THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
MRS. LILY SPENCER.--Early Display of Talent.--Removal to New
York.--To Ohio.--Out-door Life.--Chase of a Deer.--Encounter
with the Hog.--Lifting a Log.--Sketch on her bedroom
Walls.--Encouragement.--Curiosity to see her Pictures.--Her
Studies.--Removal to Cincinnati.--Jealousy of Artists.--Lord
Morpeth.--Lily’s Marriage.--Return to New York.--Studies.--Her
Paintings.--Kitchen Scenes.--Success and Fame.--Her Home and
Studio.--Louisa Lander.--Inheritance of Talent.--Passion for
Art.--Development of Taste for Sculpture.--Abode in Rome.--Crawford’s
Pupil.--Her Productions.--“Virginia Dare.”--Other Sculptures.--Late
Works.--Mary Weston.--Childish Love of Beauty and Art.--Devices
to supply the Want of Facilities.--Studies.--Departure from
Home.--Is taken back.--Perseverance amid Difficulties.--Journey
to New York.--Sees an Artist work.--Finds Friends.--Visit to
Hartford.--Return to New York for Lessons.--Marriage.--Her
Paintings.--Miss Freeman.--Variously gifted.--Miss Dupré.--The Misses
Withers.--Mrs. Cheves.--Mrs. Hanna.
LILY M. SPENCER.
Mrs. Spencer’s high position among American artists is universally
recognized in the profession. In her peculiar style, her executive
talent is probably unsurpassed in the country. She has encountered many
difficulties in her path to success, and a glance at her history will
not be without encouragement to those who possess a portion of her
energy and perseverance.
Her parents, whose name is Martin, were born in France, but removed
to England soon after their marriage. They were persons of education,
refinement, and good social standing. Mr. Martin taught French in
academies in Plymouth and Exeter, and gave lectures at his own house on
scientific subjects, especially optics and chemistry. Mrs. Martin at
one time gave instruction in a ladies’ seminary in London. Lily owed
all her proficiency to her parents’ judicious training, and never went
to a school. Her talent for drawing began early to exhibit itself.
One day, when she was about five years old, she got at some diagrams
her father had prepared for a lecture on optics, and drew an eye so
correctly that her turn for art was at once perceived.
She was the eldest of four children, and was not six years of age when
her parents removed to New York, where Mr. Martin was induced, by Dr.
Hosack and others, to open an academy. Mr. John Van Buren was one of
his pupils. Lily’s drawings were much coveted by the little scholars,
who begged them from her, and gave in return the most flattering
expressions of admiration.
When between eight and nine, she was taken to the old Academy of
Design. There she selected the “Ecce Homo,” as a special subject for
imitation. The girl-pupils laughed at her taste, and Lily, abashed,
burst into tears. Mr. Dunlap, then a teacher, came and asked what was
the matter. When informed, he reproved the girls, and predicted that
the young stranger would be remembered when they were all forgotten.
Her power of copying whatever pleased her childish fancy increased,
though she did not then appreciate the necessity of a patient study
of the elementary principles of art. Her health was at this time so
delicate that her parents feared she would not live to reach maturity.
The desire to afford her the advantage of country air and exercise,
with the want of very attractive prospects for their enterprise in New
York, determined them to go to the West. They purchased a farm in Ohio,
a few miles from Marietta, where they soon had a picturesque Swiss
cottage, with a beautiful garden, and a mineral closet filled with the
presents of Mr. Martin’s former pupils.
Lily was enchanted with the change from a city life, and with the
liberty she enjoyed of roaming at will through woods and fields, for,
her health being the paramount object, no restraint was placed on the
child. Her time was passed in working in her garden, playing and racing
with other children, hunting for insects, shells, and minerals, often
wet up to the waist in the search, while her drawing was forgotten.
Thus constantly, like Rosa Bonheur, in the open air, she rapidly
regained strength and health. One day, when about thirteen years old,
she was walking in the woods with her father. A deer, frightened from
his covert, dashed by them to leap a fence. Lily wanted a pet, and
instantly ran after the animal. As he sprang over the fence she caught
his hind legs and clung to them, while her father’s dog throttled the
captive. Some men came up directly, and, seeing the girl with her face
covered with blood, killed the deer, notwithstanding her entreaties
that he might be spared.
On another occasion they were killing hogs at Mr. Martin’s place. A
powerful young porker fled foaming and champing from the slayers of his
brethren, and got over a fence into the orchard. Lily ran to stop his
flight, and the desperate animal made at her. She tried to get a stick
to defend herself, but her feet slipped on the apples that strewed
the ground, and she fell, in the very gripe of the hog. The maddened
creature might have injured her fatally, but her faithful dog sprang
upon him, and diverted his rage to another enemy. Lily saw his teeth
buried in the poor dog’s shoulder, and, resolved not to abandon her
deliverer, struck the hog a violent blow and ran; the foe, still held
by the dog, in swift pursuit. She was overtaken close to a drain, into
which the three combatants tumbled together. At this juncture the men
came running to the spot with three or four dogs, and rescued both her
and her preserver, that to the last would not relinquish his hold of
the porker. Lily’s first care was to pull into place the poor dog’s
dislocated shoulder.
An illustration of her impulsive nature, and readiness to give
assistance where it was needed, is an incident that occurred a few
months later. Six or seven men were burning logs in a field. She saw
them from the house making signals that they wanted one more hand to
lift a log. Seizing a crowbar, the young girl ran to the spot, placed
it under the log, and helped to raise it to the burning pile.
Her love of sketching soon began to revive. In her fourteenth year she
took a fancy to see the effect of a new style of costume which she
thought would be very becoming to herself. She drew a lady’s figure,
thus attired, with black crayons and coarse chalk, on the wall of her
bedroom. Pleased with her creation, it occurred to her that the lady
ought to be attended by admiring beaux, and she added the figures of
two gentlemen. The group was delineated one day when the other members
of her family were absent, and, fearing that her mother would be
displeased at her for daubing the walls, she hung her dresses over the
sketch, so as to screen it from observation.
The next day her young brothers were playing ball in her room, and
chanced to discover the group on the wall. Full of boyish mischief,
they decided that the richly-dressed lady would make a fine target,
and, in spite of their sister’s remonstrances, they commenced throwing
their balls at her. Lily, in great distress at the menaced destruction
of her work, complained to her mother; and instead of being reprimanded
for defacing the wall, was told to go on with her sketch, while the
boys were reproved, and forbidden to enter her room. Encouraged by the
praise she received, Lily worked on diligently. She drew a colonnade
behind her figures, then added other groups, representing persons
enjoying themselves at a place of fashionable amusement. The background
was a landscape of hill and valley, rock and sea. This picture being
much admired, she went on covering the walls of her room from floor
to ceiling with the creations of her romantic imagination. Columns
and statues, fountains and grottoes, appeared in her scenes of luxury
and magnificence; and her landscapes were as charming as the forms
with which she enlivened them. In every panel was a distinct picture.
All her leisure hours, after milking the cows and hoeing the corn,
were devoted to this amusement. It was true of her, as Halleck says
it was doubtful of his Wyoming maiden, that she worked in the field
“with Shakspeare’s volume in her bosom borne;” with Sismondi also, and
volumes of history from her father’s splendid library.
The farmers in the neighborhood, and the ladies and gentlemen of
Marietta, came to see the curious sketches, both on the walls and on
canvas, of which they had heard. Saturday afternoons were appointed
for the reception of visitors. The fame of Lily’s talents began to
spread rapidly, and she was mentioned with praise in several newspaper
notices. At her father’s persuasion she tried to study perspective and
anatomy, but it was more agreeable to her impetuous nature to sketch
from her own glowing fancy, than to pore over the dry bones and plates
of different parts of the human frame. In coloring, also, she would
trust to her intuitive perceptions rather than to a regular course of
study. Her father procured her muslin for her experiments, and, after
covering many yards, she became fully aware of her own deficiencies,
which she resolved to conquer. Her unwillingness to be taught arose
from the self-reliance of an independent character, and not from an
inflated idea of her own acquirements.
Her parents became more and more solicitous to give her all the
advantages they could procure; and a letter from a wealthy gentleman
of Cincinnati, describing the opportunities that would be offered for
studying in that city, determined them to leave the farm and remove
thither.
Miss Martin’s pictures were exhibited in Cincinnati, and attracted the
attention of connoisseurs. They were large, as her figures of life
size best enlisted her own sympathies. Her battle with the world now
commenced in earnest. The jealousy of rival artists was awakened by the
certainty that a rising genius had come among them. Flippant critics
pleased others and their own vanity by decrying her productions. But
she continued to paint, and sometimes had good fortune in disposing
of her pictures, practicing her art with undiminished industry and
enthusiasm, even while discouraged by the want of patronage.
On one occasion she was in company with Lord Morpeth. Addressing him as
“Mr. Morpeth,” she was reminded apart by her father that she ought to
say “my lord.” “No, indeed,” replied the young lady; “I never saw a man
I would call ‘my lord’ yet.”
Miss Martin was married in Cincinnati to Mr. Spencer. When surrounded
by the cares of a young family she continued to paint, but her style
changed. At first her pictures had been poetical and semi-allegorical.
She liked to embody some suggestive idea, or a whole history, in a
group, as in several of her scenes from Shakspeare. Her “Water Sprite,”
representing the escape of Spring from Winter, is of this class. After
she became a mother, her taste was more for bits of domestic life,
and she found matter-of-fact pictures more salable than her cherished
ideals.
After living some seven years in Cincinnati, Mrs. Spencer returned with
her family to New York, stopping a year in Columbus, Ohio, where she
painted portraits and fancy-pieces. In New York she visited the Academy
for the purpose of improving herself by drawing after the antique,
often going in the evening, as her labors and cares absorbed her during
the day, and sitting among the male art-students. One, who noticed the
quiet, modest-looking girl at work, undertook to point out the best
models, but soon discovered he was trying to teach his superior. She
was made a member of the Academy. Her “May Queen” and “Choose Between”
were much praised in the Art Union Exhibition. “The Jolly Washerwoman,”
sold by that institution, became celebrated. It was painted impromptu
from a scene in the artist’s own kitchen. A connoisseur was so much
pleased with one of her pictures that he insisted on paying more than
was asked for it.
“The Flower Girl” and “Domestic Felicity,” exhibited in Philadelphia,
elicited general admiration, and proved Mrs. Spencer’s possession of
the highest order of talent. A connoisseur remarked that the latter
picture excelled any other production that had appeared in the gallery
since its first opening. Its vigor and freshness were as remarkable as
its rich and harmonious coloring, while the drawing and composition
were pronounced admirable. It represented a mother and father bending
over their sleeping children, and several artists observed that they
knew of no one who could surpass the painting of the mother’s hand.
The managers of the Art Union in Philadelphia were so delighted with
this picture that a few of their number privately subscribed to
purchase it, the rules not allowing directors to expend the funds
except for paintings selected by the prizeholders. It was afterward
sold to an association in the West. The Western Art Union purchased
several of Mrs. Spencer’s works, and had one engraved for their annual
presentation plate.
Mrs. Spencer found her kitchen scenes so popular that she adopted
that comic, familiar style in many of her paintings. “Shake Hands?”
represents a girl making pastry, and holding out her floured hand with
a humorous smile. This manner the artist has been obliged to adhere
to on account of the ready sale of such pictures, while the subjects
that better pleased her own taste have been neglected. Yet she has
contrived to introduce a moral into every one of her comic pieces.
“The Contrast” embodies a touching story. It is in two pictures: one
showing a pampered, petulant little dog, barking at some intruder from
his velvet cushion surrounded by silken draperies; the other, a meagre,
skin-and-bone animal, creeping through the pitiless snow-storm in
search of food for its young ones. Mrs. Spencer excels in her pictures
of different animals.
Some time ago Mrs. Spencer made a series of original designs--twenty
or thirty--illustrative of scenes in the volumes of “The Women of the
American Revolution.” All these have not yet been published. Perhaps
more of her paintings have been engraved than of any American artist.
All are of her own composition, and most of them are domestic scenes.
One called “Pattycake” shows a young mother, with her baby on her lap,
teaching it to clap its hands; another, “Both at Play,” represents a
father teasing his little girl by holding an air-balloon just out of
her reach. These are done in the highly-finished German style adopted
by Mrs. Spencer. She usually takes her own children for models.
“The Captive” exhibits a slave in market, her master lifting the veil
that concealed her charms. Its touching expression is admirable.
“Reading the Legend” shows a lovely lady listening to a reading within
view of a noble castle; but we do not like the taste of either the
costume or the attitude of the reader.
Mrs. Spencer encountered serious difficulties in New York before she
acquired the fame she now enjoys. In 1858 she purchased a lovely place
in a retired part of Newark, New Jersey, where she now resides with
her happy family. Her studio is at the foot of her garden, a large
building, with its walls covered by sketches, casts, etc., where the
artist labors assiduously. Visitors from distant cities come here to
see her paintings, and she usually has several in progress at the same
time. “The Gossips,” a large painting _de genre_, with ten figures of
women and children, has attracted much attention. The scene represents
the yard of a tenement-building, where women are engaged in washing,
preserving fruit, cooking, and other sorts of work. They have gathered
into a group to listen to some tale of scandal from a stranger, with a
basket of bread; and the children are getting into mischief the while.
A little boy has fallen into the bluing-tub of clothes, while a younger
girl is laughing violently at his mishap; a dog has laid hold of the
meat a boy has forgotten to look after, and a cat in the window is
skimming the pan of milk. The peaches in a basket in the foreground
look as if they might be picked out and eaten, so rich and fresh is
the coloring. The effect of light on one of the female figures is
exquisitely beautiful. The whole picture is highly finished, and its
merits are enough to make a reputation for any artist.
Mrs. Spencer’s pictures may be seen in many of the shops where works of
art are for sale, and the prints engraved from them are very numerous.
She has now a prospect of independence and success before her, and may
achieve triumphs greater than any she has yet accomplished.
LOUISA LANDER.
This young lady is a native of Salem, Massachusetts, and descended from
some of the oldest and most respected families of that good old town.
She is a daughter of Edward Lander and Eliza West, whose father was
claimed as a relative, while on a visit to London, by Sir Benjamin West.
Mrs. Lander’s maternal grandfather, Elias Haskel Derby, sent the first
American ship to India, giving the first impetus to our commerce with
that country. His were the first American vessels seen at the Cape of
Good Hope and the Isle of France. Captain Richard Derby, his father,
was noted in the Revolutionary struggle. He bought and presented to
the town of Salem the cannon which Colonel Leslie attempted to seize.
When he demanded the arms, at the head of his regiment, Captain
Derby’s reply was, “Find them, and take them if you can; they will
never be surrendered!” and his courage preserved the treasure. He was
instrumental, too, in inciting his fellow-townsmen to the exploit of
raising the drawbridge and sinking the boats--the first repulse of the
British in the commencement of hostilities.
Colonel F. W. Lander, the Pacific Railroad explorer, is the brother
of the subject of our sketch. In various branches of her family has
artistic talent shown itself. Her grandmother and her mother were
remarkable for their fondness for art, and gave evidence thereof
in works of their own. In the old family mansion, where Louisa’s
childhood was spent, are carvings upon the walls and over the lofty
doors, designed by her grandmother, and executed under her directions.
Similar designs, evincing both taste and skill, decorated the mahogany
furniture; and the canopies and coverings of the furniture were
embroidered by the lady, according to the fashion of the day, her own
fancy supplying the beautiful designs. It can hardly be said when
commenced the artist-life of the young girl brought up under such
influences. She was, as a child, singularly grave and thoughtful;
serious and reserved at all times, and decided in her judgment, which
was always according to the dictates of sound sense. A love of art,
which might be called an ardent passion, possessed her nature from her
earliest years. On one occasion--the first time she had an opportunity
of seeing a work of real merit--she stood quiet and absorbed in
admiration. Her sister, who had been pointing out the peculiar touches
of skill, turned to ask her opinion, and saw her face bathed in tears.
This was a surprising demonstration for a child who had been scarcely
ever known to exhibit emotion, and whose self-control was so uncommon
that her manner usually appeared cold. It seems as if art alone could
arouse the full ardor and energy of her spirit.
When a very little child, at different times, she modeled two heads
for broken dolls. One was made of light sealing-wax, and the modeling
of both was so wonderfully accurate that her mother would not allow
the child to play with them, but kept them as curiosities. On another
occasion Louisa brought one of her drawings from school, so admirably
executed, especially in the face, that her relatives thought the touch
a happy accident, and were inclined to disbelieve her assertions that
she had meant to produce the very effect given to her picture.
After her talent for sculpture had been fairly developed, she resolved
on the devotion of her life to that branch of art. Her intense
perception and enjoyment of the beautiful, awakened a thirst within her
which could only be slaked at the fountain-head; and, driven forth, as
it were, by this longing, she left her happy home in Salem--her circle
of beloved relatives and congenial friends--to go among untried scenes,
fixing her abode in Rome. There she speedily acquired a reputation
which drew around her friends interested in the progress and triumph of
genius. She was a pupil of the lamented Crawford--the only one he ever
consented to admit into his studio, for he had discerned in her early
efforts the promise of future eminence. She evinced, from the first, a
remarkable power in portraits, catching the most delicate and subtle
shades of likeness. One of her productions is a bust of Governor Gore,
executed from two oil portraits; a difficult piece of work, as the
portraits were not alike, having been taken at different periods of his
life. The bust was pronounced an excellent likeness by Chief Justice
Shaw and others who remember the governor. Miss Lander finished it in
marble for the Harvard Library. It is to be placed in Gore Hall, in
Cambridge.
This talent for likenesses is observable in the first efforts of Miss
Lander. When very young, before she had attempted modeling, she carved
from an old alabaster clock, with a penknife, several heads and faces
in bas-relief. These were noticed by a friend, who gave her a bit of
shell and some gravers, and at once, without the least instruction, she
carved a head in cameo. Likenesses of her mother and other friends were
made, and pronounced very striking. Her first modeling was a bas-relief
portrait of her father; it was followed by a bust of her brother, the
late chief-justice of Washington Territory.
Her work “To-day,” was seen in ambrotype, on her arrival in Rome, by
Crawford, and his admiration of it perhaps induced him to receive her
as his pupil. The figure is an emblem of our youthful country. The
head is crowned with a chaplet of morning glories; the drapery is the
American flag, fastened at the breast and the shoulder with the stars.
Its look forward typifies progress in so spirited a manner that, at
first sight, one might be startled by the apparent movement of life. A
flower falling from the hair on the neck behind, adds to this effect of
motion. Power and spirit are prominent characteristics of the work.
This, with her “Galatea,” a figure full of grace and tenderness, was
modeled before Miss Lander went to Italy. She had also finished a fine
bust of her father, a perfect likeness, and exquisitely chiseled in
marble.
After Miss Lander went to Rome, she executed many portrait busts, among
them a fine one of Hawthorne, and a bas-relief of Mountford. A letter
from Rome described, as seen in her studio, “A charming statuette
of Virginia Dare,” about three feet in height. This child was the
granddaughter of John White, governor of the Colony of Virginia at the
period of one of the early disastrous expeditions of Sir Walter Raleigh.
“About the month of August, in 1587, Mrs. Dare, daughter of the
governor, was delivered of a daughter in Roanoke, who was baptized the
next Lord’s-day by the name of Virginia, being the first English child
born in the country. Before the close of August, the governor, at the
earnest solicitation of the whole colony, sailed for England to procure
supplies. An unfortunate turn of affairs at home prevented another
expedition from reaching Virginia until 1590, when, upon arrival, it
was found that the houses of the former settlers were demolished,
though still surrounded by a palisade, and a great part of the stores
was discovered buried in the ground; but no trace was ever found of
the unfortunate colony. Bancroft says that, when the governor sailed
for England, he left the infant and her mother as hostages, and it is
presumed that they were carried into captivity by the Indians, as,
after this, European features could be traced in the Indian lineaments.
“Miss Lander represents her Virginia as brought up an Indian princess,
displaying in her erect attitude and beautiful form the fearless
dignity and grace that such a life would impart. The head and face
are very fine, exhibiting the thoughtfulness and spirituality that
would naturally be derived from the dreamy recollections of her early
life. The figure is semi-nude; the drapery, a light fishing-net, is
charmingly conceived and executed, being worn like an Indian blanket;
and the ornaments are wampum beads. This design, possessing the charm
of novelty and historic interest, shows that we have in our own country
rich subjects of sculpture, without resorting to the old heathen
mythology.”
Miss Lander afterward made a life-size statue of Virginia in marble.
Her reclining statue of “Evangeline” forms a fine contrast to this;
“the one full of force and energy, all life and motion; the other so
still and tranquil in her sweet, profound slumber. She is represented
at the moment when, worn out with her wanderings, she sleeps under the
cedar-tree by the river-side,
“‘For this poor soul had wandered,
Bleeding and barefooted, over the shards and thorns of existence.’
Her deep repose is not so much slumbering as like one in a trance. In
the marble this is shown exactly by her attitude, as though she had
dropped from utter weariness; her drapery hangs heavily about her,
and still more heavily falls her hand; the whole figure is expressive
of deep rest--almost painful it would be but for the beautiful face,
lighted up by ‘the thought in her heart’ that her lover is near, and
that
“‘Through those shadowy aisles Gabriel had wandered before her,
Every stroke of the oar now brings him nearer and nearer
(Now she slept beneath the cedar-tree).
Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumber’d beneath it;
Fill’d was her heart with love, and the dawn of an opening heaven
Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions celestial.’
Very beautiful she is; and, as I gazed upon her, I seemed to hear
the dash of Gabriel’s oar, as he glided along behind ‘a screen of
palmettos,’ unseeing and unseen, and was ready to exclaim,
“‘Angel of God, is there none to awaken the maiden?’”
Another work by Miss Lander is “Elizabeth, the Exile of Siberia,”
a spirited yet feminine figure, “very pretty in its picturesque
costume--the short cloak, Russian boots, and closely-fitting cap.”
This gifted young artist has finished a statuette of “Undine.” It is a
drooping figure, with expression full of sadness, just rising from the
fountain to visit earth for the last time. The base of the fountain is
surrounded by shells forming water-jets; Undine is in the central one,
and the drapery falls from her hand into water as it drops. She has
also finished a “Ceres Mourning for Proserpine.” The goddess is leaning
upon a sheaf of wheat; her hands and head are drooping, as if she were
planning her daughter’s escape. “A Sylph,” just alighted--an airy,
floating figure, her puzzled attention fixed on a butterfly--is another
of Miss Lander’s creations.
MARY WESTON.
The history of this lady illustrates the development, amid unfavorable
circumstances, of that self-reliant energy which often forms a
marked characteristic of the natives of New England. The spirit of
independence, when joined, as in her case, to feminine gentleness and
grace, is ennobling to any woman, and its working is both interesting
and instructive.
Mary Pillsbury was born in Hebron, New Hampshire. Her father was a
Baptist clergyman, holding the strictest tenets of Calvinism. In
her humble home among the mountains, though surrounded by nature’s
wild beauty, the child found nothing to suggest to her an idea of
what art could accomplish. Nevertheless, she saw objects with an
artistic perception, and loved especially to study faces. When taken
to church, she would sit gazing at those around her, and wishing
that in some way--of which as yet she had no conception--she could
copy their features. One day, when between seven and eight, she
noticed a beautiful woman, and, returning home, went quietly to
her father’s study--creeping in, as it was locked, through two
panes of a window, to which she climbed by a chair on the bed--in
search of a slate and pencil. With this she began to make a sketch
of the face that had charmed her. She made the oval outline, but
could not give the expression about the mouth and eyes. With a keen
sense of disappointment she relinquished the hopeless task. But the
artist-passion was awakened within her.
She loved to read books relating to artists better than any thing else,
though fond of study in general, and her partiality for sketching
was indulged whenever she had opportunity. Having observed the work
of a profile-cutter who chanced to come into the neighborhood, she
persevered in attempts at portraits, and practiced cutting them out of
leaves and paper. She had a beautiful young sister, and often prevailed
on her to sit, improving day by day in her untutored efforts, till at
last she was able, by the eye, to take a correct likeness.
Her next achievement was copying the figures and decorations of Indian
chiefs, who not unfrequently came into the little village. A servant
girl, fifteen years old, who was employed in her father’s family, knew
how to sketch houses, and this knowledge was willingly imparted to
little Mary. Her pictures, though rude in design and execution, were in
great demand among her schoolfellows; but Mrs. Pillsbury thought the
study of painting would interfere with more important branches, and
that a thorough English education should first be acquired. The young
girl, however, could not be prevented from watching the drawing-lessons
of other scholars. She would practice at home; and so earnest was her
application that it was not long before she produced a drawing agreed
on all sides to be superior to the exercises of the regular pupils.
For the colors of her flowers Mary used beet-juice, extract of bean
leaves prepared by herself, etc., till the welcome present of a box of
paints made her independent of such contrivances. The romantic scenery
surrounding her home had now a new charm. Day after day she would
wander about the fields and woods, sketching, and indulging in visions
of an artistic life. When twelve years old, one day she accompanied her
parents to Sutton, in New Hampshire. A protracted meeting was held,
and her father was to preach. Paying little attention to the doctrines
promulgated, as formerly Mary occupied herself in scanning new faces in
the rural assemblage. Near the place of meeting was the colossal figure
of the Goddess of Liberty, richly arrayed, and painted in colors by a
Free-will Baptist preacher. She obtained a seat close to the window
during one of the services, and carefully studied what appeared to her
a perfect triumph of art. After she went home she produced a clever
sketch of it. From this time goddesses of liberty multiplied in her
hands, and became famous in the school and neighborhood. One of them
was actually put into a magazine. So creditable were they considered,
that a rather unscrupulous young girl of her acquaintance presented one
to her lover as her own work; and when he challenged her to produce
another, she came to persuade Mary to make it for her.
Caring little for the sports and pleasures of her age, it was Mary’s
habit to shut herself up in her father’s study, and, seated upon the
shelves, to read over and over again the biographies of great men
and distinguished women. She kept in advance of all the school-girls
meanwhile, and improved in her drawing during the hours stolen from
her spinning-tasks and the duties involved in taking care of the other
children. She entered now on the reading of the standard and classical
works contained in her father’s library, and a new world seemed opening
before her. Ambitious longings and dreams broke on the monotony of her
lonely life. She resolved to become an artist like those persons of
whom she had read, and compel appreciation from the world. But the mode
of accomplishing her wishes perplexed her. She saw that it would be
necessary to leave home and try her fortune among strangers; but she
loved to picture the day when she would return, laden with honors and
a rich reward for her labors--when her family would be proud of her
success.
When about fourteen, she determined to take the first step toward the
goal she panted to reach. Secretly she quitted her home, taking with
her only a change of dress, and set out to walk through the forest
to Hopkinton, on the way to Concord, where she intended to take up
her abode temporarily, to earn a little money by her labor, and then
establish herself as an artist. She walked thirty miles that day, and
very late at night came to a small house in the country, at which she
stopped, requesting permission to warm and rest herself. The simple
people appeared surprised to see so young a girl traveling alone and
so far from home. They inquired into the particulars of her story with
curious interest, and earnestly pressed her to stay all night. She
consented, and supper was prepared for her, after which she went to
sleep, wearied with the day’s fatiguing journey.
On waking the next morning a strangely familiar voice struck her ear.
She dressed hastily, and went down into the parlor, where she found
her uncle, who had come that far in search of her. Both wept at the
unexpected meeting; but when she had recovered from her confusion, Mary
begged to be permitted to go on to Concord. This was decidedly refused,
and, reluctant and mortified at the failure of her romantic enterprise,
she was obliged to consent to be taken home.
She was received with tears and embraces by her family, and no word of
reproach, nor even a distant allusion to her disobedience, followed
her attempt to escape from the restraint of parental authority. The
family seemed to be sensible that she had been hardly dealt with; for
the dreams of youthful hope have significance, and nature’s bent should
not be too rudely thwarted. From this time more indulgence was shown to
her frequent neglect of work in which she felt no pleasure, and to her
devotion to books. She engaged in her studies more ardently than ever.
Mr. Pillsbury was not rich, and his daughter had the prospect of
being ultimately obliged to depend on her earnings for a subsistence.
It was her desire to enter as soon as possible on the life whose
hardships she expected to encounter and overcome. She wished to go
beyond the mountains, into the beautiful world on the other side. To
her imagination the soft and roseate tints reposing on those far-off
summits were emblematic of the delights in store for her. But her
parents opposed her wishes, and urged her to remain with them, for some
years at least.
She was about nineteen when, on a visit to Lynn, she saw a portrait
painted by a lady, which seized her attention amid a collection of
indifferent pictures. The longing to be a painter again possessed her
so strongly that she felt it an irresistible passion. Her first plan
was to accompany the lady to Washington and take lessons, but this
scheme was abandoned. About a year after this she went to Boston.
Passing a shop window, she saw a fine painting, that once more
enkindled the flame of artist ambition in her soul. Her determination
was formed. With the sanguine hopes of youth, she fancied that a year’s
preparation would enable her to paint professionally. She accordingly
devoted herself to the practice of her art with that view. Her friends
ridiculed the idea of her becoming an artist for a livelihood, and
predicted the failure of her scheme without powerful patronage.
But this kind of opposition no longer discouraged her, though she was
much hampered by the want of time. The winter was rapidly approaching,
and she felt that it should not pass without some advance in her
beloved studies. She now resolved to go to some place southward where
she could see an artist work, and to paint cheap pictures for her own
support, living plainly in the country till her lessons were completed.
It seemed that she must either do this or die.
Without consulting any one, with only twelve dollars in her possession,
she left Boston in the early morning train, leaving her trunk behind,
and taking only a basket with a few changes of clothes. The undertaking
was not without prayers for a blessing from the Providence who watches
over all human affairs. Her father needed all the aid she could give
him; he had suffered much, and sickness in his family had crippled his
narrow resources. The thought of all this, and what she might do were
she permitted to work out her own ideas, had tortured Mary and rendered
her desperate. In the ardor of her determination now, obstacles seemed
nothing; she was resolved to succeed.
An old man who occupied a seat opposite her in the car noticed her,
and asked many questions. When they stopped at Providence, his evident
curiosity annoyed and alarmed her so much that she ran with all her
speed to the boat bound for New York. On the way she talked with the
stewardess, and asked if she knew any respectable house in the city
where she could obtain board. The stewardess was ignorant of New York,
but inquired of the clerk, and he directed Miss Pillsbury to the house
of Professor Gouraud, a then famous dancing-master.
On repairing to this place she learned that the professor did not
receive boarders, but was recommended to look for a house in Canal
Street. Here it occurred to her to go to a milliner’s shop; she knew
there must be many girls there, respectable, though poor, and thought
that she might hear of a lodging through some of them. She received a
direction to the house of an old lady, whither she went. On being asked
for references, she frankly owned that she had none, and, as the best
explanation she could offer, related her story. The landlady had heard
through a pious friend in Boston--Mrs. Colby, a lady well known for
benevolence--of the strange girl who wanted to be a painter, and she
willingly received the wanderer.
The next day Miss Pillsbury found out that an artist lived in the
neighborhood, and went to him to see how oil-colors were used. She was
allowed to watch him while painting a portrait. Afterward she went to
Dechaux, who then kept a small store for colors; and, provided with the
implements of art, she went to work in earnest. The little grandson of
her landlady was her first subject, and she painted a good likeness of
him, which was taken in part payment for board. Even the artist was
surprised at her success, and prophesied that she would do well after a
year’s study.
After she had been a week in New York, her hostess advised Mary to
go to Hartford, Connecticut, and gave her a letter to the Rev. Henry
Jackson of that place. She went there, and was kindly received. While
there, she painted a little boy, and produced an astonishing likeness.
She had to prepare her own canvas, and grind her paints on a plate with
a case-knife. In about a week after her arrival in Hartford, Squire
Rider and his wife, of Willington, came on a visit to Mr. Jackson. They
were so much pleased with the pictures Mary had produced, that they
invited her to return home with them and paint the members of their
family at five dollars a head. She was to prepare the canvas, while
they would find paints.
Mrs. Colby, in the mean time, had written to Mr. Jackson, requesting
him to advance money on her account to Miss Pillsbury, should it be
necessary; but Mary had no need of more than she could earn. She
wrote to Boston for her trunk, and received it. Her parents, by this
time, had learned her whereabouts, and no longer opposed her wish for
independence.
She made portraits of all the Riders, and of thirty other persons in
Willington. Among her sitters were members of the family of Jonathan
Weston, Esq. Several persons raised a sum by subscription to pay for
the portrait of Miranda Vinton, the Burmese missionary. Miss Pillsbury
had many offers of a home, and invitations to spend her time in
different families, but she preferred living entirely for her art.
Returning to Hartford, she painted a few more portraits. Mr. Weston’s
daughter became her particular friend, and Mary was always warmly
welcomed by her in her father’s house.
The young lady’s uncle, Mr. Weston, of New York, came to pay his
brother a visit, and took a great interest in Mary’s paintings. He
urged her to come to New York, and improve herself by lessons and
study. After his departure, she became once more possessed by an
intense desire to revisit the city, and find some method of making more
rapid progress. She received a letter from the gentleman’s daughter,
inviting her to come at once to New York, where she could profit by the
instruction of experienced artists. The prospect was an alluring one,
but Miss Pillsbury felt that she could not afford to give herself the
luxury of such lessons. She said this in her reply to the letter of
invitation.
Shortly afterward another letter came from Miss Weston, urging her
coming more earnestly. Her father, she said, would procure her a
teacher, and would make arrangements for the winter. She was pressed to
make her home at his house; and, should she not be successful in her
undertaking, he pledged himself to see her safely back to her friends.
This tempting offer was accepted. During the winter Miss Pillsbury
devoted herself to copying paintings. Ere long she must have made the
discovery that another feeling, besides the wish to foster genius, had
led Mr. Weston to be so anxious for her presence. Suffice it to say
that in three months she became his wife, with the understanding that
she was to pursue the profession she had chosen without restraint.
For a few years Mrs. Weston exercised her skill in painting under
circumstances tending to distract her attention. She became the mother
of two children, and the care of them occupied most of her time.
Several of her copies have great merit. Her large picture of the “Angel
Gabriel and Infant Saviour,” from Murillo, is in the possession of Mr.
Henry Stebbins, who married the daughter of Mr. Weston. She made a very
fine copy of Titian’s “Bella Donna” and Guercino’s “Sibylla Samia.”
That of “Beatrice Cenci” has been pronounced an admirable copy. She
also painted a “Fornarina.”
One evening, at a watering-place, at the first ball Mrs. Weston
had ever attended, she was struck by the appearance of a lady who
passed her, leaning on her husband’s arm. The lovely features of this
stranger, her pure and brilliant complexion, her eyes beaming with
cheerful goodness, and an indefinable grace in all her movements,
impressed the artist as if she had seen a vision. Some years afterward
she met Mrs. Coventry Waddell, and recognized in her the charming
ideal who had been enshrined in her memory. Her portrait of this lady
belongs to Mr. George Vansandvoord, of Troy.
Mrs. Waddell’s appreciation of Mrs. Weston’s abilities, and her
friendship, proved a valuable aid to the sometimes discouraged artist.
Mrs. Weston’s flesh tints are especially natural and beautiful, and
she gives a high finish to her copies of paintings. Those from the old
masters, and others, have such wonderful fidelity that her achievements
in this line would alone suffice to make a reputation. “A Witch Scene,”
from Teniers, is admirable. One of her own compositions is “A Scene
from Lalla Rookh,” and she has painted both landscapes and portraits
from nature. She still resides in New York.
ANNA MARY FREEMAN (MADAME GOLDBECK).
has a high rank among miniature-painters in this country. She is the
daughter of an American painter, though she was born in Manchester,
England, where her parents resided for some years. She came to the
United States when very young, and early devoted herself to the
pursuits of art, from which she has for ten years derived her support.
She is gifted in various ways; she has written some excellent poetry
and stories, and is known as an accomplished elocutionist, having
given readings in New York and elsewhere with success. Her powers as a
painter, however, have been exercised most profitably.
Julia du Pré, a native of Charleston, South Carolina, was educated
at Mrs. Willard’s school in Troy, New York. On leaving the school,
she accompanied her mother and sister to Paris. Mrs. du Pré wished to
cultivate to the utmost her daughter’s talents for music and painting,
and gave her the advantage of the best foreign masters. They had been
three years in France when a sudden reverse deprived them of their
ample fortune; yet, with reduced means, they remained a year longer,
that Julia might devote herself to the study of painting in oil. On
their return to Charleston, Mrs. du Pré and her daughters opened a
school for young ladies, which was attended with success. The continual
occupation of teaching, however, deprived Julia of time and opportunity
for the severe study necessary to perfect herself in the art to which
she had wished to devote her life. Every hour of leisure she could
command was given to portrait-painting, and to making copies of admired
works. Many of these were executed with great skill, and drew praise
from Sully and other eminent critics. One of her best portraits is
that of Count Alfred de Vigny, who had been intimate with her family
during their residence in Paris. Miss du Pré also made a fine copy from
Parmegiano, of a Virgin and Child, and a Dido on the Funeral Pile, from
Giulio Romano. These, and other paintings, gained her considerable
repute as an artist. She married Henry Bonnetheau, a miniature-painter
of acknowledged merit, and continues to reside in Charleston. She spent
the summer of 1856 in Paris, for the sake of improving herself in
pastel-painting, and has lately finished some exquisite works in that
style. “The Love-letter,” in the possession of her brother-in-law, Dr.
Dickson of Philadelphia, “The Liaisons,” and “L’Espagnole” have been
highly praised among these.
Mrs. Bonnetheau’s gifts are crowned with the loveliest traits of
woman’s character. She is esteemed and beloved by a large circle of
friends in Charleston, among whom are some of the best educated men in
this country.
The Misses Withers, of Charleston, South Carolina, paint in oil and
water colors, and cut cameos with much ability and skill. They have
also modeled groups and figures with success, and are devoted to these
branches of art.
Mrs. Charlotte Cheves is an amateur artist who might have gained
celebrity had her life been given to the study of painting. She was
Miss M‘Cord, and was born in Columbia, South Carolina. She married Mr.
Langdon Cheves, and resides on his rice plantation nearly opposite
Savannah. She paints miniatures on ivory, some of them excellent
likenesses, and finished with great delicacy. She has also painted
pictures in oil, and excels in pastels and pencil-sketches. She is a
musician, too, and possesses a very fine voice.
Ellen Cooper, the youngest daughter of the celebrated Dr. Thomas
Cooper, was a native of Columbia, South Carolina. She had a fine taste
and much skill in painting and ornamental work, and was remarkable for
intellectual culture and knowledge of general literature. She lived
some years in Mobile with her sister, and there married Mr. James
Hanna, who took her to reside on his sugar plantation near Thibodeaux,
in Louisiana. She died in October, 1858. Her sister is one of the most
accomplished amateur artists in the Southern States.
About seven years ago a School of Design for Women was started by
Miss Hamilton, which, supported by voluntary contributions, met with
encouraging success. It has now been adopted by the trustees of the
Cooper Institute, and a sum is allowed annually for the support of
teachers. The attendance of pupils in 1859 has been double that of any
former year.
MARY ANN DOUGLAS, now Mrs. Johnson, is a native of Westfield,
Massachusetts, where she at present resides. She was married at
eighteen, and had been a wife four years before her artist-life
commenced. While a prisoner in her room, on account of sickness, she
amused herself by copying a landscape in oil-colors. The success of
this attempt opened to her a new source of activity and pleasure.
She devoted herself to the study of painting, and labored with such
earnestness and fidelity that her efforts were crowned with success
beyond her anticipations. Her attention was directed especially to
portraits. For the last four or five years she has worked in crayon
almost exclusively, and has found employment abundantly remunerative.
A visit to New London, Connecticut, was prolonged to nine months’
stay, so great was the popularity of her works in that place; and
during a trip into Central New York she painted many portraits in oil
at excellent prices. Her indefatigable patience in the execution of
details, the fidelity of her likenesses, and the delicate perfection of
finish in her pictures, are remarkable. In the relations of social life
Mrs. Johnson has shown herself amiable and self-sacrificing. She has
not an acquaintance who does not rejoice in the triumphs so worthily
won in spite of many discouragements.