JANUARY 4, 1825--NOVEMBER 18, 1825
Success in New York.--Chosen to paint portrait of Lafayette.--Hope of a
permanent home with his family.--Meets Lafayette in Washington.--Mutually
attracted.--Attends President's levee.--Begins portrait of Lafayette.--
Death of his wife.--Crushed by the news.--His attachment to her.--Epitaph
composed by Benjamin Silliman.--Bravely takes up his work again.--
Finishes portrait of Lafayette.--Describes it in letter of a later date.
--Sonnet on death of Lafayette's dog.--Rents a house in Canal Street, New
York.--One of the founders of National Academy of Design.--Tactful
resolutions on organization.--First thirty members.--Morse elected first
president.--Reëlected every year until 1845.--Again made president in
1861.--Lectures on Art.--Popularity.
It is a commonly accepted belief that a particularly fine, clear day is
apt to be followed by a storm. Meteorologists can probably give
satisfactory scientific reasons for this phenomenon, but, be that as it
may, how often do we find a parallel in human affairs. A period of
prosperity and happiness in the life of a man or of a nation is almost
invariably followed by calamities, small or great; but, fortunately for
individuals and for nations, the converse is also true. The creeping
pendulum of fate, pausing for an instant at its highest point, dips down
again to gather impetus for a higher swing.
And so it was with Morse. Fate was preparing for him a heavy blow, one of
the tragedies of his eventful life, and, in order to hearten him for the
trial, to give him strength to bear up under it, she cheered his
professional path with the sun of prosperity.
Writing to his wife from New York on January 4, 1825, he says:--
"You will rejoice with me, I know, in my continued and increasing
success. I have just learned in confidence, from one of the members of
the committee of the corporation appointed to procure a full-length
portrait of Lafayette, that they have designated me as the painter of it,
and that a subcommittee was appointed to wait on me with the information.
They will probably call to-morrow, but, until it is thus officially
announced to me, I wish the thing kept secret, except to the family,
until I write you more definitely on the subject, which I will do the
moment the terms, etc., are settled with the committee.
"I shall probably be under the necessity of going to Washington to take
it immediately (the corporation, of course, paying my expenses). But of
this in my next."
"_January 6, 1825._ I have been officially notified of my appointment to
paint the full-length portrait of Lafayette for the City of New York, so
that you may make it as public as you please.
"The terms are not definitely settled; the committee is disposed to be
very liberal. I shall have at least seven hundred dollars--probably one
thousand. I have to wait until an answer can be received from Washington,
from Lafayette to know when he can see me. The answer will arrive
probably on Wednesday morning; after that I can determine what to do
about going on.
"The only thing I fear is that it is going to deprive me of my dear
Lucretia. Recollect the old lady's saying, often quoted by mother, 'There
is never a convenience but there ain't one'; I long to see you."
It was well for the young man that he did not realize how dreadfully his
jesting fears were to be realized.
Further on he says: "I have made an arrangement with Mr. Durand to have
an engraving of Lafayette's portrait. I receive half the profits.
Vanderlyn, Sully, Peale, Jarvis, Waldo, Inman, Ingham, and some others
were my competitors in the application for this picture."
"_January 8._ Your letter of the 5th I have just received, and one from
the committee of medical students engaging me to paint Dr. Smith's
portrait for them when I come to New Haven. They are to give me one
hundred dollars. I have written them that I should be in New Haven by the
1st of February, or, at farthest, by the 6th; so that it is only
prolonging for a little longer, my dear wife, the happy meeting which I
anticipated for the 25th of this month. Events are not under our own
control.
"When I consider how wonderfully things are working for the promotion of
the great and _long-desired_ event--that of being constantly with my dear
family--all unpleasant feelings are absorbed in this joyful anticipation,
and I look forward to the spring of the year with delightful prospects of
seeing my dear family permanently settled with me in our own hired house
here. There are more encouraging prospects than I can trust to paper at
present which must be left for your private ear, and which in magnitude
are far more valuable than any encouragement yet made known to me. Let us
look with thankful hearts to the Giver of all these blessings."
"_Washington, February 8, 1825._ I arrived safely in this city last
evening. I find I have no time to lose, as the Marquis will leave here
the 23d. I have seen him and am to breakfast with him to-morrow, and to
commence his portrait. If he allows me time sufficient I have no fear as
to the result. He has a noble face. In this I am disappointed, for I had
heard that his features were not good. On the contrary, if there is any
truth in expression of character, there never was a more perfect example
of accordance between the face and the character. He has all that noble
firmness and consistency, for which he has been so distinguished,
strongly indicated in his whole face.
"While he was reading my letters I could not but call to mind the leading
events of his truly eventful life. 'This is the man now before me, the
very man,' thought I, 'who suffered in the dungeon of Olmütz; the very
man who took the oaths of the new constitution for so many millions,
while the eyes of thousands were fixed upon him (and which is so
admirably described in the Life which I read to you just before I left
home); the very man who spent his youth, and his fortune, and his time,
to bring about (under Providence) our happy Revolution; the friend and
companion of Washington, the terror of tyrants, the firm and consistent
supporter of liberty, the man whose beloved name has rung from one end of
this continent to the other, whom all flock to see, whom all delight to
honor; this is the man, the very identical man!' My feelings were almost
too powerful for me as I shook him by the hand and received the greeting
of--'Sir, I am exceedingly happy in your acquaintance, and especially on
such an occasion.'"
Thus began an acquaintance which ripened into warm friendship between
Morse and Lafayette, and which remained unbroken until the death of the
latter.
"_February 10, 1825._ I went last night to the President's levee, the
last which Mr. Monroe will hold as President of the United States. There
was a great crowd and a great number of distinguished characters, among
whom were General Lafayette; the President-elect, J.Q. Adams; Mr.
Calhoun, the Vice-President elect; General Jackson, etc. I paid my
respects to Mr. Adams and congratulated him on his election. He seemed in
some degree to shake off his habitual reserve, and, although he
endeavored to suppress his feelings of gratification at his success, it
was not difficult to perceive that he felt in high spirits on the
occasion. General Jackson went up to him and, shaking him by the hand,
congratulated him cordially on his election. The General bears his defeat
like a man, and has shown, I think, by this act a nobleness of mind which
will command the respect of those who have been most opposed to him.
"The excitement (if it may be called such) on this great question in
Washington is over, and everything is moving on in its accustomed channel
again. All seem to speak in the highest terms of the order and decorum
preserved through the whole of this imposing ceremony, and the good
feeling which seems to prevail, with but trivial exceptions, is thought
to augur well in behalf of the new administration."
(There was no choice by the people in the election of that year, and John
Quincy Adams had been chosen President by a vote of the House of
Representatives.)
"I went last night in a carriage with four others--Captain Chauncey of
the navy; Mr. Cooper, the celebrated author of the popular American
novels; Mr. Causici (pronounced Cau-see-chee), the sculptor; and Mr.
Owen, of Lanark, the celebrated philanthropist.
"Mr. Cooper remarked that we had on board a more singularly selected
company, he believed, than any carriage at the door of the President,
namely, a _misanthropist_ (such he called Captain Chauncey, brother of
the Commodore), a _philanthropist_ (Mr. Owen), a _painter_ (myself), a
_sculptor_ (Mr. Causici), and an _author_ (himself).
"The Mr. Owen mentioned above is the very man I sometimes met at Mr.
Wilberforce's in London, and who was present at the interesting scene I
have often related that occurred at Mr. Wilberforce's. He recollected the
circumstance and recognized me, as I did him, instantly, although it is
twelve years ago.
"I am making progress with the General, but am much perplexed for want of
time; I mean _his time_. He is so harassed by visitors and has so many
letters to write that I find it exceedingly difficult to do the subject
justice. I give him the last sitting in Washington to-morrow, reserving
another sitting or two when he visits New York in July next. I have gone
on thus far to my satisfaction and do not doubt but I shall succeed
entirely, if I am allowed the requisite number of sittings. The General
is very agreeable. He introduced me to his son by saying: 'This is Mr.
Morse, the painter, the son of the geographer; he has come to Washington
to take the topography of my face.' He thinks of visiting New Haven again
when he returns from Boston. He regretted not having seen more of it when
he was there, as he was much pleased with the place. He remembers
Professor Silliman and others with great affection.
"I have left but little room in this letter to express my affection for
my dearly loved wife and children; but of that I need not assure them. I
long to hear from you, but direct your letters next to New York, as I
shall probably be there by the end of next week, or the beginning of the
succeeding one.
"Love to all the family and friends and neighbors. Your affectionate
husband, as ever."
Alas! that there should have been no telegraph then to warn the loving
husband of the blow which Fate had dealt him.
As he was light-heartedly attending the festivities at the White House,
and as he was penning these two interesting letters to his wife, letters
which she never read, and anticipating with keenest pleasure a speedy
reunion, she lay dead at their home in New Haven.
His father thus conveys to him the melancholy intelligence:--
"_February 8th, 1825._ My affectionately beloved Son,--Mysterious are the
ways of Providence. My heart is in pain and deeply sorrowful while I
announce to you the sudden and unexpected death of your dear and
deservedly loved wife. Her disease proved to be an _affection of the
heart_--incurable, had it been known. Dr. Smith's letter, accompanying
this, will explain all you will desire to know on this subject.
"I wrote you yesterday that she was convalescent. So she then appeared
and so the doctor pronounced. She was up about five o'clock yesterday
P.M. to have her bed made as usual; was unusually cheerful and social;
spoke of the pleasure of being with her dear husband in New York ere
long; stepped into bed herself, fell back with a momentary struggle on
her pillow, her eyes were immediately fixed, the paleness of death
overspread her countenance, and in five minutes more, without the
slightest motion, her mortal life terminated.
"It happened that just at this moment I was entering her chamber door
with Charles in my arms, to pay her my usual visit and to pray with her.
The nurse met me affrighted, calling for help. Your mother, the family,
our neighbors, full of the tenderest sympathy and kindness, and the
doctors thronged the house in a few minutes. Everything was done that
could be done to save her life, but her 'appointed time' had come, and no
earthly power or skill could stay the hand of death.
"It was the Lord who gave her to you, the chiefest of all your earthly
blessings, and it is He that has taken her away, and may you be enabled,
my son, from the heart to say: 'Blessed be the name of the Lord.'... The
shock to the whole family is far beyond, in point of severity, that of
any we have ever before felt, but we are becoming composed, we hope on
grounds which will prove solid and lasting.
"I expect this will reach you on Saturday, the day after the one we have
appointed for the funeral, when you will have been in Washington a week
and I hope will have made such progress in your business as that you will
soon be able to return....
"You need not hurry home. Nothing here requires it. We are all well and
everything will be taken good care of. Give yourself no concern on that
account. Finish your business as well as you will be able to do it after
receiving this sad news."
This blow was an overwhelming one. He could not, of course, compose
himself sufficiently to continue his work on the portrait of Lafayette,
and, having apprised the General of the reason for this, he received from
the following sympathetic letter:--
I have feared to intrude upon you, my dear sir, but want to tell you how
deeply I sympathize in your grief--a grief of which nobody can better
than me appreciate the cruel feelings.
You will hear from me, as soon as I find myself again near you, to finish
the work you have so well begun.
Accept my affectionate and mournful sentiment.
LAFAYETTE.
The day after he received his father's letter he left Washington and
wrote from Baltimore, where he stopped over Sunday with a friend, on
February 13:--
MY DEAR FATHER,--The heart-rending tidings which you communicated reached
me in Washington on Friday evening. I left yesterday morning, spend this
day here at Mr. Cushing's, and set out on my return home to-morrow. I
shall reach Philadelphia on Monday night, New York on Tuesday night, and
New Haven on Wednesday night.
Oh! is it possible, is it possible? Shall I never see my dear wife again?
But I cannot trust myself to write on this subject. I need your prayers
and those of Christian friends to God for support. I fear I shall sink
under it.
Oh! take good care of her dear children.
Your agonized son,
FINLEY.
Another son had been born to him on January 20, 1825, and he was now left
with three motherless children to provide for, and without the sustaining
hope of a speedy and permanent reunion with them and with his beloved
wife.
Writing to a friend more than a month after the death of his wife, he
says:--
"Though late in performing the promise I made you of writing you when I
arrived home, I hope you will attribute it to anything but forgetfulness
of that promise. The confusion and derangement consequent on such an
afflicting bereavement as I have suffered have rendered it necessary for
me to devote the first moments of composure to looking about me, and to
collecting and arranging the fragments of the ruin which has spread such
desolation over all my earthly prospects.
"Oh! what a blow! I dare not yet give myself up to the full survey of its
desolating effects. Every day brings to my mind a thousand new and fond
connections with dear Lucretia, all now ruptured. I feel a dreadful void,
a heart-sickness, which time does not seem to heal but rather to
aggravate.
"You know the intensity of the attachment which existed between dear
Lucretia and me, never for a moment interrupted by the smallest cloud; an
attachment founded, I trust, in the purest love, and daily strengthening
by all the motives which the ties of nature and, more especially, of
religion, furnish.
"I found in dear Lucretia everything I could wish. Such ardor of
affection, so uniform, so unaffected, I never saw nor read of but in her.
My fear with regard to the measure of my affection toward her was not
that I might fail of 'loving her as my own flesh,' but that I should put
her in the place of Him who has said, 'Thou shalt have no other Gods but
me.' I felt this to be my greatest danger, and to be saved from this
_idolatry_ was often the subject of my earnest prayers.
"If I had desired anything in my dear Lucretia different from what she
was, it would have been that she had been _less lovely_. My whole soul
seemed wrapped up in her; with her was connected all that I expected of
happiness on earth. Is it strange, then, that I now feel this void, this
desolateness, this loneliness, this heart-sickness; that I should feel as
if my very heart itself had been torn from me?
"To any one but those who knew dear Lucretia what I have said might seem
to be but the extravagance of an excited imagination; but to you, who
knew the dear object I lament, all that I have said must but feebly
shadow her to your memory."
[Illustration: STUDY FOR PORTRAIT OF LAFAYETTE
Now in New York Public Library]
It was well for him that he found constant occupation for his hand and
brain at this critical period of his life. The Fates had dealt him this
cruel blow for some good reason best known to themselves. He was being
prepared for a great mission, and it was meet that his soul, like gold,
should be purified by fire; but, at the same time, that the blow might
not utterly overwhelm him, success in his chosen profession seemed again
to be within his grasp.
Writing to his parents from New York, on April 8, 1825, he says:--
"I have as much as I can do, but after being fatigued at night and having
my thoughts turned to my irreparable loss, I am ready almost to give up.
The thought of seeing my dear Lucretia, and returning home to her, served
always to give me fresh courage and spirits whenever I felt worn down by
the labors of the day, and now I hardly know what to substitute in her
place.
"To my friends here I know I seem to be cheerful and happy, but a
cheerful countenance with me covers an aching heart, and often have I
feigned a more than ordinary cheerfulness to hide a more than ordinary
anguish.
"I am blessed with prosperity in my profession. I have just received
another commission from the corporation of the city to paint a
common-sized portrait of Rev. Mr. Stanford for them, to be placed in the
almshouse."
The loss of his young wife was the great tragedy of Morse's life. Time,
with her soothing touch, healed the wound, but the scar remained. Hers
must have been, indeed, a lovely character. Professor Benjamin Silliman,
Sr., one of her warmest friends, composed the epitaph which still remains
inscribed upon her tombstone in the cemetery at New Haven. (See opposite
page.)
IN MEMORY OF
LUCRETIA PICKERING
WIFE OF
SAMUEL F.B. MORSE
WHO DIED 7TH OF FEBRUARY A.D. 1825,
AGED 25 YEARS.
SHE COMBINED, IN HER CHARACTER AND PERSON,
A RARE ASSEMBLAGE OF EXCELLENCES:
BEAUTIFUL IN FORM, FEATURES AND EXPRESSION
PECULIARLY BLAND IN HER MANNERS,
HIGHLY CULTIVATED IN MIND,
SHE IRRESISTIBLY DREW ATTENTION, LOVE,
AND RESPECT;
DIGNIFIED WITHOUT HAUGHTINESS,
AMIABLE WITHOUT TAMENESS,
FIRM WITHOUT SEVERITY, AND
CHEERFUL WITHOUT LEVITY,
HER UNIFORM SWEETNESS OF TEMPER
SPREAD PERPETUAL SUNSHINE AROUND
EVERY CIRCLE IN WHICH
SHE MOVED.
"WHEN THE EAR HEARD HER IT BLESSED HER,
WHEN THE EYE SAW HER IT GAVE
WITNESS TO HER."
IN SUFFERINGS THE MOST KEEN,
HER SERENITY OF MIND NEVER FAILED HER;
DEATH TO HER HAD NO TERRORS,
THE GRAVE NO GLOOM.
THOUGH SUDDENLY CALLED FROM EARTH,
ETERNITY WAS NO STRANGER TO HER THOUGHTS,
BUT A WELCOME THEME OF
CONTEMPLATION.
RELIGION WAS THE SUN
THAT ILLUMINED EVERY VIRTUE,
AND UNITED ALL IN ONE
BOW OF BEAUTY.
HERS WAS THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL;
JESUS CHRIST HER FOUNDATION,
THE AUTHOR AND FINISHER OF HER FAITH.
IN HIM SHE RESTS, IN SURE
EXPECTATION OF A GLORIOUS
RESURRECTION.
With a heavy heart, but bravely determining not to be overwhelmed by this
crushing blow, Morse took up his work again. He finished the portrait of
Lafayette, and it now hangs in the City Hall in New York. Writing of it
many years later to a gentleman who had made some enquiries concerning
it, he says:--
"In answer to yours of the 8th instant, just received, I can only say it
is so long since I have seen the portrait I painted of General Lafayette
for the City of New York, that, strange to say, I find it difficult to
recall even its general characteristics.
"That portrait has a melancholy interest for me, for it was just as I had
commenced the second sitting of the General at Washington that I received
the stunning intelligence of Mrs. Morse's death, and was compelled
abruptly to suspend the work. I preserve, as a gratifying memorial, the
letter of condolence and sympathy sent in to me at the time by the
General, and in which he speaks in flattering terms of the promise of the
portrait as a likeness.
"I must be frank, however, in my judgment of my own works of that day.
This portrait was begun under the sad auspices to which I have alluded,
and, up to the close of the work, I had a series of constant
interruptions of the same sad character. A picture painted under such
circumstances can scarcely be expected to do the artist justice, and as a
work of art I cannot praise it. Still, it is a good likeness, was very
satisfactory to the General, and he several times alluded to it in my
presence in after years (when I was a frequent visitor to him in Paris)
in terms of praise.
"It is a full-length, standing figure, the size of life. He is
represented as standing at the top of a flight of steps, which he has
just ascended upon a terrace, the figure coming against a glowing sunset
sky, indicative of the glory of his own evening of life. Upon his right,
if I remember, are three pedestals, one of which is vacant as if waiting
for his bust, while the two others are surmounted by the busts of
Washington and Franklin--the two associated eminent historical characters
of his own time. In a vase on the other side is a flower-the
helianthus--with its face toward the sun, in allusion to the
characteristic stern, uncompromising consistency of Lafayette-a trait of
character which I then considered, and still consider, the great
prominent trait of that distinguished man."
Morse, like many men who have excelled in one branch of the fine arts,
often made excursions into one of the others. I find among his papers
many scraps of poetry and some more ambitious efforts, and while they do
not, perhaps, entitle him to claim a poet's crown, some of them are
worthy of being rescued from oblivion. The following sonnet was sent to
Lafayette under the circumstances which Morse himself thus describes:--
"Written on the loss of a faithful dog of Lafayette's on board the
steamboat which sank in the Mississippi. The dog, supposing his master
still on board, could not be persuaded to leave the cabin, but perished
with the vessel.
"Lost, from thy care to know thy master free
Can we thy self-devotion e'er forget?
'Twas kindred feeling in a less degree
To that which thrilled the soul of Lafayette.
He freely braved our storms, our dangers met,
Nor left the ship till we had 'scaped the sea.
Thine was a spark of noble feeling bright
Caught from the fire that warms thy master's heart.
His was of Heaven's kindling, and no small part
Of that pure fire is His. We hail the light
Where'er it shines, in heaven, in man, in brute;
We hail that sacred light howe'er minute,
Whether its glimmering in thy bosom rest
Or blaze full orb'd within thy master's breast."
This was sent to General Lafayette on the 4th of July, 1825, accompanied
by the following note:--
"In asking your acceptance of the enclosed poetic trifle, I have not the
vanity to suppose it can contribute much to your gratification; but if it
shall be considered as an endeavor to show to you some slight return of
gratitude for the kind sympathy you evinced towards me at a time of deep
affliction, I shall have attained my aim. Gladly would I offer to you any
service, but, while a whole nation stands waiting to answer the
expression of your smallest wish, my individual desire to serve you can
only be considered as contending for a portion of that high honor which
all feel in serving you."
Concealing from the world his great sorrow, and bravely striving always
to maintain a cheerful countenance, Morse threw himself with energy into
his work in New York, endeavoring to keep every minute occupied.
He seems to have had his little daughter with him for a while, for in a
letter of March 12, 1825, occurs this sentence: "Little Susan has had the
toothache once or twice, and I have promised her a doll if she would have
it out to-day--I am this moment stopped by her coming in and showing me
the _tooth out_, so I shall give her the doll."
But he soon found that it would be impossible for him to do justice to
his work and at same time fulfil his duties as a parent, and for many
years afterwards his motherless children found homes with different
relatives, but the expense of their keep and education was always borne
by their father.
On the 1st of May, 1825, he moved into new quarters, having rented an
entire house at No. 20 Canal Street for the sum of four hundred dollars a
year, and he says, "My new establishment will be very commodious for my
professional studies, and I do not think its being so far '_up town_'
will, on the whole, be any disadvantage to me."
"May 26, 1825. I have at length become comfortably settled and begin to
feel at home in my new establishment. All things at present go smoothly.
Brother Charles Walker and Mr. Agate join with me in breakfast and tea,
and we find it best for convenience, economy, and time to dine from
home,--it saves the perplexity of providing marketing and the care of
stores, and, besides, we think it will be more economical and the walk
will be beneficial." While success in his profession seemed now assured,
and while orders poured in so fast that he gladly assisted some of his
less fortunate brother artists by referring his would-be patrons to them,
he also took a deep interest in the general artistic movement of the
time.
He was, by nature, intensely enthusiastic, and his strong personality
ever impressed itself on individuals and communities with which he came
in contact. He was a born leader of men, and, like so many other leaders,
often so forgetful of self in his eager desire for the general good as to
seriously interfere with his material prosperity. This is what happened
to him now, for he gave so liberally of himself in the formation of a new
artistic body in New York, and in the preparation of lectures, that he
encroached seriously on time which might have been more lucratively
employed.
His brother Sidney comments on this in a letter to the other brother
Richard: "Finley is well and in good spirits, though not advancing very
rapidly in his business. He is full of the Academy and of his lectures--
can hardly talk on any other subject. I despair of ever seeing him rich
or even at ease in his pecuniary circumstances from efforts of his own,
though able to do it with so little effort. But he may be in a better
way, perhaps, of getting a fortune in his present course than he would be
in the laborious path which we are too apt to think is the only road to
wealth and ultimate ease."
We have seen that Morse was one of the founders of an academy of art in
Charleston, South Carolina, and we have seen that, after his departure
from that city, this academy languished and died. Is it an unfair
inference that, if he had remained permanently in Charleston, so sad a
fate would not have overtaken the infant academy? In support of this
inference we shall now see that he was largely instrumental in bringing
into being an artistic association, over which he presided for many
years, and which has continued to prosper until, at the present day, it
is the leading artistic body in this country.
When Morse settled in New York in 1825 there existed an American Academy
of Arts, of which Colonel Trumbull, the celebrated painter, was the
president. While eminent as a painter, Trumbull seems to have lacked
executive ability and to have been rather haughty and overbearing in his
manner, for Morse found great dissatisfaction existing among the
professional artists and students.
At first it was thought that, by bringing their grievances before the
board of directors of the Academy, conditions might be changed, and on
the 8th of November, 1825, a meeting was called in the rooms of the
Historical Society, and the "New York Drawing Association" was formed,
and Morse was chosen to preside over its meetings. It was not intended,
at first, that this association should be a rival of the old Academy, but
that it should give to its members facilities which were difficult of
attainment in the Academy, and should, perhaps, force that institution to
become more liberal.
It was not successful in the latter effort, for at a meeting of the
Drawing Association on the evening of the 14th of January, 1825, Morse,
the president, proposed certain resolutions which he introduced by the
following remarks:--
"We have this evening assumed a new attitude in the community; our
negotiations with the Academy are at an end; our union with it has been
frustrated after every proper effort on our part to accomplish it. The
two who were elected as directors from our ticket have signified their
non-acceptance of the office. We are therefore left to organize ourselves
on a plan that shall meet the wishes of us all.
"A plan of an institution which shall be truly liberal, which shall be
mutually beneficial, which shall really encourage our respective arts,
cannot be devised in a moment; it ought to be the work of great caution
and deliberation and as simple as possible in its machinery. Time will be
required for the purpose. We must hear from distant countries to obtain
their experience, and it must necessarily be, perhaps, many months before
it can be matured.
"In the mean time, however, a preparatory, simple organization can be
made, and should be made as soon as possible, to prevent dismemberment,
which may be attempted by outdoor influence. On this subject let us all
be on our guard; let us point to our public documents to any who ask what
we have done and why we have done it, while we go forward minding only
our own concerns, leaving the Academy of Fine Arts as much of our
thoughts as they will permit us, and, bending our attention to our own
affairs, act as if no such institution existed.
"One of our dangers at present is division and anarchy from a want of
organization suited to the present exigency. We are now composed of
artists in the four arts of design, namely, painting, sculpture,
architecture, and engraving. Some of us are professional artists, others
amateurs, others students. To the professed and practical artist belongs
the management of all things relating to schools, premiums, and lectures,
so that amateur and student may be most profited. The amateurs and
students are those alone who can contend for the premiums, while the body
of professional artists exclusively judge of their rights to premiums and
award them.
"How shall we first make the separation has been a question which is a
little perplexing. There are none of us who can assume to be the body of
artists without giving offence to others, and still every one must
perceive that, to organize an academy, there must be the distinction
between professional artists, amateurs who are students, and professional
students. The first great division should be the body of professional
artists from the amateurs and students, constituting the body who are to
manage the entire concerns of the institution, who shall be its officers,
etc.
"There is a method which strikes me as obviating the difficulty; place it
on the broad principle of the formation of any society--universal
suffrage. We are now a mixed body; it is necessary for the benefit of all
that a separation into classes be made. Who shall make it?
"Why, obviously the body itself. Let every member of this association
take home with him a list of all the members of it. Let each one select
for himself from the whole list _fifteen_, whom he would call
professional artists, to be the ticket which he will give in at the next
meeting.
"These fifteen thus chosen shall elect not less than _ten_, nor more than
_fifteen_, professional artists, in or out of the association, who shall
(with the previously elected fifteen) constitute the body to be called
the National Academy of the Arts of Design. To these shall be delegated
the power to regulate its entire concerns, choose its members, select its
students, etc.
"Thus will the germ be formed to grow up into an institution which we
trust will be put on such principles as to encourage--not to depress--the
arts. When this is done our body will no longer be the Drawing
Association, but the National Academy of the Arts of Design, still
including all the present association, but in different capacities.
"One word as to the name 'National Academy of the Arts of Design.' Any
less name than 'National' would be taking one below the American Academy,
and therefore is not desirable. If we were simply the 'Associated
Artists,' their name would swallow us up; therefore 'National' seems a
proper one as to the arts of design. These are painting, sculpture,
architecture, and engraving, while the fine arts include poetry, music,
landscape gardening, and the histrionic arts. Our name, therefore,
expresses the entire character of our institution and that only."
From this we see that Morse's enthusiasm was tempered with tact and
common sense. His proposals were received with unanimous approval, and on
the 15th of January, 1826, the following fifteen were chosen:--S.F.B.
Morse, Henry Inman, A.B. Durand, John Frazee, William Wall, Charles C.
Ingham, William Dunlap, Peter Maverick, Ithiel Town, Thomas S. Cummings,
Edward Potter, Charles C. Wright, Mosely J. Danforth, Hugh Reinagle,
Gerlando Marsiglia. These fifteen professional artists added by ballot to
their number the following fifteen:--Samuel Waldo, William Jewett, John
W. Paradise, Frederick S. Agate, Rembrandt Peale, James Coyle, Nathaniel
Rogers, J. Parisen, William Main, John Evers, Martin E. Thompson, Thomas
Cole, John Vanderlyn (who declined), Alexander Anderson, D.W. Wilson.
Thus was organized the National Academy of Design. Morse was elected its
first president and was annually reëlected to that office until the year
1845, when, the telegraph having now become an assured success, he felt
that he could not devote the necessary time and thought to the interests
of the Academy, and he insisted on retiring.
In the year 1861 he was prevailed upon by Thomas S. Cummings, one of the
original academicians, but now a general, to become again the president,
and he served in that office for a year. The General, in a letter to Mr.
Prime in 1873, says, "and, I may add, was beloved by all."
I shall not attempt to give a detailed account of the early struggles of
the Academy, closely interwoven though they be with Morse's life. Those
who may be interested in the matter will find them all detailed in
General Cummings' "Records of the National Academy of Design."
Morse prepared and delivered a number of lectures on various subjects
pertaining to the fine arts, and most of these have been preserved in
pamphlet form. In this connection I shall quote again from the letter of
General Cummings before alluded to:--
"Mr. Morse's connection with the Academy was doubtless unfavorable in a
pecuniary point of view; his interest in it interfering with professional
practice, and the time taken to enable him to prepare his course of
lectures materially contributed to favor a distribution of his labors in
art to other hands, and it never fully returned to him. His 'Discourse on
Academies of Art,' delivered in the chapel of Columbia College, May,
1827, will long stand as a monument of his ability in the line of art
literature.
"As an historical painter Mr. Morse, after Allston, was probably the best
prepared and most fully educated artist of his day, and should have
received the attention of the Government and a share of the distributions
in art commissions."
That his efforts were appreciated by his fellow artists and by the
cultivated people of New York is thus modestly described in a letter to
his parents of November 18, 1825:--
"I mentioned that reputation was flowing in upon me. The younger artists
have formed a drawing association at the Academy and elected me their
president. We meet in the evenings of three days in a week to draw, and
it has been conducted thus far with such success as to have trebled the
number of our association and excited the attention and applause of the
community. There is a spirit of harmony among the artists, every one
says, which never before existed in New York, and which augurs well for
the success of the arts.
"The artists are pleased to attribute it to my exertions, and I find in
them in consequence expressions and feelings of respect which have been
very gratifying to me. Whatever influence I have had, however, in
producing this pleasant state of things, I think there was the
preparation in the state of mind of the artists themselves. I find a
liberal feeling in the younger part of them, and a refinement of manners,
which will redeem the character of art from the degradation to which a
few dissipated interlopers have, temporarily, reduced it.
"A Literary Society, admission to which must be by unanimous vote, and
into which many respectable literary characters of the city have been
denied admission, has chosen me a member, together with Mr. Hillhouse and
Mr. Bryant, poets. This indicates good feelings towards me, to say the
least, and, in the end, will be of advantage, I have no doubt."