George P. A. Healy: John James Audubon

"John James Audubon" by George Healy

"When I was in London as a very young man in 1838, the great naturalist Audubon visited the British metropolis. He was a very simple man, a little rough in appearance, with long shaggy black hair, and the most piercing eyes I ever saw - real eagle eyes.

I called upon him and asked him to sit to me. He assured me that though he was greatly flattered, he could not possibly spare the time. He had come to London to bring out his big book on birds, and was too much absorbed by this work to think of sitting. Then, as he was a kindly man, he added: 'I have but my evenings to offer you.' Doubtless he thought to escape me in that way. But artists are persevering. I am peculiarly so. 'The very thing, my dear sir! I shall make an original portrait by gaslight!' The great man was caught, and graciously accepted his defeat.

I painted him in the costume he wore when he went in search of his birds - a sort of backwoodsman's dress. In the course of conversation Audubon discovered that I was in love with a young English girl, and he became at once very friendly and communicative, assuring me that a good marriage was the only real happiness one could hope for in life. He found me a willing listener, and easily convinced of the truth he so eloquently preached.

I took the portrait to America with me some years after I painted it, and it is now the property of the Boston Ornithological Society."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by George Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Portraits of French Statesmen

 

"Marshal General Jean-de-Dieu Soult"
by George Healy

"I happened to be in London in the spring of 1838 and assisted at the festivities of Queen Victoria's coronation on the 25th of April. It was a very grand sight, and all the different countries sent representatives. Among these, Marshal Soult, who represented his royal master, Louis Philippe, excited most interest and admiration. He was a very rich man, and his government spared nothing to add to the luxury which he was fond of displaying.

Our minister, Mr. Stevenson, was so struck by his fine presence and grand air that he bade me paint his portrait, if I could get him to sit. This was easier said than done, but in the end I painted a large portrait of the Marshal in his superb gold-embroidered uniform, holding his white plumed hat under his arm. The picture is now in the Corcoran Gallery in Washington.

I was also invited to visit Soult's famous gallery of pictures, collected - in reality, stolen - in Spain. It contained a number of paintings by Murillo, Cano and Ribeira. But the picture which struck me most was the large Murillo, called the 'Immaculate Conception,' and which has become familiar to every visitor of the Louvre, since it has been hung in the Salon Carre. But in those days only those to whom the Marshal opened his door were allowed to see this and his other pictures.  After Soult's death his gallery was sold, and brought nearly a million and a half francs. The 'Immaculate Conception' along cost the Louvre 586,000 francs - an unheard of price in those days.

"M. Guizot" by George Healy

It would have been difficult to find a greater contrast than that which existed between Soult and another of my sitters of that far-off time, Guizot, then one of the most prominent of French statesmen. No one had greater influence. Cold in manner, exquisitely polite, he was inflexible when he thought himself to be in the right. His early childhood had been overshadowed by the terror of the Revolution. His father, though a Liberal, had perished on the guillotine. He was, by his nature and his principles, eminently fitted to be a member of Louis Philippe's government.

As a sitter, Guizot was not only courteous, but perfectly charming. His conversation was varied and most interesting, and he usually spoke English. Before beginning the large portrait I made a careful drawing on a canvas, just rubbed in here and there with a little color. This was considered so successful that I left it in its unfinished state, and have kept it ever since. Guizot was then a man of about fifty-five, in the full strength and vigor of his long life. He died in 1874, at the age of eighty-six. His head was remarkably fine and delicate, the head of a scholar and of a perfect gentleman."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

 

George P. A. Healy: "Webster Replying to Hayne"

"Daniel Webster" by George Healy

"While executing the orders of my royal patron, Louis Philippe, my work brought me in contact with the most celebrated of our public men. It was then that I first conceived the idea of grouping them together in a large historical picture. I chose as my subject 'Webster Replying to Hayne.' The great orator was a magnificent looking man, with his deep-set eyes, his superb brow and his fine massive presence. 

Webster was the very man for the central figure of a large picture. His friends and enemies, in various attitudes of attention, of admiration, or of indignation, set him off very well. This was an immense undertaking, which required seven years to accomplish. I painted the picture in Paris, but all the studies, about one hundred and fifty portraits, I made from life. When at last the picture was finished it was exhibited in America, and finally placed in Faneuil Hall, where it is still to be seen.

It was while I was thus at work in the United States that I heard of Louis Philippe's fall; the King of France was an exile in England. Not only was this a real grief to me, but, from a worldly point of view, it was a real calamity. To fulfil the King's orders I had left an excellent English connection. Many of the portraits of American statesmen intended for him were either not finished or remained on my hands. 

However, I continued my work, and when I had all the materials ready for my big picture, returned to Paris. I never regretted the time I devoted to it, but I hold it an honor to have painted so many of my illustrious country-people. And whatever criticisms may be addressed to 'Webster Replying to Hayne' as a picture, I can at least affirm that it was painted with absolute sincerity and regard for nature and truth. Each head on that vast canvas is a portrait."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: John Quincy Adams

"John Quincy Adams" by George Healy

"In September, 1845, I found myself in Boston, and there I obtained sittings from John Quincy Adams for the portrait ordered by King Louis Philippe. He was then seventy-eight years of age. He was a member of Congress, and was called the 'old man eloquent.' It seemed odd to talk with one who had been in France before the Revolution, whose father had spoken to him familiarly of Voltaire, of Buffon, and of the French court.

The first time he came to sit I said something about the annoyance we artists caused celebrated people. Webster was very frank on the subject. He compared us to horseflies on a hot day - brush them off on one side, they settle on the other. Adams smiled, but said that he was by no means of Webster's opinion, that he had enjoyed his sittings on more than one occasion. He had perhaps found that a man busy with his brush can be a good listener. I, for one, listened with great pleasure.

He spoke of different painters he had known. He had, as a boy, seen Reynolds, whom he greatly admired, but who would often 'not let well alone,' and spoiled his portraits with over care. Stuart he had sat to, though the portrait had to be finished by Sully after the great artist's death. He had had many opportunities of studying the old masters in the different galleries. He had seen the Louvre in Napoleon's time filled with the finest masterpieces, unscrupulously taken from conquered countries. 'But,' added he, 'there were too many. It was a surfeit of sweets. It was impossible to appreciate each picture seen thus crowded by other pictures.'

John Quincy Adams was an excellent classical scholar, and while speaking of his favorite authors would grow quite excited, with his eyes cast upward. On more than one occasion I saw him literally trembling with emotion. In those far-away days cold indifference was not yet the fashion. A man did not fear to show the enthusiasm he felt. He said that he could never, even then, read the account of the death of Socrates without tears springing to his eyes."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. A. P. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: General Jackson

"General Jackson" by George Healey

"Louis Philippe, King of France, whose sympathies with our country are well known, ordered me to paint portraits of American statesmen for the Versailles Gallery. Early in the spring of 1845 he sent me to see General Andrew Jackson in that regard saying, 'Mr. Healy, I hear that General Jackson is very ill. You must start at once for the Hermitage.'

His country place was within twelve miles of Nashville, Tennessee.  I drove to the old hero's door to find that General Jackson was suffering from moving dropsy, and for forty days and forty nights had been unable to lie down. He was worn out with fatigue and pain, and it was not without difficulty that I was admitted to his presence. But I was so full of my object, so eager, that I at once made my request. At any rate, he answered curtly, 'Can't sit, sir. Not for all the kings in Christendom!'

Sick at heart with the disappointment, I bowed and left the irascible old man. But a solution was in the air. In Nashville a friend advised me to see a Mrs. Jackson, who happened to be at a friend's house that very day. She was a great favorite with the General and after listening to my story and read the King's letter, which I had neglected to show to the General, promised to do her best to persuade him, which she managed to do.

When the General saw me, he said, 'Sir, you made a faux pas yesterday. You should have shown me the King's letter.' After this things went on very pleasantly and easily. I was admitted into the sickroom as much as I chose, and the General before long seemed to like to have me near him. He was as polite and gracious as he had been unfriendly and curt. But he suffered greatly, and once said, 'I wish I could do you greater justice as a sitter, Mr. Healy.'

When the portrait was finished the family assembled to see it. All approved it so warmly that the General begged me to make a copy of it for his adopted children. I replied that a copy never had the living look of an original, and that if he could endure the fatigue of further sittings this first portrait should be for him, and I could paint another for Louis Philippe. This he readily agreed to. Then at his request I also painted a whole-length portrait of his daughter, who was the one who persuaded him to sit for me."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. A. P. Healy.) 

George P. A. Healy: Pope Pius IX

"Portrait of Pope Pius IX (1871)"
by George Healy

"During my stay in Rome I painted from memory a portrait of Pope Pius IX. His Holiness, having seen this unfinished work, liked it, and consented to give me a few sittings. This was a great favor, which I highly appreciated.

I was introduced one morning into Pius IX's library, a pleasant room, simply enough furnished, full of book the table covered with papers. The Pope was dressed all in white cloth, with scarlet shoes; the hair was white, the face rather place with very bright eyes, not incapable of sparkle, for his Holiness knew how to take a joke.

He was a pretty good sitter, but somewhat restless, and curious also as to what his painter was about. On once occasion he arose from his seat to look over my shoulder.  When I am earnestly at work, I wish my sitters in the attitude  I have chosen. I exclaimed, perhaps a little abruptly: 'I beg your Holiness to sit down.' The Pope laughed and said, 'I am accustomed to give orders, not to receive them. But you see, My. Healy, that I also know how to obey,' and submissively went back to his chair.

Pius IX has been dead now many a year. I like to remember his quiet, pleasant talk, his rather Italian-sounding French, his judgments of men and things. One day, speaking of a monk who had left the Church and married, he observed, not without glee: 'He has taken his punishment in his own hands.' I often think, also, of Pius IX's gentle reproach to one of my countrymen who, in his American pride, refused to bend before him: 'My son, an old man's blessing never did harm to to any one."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: King Louis Philippe

"George Washington" by George Healy

"An incident interrupted my course, and my life was shaped after a very different fashion. Our Minister at the court of France was then General Cass. I had painted a large portrait of the General, which had been accepted in the annual exhibit in the Louvre. When King Louis Philippe visited the exhibition, he examined the General's portrait with interest, and asked abruptly where the young fellow who painted it was at that time. 

I soon found myself in Paris at his Majesty's orders. Before beginning the portrait I advanced toward the King, so as to take the measure of his face, using a compass for that purpose. One of the courtiers, seeing the gleam of steel in my hand rushed upon me and pushed me aside. With a smile, Louis Philippe said: 'Mr. Healy is a republican, it is true, but he is an American. I am quite safe with him.'

On another occasion - it was one of the early sittings devoted to deciding on the attitude - I was making a chalk drawing of the King. While we were trying various views of the head, the aide de camp de service who assisted at the sitting threw himself into an exaggerated and theatrical attitude, exclaiming, 'Voila une pose, Sire!' The King forwned and said severely, 'Monsieur le general!' The poor General instantly bowed so low that he seemed to double up and he humbly muttered, 'Je retracte, Sire, je retracte!' It was an insignificant little incident, but it showed me clearly what were, inevitably, the relations of sovereign and courtier.

Louis Philippe grew interested in his portrait, and his family with him. Madame Adelaide especially, sister to the King, never missed a sitting, and I saw familiarly at that time many famous men whose names are now historical; among others, Marechal Soult, then Minister of War, whom I painted later.

The King's portrait, which belonged to General Cass, proved a success. Louis Philippe sent for me one morning and said, 'Mr. Healy, I understand that I was seen last evening at your Minister's in very good company - between Washington and Guizot, both painted by you. Where and how did you copy your Washington?' I had simply copied it from an engraving after Stuart's portrait of Washington, not having the original within my reach. The King then told me that while he and his brother were in the United States they had seen Stuart at work on that portrait, and that during the sittings Washington had conversed with the young princes. 'And I want you to make me a copy of that very portrait.' 

The great difficulty was to know where to find it, but Louis Philippe announced about a week later, 'Mr. Healy, we are dished! The portrait is in Russia, and, under present circumstances, I can ask nothing of the Russian Government. What are we to do? I must have my Washington. I have set my heart on it!' In the end I found that the portrait which Louis Philippe fancied was in Russia was in realityin England, having been purchased by an American, the late John D. Lewis. The trustees of the estate allowed me to do my copy from it. The King graciously declared himself well pleased with my work and gave me orders for various other copies, which are still to be seen in the Place of Versailles."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. A. P. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: English Patrons

"Mystical Marriage of Saint Catherine" by Correggio

One day - it was in 1834 - I was working in the Louvre very earnestly from that most adorable of pictures, Correggio's 'Mystical Marriage of Saint Catherine,' when I suddenly felt that I was no longer alone before my easel. Two English visitors, a husband and wife, pleasant looking people, questioned me with interest, then moved off with a few kindly words of praise. I never expected to see them again.

A little later I started for Italy - a pilgrimage which tempts every young painter - and naturally I travelled as economically as possible. Generally my journeys were accomplished on foot, but Italy is a long way off, and I crossed Mont Cenis in the stagecoach. At Alexandria we stopped to rest, and the first people I saw at the inn were the English travellers. To my great surprise and pleasure they recognized me and spoke. And thus Sir Arthur Brooke Faulkner and his charming wife became the kindest friends and patrons of the unknown American painter.

They travelled in their own carriage, and most graciously offered me a place in it for the rest of the journey. I need not say how eagerly I accepted. In these days of steam we rush through the countries we visit; we do not really see them. Travelling in a comfortable, venerable looking coach, ingeniously packed with all sorts of portable luxuries, roomy and easy, stopping where and when one chooses, is a delight of which our young people can scarcely form an idea. My enthusiasm for the lovely country in which we found ourselves was enhanced by the delights of a new and warm friendship. By the time we reached Naples it was an understood thing that I should before long go to London and meet my kind English friends.

Events seemed about to shape my career into that of an English artist. Sir Arthur Faulkner, whose position in the London world was a high one, obtained sittings for me from the Duke of Sussex, uncle to the present Queen. This was a splendid opening for a young painter, and I did my very best. The portrait proved successful, and brought me various commissions and some notice."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Symbolical Painting

"Pierrot in Criminal Court" by Thomas Couture

"Thomas Couture's love for symbolical painting grew with years, developed probably by solitude. In the very retired life which he led he did not follow the movement of modern art. He even refused to see what other artists did, declining to let them see his own works.

His love of symbolical pictures sometimes carried him to the verge of caricature, as in his series of pictures of lawyers. He had two pet hatreds - lawyers and doctors. For example sketches of lawyers speaking before the court, or sleeping during the discourse of their brother lawyers. 

[In the above painting, Couture used two famous masked characters, Pierrot and Harlequin, to satirize and critique the public and the judicial system of the 19th century. The pathetic Pierrot represents a lower-class fool on trial for stealing food from a restaurant. The stolen items are depicted lying on the courtroom floor as an indictment of his guilt. His accusers sit on the left, while Harlequin, his lawyer, argues theatrically for the defense. The artist's contempt for the legal profession and the court system is plain in the figures of the sleeping judges. A mid-19th-century observer may have sympathized with Pierrot, who for his own survival cunningly subverts authority in order to satisfy his needs.]

As to doctors, he never would allow one in his house. He was so violent in his animosity that, when he fell ill, he refused all medical aid. And his was a terrible disease, which could not be cured, although his sufferings might at least have been somewhat allayed.

My poor friend died of a cancer in the stomach on the 27th of March, 1879. His loss was a great sorrow to me. We had been young men together. We had seen years roll on without bringing any change in our mutual feelings, and when one of us experienced some success in life, it was a joy to the other. For his talent I had a sincere and profound admiration. For his strong and manly nature the great sympathy. He was a friend in the broadest and best sense of the word."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Thomas Couture, Teacher

"Self-Portrait" by Thomas Couture

"In his country retreat Thomas Couture was not, however, abandoned. Pupils gathered about him, living in the village so as to profit by the master's advice. Among these were many Americans. Mr. Ernest Longfellow, son of the poet, was of the number. Couture was an excellent master, and took great interest in the progress of his pupils. His great precept was 'Look at Nature; copy Nature.' 

He published a little book full of good advice to young artists, giving the result of many years' experience. All his pupils were fond of him, which proves that the exterior peculiarities, which sometimes shocked strangers, were soon overlooked by those who were able to appreciate his sterling qualities.

Couture was fond of telling the story of his first pupil. He was still a young man when, one morning, he heard a timid knock at his door. 'Come in!' said he, and a young fellow, dressed like a well-to-do countryman entered and begged the painter to take him in as pupil. 'I have no pupils, and I wish for none,' was the discouraging answer. But the youth was tenacious. He would be so discrete. His master need not feel his presence. All he asked for was a corner of the atelier from which he could see the great artist at work. He would make himself of use, wash the brushes, set the palette, run errands, do anything that was required of him. Finally the artist impatiently took up his pipe and found that his tobacco pouch was empty. 'Go and buy me some tobacco!' he cried. The young man disappeared, and soon returned. Couture smoked, was mollified and yielded. 

This strange pupil remained with him for more than a year. Couture often wondered how he managed to live. He spent all his time working without showing very great natural talent, and Couture's excellent heart was concerned. How was that poor fellow ever to get salt for his porridge with his painting? One day the pupil invited him to dinner, and to his amazement, the young man, dressed like a gentleman, took him to the best restaurant in Paris. It turned out that he also owned a beautiful chateau in Normandy, which contained one of the finest collections of pictures and rare curiosities in all France. The poor, humble pupil who ran on his errands and washed his brushes was a very rich amateur, whose passion for painting had led him to seek the sincere and disinterested lessons of a master he admired."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. A. P. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Thomas Couture's Attitude

"The Realist" by Thomas Couture

"Thomas Couture was a good painter, but a very bad courtier. He proved it every time he was placed in contact with the great ones of this world, whether sovereigns or members of the Institute of France. That was not the way to make his talent popular. He had several opportunities of making his way to honors and to fortune - opportunities which another might have utilized, but which he wasted. Doubtless he made good resolutions, but when the time came he was unable to control his impatience and his sharp retorts.

Couture's reputation was so well established when Napoleon III, took possession of the throne that it was impossible to treat him slightingly, though Couture's talent was not such as courts, as a usual thing, care to encourage. The favorite painter of the Third Empire was Winterhalter. However, an order was given to Couture for a large picture representing the baptism of the little Prince Imperial. He went to work with great ardor, making sketches and preparing a vast composition. 

In the course of the work, sittings from the various members of the imperial family and their immediate followers were granted to him. It is likely that in Couture's case the sittings were not agreeable either to the painter or to his models. Napoleon III, wished to direct his artist, and of all artists Couture was the least easy to direct. Finally, one day, goaded beyond endurance, the painter turned around and said: 'Sire, who is to paint this picture - your Majesty or I?' And neither painted it! The Emperor gave no more sittings, turned his back on the painter, and his courtiers turned theirs also. The order was not maintained, and all the work of many months was wasted.

Couture never recovered from this bitter disappointment. He shook the dust from his feet, and returned contempt for contempt. From that day on he never sent any work to the annual Salon, and, little by little, so retired from the world that many thought him dead."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Beginning of a Friendship

Sketch for "The Prodigal Son" by Thomas Couture

"On my first visit to Thomas Couture's studio - a very different-looking place from the lovely boudoir-like studios of fashionable painters nowadays - I saw him at work on a picture only just sketched in. He exclaimed: 'The amateur who will buy that canvas for a thousand francs will have his money's worth. Don't you think so?' A thousand francs! 

The picture was large, and represented the prodigal son, a life-size figure. The young man, seated by the wayside, a goatskin about his loins his only garment, thin, his deep-sunken eyes full of despair, his brow overshadowed by a thick shock of black hair, seems to ruminate over his past follies and their consequences. In the background pass a man and a woman: the young woman is full of compassion, while her companion points to the prodigal and seems to tell his story. The contrast between the prodigal son and these lovers is very happily indicated; and the rich tones of the man's red drapery relieve the sombreness of the rest of the picture. While examining the sketch I said to my new friend: 'My sitters pay me a thousand francs for a portrait. If you will allow me to pay you by installments, I will be that amateur, and I offer you not a thousand francs, but fifteen hundred.'

I was very proud of my purchase, but a little troubled too. In those days my sitters were not very numerous, and I borrowed the first sum paid to Couture. But I never regretted this youthful folly of mine. 'The Prodigal Son' remained in my studio for many years, and I took it with me to America. Finally, I gave it, with many other pictures, to the city of Chicago. I am sorry to say that the whole collection was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1871.

A small sketch of 'The Prodigal Son,' and a most spirited one, still exists. It belongs to M. Barbedienne, the famous bronze dealer, who was a personal friend of Couture, and possesses a number of pictures, drawings, and sketches by the master."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Introducing Thomas Couture

"Sitting Pierrot" by Thomas Couture

In the chapters to come of George Healy's autobiography, he will be sharing about his friends and clients: Thomas Couture, royalty, American and French statesmen, and men of letters. He begins with M. Couture:

"My first meeting with Thomas Couture, who became one of my best and dearest friends, was odd and characteristic. It was in 1834. I was not yet one-and-twenty, and had just arrived from the United States. I was beginning to understand a few words of French and had entered the studio of the great and unfortunate painter, Gros.

One day, as the model was resting, and I was looking at my morning's work in a somewhat melancholic state of mind, a short, thick-set young man with bright brown eyes and shaggy hair, unceremoniously pushed me aside saying, 'Donne-moi ta place, petit [Give me your place, little one].' I was going to protest, when I saw my fellow student so absorbed that I grew interested in what he was doing. He coolly turned over my sheet of gray paper and sketched the model, who, resting, had fallen into a far better attitude than that which we had copied. The outline drawing was so strong, so full of life, so easily done, that I never received a better lesson. When he had finished, he left my place as coolly as he had taken it, seemingly quite unconscious of my existence.

I did not then know the name of this free-and-easy comrade, but I kept the drawing and prized it. I am sorry to say that the woman interested with the care of my room had but small respect for the fine arts, and being one day in need of paper to light my fire, took a number of drawings for that purpose. Among those drawings was the outline sketch by Thomas Couture."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Perspective

"Nathaniel Hawthorne" by George Healy

"As I look back upon my long life, as I think of the early years in Paris at the time when Delacroix, that audacious young innovator, excited the anger and contempt of Ingres, when the landscapes of Corot were refused at the Salon, when my old and dear friend Couture was considered a revolutionary spirit not to be encouraged by the authorities, I can but smile - a little sadly, perhaps - at the violence of the young men of our day, who in their turn will be looked upon as old fogies by the youths of thirty or forty years hence.

And so the world goes on! Fashion changes. The beautiful of yesterday is the grotesque of today. What matters it? Each generation as it comes to life does its best, struggles, suffers, hopes, or despairs. It adds its little stone to the big edifice which is ever being built. The little stone is lost among other, forgotten, overlooked, but it has helped nevertheless to make the wall solid and beautiful. And that surely is something."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.) 

George P. A. Healy: The Rolling Years

"The Peacemakers" by George Healy

"At the close of the war the idea came to me to paint a picture to be called 'The Peacemakers.' It represented Lincoln, Grant, Sherman and Porter, on board the 'River Queen,' discussing the possibilities of peace. I made all the studies for this picture in America, but I painted it some years later in Rome. It was unfortunately burned in 1892, when the Calumet Club of Chicago was destroyed by fire.

We moved back to Chicago from Elmhurst in 1863, and I bought an old-fashioned house on Wabash Avenue, which disappeared with all it contained in the Great Fire of 1871. Social life, in spite of public events, went on much as usual, and our circle of intimate friends was still that in which I had been so kindly welcomed on my arrival.

But constant hard work was beginning to tell upon my health, on my nervous system especially. It was evident that as long as I remained in Chicago I should inevitably do more than my strength would permit. To refuse a commission was more than I could ever do! Finally, it became a vital question: I must force myself to rest or the machine would give out before long.

It was then that we took the resolution of going abroad once more. We intended to stay a few years only. We did not return to Chicago until 1892. By then my strength had come back, thanks to moderation in work. The grandchildren with their French accent were growing up, and it seemed almost impossible again to fold up our tent. But the desire to live among my own people grew within me as the years went on, and I am pleased to find myself once more in the American city I love best, which adopted me as its own in 1855, and welcomed me home so heartily in 1892."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: The Civil War

"Portrait of Abraham Lincoln"
by George Healy

George Healy and his family had barely settled in a suburb of Chicago when the Civil War broke out. He wrote:

"I happened to be in Charleston at this time, engaged in painting a number of portraits, and I assisted in the wild excitement which ended in the bombarding of Fort Sumter. I had never mixed in politics, but I was a Northern man, with Northern feelings and antislavery principles. Like many others, I hoped that things might yet be peaceably arranged; and at any rate I was busy, and never thought of leaving my work on account of the threatening storm. 

But one of the Charleston papers informed the Yankee painter 'that if he had not left the city before the sun went down, he should be tarred and feathered.' My host read the article to me, and I burst out laughing; the things stuck me as merely ludicrous. But my Southern friend by no means laughed, but said: 'A carriage shall be at the door in an hour, and you must leave town. Otherwise they would prove as good as their world.'

The wartime was hard upon me; for when bare necessities of life are obtained with difficulty, such luxuries as portraits are not to be thought of. This was especially true during the first part of this terrible war. Later, if some were ruined, others made rapid fortunes, and speculations became as audacious as ever.

Among my sitters during these dreadful years, I counted many of our most celebrated generals - Grant, Sherman, McClellan, Admiral Porter, and many others. I also had sittings from Abraham Lincoln. These I particularly enjoyed. So much has been said about that great and good man that it seems almost presumptuous to add to the numberless anecdotes of his humor and congenial temper. During one of the sittings, as he was glancing at his letters, he burst into a hearty laugh, and exclaimed: 'As a painter, Mr. Healy, you shall be a judge between this unknown correspondent and me. She complains of my ugliness. It is allowed to be ugly in this world, but not as ugly as I am. She wishes me to put on false whiskers, to hide my horrible lantern jaws. Will you paint me with false whiskers? No? I thought not. I tell you what I shall do: give permission to this lover of the beautiful to set up a barber's shop at the White House!' And he laughed again with perfect delight."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Opportunity in the Windy City

"Mrs. Thomas B. Bryan" by George Healy

"It will not be a matter of surprise when I say that land agents, merchants, and bankers were more plentiful than artists in Chicago. I arrived therefore at an excellent moment: prosperity was almost universal. Every man felt that he was rich or would soon be so. 

I regret not having kept an account of the portraits I painted during the first twelve months of my sojourn in the city. But perhaps it is just as well, as I might be taxed with exaggeration. I was then in the full strength of my years, capable of much fatigue, not dreaming that I should later have to pay for this overstraining of my nerves and this excess of work. 

One of my first pictures was a group of Mr. Sheldon and his two young children, which became very popular. I am glad of this opportunity of speaking not only of Mr. Ogden, whose guest I was during this first year, but also of Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon, who took me into their delightful home circle as one of their own.

Indeed it would be impossible for me to speak here of all the kind friends I made at this happy time. The old settlers welcomed and encouraged me. Lifelong friendships began then which neither time nor long absence could undermine. Among the most successful portraits I painted at this time I can mention that of Mrs. Thomas B. Bryan, whose hospitable house was always open to me and mine. Mr. Bryan and I agreed on many points, but the greatest bond of sympathy perhaps was our respective wives.

I was so flattered, so delighted with my Chicago reception that I sent for my family, and in November, 1856, we settled in a tall frame house on Ontario Street. Then in 1857 we moved into the country for the sake of the children's health. We were still settled at Cottage Hill, now Elmhurst - the elder children at school, the young ones running wild like young colts - when the war broke out."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Chicago Bound

"William Butler Ogden" by George Healy

"A trifling incident changed the course of my life. Among the Americans who visited Paris somewhat before the Universal Exhibition of 1855 was William B. Ogden, one of the 'fathers' of the young city of Chicago. I do not know if, during my long career, I have ever met a man of greater charm of manner. The world 'genial' seemed made for him. Remarkably intelligent, very well informed, a delightful talker, full of energy, of will, of originality, he seemed destined by nature to be a leader. He had from the first believed in the marvellous future of the small town, where a few years before there had stood but a fort.

His descriptions of the new city fired my imagination. I had often thought of returning to the United States and settling there, but the difficulty of moving with a large family, the uncertainty as to where I should go, the fear of being considered by my country people as a 'blasted foreigner,' had made me hesitate. Then too, I had been engaged on large works more easily accomplished in Paris than elsewhere. Now my second large picture finished, ready for the great exhibition, and I was free to shape my course otherwise.

My. Ogden most warmly urged me to start for Chicago, offering me the hospitality of his house, promising his support, and predicting success. I quickly made up my mind, and in the autumn of 1855 started for Chicago, leaving my family in Paris."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: First Successes

"Webster Replying to Hayne" by George Healy

"It was at the Salon of 1840 that I received for my portrait of Mrs. Cass a third meal - the first public recompense accorded to me. I say elsewhere how our Minister to France obtained for me sittings from the King, and how Louis Philippe later commissioned me to proceed to the United States to copy Stuart's Washington, and again to paint portraits of our great statesmen. After having been attracted to England, I now seemed fixed in France by the royal patronage, when in a moment the Revolution of 1848 changed all my worldly prospects. 

I had made frequent trips to America, but always returned to France, where I executed my two large pictures, 'Webster Replying to Hayne,' and 'Franklin before Louis XVI,' which latter picture won for me a gold medal at the Universal Exhibition of 1855. This was the highest reward which had in those days been granted to an American artist, and gave me the right to send works to the Salon without passing before the jury - in others words, I became 'Hors Concours.'

I shall pass rapidly over this period of my life. I was a hard worker, and to a certain extent a successful one. All my days were spent in my painting room, but I have always been fond of society, and not infrequently we spent the evenings with our friends. These were nearly all Americans. The American colony in those days was smaller than it is now, and less cut up into various 'sets.' The parties, the dinners and teas, cordially offered were most agreeable. It was not thought necessary to make a great display of wealth and fashion, to give jewels or costly trifles at the 'cotillon,' or to print the menu of a dinner on silver."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.) 

George P.A. Healy: A Life of Contrasts

"John Wentworth" by George Healy

"I was thrown by my profession in contact with people of high rank and large fortune; among those who became our friends, many were rich, and we, in spite of perhaps unusual good luck, struggled during all our youth at least, with our rapidly increasing family, against the difficulties of life. This is, I think, one of the most trying situations for people whose personal wants are modest and who have but one fear - that of living beyond their means.

A trifle will give an idea of our early married life. We had moved to a rather better place on the other side of the river. The studio was larger, more fitted to receive distinguished sitters. We still did not yet possess a kitchen and a cook - such luxuries, in our eyes, belonged to very rich people indeed. But our big stove boasted of something which might pass for an oven, and Mrs. Healy one day made up her mind to utilize this oven. She bought a goose, and we rejoiced at the thought of escaping that day from the monotonous meal in an ill-ventilated room, overcrowded with famished mortals. In due time the goose was shut up in the oven.

The bell rang, and a gentleman entered. He was an important personage, very rich, a possible sitter, one to be well received by a struggling young artist. I forgot all about the goose and showed my work to this amateur, who seemed interested in it. He was a prolix talker, and liked the sound of his own voice. I insidiously encouraged this weakness, and soon we were launched in an interminable discussion on art - art in general, art in the past, art in America, art everywhere. Our conversation was accompanied soon by a low singing sound, which soon became a sizzle, then a veritable sputtering. The goose had burst in upon the artistic talk. When at last the visitor left, we both rushed to the stove. The singing had ceased, the goose was little more than a cinder!"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: Miss Phipps

"Portrait of Mrs. Word" by George Healy

"In the spring of 1836 I went to London for the first time. I there exhibited a portrait of Mr. Francis Place and it was liked. Joseph Hume, the radical Member of Parliament, wrote to me that if he could hope to have as good a portrait of himself he would willingly sit to me.

It was while I was at work in London that I first met my wife. I had become acquainted with a Mrs. Hanley, who one day brought her young sister, Miss Louisa Phipps, to my studio. I met the ladies on the stairs as I was running to keep some engagement. I gave them the key of the room and excused myself. But this glimpse on the stairs was enough to fix my future destiny.

A miniature painter named Dubourjal, my dearest and best friend, had accompanied me to London. He asked permission to make a watercolor drawing of this young girl. I still have the portrait. I followed the progress of the work with great interest, and somehow the young sitter was almost as often in my painting room as in my friend's - to his great annoyance.

In the summer of 1839 I was recalled to France. I asked Miss Phipps whether she would go with me, as my wife. We had no time to make wedding preparations, and we were both too poor to think of anything but our happiness; which perhaps, after all, was not a bad way of beginning life. 

We were married one morning at the St. Pancras Parish Church, Euston Road, London, assisted by three or four friends only. My wife wore her travelling dress, for we started for Paris as soon as the ceremony was over. I shall never forget the look of pity which the clergyman cast upon the bride. I fear he did not consider me a responsible sort of person. 

When I see young people, in our practical age, hesitate to marry because their means will not allow them to have a fine house and every comfort from the very first, I cannot help thinking of our modest beginning. It was  not a complicated way of living, but it never struck us that we were not the happiest mortals under the sun."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: An Artistic Tour de France

"Vinnie Ream" by George Healy

"My life at this time was a life of extreme sobriety and very hard work. I was full of respect for the dollars I had brought with me, and my noonday meal often consisted of a small loaf with fruit, or cheese when there was no fruit. But I had good health, high spirits, and immense pleasure in the progress I felt I was making day by day. 

I undertook a walking tour with two young French artists through France and Switzerland. This is one of my most delightful remembrances, though it was rough sort of travelling. We often walked twenty or thirty miles in one day, without being sure of finding food on the way. In out-of-the-way places we were glad at night to be allowed to throw ourselves down in some peasant's barn, with straw by way of beds, and to find a bowl of milk and some black bread for our breakfast. But we were free to go where we chose, to stop as long as we liked in picturesque nooks and sketch to our heart's content. We were young and strong, and very merry.

On one occasion a gentleman stopped to look at our work, and began to talk with us in the friendly way which is now much less the fashion in France than it used to be. English notions have invaded even the French provinces, and strangers, until they are 'presented' to each other, hesitate to compromise their dignity by speaking. When I was a young fellow, this was by no means the case, and this conversation with an utter stranger seemed to us not only pleasant but perfectly natural.

To the stranger it was evidently agreeable, for he said to us heartily: 'I like artists. I have rarely the occasion of seeing any in this out-of-the-way place. Will you give me the pleasure of your company this evening at dinner?' A real dinner, in a real dining room, with a host who could talk of pictures and who appreciated artists! Such a piece of good luck was not to be despised, and the invitation was enthusiastically accepted. The stranger proved to be a rich man who lived in a chateau, and had an excellent cook as well as an estimable cellar. I doubt whether he ever gave a better dinner or a gayer one!"

To be continued

(Excerpts of "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: In the Atelier of Baron Gros

"Plague at Jaffa" by Antoine-Jean Gros

"Everything in France amused and delighted me - the peasant women in their white caps, the noisy marketplaces, the little urchins who in the streets called out to each other in French, that mysterious tongue! I was soon in Paris, looking about me.

I at once entered the atelier of Baron Antoine-Jean Gros, and went to work with a will, doing my best to understand my master and my comrades, and quickly catching up enough French to make my way. Gros was then a very fine-looking man of sixty-three. His career had been a most brilliant one, and yet he was far from happy. Highly sensitive, almost morbidly so, he suffered pangs from things that a stronger man would have despised.

He had painted in the early years of the century his magnificent picture of the 'Plague at Jaffa,' now in the Louvre. He was recognized as one of the first among the French artists of his day. When the Bourbons once more returned to power, the painter of Napoleon's campaigns, instead of being out of favor, received important commissions and the title of baron. When I entered his atelier, he was still highly respected, but he was a saddened and almost despairing man. 

The influence of his master David was so strong upon him that, instead of following his own inspiration and painting spirited pictures of contemporary life, he endeavored to return to the old classical compositions, freezingly correct, such as he had admired in his youth. In this attempt he failed, and his later pictures are very inferior to those of his prime. Then he was a retiring man, or rather, perhaps, he cared but little for the society which others courted, was rarely seen outside of his studio, and was not even sociable, it is said, in his own family. Once when Gros received one of his intimate friends, he said to him bitterly, 'Ah! you have come to see the dead man in his tomb.'

On the 25th of June, 1835, Gros went to Bas Meudon, a little outside of Paris, and stretched himself on the sandy bed of the Seine, where there was but a depth of about three feet of water. Such was the miserable end of a man who had had, one might say, more than his share of success and glory. He had outlived his popularity and his heart was broken."

To be continue

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Painter" by G.P.A. Healy.)

George P. A. Healy: To France!

"William C. Preston" by George Healy

"I was quite aware that, in spite of great natural facility, I had still everything to learn. I had had no master. What I knew I had acquired by dint of hard work, with the occasional advice of some older artist, but with no serious training. My one object was to become a student in a regular art school. But this could only be accomplished after I had scraped together not only money enough to take me to Europe and to help toward my support there, but to leave a sufficient sum with my mother to support her for a year or two, until I should be able to earn something on the other side of the big ocean. At last I was able to do this.

In the month of April, 1834, I secured my passage in a sailing vessel called the 'Sully.' In those days one had to await a favorable wind before venturing out to sea. While I was thus waiting in New York, I called on Professor Morse, to whom I had a letter of introduction. This was just about the time when he was beginning to work out his discovery, the electric telegraph. Mr. Morse had been a painter. Doubtless he did not remember that career with pleasure, for he said to me somewhat bitterly, 'So you want to be an artist? You won't make your salt, you won't make your salt!' 'Then, sir,' answered I, 'I must take my food without salt.' This was the same prediction as my grandmother's. But I preferred to think of the encouragement I had received from Mr. Sully and others, and on the whole they were in the right. 

A violent storm drove our vessel very rapidly toward France, and we were within two hundred miles of Havre in eight days after our sailing, but it required twelve more to accomplish the rest of the voyage. I knew no one in France. I was utterly ignorant of the language. I did not know what I should do when once there. I was not yet one-and-twenty, and I had a great stock of courage, of inexperience - which is sometimes a great help - and a strong desire to do my very best."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)

George P.A. Healy: A Breakthrough

"Mrs. Richard T. Crane" by George Healy

"I had so far painted only men. My ambition now was to paint a woman's portrait, a beautiful woman's portrait! I could think, dream of nothing else. I was then painting Lieutenant Van Brunt, and to him I opened my heart. He said: 'Go and call on Mrs. Harrison Gray Otis. Tell her you want to paint her portrait and that I sent you.' 

Mrs. Otis was then the queen of fashion in Boston society. Her house was very popular, her entertainments celebrated, her sayings quoted, her beauty and elegance acknowledged by some, discussed by others. To be received by Mrs. Harrison Gray Otis was a sign that one belong to 'society,' to the 'right set,' and in Boston, then as now, it was necessary to belong to the 'right set.' I knew all this somewhat vaguely, as a mere boy, who by no means belonged to the famous 'right set.' I was distressingly timid. This shyness was terribly real, and at times caused me almost physical suffering.

I can still see myself going up the steps of Mrs. Otis' house. I held the knocker in my hand, then let it go, and ran for my life! But another time I screwed up my courage and saw the door open before me. I managed to ask the servant for Mrs. Otis. I bade him say that 'a gentleman wished to see her on business.' Then, in mortal terror, I awaited her entrance. I dared not look at her, but with a sort of boldness which is sometimes the result of excessive timidity. I told her that I was an artist. That my ambition was to paint a beautiful woman, and that I begged her to sit to me. 

Perhaps no woman is offended at a youth's blunt homage. Mrs. Otis was not. She laughed out loud showing her very pretty teeth. Then she asked to whom she was to have the honor of sitting. I had quite forgotten to introduce myself, and to mention Lieutenant Van Brunt.  She called on me the very next day, and examined the portraits which I had already finished. She seemed well enough pleased. 

And so my first portrait of a woman was a very audacious one. I painted Mrs. Otis laughing - a thing which, had I had more experience, I should perhaps not have dared to do. But her laugh was charming, and she was fond of showing her perfect teeth and her dimples. From that time 'Little Healy,' as people called me, became known. Mrs. Otis proved a warm-hearted friend and a very powerful one, and I was able not only to pay my rent to my patient landlord and my other expenses, but to help toward the support of my family."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Reminiscences of a Portrait Painter" by G. P. A. Healy.)