Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: Naples

"Portrait of Marie Therese of Bourbon Naples,
Queen of Naples and Sicily" by Vigee Lebrun

Excerpts from "Memoirs of Madame Vigee Lebrun":

"The excursions I made at Naples did not prevent me from accomplishing a great deal of work. I even undertook so many portraits that my first stay in that town extended to six months. I had arrived with the intention of spending only six weeks. The French Ambassador, the Baron de Talleyrand, came to inform me one morning that the Queen of Naples wished me to do the portraits of her two eldest daughters, and I began upon them at once. Her Majesty was preparing to leave for Vienna, where she was to busy herself about the marriage of these Princesses. I remember her saying to me after her return: "I have had a successful journey; I have just made two fortunate matches for my daughters." The eldest, in fact, soon after was married to the Emperor of Austria, Francis II., and the other, who was called Louise, to the Grand Duke of Tuscany. This second girl was very ugly, and made such grimaces that I did not want to finish her picture. She died a few years after her marriage.

During the Queen's absence I also painted the Prince Royal. The hour of noon was appointed for the sittings, and in order to attend I was obliged to follow the Chiaja road in the heat of the day. The houses on the left, which faced the sea, being painted a lustrous white, the sun was reflected from them so vividly that I was almost struck blind. To save my eyes, I put on a green veil, which I had never seen any one else do, and which must have looked rather peculiar, since only black or white veils were worn. But a few days after I saw several English women imitating me, and green veils came into fashion. I also found great comfort in my green veil at St. Petersburg, where the snow was so dazzling that it might have killed my eyesight. 

All the portraits I had engaged to do at Naples being finished, I went back to Rome, but hardly had I arrived when the Queen of Naples arrived also, she making a stop there on her return journey from Vienna. As I happened to be in the crowd through which she made her way, she noticed me and spoke to me, and begged me with extreme graciousness to visit Naples once more for the purpose of painting her portrait. It was impossible to refuse, and I complied with her wish at once.

Upon arriving at Naples I began the portrait of the Queen forthwith. It was then so terribly hot that one day when Her Majesty gave me a sitting we both fell asleep. I took great pleasure in doing this picture. The Queen of Naples, without being as pretty as her younger sister, the Queen of France, reminded me strongly of her. Her face was worn, but one readily judged that she had been handsome; her hands and arms especially were perfect in form and colour. This Princess, of whom so much evil has been written and spoken, had an affectionate nature and simple ways at home. Her magnanimity was truly royal. 

The Marquis de Bombelles, the Ambassador at Vienna in 1790, was the only French envoy who refused to swear to the constitution; the Queen, being apprised that by this brave and noble conduct M. de Bombelles, the father of a large family, had been reduced to the most unfortunate position, wrote him a letter of commendation with her own hand. She added that all sovereigns should be at one in acknowledging faithful subjects, and asked him to accept a pension of twelve thousand francs. She had a fine character and a good deal of wit. She bore the burden of government alone. The King would have nothing to do with it; he spent most of his time at Caserta. Before I left Naples for good the Queen presented me with a box of old lacquer, with her initials surrounded by beautiful diamonds. The initials are worth ten thousand francs; I shall keep them all my life"

To be continued

 

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: Lady Hamilton

"Emma Hamilton" by Vigee-Lebrun

In the the "Memoirs of Madame Vigee-Lebrun," the artist tells the story of the famous Lady Hamilton:

"I had been in Rome eight months or thereabouts, when, observing that all foreigners were leaving for Naples, I was seized with a great desire to go there likewise. After arriving, Sir William Hamilton, the British Ambassador at Naples, came to me and begged that my first portrait in this town should be that of the splendid woman he presented to me. This was Mme. Harte, who soon after became Lady Hamilton, and who was famous for her beauty.

The life of Lady Hamilton is a romance. Her maiden name was Emma Lyon. Her mother, it is said, was a poor servant. At the age of thirteen she entered the service of an honest townsman of Hawarden as a nurse, but, tired of the dull life she led, and believing that she could obtain a more agreeable situation in London, she betook herself thither. 

A shopkeeper took her into his service, but she soon left him to become housemaid under a lady of decent family – a very respectable person. In her house she acquired a taste for novels, and then for the play. She studied the gestures and vocal inflections of the actors, and rendered them with remarkable facility. These talents, neither of which pleased her mistress in the very least, were the cause of her dismissal. It was then that, having heard of a tavern where painters were in the habit of meeting, she conceived the idea of going there to look for employment. Her beauty was then at its height.

She was rescued from this pitfall by a strange chance. Doctor Graham took her to exhibit her at his house, covered with a light veil, as the goddess Hygeia (the goddess of health). A number of curious people and amateurs went to see her, and the painters were especially delighted. Some time after this exhibition, a painter [George Romney] secured her as a model; he made her pose in a thousand graceful attitudes, which he reproduced on canvas. She now perfected herself in this new sort of talent which made her famous. 

Nothing, indeed, was more remarkable than the ease Lady Hamilton acquired in spontaneously giving her features an expression of sorrow or of joy, and of posing marvelously to represent different people. Her eyes a-kindle, her hair flying, she showed you a bewitching bacchante; then, all of a sudden, her face expressed grief, and you saw a magnificent repentant Magdalen. The day her husband presented her to me, she insisted on my seeing her in a pose. I was delighted, but she was dressed in every-day clothes, which gave me a shock. I had gowns made for her such as I wore in order to paint in comfort, and which consisted of a kind of loose tunic. She also took some shawls to drape herself with, which she understood very well, and then was ready to render enough different positions and expressions to fill a whole picture gallery. There is, in fact, a collection drawn by Frederic Reimberg, which has been engraved.

I then painted Mme. Harte as a bacchante reclining by the edge of the sea, holding a goblet in her hand. Her beautiful face had much animation. She had a great quantity of fine chestnut hair, sufficient to cover her entirely, and thus, as a bacchante with flying hair, she was admirable to behold. 

To return to the romance of Emma Lyon. It was while she was with the painter I have mentioned that Lord Greville fell so desperately in love with her that he intended to marry her, when he suddenly lost his official place and was ruined. He at once left for Naples in the hope of obtaining help from his Uncle Hamilton, and took Emma with him so that she might plead his cause. The uncle, indeed, consented to pay all his nephew's debts, but also decided to marry Emma Lyon in spite of his family's remonstrances. Lady Hamilton became as great a lady as can be imagined. It is asserted that the Queen of Naples was on an intimate footing with her. Certain it is that the Queen saw her often – politically, might perhaps be said. Lady Hamilton, being a most indiscreet woman, betrayed a number of little diplomatic secrets to the Queen, of which she made use to the advantage of her country."

To be continued

 

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: Rome

"Self-Portrait," 1790, by Vigee-Lebrun

The first city Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun visited in her thirteen years of exile was Rome. She describes how she resumed painting immediately:

"No sooner had I arrived at Rome than I did a portrait of myself for the Florence gallery. I painted myself palette in hand before a canvas on which I was tracing a figure of the Queen in white crayon. After that I painted Miss Pitt, who was sixteen and extremely pretty. I represented her as Hebe, on some clouds, holding in her hand a goblet from which an eagle was about to drink. I did the eagle from life, and I thought he would eat me. He belonged to Cardinal de Bernis. The wretched beast, accustomed to being in the open air – for he was kept on a chain in the courtyard – was so enraged at finding himself in my room that he tried to fly at me. I admit that I was dreadfully frightened.

About this time I painted the portrait of a Polish lady, the Countess Potocka. She came with her husband, and after he had gone away she said to me quite coolly, "He is my third husband, but I am thinking of taking back my first, who would suit me better, although he is a drunkard." I painted this Pole in a very picturesque way: for a background she had a rock overgrown with moss, and falling water nearby.

The pleasure of living in Rome was the only thing that consoled me for having left my country, my family, and so many friends I loved. My work did not deprive me of the daily diversion of going about the city and its surroundings. I always went alone to the palaces where collections of pictures and statues were exhibited, so as not to have my enjoyment spoiled by stupid remarks or questions. All these palaces are open to strangers, and much gratitude is due to the great Roman nobles for being so obliging. It may seem hard to believe, but it is true that one might spend one's whole life in the palaces and churches. In the churches are to be found great treasures of painting and extraordinary monuments. The wealth of St. Peter's in this respect is well known. The finest of the churches regarding architecture is St. Paul's, whose interior is lined with columns on each side.

What happened to me was what naturally happens to every exile, which was to seek the company of my own countrymen. In 1789 and 1790 Rome was full of French refugees, whom I knew for the greater part, and with whom I soon made friends. We saw the Princess Joseph de Monaco and the Duchess de Fleury arrive, and a host of other notabilities. The Princess Joseph de Monaco had a charming face, and was very sweet and charming. Unfortunately for her, she did not stay in Rome. She returned to Paris to attend to the small amount of property remaining to her children, and she was there during the Terror. Thrown into prison and condemned to death, she was taken to the scaffold. 

The arrival at Rome of so many people bringing so much news made me undergo different emotions every day. Often they were very sad, but sometimes very sweet. I was told, for instance, that a little while after my departure, when the King was begged to have his picture painted, he had replied: "No, I shall wait for Mme. Lebrun to come back, so that she may make a portrait of me to match the Queen's. I want her to paint me at full figure, in the act of commanding M. de la Perouse to make a journey round the world."  

To be continued

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: Escaping the Revolutionaries

"Julie Lebrun, en Baigneuse"
by her mother Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun

Elizabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun describes her escape from the chaos in France in her autobiography:

"It was the 5th of October, and the King and Queen were conducted from Versailles to Paris surrounded by pikes. The events of that day filled me with uneasiness as to the fate of Their Majesties and that of all decent people, so that I was dragged to the stage-coach at midnight in a dreadful state of mind. I was very much afraid of the Faubourg Saint Antoine, which I was obliged to traverse to reach the Barrière du Trône. My brother and my husband escorted me as far as this gate without leaving the door of the coach for a moment; but the suburb that I was so frightened of was perfectly quiet. All its inhabitants, the workmen and the rest, had been to Versailles after the royal family, and fatigue kept them all in bed.

Opposite me in the coach was a very filthy man, who stunk like the plague, and told me quite simply that he had stolen watches and other things. Luckily he saw nothing about me to tempt him, for I was only taking a small amount of clothing and eighty louis for my journey. I had left my principal effects and my jewels in Paris, and the fruit of my labours was in the hands of my husband, who spent it all. I lived abroad solely on the proceeds of my painting.

Not satisfied with relating his fine exploits to us, the thief talked incessantly of stringing up such and such people on lamp-posts, naming a number of my own acquaintances. My daughter thought this man very wicked. He frightened her, and this gave me the courage to say, "I beg you, sir, not to talk of killing before this child." That silenced him, and he ended by playing at battle with my daughter. On the bench I occupied there also sat a mad Jacobin from Grenoble, about fifty years old, with an ugly, bilious complexion, who each time we stopped at an inn for dinner or supper made violent speeches of the most fearful kind. At all of the towns a crowd of people stopped the coach to learn the news from Paris. Our Jacobin would then exclaim: "Everything is going well, children! We have the baker and his wife safe in Paris. A constitution will be drawn up, they will be forced to accept it, and then it will be all over." There were plenty of ninnies and flatheads who believed this man as if he had been an oracle. 

All this made my journey a very melancholy one. I had no further fears for myself, but I feared greatly for everybody else – for my mother, for my brother, and for my friends. I also had the gravest apprehensions concerning Their Majesties, for all along the route, nearly as far as Lyons, men on horseback rode up to the coach to tell us that the King and Queen had been killed and that Paris was on fire. My poor little girl got all a-tremble; she thought she saw her father dead and our house burned down, and no sooner had I succeeded in reassuring her than another horseman appeared and told us the same stories.

I cannot describe the emotions I felt in passing over the Beauvoisin Bridge. Then only did I breathe freely. I had left France behind, that France which nevertheless was the land of my birth, and which I reproached myself with quitting with so much satisfaction. The sight of the mountains, however, distracted me from all my sad thoughts. I had never seen high mountains before; those of the Savoy seemed to touch the sky, and seemed to mingle with it in a thick vapour. My first sensation was that of fear, but I unconsciously accustomed myself to the spectacle, and ended by admiring it. A certain part of the road completely entranced me; I seemed to see the "Gallery of the Titans," and I have always called it so since. Wishing to enjoy all these beauties as fully as possible, I got down from the coach, but after walking some way I was seized with a great fright, for there were explosions being made with gunpowder, which had the effect of a thousand cannon shots, and the din echoing from rock to rock was truly infernal.

I went up Mount Cenis, as other strangers were doing, when a postilion approached me, saying, "The lady ought to take a mule; to climb up on foot is too fatiguing." I answered that I was a work-woman and quite accustomed to walking. "Oh! no!" was the laughing reply. "The lady is no work-woman; we know who she is!" "Well, who am I, then?" I asked him. "You are Mme. Lebrun, who paints so well, and we are all very glad to see you safe from those bad people." I never guessed how the man could have learned my name, but it proved to me how many secret agents the Jacobins must have had. Happily I had no occasion to fear them any longer."

To be continued

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: The Revolution Begins

"Mademoiselle Brongniart" by Vigee-Lebrun

In her "Memoirs of Madame Vigee Lebrun," the French artist recalls the atmosphere surrounding the impending French Revolution:

"The fearful year 1789 was well advanced, and all decent people were already seized with terror. I remember perfectly that one evening when I had gathered some friends about me for a concert, most of the arrivals came into the room with looks of consternation; they had been walking at Longchamps that morning, and the populace assembled at the Etoile gate had cursed at those who passed in carriages in a dreadful manner. Some of the wretches had clambered on the carriage steps, shouting, "Next year you will be behind your carriages and we shall be inside!" and a thousand other insults.

As for myself, I had little need to learn fresh details in order to foresee what horrors impended. I knew beyond doubt that my house in the Rue Gros Chenet, where I had settled but three months since, had been singled out by the criminals. They threw sulphur into our cellars through the airholes. If I happened to be at my window, vulgar ruffians would shake their fists at me. Numberless sinister rumours reached me from every side; in fact, I now lived in a state of continual anxiety and sadness.

My health became sensibly affected, and two of my best friends, the architect Brongniart and his wife, when they came to see me, found me so thin and so changed that they besought me to come and spend a few days with them, which invitation I thankfully accepted. I remember having supped at the Brongniarts's with His Excellence M. de Sombreuil, at that time governor of the Invalides. He brought us the news that an attempt was threatening to take the arms that he had in reserve, "But," he added, "I have hidden them so well that I defy any one to find them." The good man did not consider that one could trust no one but oneself. As the arms were very soon abstracted, it seems evident that he was betrayed by some of the servants in his employ.

M. de Sombreuil, as notable for his private virtues as for his military talents, was among the prisoners who were to be killed in their cells on the second of September. The murderers gave him his life at the tears of supplication of his heroic daughter, but, villainous even in granting pardon, they compelled Mlle. de Sombreuil to drink a glass of the blood that flowed in streams in front of the prison. For a long time afterward the sight of anything with red colour made this unfortunate young woman vomit horribly. Some years later (in 1794) M. de Sombreuil was sent to the scaffold by the Revolutionary tribunal.

I had made up my mind to leave France. For some years I had cherished the desire to go to Rome. The large number of portraits I had engaged to paint had, however, hindered me from putting my plan into execution. But I could now paint no longer; my broken spirit, bruised with so many horrors, shut itself entirely to my art. Besides, dreadful slanders were pouring upon my friends, my acquaintances and myself, although, Heaven knows, I had never hurt a living soul. I thought like the man who said, 'I am accused of having stolen the towers of Notre Dame; they are still in their usual place, but I am going away, as I am evidently to blame.'

I left several portraits I had begun, among them Mlle. Contat's. At the same time I refused to paint Mlle. de Laborde (afterward Duchess de Noailles), brought to me by her father. She was scarcely sixteen, and very charming, but it was no longer a question of success or money – it was only a question of saving one's head. I had my carriage loaded, and my passport ready, so that I might leave next day with my daughter and her governess, when a crowd of national guardsmen burst into my room with their muskets. Most of them were drunk and shabby, and told me in the coarsest language that I must not go, but that I must remain. I answered that since everybody had been called upon to enjoy his liberty, I intended to make use of mine. They would barely listen to me, and kept on repeating, "You will not go, citizeness; you will not go!" Finally they went away. 

I was plunged into a state of cruel anxiety when I saw two of them return. But they did not frighten me, although they belonged to the gang, so quickly did I recognise that they wished me no harm. 'Madame,' said one of them, 'we are your neighbours, and we have come to advise you to leave, and as soon as possible. You cannot live here; you are changed so much that we feel sorry for you. But do not go in your carriage: go in the stage-coach; it is much safer.' I thanked them with all my heart, and followed their good advice. I had three places reserved, as I still wanted to take my daughter, who was then five or six years old, but was unable to secure them until a fortnight later, because all who exiled themselves chose the stagecoach, like myself. At last came the long-expected day."

To be continued

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: Member of the Royal Academy

"Self-Portrait in a Straw Hat" by
Vigee-Lebrun

"The Straw Hat" by Rubens

From the "Memoirs of Madame Vigee-Lebrun: 

"In 1782 M. Lebrun took me to Flanders, whither he was called by affairs of business, where we saw the masterpieces of Rubens. In one of them, at Antwerp, I found the famous 'Straw Hat,' which has lately been sold to an Englishman for a large sum. This admirable picture represents a woman by Rubens. It delighted and inspired me to such a degree that I made a portrait of myself at Brussels, striving to obtain the same effects. I painted myself with a straw hat on my head, a feather, and a garland of wild flowers, holding my palette in my hand. And when the portrait was exhibited at the Salon I feel free to confess that it added considerably to my reputation. The celebrated Müller made an engraving after it, but it must be understood that the dark shadows of an engraving spoiled the whole effect of such a picture. 

Soon after my return from Flanders, the portrait I had mentioned, and several other works of mine, were the cause of Joseph Vernet's decision to propose me as a member of the Royal Academy of Painting. M. Pierre, then first Painter to the King, made strong opposition, not wishing, he said, that women should be admitted, although Mme. Vallayer-Coster, who painted flowers beautifully, had already been admitted, and I think Mme. Vien had been, too. M. Pierre, a very mediocre painter, was a clever man. Besides, he was rich, and this enabled him to entertain artists luxuriously. Artists were not so well off in those days as they are now. His opposition might have become fatal to me if all true picture-lovers had not been associated with the Academy, and if they had not formed a cabal, in my favour, against M. Pierre's. At last I was admitted, and presented my picture 'Peace Bringing Back Plenty.'

I cared so little about money that I scarcely knew the value of it. The Countess de la Guiche, who is still alive, can affirm that, upon coming to me to have her portrait painted and telling me that she could afford no more than a thousand francs, I answered that M. Lebrun wished me to do none for less than two thousand. My closest friends all know that M. Lebrun took all the money I earned, on the plea of investing it in his business. I often had no more than six francs in my pocket and in the world. When in 1788 I painted the picture of the handsome Prince Lubomirskia, who was then grown up, his aunt, the Princess Lubomirska, remitted twelve thousand francs to me, out of which I begged M. Lebrun to let me keep forty; but he would not let me have even that, alleging that he needed the whole sum to liquidate a promissory note.

My indifference to money no doubt proceeded from the fact that wealth was not necessary to me. Since that which made my house pleasant required no extravagance, I always lived very economically. I spent very little on dress; I was even reproached for neglecting it, for I wore none but white dresses of muslin or lawn, and never wore elaborate gowns excepting for my sittings at Versailles. My head-dress cost me nothing, because I did my hair myself, and most of the time I wore a muslin cap on my head, as may be seen from my portraits."

To be continued

 

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: A Final Sitting with Marie Antoinette

 

"Marie Antoinette and Her Family"
by Vigee-Lebrun

French artist Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun thought very highly of Queen Marie Antoinette, and here remembers her final portrait sitting with her and the beginning of her downfall:

"The last sitting I had with Her Majesty was given me at Trianon, where I did her hair for the large picture in which she appeared with her children. After doing the Queen's hair, as well as separate studies of the Dauphin, Madame Royale, and the Duke de Normandie, I busied myself with my picture, to which I attached great importance, and I had it ready for the Salon of 1788. The frame, which had been taken there alone, was enough to evoke a thousand malicious remarks. "That's how the money goes," they said, and a number of other things which seemed to me the bitterest comments. At last I sent my picture, but I could not muster up the courage to follow it and find out what its fate was to be, so afraid was I that it would be badly received by the public. In fact, I became quite ill with fright. I shut myself in my room, and there I was, praying to the Lord for the success of my "Royal Family," when my brother and a host of friends burst in to tell me that my picture had met with universal acclaim. After the Salon, the King, having had the picture transferred to Versailles, M. d'Angevilliers, then minister of the fine arts and director of royal residences, presented me to His Majesty. Louis XVI. vouchsafed to talk to me at some length and to tell me that he was very much pleased. Then he added, still looking at my work, "I know nothing about painting, but you make me like it."

The picture was placed in one of the rooms at Versailles, and the Queen passed it going to mass and returning. After the death of the Dauphin, which occurred early in the year 1789, the sight of this picture reminded her so keenly of the cruel loss she had suffered that she could not go through the room without shedding tears. She then ordered M. d'Angevilliers to have the picture taken away, but with her usual consideration she informed me of the fact as well, apprising me of her motive for the removal. It is really to the Queen's sensitiveness that I owed the preservation of my picture, for the fishwives who soon afterward came to Versailles for Their Majesties would certainly have destroyed it, as they did the Queen's bed, which was ruthlessly torn apart.

I never had the felicity of setting eyes on Marie Antoinette after the last court ball at Versailles. The ball was given in the theatre, and the box where I was seated was so situated that I could hear what the Queen said. I observed that she was very excited, asking the young men of the court to dance with her, such as M. Lameth, whose family had been overwhelmed with kindness by the Queen, and others, who all refused, so that many of the dances had to be given up. The conduct of these gentlemen seemed to me exceedingly improper; somehow their refusal likened a sort of revolt – the prelude to revolts of a more serious kind. The Revolution was drawing near; it was, in fact, to burst out before long."

To be continued

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: First Portraits of Marie Antoinette

"Marie Antoinette in a Crimson Dress,
Holding a Book" by Vigee-Lebrun

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun recalls her first portraits of Marie Antoinette in "Memoirs of Madame Vigee Lebrun":

It was in the year 1779 that I painted the Queen for the first time; she was then in the heyday of her youth and beauty. Marie Antoinette was tall and admirably built, being somewhat stout, but not excessively so. Her arms were superb, her hands small and perfectly formed, and her feet charming. She had the best walk of any woman in France, carrying her head erect with a dignity that stamped her queen in the midst of her whole court, her majestic mien, however, not in the least diminishing the sweetness and amiability of her face. To any one who has not seen the Queen it is difficult to get an idea of all the graces and all the nobility combined in her person. Her features were not regular; she had inherited that long and narrow oval peculiar to the Austrian nation. Her eyes were not large; in colour they were almost blue, and they were at the same time merry and kind. Her nose was slender and pretty, and her mouth not too large, though her lips were rather thick. But the most remarkable thing about her face was the splendour of her complexion. I never have seen one so brilliant, and brilliant is the word, for her skin was so transparent that it bore no umber in the painting. Neither could I render the real effect of it as I wished. I had no colours to paint such freshness, such delicate tints, which were hers alone, and which I had never seen in any other woman.

"At the first sitting the imposing air of the Queen at first frightened me greatly, but Her Majesty spoke to me so graciously that my fear was soon dissipated. It was on that occasion that I began the picture representing her with a large basket, wearing a satin dress, and holding a rose in her hand. This portrait was destined for her brother, Emperor Joseph II, and the Queen ordered two copies besides – one for the Empress of Russia, the other for her own apartments at Versailles or Fontainebleau.

I painted various pictures of the Queen at different times. In one I did her to the knees, in a pale orange-red dress, standing before a table on which she was arranging some flowers in a vase. It may be well imagined that I preferred to paint her in a plain gown and especially without a wide hoopskirt. She usually gave these portraits to her friends or to foreign diplomatic envoys. One of them shows her with a straw hat on, and a white muslin dress, whose sleeves are turned up, though quite neatly. When this work was exhibited at the Salon, malignant folk did not fail to make the remark that the Queen had been painted in her chemise, for we were then in 1786, and calumny was already busy concerning her. Yet in spite of all this the portraits were very successful.

Toward the end of the exhibition a little piece was given at the Vaudeville Theatre, bearing the title, I think, 'The Assembling of the Arts.' Brongniart, the architect, and his wife, whom the author had taken into his confidence, had taken a box on the first tier, and called for me on the day of the first performance. As I had no suspicion of the surprise in store for me, judge of my emotion when Painting appeared on the scene and I saw the actress representing that art copy me in the act of painting a portrait of the Queen. The same moment everybody in the parterre and the boxes turned toward me and applauded to bring the roof down. I can hardly believe that any one was ever more moved and more grateful than I was that evening."

To be continued

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: Dire Warnings and Portrait Painting

"The Comtesse de Gramont Caderousse
Gathering Grapes" by Vigee-Lebrun

From Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun's autobiography "Memoirs of Madame Vigee-Lebrun:" 

"My marriage was kept secret for some time. M. Lebrun, who was supposed to marry the daughter of a Dutchman with whom he did a great business in pictures, asked me to make no announcement until he had wound up his affairs. To this I consented the more willingly that I did not give up my maiden name without regret, particularly as I was so well known by that name. But the keeping of the secret, which did not last long, was nevertheless fraught with disastrous consequences for my future. A number of people who simply believed that I was merely considering a match with M. Lebrun came to advise me to commit no such piece of folly. Auber, the crown jeweller, said to me in a friendly spirit: "It would be better for you to tie a stone to your neck and jump into the river than to marry Lebrun." Another day the Duchess d'Aremberg, accompanied by Mme. de Canillas, and Mme. de Souza, the Portuguese Ambassadress, all very young and pretty, came to offer their belated counsels a fortnight after the knot had been tied. "For heaven's sake," exclaimed the Countess, "on no account marry M. Lebrun! You will be miserable if you do!" And then she told me a lot of things which I was happy enough to disbelieve, but which only proved too true afterward. The announcement of my marriage put an end to these sad warnings, which, thanks to my dear painting, had little effect on my usual good spirits. I could not meet the orders for portraits that were showered upon me from every side. M. Lebrun soon got into the habit of pocketing my fees. He also hit upon the idea of making me give lessons in order to increase our revenues. I acceded to his wishes without a moment's thought.

The number of portraits I painted at this time was really prodigious. As I detested the female style of dress then in fashion, I bent all my efforts upon rendering it a little more picturesque, and was delighted when, after getting the confidence of my models, I was able to drape them according to my fancy. Shawls were not yet worn, but I made an arrangement with broad scarfs lightly intertwined round the body and on the arms, which was an attempt to imitate the beautiful drapings of Raphael and Domenichino. The picture of my daughter playing the guitar is an example. Besides, I could not endure powder. I persuaded the handsome Duchess de Grammont-Caderousse to put none on for her sittings. Her hair was ebony black, and I divided it on the forehead, disposing it in irregular curls. After the sitting, which ended at the dinner hour, the Duchess would not change her headdress, but go to the theatre as she was. A woman of such good looks would, of course, set a fashion: indeed, this mode of doing the hair soon found imitators, and then gradually became general. This reminds me that in 1786, when I was painting the Queen, I begged her to use no powder, and to part her hair on the forehead. "I should be the last to follow that fashion," said the Queen, laughing; "I do not want people to say that I adopted it to hide my large forehead."

As I said, I was overwhelmed with orders and was very much in vogue. Soon after my marriage I was present at a meeting of the French Academy at which La Harpe read his discourse on the talents of women. When he arrived at certain lines of exaggerated praise, which I was hearing for the first time, and in which he extolled my art and likened my smile to that of Venus, the author of "Warwick" threw a glance at me. At once the whole assembly, without excepting the Duchess de Chartres and the King of Sweden – who both were witnessing the ceremonies – rose up, turned in my direction, and applauded with such enthusiasm that I almost fainted from confusion."

To be continued

Elisabeth-Louise Vigee-Lebrun: Marriage

"Madame Grande, Noel Catherine Vorlee)"
by Vigee Lebrun

As Vigee-Lebrun grew in artistic ability - and marriageability - she describes her life in "Memoirs of Madame Lebrun" in this way:

 "My life as a young girl was very unusual. Not only did my talent – feeble as it seemed to me when I thought of the great masters – cause me to be sought after and welcomed by society, but I sometimes was the object of attentions which I might call public, and of which, I avow, I was very proud. For example, I had made portraits of Cardinal Fleury and La Bruyère, copied from engravings of ancient date. I made a gift of them to the French Academy, which sent me a very flattering letter through the permanent secretary, d'Alembert. My presentation of these two portraits to the Academy also secured me the honour of a visit from d'Alembert, a dried up morsel of a man of exquisitely polished manners. He stayed a long time and looked my study all over, while he paid me a thousand compliments. After he had gone, a fine lady, who happened to be visiting me at the same time, asked me whether I had painted La Bruyère and Fleury from life. "I am a little too young for that," I answered, unable to refrain from a laugh, but very glad for the sake of the lady that the Academician had left before she put her funny question.

My stepfather having retired from business, we took up residence at the Lubert mansion, in the Rue de Cléry. M. Lebrun had just bought the house and lived there himself, and as soon as we were settled in it I began to examine the splendid masterpieces of all schools with which his lodgings were filled. I was enchanted at an opportunity of first-hand acquaintance with these works by great masters. M. Lebrun was so obliging as to lend me, for purposes of copying, some of his handsomest and most valuable paintings. Thus I owed him the best lessons I could conceivably have obtained, when, after a lapse of six months, he asked my hand in marriage. I was far from wishing to become his wife, though he was very well built and had a pleasant face. I was then twenty years old, and was living without anxiety as to the future, since I was already earning a deal of money, so that I felt no manner of inclination for matrimony. But my mother, who believed M. Lebrun to be very rich, incessantly plied me with arguments in favour of accepting such an advantageous match. At last I decided in the affirmative, urged especially by the desire to escape from the torture of living with my stepfather, whose bad temper had increased day by day since he had relinquished active pursuits. So little, however, did I feel inclined to sacrifice my liberty that, even on my way to church, I kept saying to myself, "Shall I say yes, or shall I say no?" Alas! I said yes, and in so doing exchanged present troubles for others. Not that M. Lebrun was a cruel man: his character exhibited a mixture of gentleness and liveliness; he was extremely obliging to everybody, and, in a word, quite an agreeable person. But his furious passion for gambling was at the bottom of the ruin of his fortune and my own, of which he had the entire disposal, so that in 1789, when I quitted France, I had not an income of twenty francs, although I had earned more than a million. He had squandered it all."

To be continued

 

Vigee Lebrun: Earning an Income

 

"Count Schouvaloff"
by Vigee-Lebrun

In her autobiography "Memoirs of Madame Lebrun," French artist Louise-Elisabeth Vigee-Lebrun explains how she was thrust into the position of breadwinner at an early age:

"My father had left us penniless. But I was earning a deal of money, as I was already painting many portraits. This, however, was insufficient for household expenses, seeing that in addition I had to pay for my brother's schooling, his clothes, his books, and so on. My mother, therefore, saw herself obliged to remarry. She took a rich jeweller, whom we never had suspected of avarice, but who directly after the marriage displayed his stinginess by limiting us to the absolute necessities of life, although I was good-natured enough to hand him over everything I earned. Joseph Vernet was greatly enraged; he counselled me to grant an annuity and to keep the rest for myself. But I did not comply with this advice. I was afraid my mother might suffer in consequence, with such a skinflint. I detested the man, the more as he had appropriated my father's wardrobe and wore all the clothes just as they were, without having them altered to fit him.

My young reputation attracted a number of strangers to our house. Several distinguished personages came to see me, among them the notorious Count Orloff, one of Peter the Third's assassins. Count Orloff was a giant in stature, and I remember his wearing a diamond of enormous size in a ring.

About this time I painted a portrait of Count Schouvaloff, Grand Chamberlain, then, I believe, about sixty years old. He combined amiability with perfect manners, and, as he was an excellent man, was sought after by the best company.

One of my visitors of eminence was Mme. Geoffrin, the woman so famous for her brilliant social life. Mme. Geoffrin gathered at her house all the known men of talent in literature and the arts, all foreigners of note and the grandest gentlemen attached to the court. Being neither of good family nor endowed with unusual abilities, nor even possessing much money, she had nevertheless made a position for herself in Paris unique of its kind, and one that no woman could nowadays hope to achieve. Having heard me spoken of, she came to see me one morning and said the most flattering things about my person and my gifts.

Immediately after my mother's marriage we went to live at my stepfather's in the Rue Saint Honoré, opposite the terrace of the Palais Royal, which terrace our windows overlooked. I often saw the Duchess de Chartres walking in the garden with her ladies-in-waiting, and soon observed that she noticed me with kindly interest. I had recently finished a portrait of my mother which evoked a great deal of discussion at the time. The Duchess sent for me to come and paint her. She most obligingly commended my young talents to her friends, so that it was not long before I received a visit from the stately, handsome Countess de Brionne and her lovely daughter, the Princess de Lorraine, who were followed by all the great ladies of the court and the Faubourg Saint Germain."

To be continued

Vigee Lebrun: Growing Pains

"Self-Portrait In Traveling Costume"
by Elizabeth Louise Vigee Lebrun

 

French artist Vigee Lebrun continues the story of her childhood in her autobiography, "Memoirs of Madame Vigee Lebrun":

I had spent one happy year at home when my father fell ill. After two months of suffering all hope of his recovery was abandoned. When he felt his last moments approaching, he declared a wish to see my brother and myself. We went close to his bedside, weeping bitterly. His face was terribly altered; his eyes and his features, usually so full of animation, were quite without expression, for the pallor and the chill of death were already upon him. We took his icy hand and covered it with kisses and tears. He made a last effort and sat up to give us his blessing. "Be happy, my children," was all he said. An hour later our poor father had ceased to live.

So heartbroken was I that it was long before I felt able to take to my crayons again. Doyen came to see us sometimes, and as he had been my father's best friend his visits were a great consolation. He it was who urged me to resume the occupation I loved, and in which, to speak truth, I found the only solace for my woe. It was then that I began to paint from nature. I accomplished several portraits – pastels and oils. I also drew from nature and from casts, often working by lamplight with Mlle. Boquet, with whom I was closely acquainted. I went to her house in the evenings; she lived in the Rue Saint Denis, where her father had a bric-à-brac shop. It was a long way off, since we lodged in the Rue de Cléry, opposite the Lubert mansion. My mother, therefore, insisted on my being escorted whenever I went. We likewise frequently repaired, Mlle. Boquet and I, to Briard's, a painter, who lent us his etchings and his classical busts. Briard was but a moderate painter, although he did some ceilings of rather unusual conception. On the other hand, he could draw admirably, which was the reason why several young people went to him for lessons. His rooms were in the Louvre, and each of us brought her little dinner, carried in a basket by a nurse, in order that we might make a long day of it.

Mlle. Boquet was fifteen years old and I fourteen. We were rival beauties. I had changed completely and had become good looking. Her artistic abilities were considerable; as for mine, I made such speedy progress that I soon was talked about, and this resulted in my making the gratifying acquaintance of Joseph Vernet. That famous painter gave me cordial encouragement and much invaluable advice. I also got to know the Abbé Arnault, of the French Academy. He was a man of strong imaginative gifts, with a passion for literature and the arts. His conversation enriched me with ideas, if I may thus express myself. He would talk of music and painting with the most inspiring ardour. The Abbé was a warm partisan of Gluck, and at a later date brought the great composer to see me, for I, too, was passionately fond of music.

My mother was now proud of my face and figure; I was growing stouter, and presented the fresh appearance proper to youth. On Sundays she took me to the Tuileries. She was still handsome herself, and after the lapse of all these years I am free to confess that the manner in which we were so often followed by men embarrassed more than it flattered me. Seeing me so irremediably affected by our cruel loss, my mother deemed it best to take me out of myself by showing me pictures. Thus we went to the Luxembourg Palace, the gallery of which then contained some of Rubens's masterpieces, as well as numerous works by the greatest painters. At present nothing is to be seen there but pictures of the modern French school. I am the only painter of that class not represented. The old masters have since been removed to the Louvre. Rubens has lost much by the change: the difference between well or badly lighted pictures is the same as between well or badly played pieces of music.

We also saw some rich private collections, none of which, however, equalled that of the Palais Royal, made by the Regent and containing a conspicuous number of old Italian masters. As soon as I entered one of these galleries I at once became exactly like a bee, so much useful knowledge did I eagerly gather while intoxicated with bliss in the contemplation of the great masters. Besides, in order to improve myself, I copied some of the pictures of Rubens, some of Rembrandt's and Van Dyck's heads, as well as several heads of girls by Greuze, because these last were a good lesson to me in the demi-tints to be found in delicate flesh colouring. Van Dyck shows them also, but more finely. It is to these studies that I owe my improvement in the very important science of degradation of light on the salient parts of a head, so admirably done by Raphael, whose heads, it is true, combine all the perfections. But it is only in Rome, under the bright Italian sky, that Raphael can be properly judged. When, after years, I was enabled to see some of his masterpieces, which had never left their native home, I recognised Raphael to be above his high renown. 

To be continued

Vigee Lebrun: Family Matters

"Portrait of the Artist's Mother, Madame Le Sèvre,
née Jeanne Maissin" by Vigee Lebrun

Excerpts from the autobiography "Memoirs of Madame Vigee Lebrun," the French portraitist:

"My mother was an extremely handsome woman. This may be judged from the pastel portrait made of her by my father, as well as from my own oil painting of a much later date. She carried her goodness to austerity, and my father worshipped her as though she had been divine. She was very pious, and, in heart, I was so, too. We always heard high mass together, and were regular attendants at the other church services. Especially in Lent did we never omit any of the prescribed devotions, evening prayer not excepted. I have always liked sacred singing, and in those days organ music would often move me to tears.

My father was in the habit of inviting various artists and men of letters to his house of an evening. At the head of them I must place Doyen, the historical painter, my father's most intimate and my first friend. Doyen was the nicest man in the world, so clever and so good; his views on persons and things were always exceedingly just, and moreover he talked about painting with such fervent enthusiasm that it made my heart beat fast to listen to him. 

Though nothing more than a child, the jollity of these suppers was a great source of pleasure to me. I was obliged to leave the table before dessert, but from my room I heard the laughter and the joking and the songs. These, I confess, I did not understand; nevertheless, they helped to make my holidays delightful. At eleven I left the boarding-school for good, after my first communion. Davesne, who painted in oils, sent his wife for me to teach me how to mix colours. Their poverty grieved me deeply. One day, when I wanted to finish a head I had begun, they made me remain to dinner. The dinner consisted of soup and baked apples.

My brother, three years younger than I, was as lovely as an angel. I was not nearly so lively as he, and far from being so clever or so pretty. In fact, at that time of my life I was very plain. I had an enormous forehead, and eyes far too deep-set; my nose was the only good feature of my pale, skinny face. Besides, I was growing so fast that I could not hold myself up straight, and I bent like a willow. These defects were the despair of my mother. 

I fancy she had a weakness for my brother. At any rate, she spoiled him and forgave him his youthful sins, whereas she was very severe toward myself. To make up for it, my father overwhelmed me with kindness and indulgence. His tender love endeared him more and more to my heart; and so my good father is ever present to me, and I believe I have not forgotten a word he uttered in my hearing. How often, during 1789, did I think of something in sort prophetic which he said. He had come home from a philosophers' dinner where he had met Diderot, Helvetius and d'Alembert. He was so thoroughly dejected that my mother asked him what the matter was. "All I have heard to-night, my dear," he replied, "makes me believe that the world will soon be turned upside down."

To be continued

 

Vigee LeBrun: A Passion for Art

Élisabeth Louise Vigée-Lebrun
Self-Portrait, 1790

The following excerpts are from the hand of Madame Vigee Lebrun herself, in her book "Memoirs of Madame Vigeee Lebrun," and tell the fascinating story of her life:

"I will begin by speaking of my childhood, which is the symbol, so to say, of my whole life, since my love for painting declared itself in my earliest youth. I was sent to a boarding-school at the age of six, and remained there until I was eleven. During that time I scrawled on everything at all seasons; my copy-books, and even my schoolmates', I decorated with marginal drawings of heads, some full-face, others in profile; on the walls of the dormitory I drew faces and landscapes with coloured chalks. So it may easily be imagined how often I was condemned to bread and water. I made use of my leisure moments outdoors in tracing any figures on the ground that happened to come into my head. At seven or eight, I remember, I made a picture by lamplight of a man with a beard, which I have kept until this very day. When my father saw it he went into transports of joy, exclaiming, "You will be a painter, child, if ever there was one!"

I mention these facts to show what an inborn passion for the art I possessed. Nor has that passion ever diminished; it seems to me that it has even gone on growing with time, for to-day I feel under the spell of it as much as ever, and shall, I hope, until the hour of death. It is, indeed, to this divine passion that I owe, not only my fortune, but my felicity, because it has always been the means of bringing me together with the most delightful and most distinguished men and women in Europe. The recollection of all the notable people I have known often cheers me in times of solitude.

As a schoolgirl my health was frail, and therefore my parents would frequently come for me to take me to spend a few days with them. This, of course, suited my taste exactly. My father, Louis Vigée, made very good pastel drawings; he did some which would have been worthy of the famous Latour. My father allowed me to do some heads in that style, and, in fact, let me mess with his crayons all day. He was so wrapt up in his art that he occasionally did queer things from sheer absent-mindedness. I remember how, one day, after dressing for a dinner in town, he went out and almost immediately came back, it having occurred to him that he would like to touch up a picture recently begun. He removed his wig, put on a nightcap, and went out again in this head gear, with his gilt-frogged coat, his sword, etc. Had not one of his neighbours stopped him, he would have exhibited himself in this costume all through the town.

He was a very witty man. His natural good spirits infected every one, and some came to be painted by him for the sake of his amusing conversation. Once, when he was making a portrait of a rather pretty woman, my father observed, while he worked at her mouth, that she made all manner of grimaces in order to make that organ look smaller. Falling out of patience with all this maneuvering, my father quietly remarked:

"Please don't let me give you so much trouble. You have only to say the word and I will paint you without a mouth."

To be continued

John White Alexander: Comparing Opportunities for Artists in Europe/USA, 1901-1912, Pt. 2

"In the Cafe" by John Alexander White

John White Alexander continues to speak on the influence of the government of a country on its Art and artists:

"Interest on the part of the public is fostered in every possible way by the Administration of the Fine Arts with the result that Paris is never without its current Art Exhibitions. The two Salons in the Spring - the International Society, the Independents, the Water Colourists, the Etchers, the Rose Croix, the Pastelists and dozens of societies of faddists all keep the ball moving - and invariably the foreigner is welcome to take part if he only has something original to say and is strong enough to say it. And the Artists are everywhere as well known personally to the public as are our politicians to us.

In France the President opens the Salons officially and in England some member of the royal family attends the Royal Academy banquet. The President of the Royal Academy and the Scottish Academy are knighted and all the ceremony and pageant of the thing excites interest and creates an impression on the people.

I remember very well the first exhibition held by the handful of Symbolist painters, poets and sculptors who formed the Society of the Rose Croix. This exhibition took place in the rue Lafitte and excited so much public interest that it was impossible to turn in from the boulevard to the street. The crowd trying to gain admittance to the gallery was so dense on the opening days.

The beauty of the city of Paris is also jealously guarded by the government so that no man is allowed to build a house until all his plans have been passed on and approved by an official board who sees to it that in height and design it will not mar the general effect of the street or disturb the harmony of the skyline. Each year the city gives a gold medal and one thousand francs to the architect who plans the most artistic house, to its builder goes a silver medal and five hundred francs, and its owner has his taxes cut  50%.

Everywhere and in everything the belief is encouraged and fostered that Art is of practical value and not merely a pleasant but useless luxury and that its encouragement tends to beauty, to cultivation and to advancement for every citizen."

John White Alexander: Comparing Opportunities for Artists in Europe/USA, 1901-1912

"Repose" by John White Alexander

It is very interesting to get the perspective of fine artists in America at the turn of the century (1900) as they were either seeking good instruction here, overcoming attitudes towards the art profession in the States, or searching for a unique American style of art. In this essay, John White Alexander compares the philosophy and opportunities for artists in America and Europe at that time:

"The relation of the people towards Art differs greatly in this country [America] from that existing in Europe. In the first place, over there its governmental recognition as a large factor in public education - dignifies it in the eyes of the people.

In Europe Art is not a luxury - for the exclusive enjoyment of the very rich. It is a possession and vital part of the life of even the poorest and humblest citizen. The same faculty is shown in the wonderful classification and arrangements of the exhibits in their museums. I have had occasion several times to hunt up costumes and details for my work and I can testify to the ease with which I found what I wanted - and also to the invariable courtesy, interest and even eagerness shown by the directors and attendants to help and make everything as easy as possible for me.

It is certain that one of the greatest incentives to work is the feeling that others have confidence that what we are engaged in doing is really worthwhile, and governmental recognition of Art certainly would seem to denote this confidence on their part as to the value of the artists' work. The schools that are built for him and the galleries that are open to him give his profession an importance that is at once noble and dignified.

The artist and art artisan in France knows at once where he will be able to find the best examples of what has already been accomplished in all the different branches of his particular artwork - and this applies not only to France but to all the principle countries of Europe. 

The number of schools associated with the Fine Arts and Applied Arts in France are too numerous to mention.

The French Government publishes and sells at less than cost, books on the subject of the Fine and Applied Arts. One can get for a franc the book on painting, which will give both simple and detailed information on the subject.

The local government in all the departments of France aid and encourage the young men of talent in their district by prizes and patronage. These young men of talent are eventually sent to Paris entering the schools and kept well in view by the Inspectors of Beaux Arts who distribute the government patronage. The immature but carefully chosen works of these young students are actually purchased by the government and sent to the provinces where they become the nucleus of future museums. 

Leon Bonnat, once of the best known modern French portrait painters was sent to Paris from his native village in this way. He now owns one of the finest private collections in Paris and at his death this collection will go to his native town as an expression of his gratitude for its timely help, without which he never could have attained the eminence which he now enjoys."

To be continued

(Excerpts from a speech by John White Alexander, ca. 1901-1912 comparing opportunities and support for artists in Europe and the USA: https://www.aaa.si.edu/collections/john-white-alexander-papers-8637/series-5/box-1-folder-80 )

John White Alexander: Public Service

"Study of a Man (with Moustache)"
by John White Alexander

"During John White Alexander's latter years, a great deal of his time was taken away from his painting and given to public service. Toward leadership he gravitated inevitably, and in it he established himself solidly, using the experience of one official position to affirm that of another, touching the circle of the Arts at many points of its circumference. 

In this synthesizing he worked first, say, as a member of the Board of the Metropolitan Museum of Art at increasing and caring for the museum's treasures. Next as an officer of the School Art League he worked to provide intelligent appreciation of those treasures, appreciation planted in the minds of the children of the city to grow till it should reward the museum's effort with understanding adults - and trained. And he did not leave it there, but after showing art objects of many kinds to these young seekers, he followed them to their East Side clubs and schools and catechized them, and when he noted what they had best remembered, he encouraged them to try experiments of their own in painting and modeling and stimulated them by prizes which he judged.

To such an instinctive maker of pictures as he, it was an easy progression for him from his canvases to the moving pictures of a pageant or a play. Of course, the organizers of charity bazaars sought Alexander as arranger of tableaux. 'If you have a frame and some gauze,' he would say, 'you have no idea how much you can do in a moment with a few colored rags.' He was so smiling and kindly that one sometimes did not realize how much his ready service must often have tired him.

He was either officer or member of twenty different art societies. Of many of these he was president: of the National Academy of Design, the National Institute of Arts and Letters, the School Art League of New York, the National Academy Association and the MacDowell Club. The list could go on and on."

To be continued

(From the Smithsonian Archives of American Art: https://www.aaa.si.edu/.../john.../series-1/box-1-folder-1 )

John White Alexander: Muralist

From "The Crowning of Labor" by John White Alexander

"In the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., are six lunettes setting forth 'The Evolution of the Book,' and in Pittsburgh's Carnegie Institute are forty-eight panels, the 'Crowning of Labor,' which represent John White Alexander's achievement in the field of mural decoration. 

The 'Crowning of Labor' was one of the largest commissions, covering almost 4,000 square feet,  both to extent and remuneration that have ever gone to a mural painter. He was chosen to decorate the entire grand staircase of the Carnegie Institute Building, and he selected for his subject 'The Crowning of Labor' as an apotheosis of Pittsburgh.

The principle group is at the second floor of what the French aptly call the cage d'escalier. A man in steel armor, typical enough of the city in foundries, stands poised against clouds with his drawn sword in his hand and is apparently the focal hero of the apotheosis. In a sort of semi-circle before him are young women symbolizing Peace, Prosperity, Luxuries, and Education, making graceful obeisance to him. A line of women blow long slender trumpets in his honor. 

Below, around and above these figures, smoke and steam curl and mount with the stories of the staircase, not only offering a presence appropriate to Pittsburgh, but also affording a medium of the utmost value to the creator of the decoration since it enabled him to dissemble the figures wherever he pleases and concentrate them in groups at the points of real vantage. 

In the twelve panels of one of the walls to the staircases there are said to be 400 figures of men, women and children, the people from the streets of Pittsburgh. Since everything was painted by the hand of Alexander himself, one feels rather appalled at the strain put upon such a fragile physique as his and feels that the result was quite as much the crowning of the painter's devotion as it was 'The Crowning of Labor.'

John White Alexander completed the first elements of the mural in 1907 and the remainder in 1908. He died before finishing the panels for the third floor. These last panels would have portrayed Andrew Carnegie's cultural pillars of art, science, music, and literature, but sadly remained unfinished."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "John White Alexander: A Biographical Sketch" by H.M. B. for "The American Magazine of Art," an online essay on the "Grand Staircase": https://carnegieart.org/art/art-around-you/grand-staircase/ and biographical notes from the Smithsonian Archives of American Art: https://www.aaa.si.edu/collections/john-white-alexander-papers-8637/series-1/box-1-folder-1)

John White Alexander: Marriage and Paris

"A year after Alexander came home from his second summer spent abroad, in 1887, he married Elizabeth Alexander. They lived in New York for three years after their marriage. Then, early in 1890, they went abroad, because he had a serious attack of grippe, which left him in a much weakened condition. They expected to stay two years and stayed eleven; years rich in happy associations and friendships, and especially notable because of the distinguished honors and professional recognition which came to the young painter. 

The Alexanders lived in Paris and were in touch with French life and French art in a peculiarly intimate sense. Few Americans have more happily taken their place in the social and artistic life of a foreign city.

Alexander received marked recognition for the first time in the spring of 1893, at the exhibition of the Societe Nationale des Beaux-Arts in Paris, to which he had sent three portraits: 'The Gray Dress,' 'The Black Dress,' and 'The Yellow Dress.' This group was the feature of the Salon, the paintings were marked number 1, were hung together in a panel and the young painter was immediately afterward elected associate of the society. This success was followed by an exhibition at the Grafton Gallery in London of two portraits which were given a place of honor.

"The Gray Dress"

"The Black Dress"

"The Yellow Dress"

The next year, he exhibited a group of five portraits and two compositionsat the Societe Nationale des Beaux-Arts, and in June of that year he was elected to full membership with the privilege of exhibiting hors concours, of voting with the society and of serving on its juries. Thishonor by French society place him at once in the front rank of the younger painters. Recognition in other cities followed closely. He was invited tocontribute to the exhibitions of Europe and of the United States and medals and awards came to him from the most distinguished sources and his work became part of collections around the world."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "John White Alexander: A Biographical Sketch" by H.M. B. for "The American Magazine of Art.")

John White Alexander: Magazine Illustrations on Location

"Robert Louis Stevenson"
by John White Alexander

"After John White Alexander's return from Europe, he continued illustrating for Harper's. He and Fred Muller made a voyage down the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers in the towboat of a large coal fleet, which was described by Mr. Muller in an article, 'King Coal's Highway,' for which Mr. Alexander made a series of illustrations. 

Alexander also spent two summers abroad. The first summer, in 1884, he went to Spain and Morocco; the second summer, that of 1886, he went for 'The Century Company' to do work for that magazine - a series of portraits, including Thomas Hardy, Alphonse Daudet, Austin Dobson, George Bancroft and Robert Louis Stevenson. Stevenson was living at at Skerryvore, Bournemouth, in the south of England, and Alexander stayed with him there. On July 11, 1886, Stevenson wrote to his family about the portrait which was published in 'The Century' for April, 1888; and later in a letter written to Henry James, Stevenson refers to Alexander, this time to 'the dear Alexander,' whom he says he has just seen. The portrait of George Bancroft appeared in 'The Century' for January, 1887, and the Hardy portrait in July, 1893. 

Alexander also spent a month or six weeks in Ireland that year, doing a number of illustrations, interesting landscape sketches, for a series of articles about Ireland by Charles de Kay, which appeared in 'The Century' during 1889 and 1890."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "John White Alexander: A Biographical Sketch" by H.M. B. for "The American Magazine of Art.")

John White Alexander: Studies in Europe

"Portrait of Mrs. John White Alexander"
by John White Alexander

"John White Alexander remained for about three years with Harper & Brothers. Having saved up $300, he and a friend sailed from Philadelphia for Liverpool. After a short time spent in London, they went to Paris, where they were disappointed to find the Ecole des Beaux Art, which they expected to enter, closed for repairs. His friend suggested that, as he knew a few words of German - neither of them knew a word of French - they should go to Munich.

In Munich Alexander studied for about three months, in the class of Professor Benzcur at the Munich Academy of Fine Arts. Although he earned some income by sending drawings back to Harper's, the expense of living in the city was comparatively high. Also Alexander was not in sympathy with the severe and academic method of the school, so he decided to go to Polling where there was at that time a small colony of American artists, among others J. Frank Currier, Walter L. Shirlaw, Joseph De Camp and Ross Turner. There Alexander first started to paint. 

He sent, at the suggestion of Professor Benzcur, some of his drawings to the Students' Exhibition at the Academy of Fine Arts in Munich, and was awarded a bronze medal, his first honor. After leaving Polling, Alexander joined a class of art students, which Frank Duveneck had arranged to take to Florence and teach. Duveneck and Alexander went ahead to find studios, and in the course of a month, the others, numbering twenty-three in all, joined them in Florence, where they spent two winters.

Summers were spent in Venice, where Alexander first met James McNeil Whistler, who was them making the series of Venetian etchings which have since become so famous. He was working one day with his easel up when a stranger came and looked over his shoulder and made some criticism of his work. It proved to be Whistler, and the the acquaintance which developed into a warm and lifelong friendship dated from that day."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "John White Alexander: A Biographical Sketch" by H.M.B. for "The American Magazine of Art.")

John White Alexander: A Hard Start

"The Blue Bowl" by John White Alexander

"John White Alexander was born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania, October 7, 1856. During his early boyhood he lived with his grandparents, his father and mother having died when he was very young. When he was twelve years old he left school and took a position as a messenger in the Pittsburgh office of the Atlantic and Pacific Telegraph Company.  Col. Edward Jay Allen, the secretary and treasurer of the company, became interested in the boy, and upon the death of his grandfather, was appointed his guardian and took him into his own home.

Alexander lived with Colonel Allen until he was about eighteen, when he went to New York, with the purpose of studying art. There he secured employment with Harper & Brothers, although it was some time before he was given a place in the illustrating department. Charles Parsons was then at the head of this department, and during those years he gave Alexander valuable help and encouragement. 

At that time illustrations for the magazines were made by working directly upon the wooden block, several men frequently working upon the same block. Alexander usually put in the figures, but such composite illustrations were often unsigned. We do not, in turning to the old files of Harper's, find much that throws light upon this period of Alexander's work, although there appear occasional cartoons, signed 'Alexander,' from about September 18, 1876 until the middle of 1877.

Later on Alexander had frequent signed illustrations in Harper's publications, and also in the 'Century,' but this was after he had gone abroad, and not during those first apprentice years. Thomas Nast, Edwin Austin Abbey, Stanley Reinhart and A.B. Frost were all working for Harper's when Alexander first went there, and we know that he was in close touch with these men, and that in many cases the friendships which were formed there lasted throughout his life."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "John White Alexander" by H.M.B. in "The American Magazine of Art.")