Augustus Saint-Gaudens: Frederick MacMonnies

"Princeton Battle Monument"
by Frederick MacMonnies

"Of all my pupils, none has approached in importance a lad sent me by some stone-cutter as a studio boy whom he thought would answer my purpose. This was Frederick William MacMonnies. Since I was always busy and still taking myself very seriously, though by then old enough to know better, I gave scant attention to the youth. I did notice, however, that he was pale, delicate, and attractive looking, and one day I found a pronounced artistic atmosphere in some little terra-cotta sketches of animals which he brought to me. From that moment the charm of his work began to assert itself, until it became evident that I had a young man who was to make his mark.

He remained with me five years before he went to Paris. But he returned again when subsequently I asked him to come back and help me for a year or less on the fountain which I was commissioned to do at the same time as the 'Lincoln.' I was much behind in my work and, since I needed somebody who could aid me with skill and rapidity, I could think of no one better.

He modeled the boys that are in that fountain, and though he created them under my direction, whatever charm there may be in them is entirely due to his remarkable artistic ability, and whatever there is without charm can be laid at my door. He went to Europe immediately after that, and I did not see him again until the Chicago Exposition."

Homer Saint-Gaudens writes "In the course of Saint-Gaudens' stay in Paris between 1897 and 1900, he met MacMonnies and realized, with a personal sense of sadness, that the youth of the earlier days in the Thirty-sixth Street studio had, quite naturally, 'grown up,' and was no longer the same protégé whom he had once known and cared for. But becoming philosophical as the years passed, he recognized that master and disciple must sometimes draw apart. In a long letter to one of his friends he wrote:

"This last page is for a very delicate subject, MacMonnies. It took me several months to realize it, but finally, with deep bitterness and sorrow, I discovered that the friend I had loved was as dead as Bion to me. The gentle, tender bird I had caressed out of its egg had turned to a proud eagle, with (most naturally) a world of his own, a life of his own, and likes and dislikes of his own. The angel boy had grown into the virile man with a distinct personality; my boy had gone forever. 

I find that I have met in Mac another man, whose acquaintance I am now making - no doubt a fine fellow and a devoted friend when I get to know him again. It is all quite natural, and it was unnatural in me to expect that he was not subject to the same development as the rest of us."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Reminiscences of Augustus Saint-Gaudens" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens and his son, Homer Saint-Gaudens.)

 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: The Teacher

August Saint-Gaudens' class at the Art Students League

Homer Saint-Gaudens wrote: "Saint-Gaudens' text, having led him through half his stay in New York, offers me a fitting place to enlarge on his chief professional interest not definitely connected with his own work, his teaching. This interest developed as the natural result not only of his high reverence for the seriousness of the art of sculpture, but also because of a strongly reciprocated affection for youth. The French masters often charged a round sum for a criticism, but if Saint-Gaudens felt certain that a pupil was serious in his efforts, he would go any distance to give advice to that pupil. 

He would go, busy or sick. He would go even when he knew that the zest of the subsequent morning's or afternoon's work would be impaired or demolished by the reaction of genuine regret over his pupil's lack of ability. Moreover, with the same spirit, toward the close of a competition in his class, to which he was supposed to come only twice a week, he would often appear every afternoon and Sundays as well; while, whenever he believed he had discovered some new idea about his work, he could not be happy until he had explained it to those he taught.

For instance, after he had modeled upon the Sherman cloak about two months, he suddenly caught the composition he desired. He never rested till he had finished. But on the moment of its completion he hurried uptown to his class to tell them that 'When an idea comes you must work quickly and refuse to leave it until you get what you desire.'

In a like manner, for their part, too, his pupils offered him unwavering affection and loyalty, though it is amusing to remember that in one another's presence both teacher and students were invariably nervous. I am told that the latter would become panic-stricken the moment they caught sight of Saint-Gaudens' rough homespun suit. In a jiffy sponges, lathes, and quick ways of working, the 'concert tools,' went under the table, and the special hook for his hat, his clean towel, plumbline, and fresh clay were instantly prepared. While my father, on his side frequently spoke of the difficulty caused him by his self-conscious desire to maintain his dignity. He used to say that whenever he criticized it always brought about an itching of his right shin which continued until the desire to stand upon his right foot and scratch his shin with his left heel was too great to be resisted." 

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Reminiscences of Augustus Saint-Gaudens" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens and his son, Homer Saint-Gaudens.)

 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: Diana of the Tower

Homer Saint-Gaudens wrote: "My father's remaining task which I will mention, the Diana for the Tower of the Madison Square Garden in New York, was purely a labor of love. Standford White originally suggested to him that he consent to give his work upon it, provided White pay the expenses; and Saint-Gaudens eagerly grasped the opportunity, since, as I have said, all his life he was anxious to create ideal figures, with scarcely an occasion to gratify his desires, this indeed being the only nude he ever completed. 

Unwittingly, however, the two men drew upon themselves a more expensive effort than they were prepared to bear. The Diana was first modeled eighteen feet high, according to White's estimate, and finished in hammered sheet copper, only to be found too large when hoisted into place. So, in order to replace her with the present figure, thirteen feet high, both sculptor and architect were forced to empty their pocketbooks, calling to witness all the while that they would never undertake another commission without beginning their task by erected a dummy, a resolve which they kept."

"The original Diana was shipped to Chicago to be exhibited at the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition atop the Agricultural Building. New Yorker W.T. Henderson wrote a tongue-in-cheek poetic tribute - "Diana Off the Tower" - a play on both the statue's name and situation. Eight months after the exposition's closing, a major fire tore through its buildings. The lower half of the statue was destroyed; the upper half survived the fire, but was later lost or discarded."

The second version (1893) pleased Stanford White so much that he asked Saint-Gaudens to create a half-sized copy in cement. This was installed in the garden of White's Long Island estate, Box Hill, where it stood for many years. For the half-sized copy, Saint-Gaudens poised the figure on a half-ball. White's cement statue later was used to produce two bronze casts in 1928, and six bronze casts in 1987.  Saint-Gaudens also modeled statuettes in two sizes: 31 inches (78 cm), with the figure poised on a half-ball, and 21 inches (53 cm), with the figure poised on a full ball. These were cast in bronze beginning in 1899, and vary in the configuration of bow, arrow, string, hair, patination, and base."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Reminiscences of Augustus Saint-Gaudens" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens and his son, Homer Saint-Gaudens and Wikipedia's article on the statue: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diana_(Saint-Gaudens ) 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: Appreciation of Character

Robert Louis Stevenson

Homer Saint-Gaudens wrote: "My father's reverence for the charm of Robert Louis Stevenson brought to a focus in him two new and vital developments: his appreciation of character in those around him, and his admiration of the art of letters. 

Regarding his understanding of character, hitherto he had shown little interest in men or women except as they bore upon his work, and his sitters had never consciously been anything but visible, tangible objects to interpret. With such an attitude he had approached Stevenson. But after each visit there grew in the sculptor a desire to comprehend the mental significance of the man before him and to bring it to light through his physical expression and gesture, even if the process was made at the sacrifice of 'smart' modeling. So it came about that, from the time of the Stevenson medallion, Saint-Gaudens applied this attitude to every other work, beginning each portrait by reading all possible biographies of the subject, or, if the person he planned to model was alive, keeping him in a constant state of conversation.

In a similar way, too, there was developed Saint-Gaudens' deep regard for the English language. Before his meeting with Stevenson he knew very little of modern writing. He had enjoyed occasional novels by Anatole France and had read Maupassant, though finding him depressing. Now, however, caught by Stevenson's charm, he followed that author from stories to essays and departed thence to essays by other pens until he became a steady and appreciative reader, with a strong liking for what he called 'aroma' or 'perfume' in literary effort."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Reminiscences of Augustus Saint-Gaudens" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens and his son, Homer Saint-Gaudens.) 

 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: The Stevenson Memorial

"Robert Louis Stevenson" medallion
by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

"It is singular how one will forget important things. I was about to overlook my experience with Robert Louis Stevenson, which took place in the autumn of 1887. Shortly before this time my friend, Mr. Wells, drew my attention to the 'New Arabian Night,' by a young author just making himself known. My introduction to these stories set me aflame as have few things in literature. So when I subsequently found that my friend, Will Low, knew Stevenson quite well, I told him that, if Stevenson ever crossed to this side of the water, I should consider it an honor if he would allow me to make his portrait.

It was but a few weeks after this that Stevenson arrived in America on his way to the Adirondacks. He accepted my offer at once, and I began the medallion at his rooms in the Hotel Albert in Eleventh Street, not far from where I lived. All I had the time to do from him then was the head, which I modeled in five sittings of two or three hours each. These were given me in the morning, while he, as was his custom, lay in bed propped up with pillows, and either read or was read to by Mrs. Stevenson.

I can remember some few things as to my personal impressions of him. He said that he believed 'Olala' to be his best story, or that he fancied it the best, and that George Meredith was the greatest English littérateur of the time. Also he told me of his pet-liking for his own study of Robert Burns. He gave me a complete set of his own works, in some of which he placed a line or two. In 'Virginibus Puerique,' he wrote, 'Read the essay on Burns. I think it is a good thing.' Thus the modest man!

After having modeled the head, I had determined to make Stevenson's medallion large enough to include the hands, and for that purpose, in order not to disturb him, I had begun them from those of Mrs. Saint-Gaudens', whose long, slender fingers I had noticed resembled his. But this result would not come out successfully, so I begged him for a sitting that I might make a drawing and some casts. He assented and a day was appointed. 

I asked Stevenson to pose and suggested to him that if he would try to write, some natural attitude might result. He assented, and taking a sheet of paper, of which he always had a lot lying around on the bed, pulled his knees up and began. Immediately his attitude was such that I was enabled to create something of use. I believe I made another visit to Manasquan, for, as well as the drawing, I possessed casts of Stevenson's hands which I used in modeling. He shortly after went to Samoa. I had two or three letters from him on the receipt of the medallion, which took an unconscionable time in reaching him. There my relations with him ended. He died at the age of forty-four." 

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Reminiscences of Augustus Saint-Gaudens" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens and his son, Homer Saint-Gaudens.) 

 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: Life in the Studio

"Dr. James McCosh"
by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

"At the time I was working also on the Shaw Memorial, and as the model of the bust of the president of Princeton University, Dr. McCosh, stood directly in front of it, each day I had to move the portrait away. This required much bother of preparation. My appointments with Dr. McCosh came in the morning. He wanted to pose early, and I wanted him to pose late so that I could have a good three or four hours on the Shaw before I began with him. As a result there remained an underlying conflict between us as to the time, until we compromised and he agreed to arrive an hour or so later than had been his habit.

On the first morning of the new order of things, therefore, without making any preparations for Dr. McCosh's coming, I proceeded with my work upon my horse [for the Shaw Memorial]. The animal stood on one side, next to the wall, and as the studio re-echoed like a sounding board, keeping him there was much like hitching him in your parlor, while the pawing and kicking of the resentful animal, tied about with all kinds of straps to hold him in position, resembled the violent tumbling and hurling around of great rocks on the floor. Besides, I had an arrangement of boxes on which I climbed to my work, so that between the stamping of the horse, the shouting and curses of the man who held him, and my own rushing up and down from the horse to the model and the model to the horse, the studio was far from a place of rest.

Notwithstanding the agreement, however, Dr. McCosh appeared an hour and a half earlier than the appointed time. I was excessively displeased at his coming and said, 'Dr. McCosh, you are early and I am afraid I shall have to keep on as I have made arrangements for the horse.' 'Go ahead, go ahead,' he replied. 'I'll sit down here and wait.' Accordingly, Dr. McCosh sat down in one corner without seeing my father, who already slept in another. Nor was it long before he fell asleep too, and the snores of my father, vigorous and strong, contrasting with the gentle, academic ones of Dr. McCosh, lent singularity to the occasion. 

Nevertheless, I proceeded with my work and they with their sleeping until, at the hour agreed upon, I stepped from my scaffolding, the man removed the boxes, of which there were twenty or thirty, making a great commotion, the horse was led out of the stall, saddled, bridled, the big double doors leading to the street were unbolted and opened, the man mounted, and with a final multitudinous pounding and standing on hind legs within two feet of Dr. McCosh, the anxious horse rumbled out of the studio, noisy enough to wake the dead, leaped into the street and rushed off to his oats.

Yet Dr. McCosh and my father slept on as peacefully as children. As I was afraid of losing too much of Dr. McCosh's time for my sitting, I stood close by and made noise loud enough to waken even him. As he opened his eyes, I said gently and amiably: 'Dr. McCosh, you have been having a nap.' 'Oh, no, not at all,' he said. 'Not at all, not at all. I have been waiting for you!'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Reminiscences of Augustus Saint-Gaudens" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens and his son, Homer Saint-Gaudens.) 

 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: The Adams Memorial

"The Adams Memorial" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

Homer Saint-Gaudens wrote: "It must not be imagined that during the stay of the Shaw Memorial in my father's studio that it occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of other work. Quite on the contrary, there were periods of months when he would refuse to look at this task, in order that upon seeing it once more he might have a fresh eye and unconsciously matured thoughts. In the course of the first ten years in the Thirty-sixth Street studio nearly forty other works, which varied in importance from large plaques to such smaller portraits as that of Miss Violet Sargent, modeled in exchange for John Sargent's painting of myself, were completed."

Among these concurrent commissions were also Augustus Saint-Gaudens' "Lincoln, the Man," for the city of Chicago, "The Puritan," which was so popular that he made forty reductions of it, and the "Adams Memorial," a grave marker for Marian Hooper Adams located in the Rock Creek Cemetery in Washington, D.C. 

The account is once more taken up by Homer: "He looked back with fondness to the time spent upon this latter monument, curtained off in a studio corner. Here was one of the few opportunities offered him to break from the limitations of portraiture, limitations from which all his life he longed to be free, in order to create imaginative compositions. Moreover, he constantly spoke to me and to others of his pleasure in suggesting the half-concealed, and because of this pleasure, the veiled face of this figure gave him infinite delight to dwell upon. 

At the date Mr. Adams gave Saint-Gaudens the commission, he felt in sympathy with the religious attitudes of the East. So my father sought to embody a philosophic calm, a peaceful acceptance of death and whatever lay in the future. He conceived the figure as both sexless and passionless, a figure for which there posed sometimes a man, sometimes a woman. 

A description was the end result was written up in a Parisian magazine:

'A woman is seated upon a block of stone, with her back against the monolith. She is covered from head to foot by an ample cloak which falls about her in simple, dignified folds. Her head alone is visible, a stern and forbidding profile. Her chin is resting upon her hand; her eyes are cast down. She is not sleeping, she is musing; and that reverie will last as long as the stone itself. Silent, dead as the world knows her, wholly absorbed in her reverie, she is the image of Eternity and Meditation... In me personally it awakens a deeper emotion than any other modern work of art.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "The Reminiscences of Augustus Saint-Gaudens" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens and his son, Homer Saint-Gaudens.)