“Don’t you believe it is easier, to-day, for a young girl to succeed in
illustrating than it is for a young man?”
“Well, possibly,” she answered. “Neither girl nor boy can succeed
without aptitude and the hardest kind of work, but girls are rather
novel in the field, and their work may receive slightly more gentle
consideration to begin with. It would not be accepted, however, without
merit.”
“Hasn’t the smaller remuneration which women accept something to do
with the popularity of the woman illustrator?”
“Very little, if any,” she answered. “I find that women are about as
quick, perhaps more so, than men, to demand good prices for clever
work, although they have less of the egotism of men artists.”
“You judge from your own case,” I suggested.
“Not at all. I never possessed cleverness. It was need and
determination with me, and I can honestly say that all I have gained
has been by the most earnest application. I never could do anything
with a dash. It was always slow, painstaking effort; and it is yet.”
“Do you ever exhibit?” I asked.
“No,” said Mrs. Stephens, “not any more. There was a time when I had
an ambition to shine as a painter, and as long as I had that ambition
I neither shone as a painter nor made more than a living as an
illustrator. I made up my mind, however, that I was not to be a great
woman painter, and I decided to apply myself closely to the stronger,
illustrative tendency which fascinated me. From that time on my success
dates, and I am rather proud now that I was able to recognize my
limitations.”
“Did you find that in marrying you made your work more difficult to
pursue?” I ventured, for her interesting home life is a notable feature
of her career.
“I cannot say that I did. There is more to do, but there is also a
greater desire to do it. I love my boy, and I take time to make his
home life interesting and satisfying. When he was ill, I removed my
easel from the studio to a room adjoining the sick-chamber at the
house, and worked there.”