Yet to Galveston she hastened. The strain, however, was more than she
could endure. From that time she gave up active work and made her
home in Glen Echo, a small village in Maryland. Here, enjoying the
companionship of a few faithful friends, she spent the remainder of her
life, passing away on April 12, 1912.
Miss Barton possessed one of the most remarkable collections of medals
and other decorations in existence. They were presented to her by
nearly every country on the globe. Many are set with rare jewels and
bear inscriptions. Among them is the Iron Cross of Germany, the highest
honor Germany can bestow, and one conferred only for deeds of great
personal bravery. A rare jewel, which Miss Barton always wore, was a
pansy cut from a single amethyst, presented to her by the Grand Duchess
of Baden in memory of their lifelong friendship.
Clara Barton ranks as one of the greatest heroines the world has known.
Her name is known and loved throughout Europe and America for unselfish
devotion to a great cause. Her services in foreign lands were offered
as freely as in her own country, for her creed was the brotherhood of
man.
[Illustration: HARRIET HOSMER]
HARRIET HOSMER
(1830-1908)
... "A sculptor wields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty." ...
—_Bryan_
Harriet Goodhue Hosmer was born in Watertown, Massachusetts, October 9,
1830. She was the youngest child of Hiram and Sarah Grant Hosmer. From
her father came her marked independence of character; from her mother,
her imagination and artistic tastes.
The latter died when Harriet was four years of age. Dr. Hosmer
determined to save his daughters from the insidious disease which had
carried away his two sons as well as his wife, and so instituted for
them a system of physical training, insisting upon out-of-door sports
and amusements. Notwithstanding all his efforts, however, the elder
daughter died, leaving Harriet as the sole surviving child.
Dr. Hosmer, grieved, but undismayed, renewed his endeavors to
strengthen Harriet's vigor and increase her powers of endurance.
Harriet took to this treatment very kindly, spending many joyous days
tramping through the woods with her dogs. All the while, she observed
keenly, acquiring a knowledge of plant and animal life, and storing up
impressions of the beautiful and harmonious in Nature.
Her home was situated on the Charles River. She had her own boathouse
and bathhouse. In summer she rowed and swam; in winter she skated. No
nook or corner of the country round was unknown to her; the steepest
hills, the wildest and most rugged regions, were her familiar haunts. A
madcap was Harriet, and the sober neighbors were often astonished and
even scandalized, by the undignified speed she made on her beautiful
horse.
This kind of life would always have satisfied her, and Harriet thought
it nothing short of an affliction when her father said she must go to
school. Was she not getting her education in riding about the country?
However, to school she went, in Boston, for several years.
But when she reached the age of fifteen, Dr. Hosmer became convinced
that Harriet would never thrive, mentally or physically, unless she
were left free to follow her own bent. And perhaps he never in his
life made a wiser decision.
So he sent the wild girl to the home school of Mrs. Charles Sedgwick
of Lenox. Here she had the benefits of cultured and elevating
surroundings, together with motherly care, and also of the out-of-door
life so dear to her heart and so necessary to her well-being.
Lenox, in the beautiful Berkshire Hills, was at that time a primitive
village, though it has since grown into a fashionable summer resort.
There, in Mrs. Sedgwick's refined and peaceful home, Harriet acquired
her real education from listening to the conversations of such men and
women as Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Frederika Bremer and
Fanny Kemble.
This stimulus was all Harriet needed to develop in her the idea of
doing some serious work in life. She began to give a great deal of time
to drawing, her study of nature and her splendid powers of observation
being of great assistance to her here.
Those were happy days for Harriet. She was the life of the household,
being always ready to deliver comic lectures, to dress up in odd
costumes, to give impromptu theatricals, or to say or do original
things. Mrs. Kemble, who occupied a villa near the Sedgwicks, often
entertained the school-girls by reading and reciting Shakespeare
to them. Harriet became devotedly attached to her, their friendship
lasting throughout their lives.
In 1849, Harriet left Lenox and returned to Watertown for the purpose
of beginning her life work, which she had decided should be that of
a sculptor. To work intelligently, it was necessary for her to know
anatomy thoroughly, but there was no college where she could prepare
herself in that study, for the subject was at that time reserved
strictly for men.
It happened that Harriet went to St. Louis to visit friends, and
that while she was there some lectures on anatomy were delivered by
Dr. J. N. McDowell, the head of the medical department of the State
University. The lectures were not open to women, but so great was
Harriet's desire to profit by them that Professor McDowell allowed her
to see his notes and examine the specimens by herself—a very radical
act on his part, since it was thought indelicate for a woman to study
this noble subject, even though the knowledge was to be used to create
the beautiful in art and, so, to elevate public thought.
Harriet studied hard, and was rewarded at the close of the term by
receiving her diploma with the class. This great concession had been
gained through the influence of Mr. Wayman Crow, the father of a
classmate of Harriet. Mr. Crow became her intimate friend and close
adviser, watching over her and guiding her affairs as long as he lived.
The coveted diploma secured, Miss Hosmer decided to travel before
returning home. She visited New Orleans and traversed almost the entire
length of the Mississippi River. While on a Mississippi steamboat,
some young men began to talk of their chances for reaching the top of
a certain bluff which they were then approaching. Miss Hosmer made a
wager that she could reach it before any of them. The race was made,
Miss Hosmer winning easily. The bluff, about five hundred feet in
height, was straightway named Mount Hosmer.
In 1852 appeared her first finished product. This was the bust of a
beautiful maiden just falling asleep, and was entitled _Hesper, the
Evening Star_.
About this time Miss Hosmer met the renowned actress, Charlotte
Cushman. Miss Cushman, seeing promise in the girl's work, urged her to
go to Rome and study. Dr. Hosmer approved of this suggestion, and soon
father and daughter sailed for Europe.
Upon their arrival in Rome, they called upon John Gibson, the most
noted English sculptor of the day, to whom they had letters of
introduction. After examining the photographs of _Hesper_, and talking
with Harriet, who always impressed strangers with a sense of her
ability and earnestness, Gibson consented to take her into his studio
as a pupil.
Overjoyed was she to be assigned to a small room formerly occupied by
Canova, of whom Gibson had been a pupil. Here she began the study of
ancient classical art, making copies of many masterpieces and selling
them without any trouble. When her first large order for a statue came
from her friend, Mr. Wayman Crow, Harriet felt that she was beginning
the world in earnest. When this order was soon afterward followed by
another for a statue to be placed in the Library at St. Louis, she knew
that her career as a sculptor was assured.
International fame came to her with a figure of _Puck_, copies of
which found their way into important public galleries and into private
collections on both continents.
When the State of Missouri decided to erect its first public monument,
she was requested to design a statue of Thomas H. Benton, to be cast in
bronze and placed in St. Louis.
A work attracting unusual attention was _Zenobia_, _Queen of Palmyra,
in Chains_. A replica of this now stands in the Metropolitan Museum,
of New York City. Miss Hosmer's whole soul was enlisted in her work
on this particular piece of sculpture. She spent days searching the
libraries for information upon the subject, information that should
stimulate her hand to express powerfully her conception of the great
queen—dignified, imposing, and courageous, despite her fallen
fortunes. This statue was exhibited in Rome, England and America.
Harriet Hosmer possessed a great faculty for inspiring warm and lasting
friendships. Among her intimate friends during her long residence in
Italy were the Brownings, Mrs. Jameson, Sir Frederick Leighton, and W.
W. Story. The charming group of artistic people living at that time in
Rome, most of them engaged in earnest work, occasionally took a holiday
in the form of a picnic or an excursion to the Campagna. In one of
her letters Mrs. Browning speaks of these excursions, which had been
instituted by Fanny Kemble and her sister, Adelaide Sartoris:
Certainly they gave us some exquisite hours on the Campagna with
certain of their friends. Their talk was almost too brilliant. I
should mention, too, Miss Hosmer (but she is better than a talker),
the young American sculptress who is a great pet of mine and
Robert's. She lives here all alone (at twenty-two), works from six
o'clock in the morning till night as a great artist must, and this
with an absence of pretension and simplicity of manners, which accord
rather with the childish dimples in her rosy cheeks, than with her
broad forehead and lofty aims.
Frances Power Cobbe wrote of her:
She was in those days the most bewitching sprite the world ever saw.
Never have I laughed so helplessly as at the infinite fun of that
bright Yankee girl. Even in later years when we perforce grew a little
graver, she needed only to begin one of her descriptive stories to
make us all young again.
During five happy years, Charlotte Cushman, Miss Hosmer and another
friend made their home together. In a letter to America, Harriet wrote:
"Miss Cushman is like a mother to me, and spoils me utterly."
In 1862, Miss Hosmer received the news of her father's death. Though
grieving sincerely, she worked but the more assiduously, to keep
herself free of selfish sorrow. By means of the moderate fortune left
her, she was able to take an apartment of her own, and establish a
studio which was considered the most beautiful in Rome.
Here she entertained noted people of the day, who came to visit her.
Usually, after a hard day's work, she would mount her horse and gallop
over the Campagna, returning refreshed at night and ready to dine with
her friends. Her animation and wit in discussion, her musical laughter,
her gaiety and lightness of spirits, astonished and charmed all who met
her.
Like most thinking women of the time, Harriet Hosmer abhorred slavery,
and did her part in the Abolition movement by making an inspiring
statue called _The African Sibyl_—the figure of a negro girl
prophesying the freedom of her race. Of this work, Tennyson said, "It
is the most poetic rendering in art of a great historical truth I have
ever seen."
One of her notable orders came from the beautiful Queen of Naples,
whose portrait she executed in marble. The Queen became a close friend
of Miss Hosmer, and her brother, King Ludwig II of Bavaria, frequently
visited the studio.
Miss Hosmer's last years were spent in England and America, with only
occasional visits to Rome. Death came to her in 1908, at the age of
seventy-eight, but to the end she remained an entertaining talker,
recalling with joy the many episodes of her busy, happy life and the
great people she had known.
[Illustration: LOUISA MAY ALCOTT]
LOUISA MAY ALCOTT
(1832-1888)
"God bless all good women! To their soft hands and pitying hearts we
must all come at last."
—_Oliver Wendell Holmes_
The following is said to be a description of Louisa May Alcott at the
age of fifteen, written by herself and published in her book called
_Little Women_. She is supposed to be _Jo_, and her three sisters were
the other _little women_.
Jo was very tall, thin and brown, and reminded one of a colt, for she
never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were very
much in the way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose, and sharp
grey eyes which appeared to see everything, and were by turns fierce
or funny or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty,
but it was usually bundled into a net to be out of her way. Round
shoulders had Jo, and big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her
clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly
shooting up into a woman and didn't like it.
Louisa May Alcott was born November 29th, 1832, in Germantown,
Pennsylvania. Her father was Amos Bronson Alcott, a remarkable man,
known as a philosopher and educator. His views of education differed
from those of most people of his time, though many of his ideas are
highly thought of to-day.
He became an important member of that circle of great men of Concord
known as Transcendentalists, and he counted Ralph Waldo Emerson and
Henry D. Thoreau among his closest friends.
Miss Alcott's mother was the daughter of Col. Joseph May of Boston and
the sister of the Rev. Samuel J. May, a noted anti-slavery leader. Mrs.
Alcott was a quiet, unassuming woman, intellectual in her tastes, and
accustomed from her childhood to the companionship of cultured people.
Although an excellent writer, both in prose and verse, her home and
her children were always her first thought. She herself never became
publicly known, but her influence may be traced in the lives and works
of her brilliant daughter and gifted husband. It is doubtful whether
either could have achieved success without her guidance and sympathy.
Thus Louisa came into the world blessed with a heritage of culture
and intellect. Her disposition was sunny and cheerful. Upon one
occasion, when scarcely able to speak so as to be understood, she
suddenly exclaimed at the breakfast table, "I lub everybody in dis
whole world!"—an utterance that gives the keynote to her character and
nature.
When she was about two years of age, her parents removed to Boston,
where Mr. Alcott opened a school. The journey was made by sea. Louisa
liked steam-travel so well that she undertook to investigate it
thoroughly. To the alarm of her parents, she disappeared, being found
after a search in the engine room, sublimely unconscious of soiled
clothes, and deeply interested in the machinery.
Her father believed in play as an important means of education, so
Louisa and her sister were encouraged in their games. Her doll was to
her a real, live baby, to be dressed and undressed regularly, punished
when naughty, praised and rewarded when good. She made hats and gowns
for it, pretended it was ill, put it to bed, and sent for the doctor,
just as any other normal little girl does.
The family cat also came in for its share of attention at the hands of
Louisa. No one was allowed to abuse or torment pussy, but the children
might "play baby" with her, and rock her to sleep; or they might play
that she was sick and that she died, and then attend her funeral.
All this sort of thing Mr. Alcott called "imitation," and at a time
when many good parents looked disapprovingly on children's sports, Mr.
Alcott placed them in his system of education. These plays were so real
to Louisa that she never forgot her joy in them, and years afterward
she gave them out delightfully to other children in her stories.
At seven years of age she began, under her father's direction, a daily
journal. She would write down the little happenings of her life, her
opinions on current events, on books she read, and the conversations
she heard. This was good training for the future writer, developing the
power of accurate thought and of clear and charming expression.
In 1840, it became evident to Mr. Alcott that he could not remain in
Boston. His views on religion and education were so much in advance
of the people about him that his school suffered. Concord had long
attracted the Alcott family, not only because it was the home of
Emerson and others of high intellectual attainments, but because it
offered a simple life and rural surroundings. And so it came that the
family removed there, occupying a small house known as the Hosmer
Cottage, about a mile from Mr. Emerson's home.
At that time there were three Alcott children: Anna, nine years of age,
Louisa, eight, and Elizabeth, five years. A boy, born in Boston, died
early. A fourth girl, named Abby May, was born in Hosmer Cottage. These
four sisters lived a happy life at Concord, although the family had a
hard struggle with poverty; for Mr. Alcott, always a poor business man,
had lost the little he had in trying to form a model colony, called
Fruitlands.
But all were devoted to one another. The children made merry over
misfortune, and wooed good luck by refusing to be discouraged. They
were always ready to help others, notwithstanding their own poverty.
Once, at their mother's suggestion, they carried their breakfast to
a starving family, and at another time they contributed their entire
dinner to a neighbor who had been caught unprepared when distinguished
guests arrived unexpectedly.
Mr. Alcott first attempted to earn his living by working in the fields
for his neighbors, and by cultivating his own acre of ground; but this
work being uncongenial, he soon drifted into his true sphere—that
of writing and lecturing. He supervised the instruction of all his
children, but becoming convinced of Louisa's exceptional ability, he
took sole charge of her education, and except for two brief periods she
was never permitted to attend school.
He was a peculiar man, this Mr. Alcott. One of his methods of guiding
his children was to write letters to them instead of talking. The talks
they might forget, he said, but the letters they could keep and read
over frequently. Louisa had one letter from him on _Conscience_, which
helped to mold her whole life.
Mrs. Alcott, too, would sometimes write to Louisa, giving her some
advice or calling her attention to a fault or undesirable habit. On
Louisa's tenth birthday her mother wrote her as follows:
DEAR DAUGHTER:
Your tenth birthday has arrived. May it be a happy one, and on each
returning birthday may you feel new strength and resolution to be
gentle with sisters, obedient to parents, loving to every one, and
happy in yourself.
I give you the pencil case I promised, for I have observed that you
are fond of writing, and wish to encourage the habit. Go on trying,
dear, and each day it will be easier to be and do good. You must help
yourself, for the cause of your little troubles is in yourself; and
patience and courage only will make you what mother prays to see you,
a good and happy girl.
To another letter, received on her eleventh birthday, Louisa replied by
writing these verses:
I hope that soon, dear mother.
You and I may be
In the quiet room my fancy
Has so often made for thee—
The pleasant sunny chamber,
The cushioned easy-chair,
The book laid for your reading,
The vase of flowers fair;
The desk beside the window
When the sun shines warm and bright,
And there in ease and quiet
The promised book you write
While I sit close behind you,
Content at last to see
That you can rest, dear mother,
And I can cherish thee.
Louisa very early took upon herself the task of building up the family
fortunes. When only fifteen, she began teaching school in a barn. Among
her pupils were the children of Mr. Emerson. At this same period we
find her writing fairy stories which she sent out to various editors.
The editors promptly published these stories, but they sent her no
money for them. But money she must have, so, besides her teaching,
this enterprising girl took in sewing, which brought her little, but
was better than writing stories for nothing! Louisa's intellect and
ability did not make her vain; she was not ashamed to do any kind of
honorable work.
Since the father proved a failure in supporting the family, Mrs. Alcott
tried to earn something by keeping an intelligence office as an agent
for the Overseers of the Poor. One day a gentleman called who wanted
"an agreeable companion" for his father and sister. The companion would
be expected to do light housework, he said, but she would be kindly
treated.
Mrs. Alcott could think of no one to fill the position. Then Louisa
said, "Mother, why couldn't I go?"
She did go, remained two months, and was treated very unkindly, being
obliged to do the drudgery of the entire household. After returning
home, she wrote a story that had a large sale, entitled _How I Went out
to Service_. Surely Louisa Alcott had the ability to make the best of
things, and to turn trials into blessings.
At nineteen she developed great interest in the theatre and straightway
decided to become an actress. During her childhood she had written
plays which her sister Anna and a few other children acted, to the
amusement of the elder members of the family. Now she dramatized her
book, _Rival Prima Donnas_, and prevailed upon a theatrical manager to
produce it. The man who had her play in charge, however, neglected to
fulfil his part of the bargain, and meanwhile, Louisa's ardor for the
theatre cooled off.
By the time she was twenty-one, Miss Alcott was fairly launched as an
author. Two years later she published a book, entitled _Flower Fables_,
receiving from its sale the astonishing sum of thirty-two dollars. Then
her work began to be accepted by the _Atlantic Monthly_ and by other
magazines of good standing.
It was very difficult for her to write in Concord, where she
continually saw so much to be done at home. When a book was in process
of writing she would go to Boston, hire a quiet room, and shut herself
in until the work was completed. Then she would return to Concord to
rest, "tired, hungry and cross," as she expressed it. While in Boston
she worked cruelly hard, often writing fourteen hours out of the
twenty-four. Worn out in body, she would grow discouraged and lose
hope, wondering if she would ever be able to earn enough money to
support her parents.
A dear and good friend of hers was the Reverend Theodore Parker. At his
home the tired, anxious girl was certain to receive encouragement and
cheer. There she met Emerson, Sumner, Garrison, Julia Ward Howe, and
other eminent men and women of the time. A few years before her death
she wrote to a friend:
Theodore Parker and Ralph Emerson have done much to help me see that
one can shape life best by trying to build up a strong and noble
character through good books, wise people's society, and by taking an
interest in all the reforms that help the world.
While in Boston Miss Alcott found time to go to teach in an evening
Charity School. In her diary we find these jottings:
I'll help, as I am helped, if I can.
Mother says no one is so poor that he can't do a little for some one
poorer yet.
At twenty-five years of age, Louisa Alcott was receiving not over five,
six, or ten dollars for her stories. This would hardly support herself,
to say nothing of the family. Writing might be continued, but sewing
and teaching could not be dropped.
In 1861, when the Civil War broke out, her natural love of action as
well as her patriotism caused her to offer her services as nurse. In
December, 1862, she went to Washington where she was given a post in
the Union Hospital at Georgetown. The Alcott family had been full of
courage until it was time for her to depart. Then all broke down.
Louisa herself felt she was taking her life in her hands and that she
might never come back.
She said, "Shall I stay, Mother?"
"No, no, go! and the Lord be with you," replied her mother, bravely
smiling, and waving good-bye with a wet handkerchief. So Louisa
departed, depressed in spirits and with forebodings of trouble.
She found the hospital small, poorly ventilated, and crowded with
patients. Her heart was equal to the task, but her strength was not.
In her diary, she tells us the events of a day: