“But I had found my life’s work,” said Mr. Ruckstuhl, turning to me. “I
knew it would be a struggle through poverty, till I attained fame. But
I was confident in myself, which is half of the battle.”
“And you went abroad?”
“Yes, with but two hundred and fifty dollars,” he replied. “I traveled
through Europe for five months, and visited the French Salon. I said
to myself, ‘I can do that, and that,’ and my confidence grew. But
there was some work that completely ‘beat’ me. I returned to America
penniless, but with a greater insight into art. I determined that I
would retrace my steps to Paris, and study there for three years, and
thought that would be sufficient to fully develop me. My family and
friends laughed me to scorn, and I was discouraged by everyone. In four
months, in St. Louis, I secured seven orders for busts, at two hundred
dollars each, to be done after my return from France. That shows that
some persons had confidence in me and in my talent.
“O, the student life in Paris! How I look back with pleasure upon those
struggling, yet happy days! In two months, I started on my female
figure of ‘Evening,’ in the nude, that now is in the Metropolitan
Museum of Art. I finished it in nine months, and positively sweat blood
in my work. I sent it to the Salon, and went to Italy. When I returned
to Paris, I saw my name in the paper, with honorable mention. I suppose
you can realize my feelings; I experienced the first flush of victory.
I brought it to America, and exposed it in St. Louis. Strange to
say, I rose in the estimation of even my family. My father actually
congratulated me. A wealthy man in St. Louis gave me three thousand
dollars to have my ‘Evening’ put into marble. I returned with it to
Paris, and in a month and a quarter it was exhibited in the Salon. At
the world’s Fair at Chicago, it had the place of honor, and received
one of the eleven grand medals given to American sculptors. In 1892,
I came to New York. This statue of ‘Force’ will be erected, with my
statue of ‘Wisdom,’ on the new Hall of Records in New York.”
We gazed at it, seated and clothed in partial armor, of the old Roman
type, and holding a sword across its knees. The great muscles spoke of
strength and force, and yet with it all there was an almost benign look
upon the military visage.
“There is force and real action there, withal, although there is
repose,” I said in admiration.