makes it impossible for this to happen, and gives the colored glass inside a richness and atmos- pheric effect which in itself is worth the added trouble. In very large work it cannot be said to render unnecessary all further experimenting towards getting the brilliant but deep-toned colors of the ancient glass, but it is still the most important addition . to the materiel of the glass-stainer since the discovery of the yellow stain and of enamel colors.
Mr. La Farge has taken out patents for the manufacture of " opal " ; it is also largely used by the firm of Louis C. Tiffany & Co., associated artists, under Mr. La Farge's patent. Some glass-stainers say it does not harmonize with other glass, which is absurd. The opaque fusible
Fig. 3. — Varieties of American Opal Glass.
porcelain may be so used with other glasses as to be very disagreeable, but it is quite impos- sible to find a colored glass which cannot be harmonized with opal. It is admitted without con- tradiction that Mr. La Farge and Mr. Tiffany have preceded all others in the use of it, and have done much more than all others to develop it. Mr. La Farge's patent-rights, enforced, will be likely to be exercised for the protection of good work against such as may by their inartistic use of the material tend to lessen its value. It has always been possible to obtain opal glass as an imperfect fusible porcelain, and as such it may have been used over and over again ; but until Mr. La Farge and Mr. Tiffany took it up, ft does not appear that any effort had been made to regularly produce it, or to develop its peculiar qualities. It is entirely different in effect from the German milk glass, and even from the Venetian opal, which it most nearly resembles, for neither of these has its body or tone. It is an American contribution to the art.
All the other varieties of artistic glass are now made here as well as anywhere in the world. At present no one goes abroad for his pot-metal ; each makes it for himself, and does his best to outrival others in quality and color. To give a list of the various effects of iridescence, semi-opacity, of surface corrugation and internal stratification, of laminae, fibres, strise, and bubbles, would fill some pages. There are not only imitations of the old ruby, topaz, purple, etc., but there is also glass which imitates the chalcedony and the moss-agate, and glass which is inlaid or sprinkled with glass of another color. We have already, in our first article, given some
AMERICAN ART
60.1
illustrations, a reference to which will help to a conception of its diversities of texture, but the best which can be done with drawings and description combined must fail to convey an adequate idea to those who have not seen its many artistic qualities. Some of the effects produced in the melting-pot are extremely curious, and even picturesque. A piece of sprinkled glass may, for instance, show a very suggestive storm scene, — a mass of wind-swept twigs and branches in dark brown, the emerald leaves torn from them filling the sky, which, with its flying, shapeless clouds, is represented by the murky white foundation. Another variety of glass is of a dark sea-green, through which play long fibres of red, which seem to sway up and down, like seaweed in the waves, with the undulations of the rough surface. In this the red fibres are developed by heat to any length and degree of complexity. The glass when first made is entirely green. Glass has been made by Mr. Tiffany, for special purposes, over an inch in thickness ; and rough-faceted glass, looking at a distance like the unpolished stones of Indian or old Gaulish jewelry, is much employed by him. It is, of course, extremely costly, but fairly solves the problem of richness.
R. RlORDAN.
Designed by R. Riordan
AMERICAN STAINED GLASS.
Third and Concluding Article.
UR first two articles dealt chiefly with the difficulty which was experienced in getting good and artistically useful glass, and the wonderful success which has been arrived at. But, given good glass, it by no means follows that you will have a good window. Artistic acquirements and faculties of a very high order are as requisite as the material itself. Few people, even of those who are continually handling color, have the color sense ; and yet this is more neces- sary in dealing with stained glass than with anything else. The entering light carries every color up to such a pitch that discords, which would be scarcely noticeable in work
by
reflected light,
are unbearable in stained glass.
Designed ey R. Riordan.
" The ancients," says M. Bontemps, " with the palette that we call incomplete, produced effects of harmony to which we have not yet attained. People have imagined that this was owing to the quality of their colors, while it was really the result of the well-balanced powers of the different colors, and of their artistically combined oppositions." According to M. Labarte, the success of the mediaeval glass-stainer was due to " the skilful arrangement and harmonious distribution of his colors." " A knowledge of the relative values of tones " is reckoned by Viollet-le-Duc as the first requisite of success in stained glass. As the blending of tones cannot be carried to any great degree of accuracy or refinement, it is all the more essential that each piece of glass should be chosen with reference to its effect on every other. What is known as the orchestra- tion of color, i.e. the massing of color harmonies, — attempted by very few painters on canvas, — is almost necessary in glass. In color, again, as in music, there are harmonies which cross and blend ; others, of which the component notes are scattered apparently at random through- out the composition. In work like stained glass the absence of these implied harmonies is at once felt, for only by them can the colorist reach the expression of infinity. But it goes with- out saying that genius only is capable of supplying all this. Bontemps is right, therefore, when he says that the one thing needed for modern glass painting is a great artist. And yet it could hardly seem likely, when the difficulties peculiar to the art are taken account of, that an artist, great or small, could be found to take it up. It is, as has already been shown, an art in which the painter's skill is as nearly as possible useless ; in which nothing is to be gained with facility but brilliancy, and that is more likely to be attributed to the material than to the artist.
It is impossible to overrate the difficulties involved. The distant appearance of a work may be wholly different from what one would expect from a near view. Everybody has noticed the effect of a bright light coming from behind a dark object, in apparently eating it away or
AMERICAN ART 605
reducing it to a shadow. Trees and branches seen against a sunset are an example. If the light is confined on all sides, this effect is much stronger. When a figure or other subject of a window is not positively outlined, shaded vigorously, and exaggerated, rather than the reverse, as to movement and expression, it becomes, when the window is in place, weak, confused, and unintelligible. It is, as it were, melted down in light. The French artists of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries understood this, and used their lead outlines with a boldness which showed their thorough acquaintance with the conditions of their art. In the head of Henri de Mez (Fig. 1), which we reinsert for convenience from our first article, the heavy line across the face serves at a distance but to mark the prominence of the cheek-bone on one side and of the muscles of the cheek and jaw on the other. The lines which cross the forehead and the neck are similarly reduced to shades, marking what a modern painter would call the great planes of the head. If the illustration is held at a distance of a couple of yards from the eye, something of this effect
Fig. 1. — Portrait of Henri -hi ■ 1 i t ■ r n.ii-i r i i •
de mez. Chartres, Thir- w"1 De given by the radiation 01 reflected light from the white spaces teenth Century. between the lines. In the original, the light coming through must act
much more sensibly. The background, which is of red glass, has been purposely made up of little bits, so that the multiplied lines of leading might reduce the glare of light and tone the color. Viollet-le-Duc gives some striking illustrations of the power of light to modify forms in this manner.1 Color is affected by it in as great a degree. Some colors, more radiant than others, are spread over the latter as a glaze by the light. Red, in the Chartres windows, is purpled by the neighborhood of light blue. Our modern blues are not radiant enough to distribute themselves with any great effect over surrounding colors, but the yellow stain, the most brilliant color now in use, does so very perceptibly. The ancient reds, which are quite black near by, are brilliant and striking when seen far off. And, per contra, our modern blue- grays and purples are apt to look muddy, slaty, or obscure when seen a hundred feet away.
The position of a window is also of the utmost consequence. An unobstructed front view is not always desirable. In modern churches a great deal of light is considered necessary, and of the many devices of the old masters for reducing and confining it, most are at times inadmis- sible. If very heavy glass is used, enamel paint must be eschewed, and likewise very small leading. If form is of great importance, and much leading or enamelling is necessary, corre- spondingly thin glass is required. We cannot, unless in exceptional instances, use rich-toned glass, close leading, and strong shading, with dark enamel. Hence advantage should be taken, when- ever possible, of intervening pillars, hanging lamps, carved screens, and whatever else may diffuse the glare of light, and compel one to look obliquely through the glass, which obviously is equal to a thickening of the glass. Mr. Tiffany, to this end, systematically inserts his glass at different angles in the leading. But, if position is important in more or less pure mosaic, it is still more so when enamel is used in any quantity. The windows in St. Thomas's Church, New York, which are about as good specimens .as can be found of the sort of work which was most admired here until recently, would not look nearly so bad as they do if they had been properly designed for the place and the light which, they are in. They are pretty completely covered with enamel. The two side windows are much lighter than the centre, which sets back of them, — a good plan enough in mosaic, but aWvays dangerous in enamel. Here, at least, as 'the dark central window, on account of the orientation of the church, receives only a side light, while the sun enters directly through one of the side windows, this arrangement has proved admirably calculated to bring out all the defects of the enamel method in the most striking manner. The central window looks like a badly done mural painting, through which absolutely no light at all seems to pass. Its dulness, instead of helping the rich color around by contrast, effectively destroys it by spreading over it a dirty brown obscurity rather than a light, in which,
1 In Dictionnaire de V Architecture Francaise, Art. Vitrail,
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AMERICAN ART
too, Mr. St. Gaudens's exquisite groups of angels in relief are as much lost as if they were packed away in a basement. These windows are of French manufacture, and it would be interesting to know if their designer would have done any differently had he been aware of the position which they were to oc- cupy. Mr. Tiffany's mosaic work, in which the forms may be said to be moulded in thick glass, or are put together from small pieces so as to have adequate relief without requir- ing to be touched with the brush, would take away the breath of any modern European glass-stainer. And Mr. La Farge's manage- ment of enamel on mosaic in important figure work is just as much beyond all contempo- rary competition.
It is easy to sin in the use of enamel color. No one but a master of both draw- ing and color can hope to use it advanta- geously. Every touch of the brush dulls the color of the pot-metal in modifying it; and, if large unpainted spaces are not reserved, the work is ruined. On the other hand, if the painted and unpainted portions are not made to balance and sustain one another, the work is equally ruined. The firing of the enamel is as delicate and risky a process as any used in the arts. Most colors undergo changes in firing, and it is of the utmost concern that they should be burnt to just such a tint, and no longer. A practical acquaintance with all the work of the glass-house is as essential as the artist's skill and judgment in the design- ing, and without both the best work in this style cannot be produced.
It is unquestionable that in small work of simple design enamel should not be used at all. To belabor a small screen or window- light with painted decoration in the English style is to spoil good or middling glass, and to throw away work. Where the highest decorative results are aimed at, or a certain degree of realism is required, as in the Harvard ■ window, and where the texture of the glass cannot, on account of size and distance, be conspicuous, the covering of some portion of the window by vigorous shading with enamel may be of the greatest benefit, even in a decorative sense, for it tends to intensify the
Fig. =. —
Reduced Working Drawing of a Window in Pure Mosaic. By John La Farge.
AMERICAN ART 607
light and color in the portions left uncovered. But in the case just mentioned, — in the case of small work which may be examined part by part, — nothing can make up for the loss of color and the hiding of the material which is involved. In this sort of work the style should always be the pure mosaic. There need be no lack of variety. Besides the endless combinations of geometrical forms, derivable from mediaeval designs, the Arabesque and Japanesque systems of abstract ornamentation are in practice drawn upon by all our designers. Mr. La Farge has led off (Fig. 2) with Renaissance designs in pure mosaic, of one of which we give a fac-simile of the working drawing. The simple shapes of the lower animals and plants are easily imitated in this manner. Their forms may be indicated by the leading alone, or may be rendered with an almost illusive naturalness by the choice of wrinkled, bulging, or concave pieces of glass, as is done by Mr. Tiffany. Many of the lower marine animals would make peculiarly good sub- jects, as their bodies- are often transparent or diaphanous, and beautifully tinted. The reproduc- tion of simple artificial objects is likewise allowable, and may be made very interesting, as is shown- by the pretty designs in the New Casino at Newport. Even in the case of the largest and most important work, the benefits conferred by enamel are, for the most part, obtainable also in mosaic. The partial opacity which it gives, at some artistic cost, can be got in the glass itself without any loss of surface quality. The legitimate use of enamel is thus reduced to the gaining of additional form by vigorous drawing in dark hatchings over the colored and self-shaded pot-metal. Its use in other ways can be defended only on business grounds, not on artistic.
The attention paid in our country to these requirements and capabilities of the art seems, with all drawbacks, to be greater than that bestowed on them anywhere else at present, and marks the inception of a distinctively American school of stained glass. If the progress so far made is equalled in the future, it is easy to see that no foreign competition need be dreaded. Twenty years ago there was hardly a bit of good glass made in the country: to-day we pro- duce better glass than has been made since the sixteenth century, and some that has hardly been equalled since Roman times. Quite recently it was found impossible to have a fine figure- subject properly treated. The very parties who failed then would probably carry it out success- fully now, such has been the force of the general tide of improvement. Our workmen are as skilful as any; our public are rapidly becoming educated to appreciate good work; and, for the first time since the revival of the art, it has been taken up by artists of acknowledged power. Both Mr. La Farge and Mr. Tiffany are born colorists, and each of them has a pro- found acquaintance with all forms of decorative design. As is usual with " those who know," their influence is one, although their differences are all the more striking, because their methods grow out of the same root, — an appreciation of what is and what is not ornament. Mr. Tiffany's Oriental leanings are well known. He is in favor of the boldest, strongest, most telling method. He never hesitates to join cloth of gold to cloth of frieze, to inlay rough-cast with fine marbles, or to use the cheapest along with the most gorgeous glass, when an artistic result may be secured. He is without any touch of the " literary sort of thing." He speaks, as nature does, through the eye to the mind and the feelings, in a manner which is too little understood at present. The effect of color on the emotions, the food for thought which may be conveyed by the simple presentation of natural form, are not generally appreciated to the full by modern artists, who very often seem to aim at results which can only be obtained in literature. Mr. Tiffany handles his theme as boldly and naturally as he does his material. His way of regarding his subject implies his technique. He has carried the use of pure mosaic farther, perhaps, than it has ever been carried before. It used, for example, to be a question whether landscape motives were admissible in stained glass. It was said, justly enough, that in a window, as in any flat decoration having such intimate structural relations, every portion must come out to the same plane, and in appearance as in reality contribute to the support of the whole. Nothing must appear to lie behind or be detached from another. It was thought that
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AMERICAN ART
landscape, depending so' entirely on the expression of distance for all its higher effects, was in consequence out of the province of stained glass. But Mr. Tiffany has shown that it is fully within the scope of the most severe and legitimate mosaic work, and, further, that many of the most beautiful and poetic passages of landscape can be better represented in glass than in paint. Effects of rippled or quiet water, sunset and moonlight clouds, mysterious involutions of distant hills and woods, are given with a force and suggestiveness impossible in any other material, and without at all diminishing the solidity or decorative value of the window. To do this, as will readily be supposed, requires the subtlest art. If the reader will turn to Fig. I, first article, and note how the figure of the angel is firmly connected with the border of the central subject by the dark halo which passes partly over it, and by the diagonal line of lead- ing run across the larger part of the border, and how the wings are joined by masses of similar value to the frame of the window, he will perceive one means much used by the ancients of preserving the appearance of solidity, while giving air and space to the composition. The figures in this window have been described to me as absolutely floating in air, and yet strongly held and sustained in their place. In the "egg-plant window" of Mr. Tiffany (Fig. 5, first article), it is easily seen that the same principle of tying together the different parts of the composition has been carried out in various ways. The bands of pale yellow glass which represent a lattice are admirably used for this purpose, and even the striae and corrugations of the pieces of opalescent glass which form the background are so disposed as to help to bind the whole thing together. In one of Tiffany's windows the central light is mostly filled with a landscape, which, though in the original full of light and air, is perfectly well held in place. Mr. La Farge has not yet attempted in mosaic what Mr. Tiffany has, but in his Harvard window a distinct landscape effect, though of an extremely simple character, has been produced. In all attempts of the kind " opal " glass is invaluable as a means of giving sunlight and atmosphere.
I believe that only here is much thought given at the present day to the considerations which I have pointed out; and it follows that, if we are indebted to foreigners and to foreign work for our first start in the art, we can now apply Winston's words to ourselves, and claim that we have beaten our teachers, even if we should be too grateful to forget what we owe them, and too polite to raise a laugh at their expense.
R. Riordan.
Designed by R. Riordan.
A MOONLIGHT REVERY.
PHOTO-ETCHING
FROM AN ORIGINAL DRAWING
Henry Sandham.
Looking at this production of Sandham's one would think that he had in mind the words of W. J. Mickle when in his Cumnor Hall he says —
" The dews of summer night did fall ; The moon, sweet regent of the sky, Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall And many an oak that grew thereby."
HENRY SANDHAM.
Chapter Fifty-First.
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THE subject of this article, Mr. Henry Sandham, painter and illustrator, was born in the year 1842, in the city of Montreal, Canada, of English parents. So strong were his boyhood's inclina- tions towards an artistic career that neither opposition from his father, nor lack of encouragement on the part of his mother, was potent enough to overcome them. While still a mere lad, he resolved to leave home, and solve the problem of life for himself, by following the path that his artistic nature pointed out.
After the lapse of a year or two Mr. Sandham returned to his native city, where, brought face to face with the necessity of simply earning a living, he took a position in a large business concern which was princi- pally devoted to artistic productions. From this time on, every moment of leisure, pieced out by encroach- ments upon the night season, was devoted to the study of art, in various branches. In these efforts, Sandham was greatly aided and encouraged, and wisely guided by a number of artists. Among them O. R. Jacobi, John A. Fraser, C. J. Way, and Adolph Vogt, — all of them men of good reputation, who had studied in the best European schools of the time. These friends generally, gave him the benefit of their experience, criticising his work, and allowing him the run of
m
is the golden bowl !
the spirit flown forever !
Drawn by Sandham.
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AMERICAN ART
' And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear? Weep now or nevermore ! "
Drawn by Sandham.
their studios. Especially was this the case with the first two of these gentlemen, under whose guidance Sandhani's talents rapidly developed; so that in 1880 he was elected as a member of the Royal Canadian Academy. By this time his paintings had found their way into many of the choicest Canadian collections. In 1881 he retired from active business, withdrawing as full partner from the house where he had entered as a boy.
Mr. Sandham made his first appearance in the art world as a marine painter ; then devoted himself for some time to landscape and cattle. But after spending several years at hard work in these fields, he concluded that figures alone would enable him to express his ideas, so he went back again to the A, B, and C of art, and gave more years to the study of the human figure. There being at that time no Art School in Canada, Mr. Sandham was fortunate enough to secure private instruction in anatomy from a leading physician, who was Professor of Anatomy in one of the best Surgical Colleges of the Dominion.
Accompanying this article, are drawings, — made for Edgar Allen Poe's " Lenore," — which show to advantage Mr. Sandham's versatile brush. There are also two pictures, which serve as representations of his animal and landscape pictures. George Eliot's " Felix Holt," is also given, as he falls wounded in the riot. If you remember the story, Felix had been rushing on at the head of the mob, meeting only with success in his impulsive career, but, finally, some of the rioters determine on a new course, and rush madly toward Treby Manor, \
AMERICAN ART
611
carrying Felix along with them; but just as the crowd is pushing its way up the terrace steps and gravel slopes, at various points, Felix hears the sound of horses' feet, and placing himself in front of the window, and motioning with his sabre, cries out to the oncomers "Keep back!" then, "I hear the soldiers coming." — ''The louder and louder sound of the troops changed its pace and distribution. 'Halt! Fire!' Bang, Bang, Bang! — came deafening the ears of the men on the terrace. Before they had time or nerve to move, there was a
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Felix Holt wounded. Drawn by Sandham.
rushing sound closer to them — again, 'Fire!' a bullet whizzed and passed through Felix Holt's shoulder, — the shoulder of the arm that held the naked weapon which shines in the light from the window."
And here is another illustration — giving us Silas Marner and Eppie. It is where Godfrey comes to claim Eppie as his daughter. But let us hear how George Eliot tells of the way in which Eppie crept into old Silas Marner's heart.
"Eppie was a creature of endless claims and ever-growing desires, — seeking and loving sunshine, and living sounds and living movements ; making trial of everything with trust in
612
AMERICAN ART
new joy and stirring the human kindness in all eyes that looked on her. . . . Eppie was an object compacted of changes and hopes, that carried his thoughts onward, and carried them far away from their old eager pacing toward the same blank limit, — carried them away to the new things that would come with the coming years, when Eppie would have learned to understand how her father Silas cared for her. ... It was an influence that must gather force with every new year."
Eppie and Silas Marner. Drawn by Sandhasi.
And when, after sixteen years' silence, Godfrey appears, and wishes to claim Eppie as his child, — Eppie, with lips trembling from emotion, retreats to her father's chair, and puts her arm around his neck, while Silas, with a subdued sob, bows his head with grief.
Look at the noble moose bending down a small tree and calmly making a luncheon off its foliage. He is a sturdily built creature and, armed as he is with such magnificent spreading antlers, he would be a match, at close quarters, for the most daring of hunters.
Across the lake in the background rises a range of low lying mountains capped with heavily formed white clouds, giving the entire picture an appearance that one would look for among the lakes of northern Maine.
AMERICAN ART
613
'^3fe#
A Splendid Specimen. Drawn by Sandham.
Again, look at the old father moose who is peacefully watching over his three young ones while their mother is enjoying a hearty meal gathered from the neighboring trees. What an air of contentment there is in the entire surroundings of this picture, which shows the moose as he appears in his home in the Canadian wilds !
The Home of the Moose. Drawn by Sandham.
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AMERICAN ART
a UsyTtlc,- S'iohh (loTkot'- H3_,
Low Tidk, St. John Harbor. Drawn by Sandham.
The full-page cut, A Memory of Mexico, which appears in this part, shows that Sandham is not only familiar with but has studied scenes in other lands than his own. Who that has been in Mexico will not recognize in the plaza overtopped, almost, by the lofty mountains, the true spirit of the country.
The gay cavalier, with his gorgeous robe thrown in a negligee manner over his shoulders, is probably wending his way to a bull-fight, thinking of the bull-fights of the time of his grand- father, a grandee, perhaps, in Spain.
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Horses Bathing. Drawn by Sandham.
A MEMORY OF MEXICO.
DRAWN BY HENRY SANDHAM.
AMERICAN ART
617
Such a scene as this would not be complete without the water carriers, the cactus plant, and that uncomplaining friend to man, the donkey, who, diminutive as he is, has to carry his full share of life's burdens.
In Sandham's Low Tide, St. John Harbor, the tide, which there rises suddenly and to a great height, has receded to beyond the tall nets, and the vessel in the foreground is stranded high and dry at some distance from the water. A rough, two-wheeled cart, to which is attached a sturdy horse, is being loaded with the vessel's freight. This indeed is a convenience that is not afforded in every harbor unsupplied with docks, and it gives one an insight into a quite common custom ol unloading vessels in and near the Bay of Fundy.
In the picture of the horses bathing, — a Mexican scene, — the willing animals are being led to their morning baths in the ocean just as the sun is rising. They seem to thoroughly enjoy their immersion, entering heartily into the spirit of the occasion.
Sandham has here, in illustration of Moore's "Canadian Boat-Song," a picture of seven lusty oarsmen, singing as they row with measured strokes by moonlight on a Canadian river.
A Canadian Boat Song. Drawn by Sandham.
Faintly as tolls the evening chime
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We '11 sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight 's past.
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•• Why should we yet our sail unfurl, There is not a breeze the blue wave to curl? But when the wind blows off the shore, Oh, sweetly we 'II rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight 's past.
" Utawa's tide ! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon. Saint of this green isle, hear our prayers, — Oh, grant us cool heavens and favoring airs. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight 's past."
" The sweet Lenore hath 'gone before,' with Hope, that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride.'
Drawn by Sandham.
In his illustration of Edgar Allen Poe's " Lenore," Mr. Sandham has shown how faithfully he can reproduce with the brush the ideas that a poet gives to the world in his verse. This poem was always Mr. Poe's favorite, and it gives us an insight into the peculiar tone of melancholy
AMERICAN ART
619
which pervaded his nature. Born in Baltimore in 181 1, he graduated at the University of Virginia in 1826; and having spent a year in Europe, he returned to America, and was for a number of years editor of different magazines, among which was the " Broadway Journal."
Above his desk always hung the romantic picture of his loved and lost Lenore.
He died in Baltimore while yet in the early prime of his life, in 1849.
Come ! let the burial
rite be read
the funeral son
be sun;;!
Drawn by Sandham.
Sandham made the drawing of " A Milk-Cart of Havana " to illustrate the text of a facetious traveller, who thus describes a curious custom of the Cubans.
" In the streets of Havana the backs of the donkeys, mules, and little horses also, serve as milk-carts, save where the milkman makes a still shorter cut at business and drives the vacas (cows) themselves round to the doors, where he milks the universal fluid into your own quart dish to suit your pleasure. This method has at least the advantage of relieving him of the temptation to water his milk. We commend it to all those dispensers of lacteal aliment in our northern cities who feel themselves aggrieved by unjust suspicions; it is a method that admits of no aspersions.
"At our house in Havana there used to come, every morning, a large vaca, looking very much like one of the largest Jerseys, though of Cuban breed, bringing her own milk in an odd-
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shaped can hanging on one side of her back, balanced on the other side by a roll of sweet cane stalks, this latter provision looking much like a luncheon for the trip. Behind her toddled her little calf, with his nose securely trussed up to prevent his injudicious inroads upon the stock in trade. And still further behind came a young negro, whose humble cry of " Leche, leche, veinte centavus el vaso " was at first our only key to this business.
" Veinte centavos (twenty cents) for a glass of milk ! The Spanish captain with whom we lodged was obliged to pay eighty cents paper ^about forty-three cents gold) a quart for the milk which he offered us as a luxury (and no wonder) for our coffee.
"Some American milkmen might do well to settle in the suburbs of Havana; or perhaps, ere long, some enterprising fellow in the north may send milk here by steamer, in sealed cans packed in ice. There ought to be a fortune in that venture."
A Milk-Cart of Havana. Drawn by Sandham.
After visiting England and France for the purpose of study, Mr. Sandham came to the United States, and settled in Boston, where he soon realized that, owing to the limited market for American pictures, he would be obliged to enter the ranks of the illustrator, — in which so many resident artists are enrolled, — until he should succeed in establishing himself per- manently. He was not slow in achieving for himself a leading position as illustrator, but never devoted himself exclusively to this branch of art, always having on hand a number of oil and water-color pictures, while working in black and white.
Mr. Sandham is both a steady and rapid worker, and he probably produces as many paintings every year as those who are known only by their work in colors ; but from the fact that he has been remarkably fortunate in selling his paintings as soon as they are finished, and that they as a consequence go into private collections, he is known as a painter to only a
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621
¥ I
ft
■ An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young A dirge for her, the doubly dead, in that she died so young
Drawn by Sandham.
.MM
1
«ps
' From grief and groan to a golden throne,
beside the King of Heaven
Drawn by Sandham.
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'; For her, the fair and debonair,
that now so lowly lies."
Drawn by Sandham.
limited circle, while to the general public, his illustrations, spread broadcast as they are throughout the land by the leading magazines and art publishers, have made his name a
And when she fell in feeble health.' Drawn by Sandham.
AMERICAN ART
62'
household word. All through his career, he has done more or less portraiture, and the demand for this and his genre subjects is so steadily increasing, that it is quite possible he may be obliged before long to give up illustrating entirely, although to him the work is both pleasant and profitable.
Drawn by Sandham.
Mr. Sandham's most important work since his residence in the United States, is a painting commemorating the Battle of Lexington, entitled the Dazvn of Liberty. In 1886 it was pur- chased by the Lexington Historical Society, and now hangs in its town hall. His last completed work is a portrait of Sir John A. Macdonald, for the Senate Chamber at Ottawa, — being a commission from the Canadian Government. He has also recently completed a large portrait of the Rev. Joseph T. Duryea, for the Central Congregational Church, Boston, and two portraits of the Hon, A. VV. Ogilvie, for Montreal.
Mr. Sandham, whose brush has achieved for him such a - well-deserved reputation in portraiture, as well as landscape and genre paintings, turns with equal readiness and felicity
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to black and white. It required only a very short period for him to convince the makers of illustrated books, that his pencil was not only thoroughly trustworthy, but graceful, pleasing, and original ; and he succeeds admirably in uniting grace and vigor in his compositions, — two necessary elements of all black and white drawings intended for reproduction on a printed page.
MOONLIGHT ON THE BAY.
PHOTO-ETCHING
FROM AN ORIGINAL DRAWING
HENRY SANDHAM.
Sandh.am has given us here a vivid reproduction of the phosphorescent glare as we have often seen it reflected from the waves in strong moonlight.
What fitting counterparts the scene makes with the following lines from Milton's Paradise Lost ! —
" The moon. Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw."
J. D. WOODWARD.
Chapter Fifty-Second.'
"WJ3L
" Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying."
MR. J. D. WOODWARD, of whose works we will speak in this paper, is one of our best- known painters and illustrators. Born in Middlesex County, Vir- ginia, on July 12, 1842, and three years later moving to Kentucky with his parents, he commenced the study of art, at the age of fifteen, in the studio of Mr. F. C. Welsch, of Cincinnati, Ohio. But, being ambitious and anxious to rise in his chosen profession, and desiring better opportunities than it was possible to procure in Cin- cinnati, at that time, he went to New York in 1863, where he has since resided. He studied at the National Academy of Design, and also at the Cooper Institute, at the same time making designs for books and magazines.
But it was not until 1872, when "Picturesque America" was published by D. Appleton & Co., that this able artist began to devote himself almost exclusively to illustrating. He visited almost every State in the Union, making special sketches for the publication, and, at its completion, was sent abroad by the same firm to make drawings for " Picturesque Europe," and afterwards he went to the East, travelling and sketching for " Picturesque Palestine, Sinai, and Egypt." Since the last publication of that series, Mr. Woodward has been devoting himself to landscape painting, principally; occasionally, however, making drawings for fine art works.
The splendor falls on castle wall; Drawn by Woodward.
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The first two illustrations in this article were made for Tennyson's " Bugle Song," and we are able to grasp immediately the spirit of the poem, so vividly has the artist portrayed its meaning. How the high cliffs stand out in the clear, cool, air; indeed, the atmosphere in Mr. Woodward's pictures is a strong point and a great charm, bringing out as it does every object free and strong, and appealing most acutely to our senses. One can almost hear the echoes, —
■'^''■'"'T' r '>'""
III fl
" O, love, they die in yon rich sky." Drawn by Woodward.
Oh hark, oh hear ! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going ! Oh sweet and far from cliff and scar,
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing. Blow, let ns hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying."
THE DESOLATE CREEK.
DRAWN BY J. D. WOODWARD.
AMERICAN ART
629
The Dying Swan. Drawn nv Woodward.
And here we have the Dying Swan, picture.
but the poem will best show us the beauties of this
I.
"The plain was grassy, wild and bare, Wide, wild, and open to the air. Which had built up everywhere An under-roof of doleful grey. With an inner voice the river ran, Adown it floated a dying swan,
And loudly did lament. It was the middle of the day ; Ever the weary wind went on.
And took the reed-tops as it went.
II.
Some blue peaks in the distance rose And white against the cold white sky, Shone out their crowning snows.
One willow over the river wept, And shook the wave as the wind did sigh ;
Above in the wind was the swallow, Chasing itself at its own wild will, And far thro' the marish green and still
The tangled water courses slept,
Shot over with purple and green and yellow.
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III.
The wild swan's death hymn took the soul Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow ; at first to the ear
The warble was low and full and clear ; And floating about the under-sky, Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole
Sometimes afar and sometimes anear ;
But anon the awful jubilant voice, With music strange and manifold, Flow'd forth as a carol free and bold;
As when a mighty people rejoice With shawms and with cymbals arKl harps of gold And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'd, Thro' the open gates of the city afar, To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star. And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds, And the willow branches hoar and dank, And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds, And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank, And the silvery marish flower that throng The desolate creeks and pools among, Were flooded over with eddying song.
' I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers."
Drawn by Woodward.
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631
Two admirable and well-contrasted drawings are these which show succeeding phases in the life of a ship. In the first we have the prosaic side, — a grimy, noisy, smoky wharf where the vessel lies while her cargo is being stowed aboard ; the second displays the poetry of her existence, — the breezy mouth of the harbor, with the ship about to cast off all ties which link her to the shore, and stand out for the open sea. Now you can almost hear the crew sing, as they " sheet home " the sails to the encouraging accompaniment of some sailor ditty, " Fare you well, I 'm bound away," or the like. An English poet has put the spirit of the scene into these lines : —
The City Wharves. Drawn by Woodward.
" Fare you well, sweethearts ! Heave O, cheerly, men ! Shore gambarado and sport ! The good ship all ready, Each dog-vane is steady, The wind blowing dead out of port. Heave O !
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" Once in blue water — Heave 0, cheerly, men ! Blow it from North or from South ; She '11 stand to it tightly, And curtsy politely. And carry a bone in her mouth, Heave O !
" Short cruise or long cruise — Heave O, cheerly, men ! Jolly Jack Tar thinks it one, No latitude dreads he Of White, Black, or Red Sea, Great icebergs, or tropical sun,
Heave O ! "
Outward Bound. Drawn by Woodward.
What a wonderful life the air seems to have ! One can almost feel the fresh, cool wind, that fills the ship's sails, and carries it bounding over the sea.
Mr. Woodward is a regular exhibitor at the National Academy of Design, where his works are always well received, and hung to advantage.
In 1882, he revisited Europe, where he remained about two years, studying art in England and France. His home, however, as before stated, is in New York City, where he has acquired a brilliant reputation as a thorough artist.
-*p^asi%S7>~-r*r*s$
THE DELAWARE WATER GAP.
DRAWN BY J. D. WOODWARD.
AMERICAN ART
635
It is a charming picture of an old English church which the artist has given us in this illustration. How peacefully the river glides along beneath the stone arches of the bridge, waving the reeds in rhythmic motion as it flows past the churchyard wall ! The sun is setting, and a last gleam lights up the white headstones that cluster about the gray tower of the ancient house of God, while the rooks circle around its ivy-covered top.
A fitting embellishment to such words as these from Gray's immortal "Elegy": —
The Village Church. Drawn by Woodward.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade.
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep."
Or to Tennyson's lines where he speaks of the —
' Graves grass-green beside a gray church tower, VVash'd with still rains and daisy-blossomed. "
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AMERICAN ART
Another very pleasing landscape due to the talent of Mr. Woodward is A Glimpse of the River:
" A glimpse of .the river ! it glimmers
Through the stems of the beeches ; Through the screen of the willows it shimmers
In long winding reaches, Flowing so softly that scarcely
It seems to be flowing : Bat the reeds ot the low little islands
Are bent to its going;
A Glimpse of the River. Drawn by Woodward.
And soft as the breath of a sleeper
Its heaving and sighing In the coves where the fleets of the lilies
At anchor are lying : It looks as if fallen asleep
In the lap of the meadows, and smiling Like a child in the grass, dreaming deep
Of the flowers and their golden beguiling. :
AMERICAN ART
637
The drawing entitled The Shining Sea also deserves high praise for its effective arrangement of light and shade. It would be a happy adjunct to Mrs. Craik's beautiful verses entitled " At the Seaside," which we will venture to quote entire: —
" Oh solitary, shining sea, That ripples in the sun ! Oh gray and melancholy sea, O'er which the shadows run !
" Oh many-voiced and angry sea,
Breaking with moan and strain ! — I, like a humble, chastened child, Come back to thee again,
The Shining Sea. Dkawn by Woodward.
And build child-castles, and dig moats
Upon the quiet sands, And twist the cliff-convolvulus
Once more round idle hands,
" And look across that ocean line. As o'er Life's summer sea, Where many a hope went sailing once. Full set, with canvas free.
: Strange, strange, to think how some of them
Their silver sails have furled ; And some have whitely glided down Into the under world.
: And some, dismasted, tossed, and torn.
Put back in port once more, Thankful to ride, with freight still safe, At anchor near the shore.
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" Strange it is to lie at ease
As now, with thoughts that fly More light and wandering than seabirds Between the waves and sky,
" To play child's play with shells and weeds, And view the ocean grand Sunk to one wave that may submerge A baby house of sand, —
" And not once look, or look by chance. With old dreams quite supprest, Across that mystic wild sea-world Of infinite unrest.
'• Oh ever-solitary sea !
Of which we all have found Somewhat to dream or say, the type Of things without a bound, —
'" Love long as life and strong as death Faith, humble as sublime ; Eternity, whose large depths hold The wrecks of this small Time, —
" Unchanging, everlasting sea ! To spirits soothed and calm Thy restless moan of other years Becomes an endless psalm."
Readers of late issues of the "Century" cannot have failed to notice Mr. Woodward's excellent illustrations to some recent articles upon the Holy Land, which depict many of the places made so familiar to us by their association with the deeds and words of Our Lord. There is Bethany, Jericho, Jerusalem, the river Jordan, the Sea of Galilee, and the Garden of Gethsemane, all drawn with an admirable blending of force and delicacy. One may be pardoned for envying such an artist as Mr. Woodward, not only for his gifts as an illustrator, but for the opportunities of travel which he has enjoyed. It seems a delightful task — that of journeying over many lands in search of the picturesque, not alone on our own soil but in the countries of Europe and of Asia. To drink in the beauties of Nature abroad and at home, and appreciate them with the keen perceptions of the artist-soul, and then — on the spot, and while one's first impressions are fresh and vivid ^— to record them in speaking lines which are destined to be reproduced for the pleasure and profit of thousands, must be a congenial task, and one fraught with many charms. Yet we should err if we left this subject with an idea that such work is easy. Read what the eminent art-writer Hamerton says on painting from Nature, and we shall see some of the difficulties to be overcome, and what are some of the demands made upon the artist. The critic is speaking of painting mountains :
"The form of a mountain under changing light is the most unstable thing in the world, except that of a sea wave. The perception of mountain form is entirely dependent on effect. A great rough boss on the side of a mountain is its principal feature one minute, and the next you cannot find it, — seek as you will, you cannot find it any more than if the thing had been fairly chiselled away by the hand of a mighty sculptor. Rocks alter in apparent shape as the light changes. A wreath of mist creeps stealthily, and shows you a chasm you never suspected yesterday; a sunbeam falls, and a great crag leaps out to bask in it like an eagle from the copse, and, after a certain practical apprenticeship, the student at last discovers that the only truth of landscape painting is temporary, and that real form belongs to sculpture alone. . . . Painters who are not much accustomed to paint mountains from Nature are invariably defeated by the subtlety of the natural lines ; the extreme refine- ment of form, so different from the vulgar exaggerations of many popular artists; the infinity of detail ; and the impenetrable mystery which veils it all as with enchantment. Add to these difficulties the tremendous one of Nature's changefulness. Every day she offers some new effect to the student, some days she offers two or three hundred, any one of which, in its glorious and august presence, seems to him more noble and more worthy to be painted than the one he has already selected. The temptations of the new effects are to beginners quite irresistible. They alter their work to suit some effect seen more recently, and so ruin it. As for the recent effect being grander than the one first chosen, it is generally a mere delusion, for the comparison instituted by the painter cannot really be betivecn the two effects, as they
AMERICAN ART 639
occurred in Nature, but between his strong and vivid recollection of the effect of to-day, and his worn-out impression of the effect he saw a fortnight ago ; and no wonder, if, after a comparison of this kind, the most recent effect should appear the more noble and beautiful. An experienced workman makes his choice of effect carefully, but once chosen he abides by it, and relies upon it, nor can all the enchantments of subsequent splendor turn him one instant from his purpose. A good way to guard oneself against this besetting temptation of recent effects is, to make memoranda of them all as they occur, even though it may interrupt the progress of the picture. These memoranda will always be valuable, and they serve to allay the instinc- tive desire to represent everything that moves and excites us.
" The impenetrable mystery of Nature is a great cause of defeat to young artists, who, even when they have skill enough to draw firmly and accurately, can so rarely attain that wonder- ful evanescence of execution which represents just so much of objects as we see of them in Nature, and no more. No object is ever well drawn that is completely drawn, nor can any picture ever have the look of reality, in which details, however numerous, are all brought out with perfect definition. It does not signify how much work there may be in a picture; where every detail is thoroughly defined, it will always look poor ; and a rapid sketch by a real artist, if only mysterious enough, will have more power over the mind, and recall more mightily the infinity of Nature, than any quantity of perfectly definite labor. Now the diffi- culty of rendering the mystery of Nature is intimately associated with the other difficulty occasioned by her changefulness. She generally defines something; some fragment of the out- line of an object comes out clearly for a moment, whilst a great part of the same outline lies in various degrees of semi-definition, and the rest of it is untraceable altogether. This for perhaps two seconds, but the third second the very part of the outline which was untrace- able may have become the clearest and most definite, the part that was definite at first being now vague, or perhaps entirely invisible. Such changes occur incessantly in every detail of a great mountain's front, even in the serenest weather. Any attempt to paint such a detail by mere ocular copyism must therefore be futile, for a touch cannot be laid before it will become falsified by these minute changes; changes by ordinary eyes unnoticed and uncared for, but which cannot long be ignored by any practical student.
" To illustrate this, let us take a single instance of no extraordinary difficulty. The painter wants a faithful picture of Ben Cruachan. So he plants his easel as near to the mountain as he can get it, if he wishes to see it at all, which of course must be a few miles off. He sits down conscientiously to paint a portrait of Ben Cruachan from nature.
"The first day is the 10th of July. A good, plain, daylight effect is on the hill — not a difficult evanescent effect, but such plain daylight as an unimaginative copyist likes best.
"The picture cannot possibly be finished before the 10th of August.
" On the ioth of July, the water is a deep blue, the mountain a pale but rich olive-green, with a peculiar velvety texture, anything but easy to imitate.
" The next day the water is cold gray, almost white, and the mountain full of various new grays and deep purples, with an entirely new texture not at all velvety.
" Now the question is, whether the painter, in continuing to paint the effect of the ioth of July on the 11th, is painting from nature or from memory.
" He is painting from memory. It is self-deception on his part to fancy that he is painting from nature merely because he is working out of doors.
" And clay after day there is a new and brilliant effect, — inconceivably more brilliant in its imposing presence than the painter's fast-fading recollection of what he saw on the ioth of July. If he is determined to finish the picture from nature, in the sense of direct copyism of the hues before him, there are only two ways of doing it. Either he may paint from nature day by day, and so make his picture intensely unnatural, by mixing together a hun- dred incompatible and contradictory effects, or he may paint whenever the chosen effect shall recur, which may be five or six times in a twelvemonth.
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AMERICAN ART
" Mountains in Nature are full of exquisite and refined form, needing most masterly skill in drawing for even an approximate rendering, such skill as only three or four men now alive possess, — such skill as the rest of us may humbly labor for and aspire to. How shall we follow the lines of their innumerable streams, — how render the roundings of their infinitely various surfaces, the delicate moulding of the swelling forms between the streams, the pro- jections of the descending slopes, throwing all the sculpture of the great mountain front into intricate fore-shortening, full of difficult perspective? The very best of us can give but a sort of abstract of mountain. No man ever really drew a mountain front in its infinite fulness, and no man ever will draw one; for such work is beyond all human power. The most masterly mountain painting in the world is nothing but a well-selected abstract and abridgment, choosing the most expressive lines, but not rendering one line out of ten. And in those lines that we do render, how are we to approach the ineffable tenderness and subtlety of Nature?"
These thoughtful and incisive sentences have special appropriateness here, as Mr. Woodward has made many drawings of mountains, several of which are reproduced in some of the illustrations to this article.
<' $»' ":s"Wk£
ESTHER LYON
PHOTO-ETCHING
FROM AN ORIGINAL DRAWING
FREDERIC DIELMAN.
This portrait of Esther Lyon, showing her seated among the birch-trees as was her wont, is executed in Dielman's characteristic manner, and shows the depth of finish attainable in por- traits of this class.
How easily we can connect with the charmingly undisturbed expression of her face George Eliot's words in "Felix Holt, the Radical," where she says:~<-
" She had one of those exceptional organizations which are quick and sensitive without being in the least morbid ; she was alive to the finest shades of manner, to the nicest distinctions of tone and accent ; she had a little code of her own about scents and colors, textures and behavior, by which she secretly condemned or sanctioned all things and persons."
Study of a Head. Drawn ey Beckwith.
J. CARROLL BECKWITH.
Chapter Fifty-Third.
v
contributed tion of 1878
AMES CARROLL BECKWITH was born in J Hannibal, Missouri, in 1852, but his family- removing to Chicago, when he was a child, he grew up in that lacustrine city. After the great fire of 1871, he went to New York, and studied for a time at the schools of the National Academy of Design, but sailed for Europe in 1873, and became a pupil of Carolus Duran in Paris, also attending the evening drawing classes at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts and receiving there several honorable mentions for his work. The clever young Westerner was chosen by his master to assist him by tracing his designs upon canvas, laying in backgrounds and painting draperies, and, with his fellow-pupil, John S. Sargent, now famous as a portrait painter, was allowed to aid in the completion of a ceiling of the Luxembourg Palace, which Carolus Duran had been commissioned to deco- rate. In this, Beckwith drew one of the most important figures, that of Fame, who is shown as trumpeting the renown of Marie de Medicis; and Sargent painted his master's portrait in a corner of the composition. In 1876, Beckwith set up a studio of his own, and the next year, his first picture — a portrait of an old man — to the Salon. In the Paris Exposi- , he was represented by a portrait and his large picture of The Falconer. The same
James Carroll Beckwith.
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AMERICAN ART
Study of a Head. Drawn ey Beckwith.
year he returned to America, and settling in New York, was appointed one of the teachers at the Art Students" League. To the National Academy of 1879 he sent a Lady in Red; 1880 saw Under the Lilacs; 1S81, The Christian Martyr; 1882, Azalie ; 1886, Mother and Child ;
various portraits from his hand having hung on its walls in different years. He was elected an associate of the Academy in 1886; he is also a member of the Society of American Artists, to whose exhibitions he has contributed numerous paintings. His other works include a portrait of William M. Chase, Cordelia, Judith, The Model's Breakfast, Summer, and Vivian, the last named being the property of Mr. Thomas B. Clarke. Beckwith's pastels rank among the best of those produced in America, and he paints also in water colors. His work is distinguished by a breadth of style, and an unerring grace which is rarely met with outside of Continental schools. As may be seen by the specimens given herewith, Beckwith's drawings are re- markable for their freedom, ease, and vigor, and bear witness to his complete command over his materials.
The late Edward Strahan, in an article on Beckwith, which he contributed to the " Art Amateur " some years ago, speaks thus of his work in black and white : — "With the crayon, Beckwith simply luxuriates. His hand is inimitably supple, firm, and graceful in manipulating this implement. Whether sketching from an old master in a Venetian church, or picking up a graceful form or posture from the street, he draws with fine sweep and an unfailing sentiment of grace. It is not easy to understand what right he has to his mag- nificent hand, his sweeping touch at once broad and true, for there is nothing in his derivation or origin to make him a designer ' de race' To inherit such an implement one should be born in the shadow of the Parthenon and trained in the school of the Caracci, at least."
Beckwith, unlike many other American artists, appreciates the .full importance, not only of good drawing, but of making preliminary studies for a picture before beginning to place it on canvas. Too many young painters are impatient of the time and labor required by this work and their productions often suffer in consequence. All will agree that to-day the ablest school of art in the world is to be found in France, and in no other country is so much attention given to drawing. The great masters of old made numberless studies for their masterpieces, and the names of Raphael, Michael Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Diirer, and Holbein are those of men who thoroughly knew the value — one might say, in almost every case, the indispensa- bleness — of such preparatory work. Raphael made hundreds of sketches and drawings in pen, pencil, and crayon, sepia and bistre, which are now preserved in the galleries of Europe. Sir Thomas Lawrence, the celebrated English portrait painter, gathered a matchless collection of Raphael's designs,- one hundred and sixty in number, the greater part of which are now in the University Galleries at Oxford. Among the largest collections of drawings and studies by the old masters are those in the British Museum, the Louvre, the Uffizi at Florence, and the Albertina at Vienna, and there are many rich private collections, especially in England and France. The Duke of Devonshire possesses the " Liber Veritatis " of Claude Lorraine, which contains two hundred autograph drawings from his paintings; at Castle Howard are eighty-eight portraits in
THE FALCONER.
FROM A PAINTING BY JAMES CARROLL BECKWITH.
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black and white chalk of persons eminent at the court of France in the sixteenth century, by Francois Clouet; and in the Royal Library at Windsor are eighty-three similar portrait- drawings, by Holbein, including the likenesses of such famous historical personages as the ill-fated Queen Anne Boleyn, Sir Thomas More, Edward VI., and Sir Thomas VVyatt. These were lent by the Queen to the Exhibition of Portraits and Relics of the royal house of Tudor, which was held in London in 1890. The largest collection of drawings by the old masters in this country is that given to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in N-ew York, by Cornelius Vanderbilt and the late Cephas G. Thompson, the artist; but at Bowdoin College may be seen a quantity of interesting studies, many of which bear great names, which were bequeathed by the Hon. James Bowdoin in 181 1 ; and the Boston Museum of Fine Arts possesses a number of original drawings by Washington Allston, Copley, J. F. Millet, William Morris Hunt, and Dr. William Rimmer. Many of such drawings show the patient care which their makers gave to the correct delineation of anatomy
The Christian Martyr. Drawn by Beckwith, from his own painting.
and of drapery, while not a few have more freedom and spontaneity than can be perceived in the finished work for which they served as the preliminary steps. Haydon said, " There is always something in a sketch which you can never get when your feelings are quiescent," and in the first sketch for the great work of some master-hand, hastily but vigorously put upon paper while the glow of the first conception thrilled his soul, we see closer the man himself and the idea he was striving to convey. Again, many famous paintings of the past, having perished or disap- peared, are known only to us by the studies for them which still exist, or by copies. Such was Holbein's fresco of Henry VII., Elizabeth of York, Henry VIII., and Queen Jane Seymour, painted in 1537, in the Privy Chamber at Whitehall, and destroyed by fire in 1698, a large and most carefully finished cartoon of which, from the hand of the great portrait painter himself, is now in the possession of the Marquis of Hartington, and was by him lent to the Tudor exhi-
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bition of 1890. Studies are often possessed of special interest also, because they show the changes from the original design — not always improvements — made by the artist in the finished work.
Beckwith's picture of The Christian Martyr when exhibited at the Academy was accompanied in the catalogue by the following note, which will be of interest to our readers : —
" In the explorations made by the Italian savant, Boldetti, through the catacombs at Rome in the early part of the last century, a tomb was found, on the stones of which were carved the words,
' CYRIACAE DULCISSIMiE, DEPOSITEE, IN PACE, VIXIT ANNOS XX., IDIBUS MARTIIS.'
(The sweet Cyriacae, deposited here in peace at the age of twenty, died on the ides of March.) Following these words were chiselled the palm branch, — emblem of victory in martyrdom, — and above the ' P. X. ' for Christ, while at the left and right were the anchor and dove with the olive branch. Cyriacae is represented in the picture immediately after her death in the arena, when she is laid in the stone cell of the catacombs with freshly gathered palms in her hands, while the halo of immortality surrounds her head."
Paul Delaroche once painted a fine work having the same theme, and showing a lovely dead maiden floating on the darkening waters of the Tiber, whose nearer ripples are illuminated by a supernatural light which proceeds from the pure and halo-crowned face of the young martyr.
Turning to the artist's painting entitled The Falconer, some words as to the history of the partic- ular branch of hunting, of which this pictured youth is so handsome an exponent, may be allowable.
The sport of hawking is of great antiquity. It was practised in China 2000 B. C, and was a favorite pastime in Assyria, Egypt, Persia, Syria, India, Japan, Arabia, and Turkey. A certain sultan is said to have kept at one time six thousand falconers. Allusions to the practice of falconry in Europe are found in the works of Aristotle, Martial, and Pliny. It seems to have been introduced into England about the year 860, and is said to have been made the subject of a treatise by Alfred the Great. Edward the Confessor, when not studying, spent his time in hunting or hawking, and the latter art was carried to great perfection by the early Normans. To appear with a hawk, was to be seen as a gentleman. The various kinds of hawks apper- tained to different ranks, and the grade of the bearer was known by the bird he bore. In the reign of Edward III., the Bishop of Ely revenged himself upon a sacrilegious thief who had stolen his hawk, by solemnly excommunicating him. The clergy were great lovers of —
"The pomp and flutter of brave falconry, The bells, the jesses, the bright scarlet hood, • The flight and the pursuit o'er field and wood,"
and Chaucer said of them, —
" They ride coursers like knights, With hawks and with hounds."
One authority says: "Of all the country sports appertaining to the upper classes during the Middle Ages, hawking may be fairly considered as the most distinctively aristocratic. In the course of centuries it became a semi-science," accumulate^ a language of its own, and entailed great expense upon its devotees. A knowledge of hawking was essential to a gentleman's education, and he rarely appeared in public without his hawk upon his wrist. A satirist of the fifteenth century thus inveighs against those who brought their birds to church : —
" Into the church there comes another sot, Without devotion, strutting up and clown, For to be seen, and show his braided coat ; Upon his fist sits sparrow-hawk or falcon."
The gentler sex also were lovers of the sport. Dame Juliana Berners, who is said to be the earliest female writer in English, and who was celebrated for her beauty, spirit, and passion
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for field sports, published in i486 a " Treatise pertaining to hawking, hunting, and fishing with an angle," which is generally known as the " Book of St. Albans." In William Morris's poem of " The Sailing of the Sword," when the three knights were going away, each asked his ladylove what he should bring her on his return. One wished for a ruby, one for naught but her lover's safe return, and the third asked for a falcon.
" Sir Miles said, while the sails hung down, When the Sword went out to sea, ' Oh, Ursula ! while I see the town,
What shall I bring for thee ? ' ' Dear Knight, bring back a falcon brown ' : The Sword went out to sea-
" Sir Miles he bore a falcon brown,
When the Sword came back from sea j His arms went round Ursula's gown, —
' What joy, O love, but thee % Let us be wed in the good town, Now the Sword is back from sea 1 ' "
Study. Drawn by Beckwith.
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The heroine of Robert Browning's " Count Gismond " asks her husband, who comes as she finishes telling her friend the story of their love, —
" And have you brought my tercel back ? I was just telling Adela How many birds it struck since May."
Henry VIII. was once nearly smothered in a ditch which his ungainly bulk fell into when
following his bird; and "A Jewel for Gentrie," published in 1614, represents King James I.
in the costume of a falconer. Geffry Whitney's " Choice of Emblems and other Devises,"
Leyden, 1586, says apropos of the hawk's lure, which, when used as an emblem, typifies vain
hopes, —
" The eager hawk, with sudden sight of lure, Doth stoop, in hope to have her wished prey: So many men do stoop to sights unsure, And courteous speech doth keep them at the bay : Let such beware, lest friendly looks be like The lure, to -which the soaring hawk did strike! "
Betting upon hawks was common, and Heywood's curious play entitled, " A Woman killed with Kindness," 1617, contains a scene with gentlemen making wagers on their birds. John Aubrey in 1678 wrote, " In the last age, every gentlemanlike man kept a sparrow-hawk, and a priest kept a bobby (a very small kind of hawk), as Dame Julian Berners teaches us; it was also a diversion for young gentlewomen, to man sparrow-hawks and merlins." About the middle of the seventeenth century hawking began to decline in England, to revive some- what after the Restoration. The Merry Monarch kept hawks, as we see by the following advertisement which appeared in the "London Gazette" of 1667.
"A rare Ger Falcon of His Majesty, lost the 13th of August, who had one varvel of his keeper, Roger Higs, of Westminster, Gent. ■ Whosoever hath taken her up and give notice to Sir Allan Apsley, Master of His Majesties Hawks at St. James's, shall be rewarded for his paines. Back stairs in Whitehall."
The decline of falconry in England was owing to the improvement of guns for light fowling- pieces and the enclosing of waste lands and it did not recover, though it has never been even temporarily extinct and is successfully practised at the present day. The office of Grand Falconer of England is still in existence, being a hereditary one, and is held by the Duke of St. Albans, who draws from it nearly a thousand pounds per annum, though it has long been an absolute sinecure.
The falcon has often served the poet for a simile, and the painter for a subject. Shakspeare (whose crest, by the way, was a falcon holding a spear) makes Othello, when he first suspects Desdemona, say, —
" If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, I 'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune."
A "haggard" is a wild hawk and "jesses" are the short straps of leather tied about the foot of a hawk by which she is held on the fist. Falconers let fly the hawk against the wind; if she flies with or down the wind, she seldom returns.
In the " Taming of the Shrew " Petruchio likens Katharine to a hawk when, commenting upon the results of his discipline, he says, —
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" My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty, And, till she stoop, she must not be full gorg'd, For then she never looks upon her lure. Another way I have to man my haggard, To make her come, and know her keeper's call ; That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites, That bate, and beat, and will not be obedient."
Study. Drawn by Beckwith.
Shakspeare, who knew everything, was of course familiar with the language of falconry where to " man a haggard " means to tame a hawk, to " watch" or " wake " is one of the methods of taming by preventing sleep, and to "bate" is to flutter, In an old song book of the Elizabethan age, we find the following fanciful lines : —
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" A sparrow-hawk proud did hold in wicked jail Music's sweet chorister, the nightingale, To whom with sighs she said, ' Oh set me free ! And in my song, I '11 praise no bird but thee.' The hawk replied, ' I will not lose my diet, To let a thousand such enjoy their quiet.' "
Here is a Tartar song about a falcon, translated by Richard Henry Stoddard : —
" I am a white falcon, hurrah ! My home is the mountains so high ; But away o'er the land and the waters, Wherever I please, I can fly.
" I wander from city to city, I dart from the wave to the cloud ; And when I am dead, I shall slumber, With my own white wings for a shroud ! "
Browning sings, —
" Hark, the wind 's on the heath at its game ! Oh for a noble falcon-lanner To flap each broad wing like a banner, And turn with the wind, and dance like flame ! "
Both Longfellow and Tennyson have used Boccaccio's story of the " Falcon," the former in a poem, and the latter in a play.
Tennyson's hero apostrophizes his bird thus : —
" My princess of the cloud, my plumed purveyor, My far-eyed queen of the wind — thou that canst soar Beyond the morning lark, and howsoe'er Thy quarry wind and wheel, swoop down upon him Eagle-like, lightning like — strike, make his feathers Glance in mid heaven."
In the Museum at the Hague is a magnificent portrait by Holbein, of Robert Cheseman, falconer to Henry VIII., holding a hooded hawk on his hand; at Buckingham Palace there is a fine portrait of a falconer by Rubens; the gallery at Brunswick possesses an admirable portrait of a man with a hawk standing on his hand, by Frans Floris ; and many other painters, ancient and modern, have introduced this spirited bird into their pictures, among them Couture, who painted A Falconer; and the Russian artist Vereschaguine, who has depicted a Kirghiz Falconer, clad in an odd and cumbrous, but rich costume, lifting a splendid hawk on hand above his head.
A favorite subject of Fromentin's brush was the Arab Falconer, and of this he painted several slightly varying pictures, one of which is in the Powers Art Gallery at Rochester, N. Y. His splendid picture in the Luxembourg Gallery, entitled A Falcon Hunt in Algeria : the Quarry, is well known, not only from the admirably painted hunting-birds and their masters and attendants, but also because of the superb white horse which stands in the foreground and turns its beautiful head towards the eager falcons about to fasten on their