Augustus Saint-Gaudens: The Farragut Monument

"Admiral David Glasgow Farragut" by August Saint-Gaudens
Pedestal by Stanford White

"One day when I had occasion to see Governor Morgan, he said to me, after questioning me about some old sketches I had made: 'I think there is a statue of Admiral Farragut to be erected in New York. Do you know anything about it?' 'No." 'Go and see Cisco.' Mr. John J. Cisco was a banker very prominent in affairs at that time. I took Governor Morgan's advice and visited him. 'Yes,' said Mr. Cisco, 'we have eight thousand dollars for a statue for Farragut, but, before deciding to whom it is to go, we shall have to have a meeting.' A meeting followed in a few days, and the work had been awarded to me, but 'only by the skin of the teeth,' five of the committee having voted for giving the commission to a sculptor of high distinction, while six of them voted for me. Again another glorious day! 

I hired an enormous studio in the Rue Notre Dame des Champs in order to begin the large statue of Farragut. It was here that Stanford White came, and in that studio composed and made the studies for the pedestal of the Farragut monument, which he modified after his return to America. Not until the Farragut was at last ready to go to the bronze founder, did I leave this ballroom size studio to take a less ambitious one. I had the Farragut cast in Paris by a man named Gruet, but the first attempt failed, so that it needed to be done over. When it had been completed successfully we came back to New York, where I was destined to remain for seventeen years before returning to Europe, a period virtually launched by the unveiling of my statue in Madison Square upon the afternoon of the beautiful day in May, 1881.

These formal unveilings of monuments are impressive affairs and variations from the toughness that pervades a sculptor's life. For we constantly deal with practical problems, with molders, contractors, derricks, stone-men, ropes, builders, scaffoldings, marble assistants, bronze-men, trucks, rubbish men, plasterers and what-not else, all the while trying to soar into the blue. But if managed intelligently, there is a swing to unveilings, and the moment when the veil drops from the monument certainly makes up for many of the woes that go toward the creating of the work. 

On this special occasion, Mr. Joseph H. Choate delivered the oration The sailors who assisted added to the picturesqueness of the procession. The artillery placed in the part, back of the statue, was discharged. And when the figure in the shadow stood revealed, and the smoke rolled up into the sunlight upon the buildings behind it, the sight gave an impression of dignity and beauty that it would take a rare pen to describe."

To be continued

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

* Admiral David Glasgow Farragut (1801-1870), began his military career at age nine. He served as a midshipman on the frigate Essex during the War of 1812, and led campaigns against Caribbean-based pirates during the 1820s. He later fought in the Mexican War. At the outset of the Civil War, Farragut’s Union sympathies compelled him to move from Virginia to Hastings-on-Hudson, New York. He won lasting fame by wresting New Orleans from Confederate control. Then, against all odds, his troops defeated Confederate forces to take Mobile Bay where he uttered the immortal words: “Damn the torpedoes. .. full speed ahead!" (Excerpt from: https://www.nycgovparks.org/parks/madison-square-park/monuments/466)

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: Back to the States

"Adoration of the Cross of Angels"
by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

"At last, when my marbles were finished, I went back to America. I took a studio on the corner of Fourteenth Street and Fourth Avenue in New York, which still stands as I write. The first floor was occupied by the bank, the third contained rooms rented out to Odd Fellows Lodges for occasional meetings in the evening. There were but three floors and no elevator. I was the first tenant on the second floor. It became sad business going up an iron staircase alone, and walking across the big corridor to my room, my lonely steps echoing through the hall. I would turn on the water at the little wash basin, let it run continuously with a gentle tinkle, and thus recall the sound of the fountain in the garden at Rome.

Here were brought to me a couple of redheads who have been thoroughly mixed up in my life ever since. I speak of Stanford White and Charles F. McKim. White, who was studying with Richardson, had much to do with the designing of Trinity Church in Boston. He was drawn to me one day, as he ascended the German Savings Bank stairs, by hearing me bawl the 'Andante' of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony, and 'The Serenade' from Mozart's 'Don Giovanni.' He was a great lover of music. McKim I met later on. A devouring love for ice cream brought us together.

One direct result of the various kinds of sculpture I executed at that time led to my association with Mr. John La Farge in the execution of the 'King' monument to go in the cemetery at Newport, Rhode Island. Part of the work I modeled in his studio in that town. It was absolutely his design, and possessed that singular grace, elevation, nobility, and distinction which is characteristic of what ever he has touched. I was the tool that modeled for him then, as I was subsequently in the painting I did for him as an assistant in his decoration of Trinity Church in Boston. Those again were great days, for he had with him at that time Mr. Francis Lathrop, Mr. Frank Millet, and Mr. George Maynard."

To be continued

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

 

 

 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: Making a Living

"Mars" cameo by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

"From this point the tide began to turn in my favor. For, soon after, Governor Morgan, on a visit to Italy, learning of my presence there, came to call on me. The fact of my being in Rome, the charm of that city, the idyllic loveliness of the garden in which my studio was smothered, and, to be literal, its nearness to his hotel must have appealed peculiarly to him upon his realizing that here was the son of the interesting man who had made shoes for him in New York.  

Accordingly, upon his request, I went to see him at the hotel, where he asked me what it would cost to cut in marble the statue of Hiawatha. I have forgotten what the price was; I think in the neighborhood of eight hundred dollars. He said he would take the statue if I would execute it for him for that sum. I suppose I danced with glee when I reached my studio after that visit, as here again was one of the happiest days of my life. There seem to be plenty of them as I proceed.

The 'Hiawatha,' the 'Silence,' the busts I had made, and the copies of antiques, were being cut in marble. I was working away completing the portraits of the two daughters of Mr. Gibbs, and I was beginning the studies of statues with which I was to embellish the world. The first represented Mozart, nude, playing the violin. Why under heaven I made him nude is a mystery. The second displayed a Roman slave holding young Augustus on the top of a Pompeian column and crowning him with laurel. 

Even with all this, in order to keep his head above the water, Saint-Gaudens was forced to return to his cameos. By this time he had established himself as the most skillful cameo-engraver in Paris or Rome. So, he set up a shop in which his brother and a couple of others worked under his eye. Occasionally also, when in especial need of twenty-five or fifty dollars, he would sit at the lathe himself and finish a brooch and two earrings in twelve hours. Fortunately, this was almost the last occasion in which cameo cutting played a part." 

To be continued

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

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: To America and Back Again

"Judge Edwards Pierrepont"
by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

"A friend, Mr. Gibbs, seeing how I was held down by Roman fever* and realizing that I had been five years away from home, very kindly offered to advance me passage money with which I might go to America and return, after visiting my parents. On my way north it was strange to go through Paris and see the traces of the awful combats of the Commune. On all the principal streets, houses could be found with pieces knocked off by musket bullets and cannon balls, the iron shutters of some of the great department stores and barracks so filled with bullet holes that they resembled sieves. At Liverpool I took the steamer for America, reaching home safely to the surprised delight of my family. For I had given them no idea of my coming, and marched into Father's store quite without warning!

I was not long idle in New York, as, shortly after my arrival, I began the bust of Senator Evarts in the dressing room of his house. Thereafter one thing rapidly led to another. Through Mr. Evarts I received a commission for a bust of Mr. Edward Stoughton, and later of Mr. Edwards Pierrepont, then Attorney General under President Grant. After that followed an order from Mr. Elihu Root, now Secretary of State for two copies of the busts of Demosthenes and Cicero, which made me feel richer than I have ever felt since. And lastly, Mr. Willard, an admirer of my old employer LeBrethon, on learning that I was returning to Italy, commissioned me to have a sarcophagus cut for him and to model a figure of Silence, to be placed at the head of the principal staircase in the Masonic Building on the corner of Twenty-third Street and Sixth Avenue. The less said about that statue the better.

With this, to me, bewildering amount of work, I sailed on the 'Egypt' for Liverpool, my brother Louis having gone abroad a month or so ahead of me to see that things were ready when I got to Rome, and incidentally to earn his living, as I had done, by cameo cutting. The day of my departure was a sad one, for it was the last I saw of my mother when she stood weeping on the dock, and it seems as if I had a presentiment that it would be so."

To be continued

* "Roman fever"was a particularly virulent, historical strain of malaria that plagued Rome particularly during the 18th and 19 centuries.

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

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: Rome and Hiawatha

"Hiawatha"
by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

"The fascination of Rome as I stepped into the street the first time that morning can only be appreciated by those who have lived there. Coming so soon after the misery of the gray, bleak weather of France and the war and its disaster, it seemed all the more exalting. It was as if a door had been thrown wide open to the eternal beauty of the classical.  

To fall back once more upon the prosaic things in life, however; through my friend, I immediately obtained cameos to do for a dealer, Rossi by name, a man with a big red beard. He paid what seemed to me large prices, and I set about to find a studio in which to model my first statue, which was to astonish the world. Another of my Paris friends who had come to escape the war, Soares, and I took a studio together. A big sheet hung across the studio, separating us. On his side, he began one, which represented 'The Exile,' the hero of a poem by Camoens. On my side, I began the statue of Hiawatha 'pondering, musing in the forest, on the welfare of his people,' and so on. This accorded with the profound state of my mind. 

The time came when I had nearly completed the statue. I was in much distress of mind as to how I could get the money to cast the figure in plaster. However, by a lucky chance I made the acquaintance of a young theologian who, with his wife and two daughters, both young and attractive, lived opposite the lovely spot where we had our studio. Upon inquiry into the condition of my exchequer and my prospects generally, he told Soares that he thought he would advance me the money to cast my figure of Hiawatha, and that in return I might model the portraits of his two daughters. I remember distinctly the bright afternoon when Soares rushed out to tell me of a rich American who had been to the studio, who wished to see me, and who proposed helping me. This was one of the happiest moments in my life, for I had been certain that if I could ever get my wonderful production before the American public, I would amaze the world and settle my future. Here was the opportunity in my grasp.

I immediately began my busts of the young ladies, and, to add to my delight, also received my first commission for copies of the busts of Demosthenes and Cicero, which it was then the fashion for tourists to have made by the sculptors in Rome. Then a Mr. Evarts consented to pose for his head on his return to America. Those were days of great joy..." 

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 Franco-Prussian War

"Ceres" by Augustus Saint-Gaudens
Carved from mahogany and holly wood with
ivory, mother-of-pearl, marble and bronze inlay

The gathering clouds of the Franco-Prussian struggle closed over Augustus Saint-Gaudens and his friends in Paris, one of whom described the beginning of the war in 1871:

'Gus and I were at the opera at the time that war was declared. Near the end of the performance, the principal actor came before the audience with a flag in his hand to call on them to sing the National Hymn. Then everyone went crazy and we no less than the others, so crazy that soon we found ourselves, with Bastien-Lepage and one of his friends, on the Boulevard des Italiens, where we hammered with fists and canes a number of idiots who were crying 'To Berlin!'

The question of whether or not to follow the example of almost all his friends and enlist, gave Saint-Gaudens infinite distress: and his ultimate leaving of Paris for quieter parts was only at the cost of much pride, sacrificed to the wishes of his mother, [who expressed her deep concern for him in an eight-page letter], and for whom he held the greatest affection. 

Saint-Gaudens shared what happened next in a letter dated September 21, 1870: 

"Fortunately I had been given a stone-cameo portrait to do for which I was to be paid one hundred dollars, an enormous sum to me at that time. The lady who ordered it, a widow from Canada, departed suddenly for America when the war broke out, and I sent the cameo to her by her father. Knowing therefore that I was to have this money, I left Paris on the fourth of September for Limoges, where my brother, Andrew worked in the employ of one of the New York Porcelain firms. 

After remaining in Limoges for three or four months I borrowed one hundred francs from my brother and started for Rome, as I knew that there I would find an Italian friend and, very probably, work. I arrived there at night and called immediately on my friend. I slept in his room, and the following morning I awoke to the blessed charm of Rome."

To be continued

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

 

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: Studies with Jouffroy

"The Secret of Venus"
by François Jouffroy

Augustus Saint-Gaudens' teacher at the Ecole des Beaux Arts was "François Jouffroy, a tall, thin, dark, wiry man with little, intelligent black eyes and a strange face in profile, his forehead and nose descending in a straight line from the roots of his hair to within an inch of the end of the nose, which suddenly became round and red. He made his criticism in a low, drawling tone, nine-tenths of the time in a perfunctory way, looking in an entirely different direction from the model and from the study. He was very much in vogue at the Tuileries at that time, although he had achieved his distinction some ten or fifteen years before my arrival by one of the masterpieces of French sculpture - and that is saying a good deal - called 'The Secret of Venus.'

To Jouffroy, therefore, I brought my drawings. In two days I was admitted and immediately plunged into work, being the only American in the class, though Olin Warner followed me some six months later. It subsequently became the atelier where most of the Americans studied. I was by no means a brilliant pupil, though the steadiness of Jouffroy's compliments consoled me for my inevitable failures in direct competition. These failures did not for a moment discourage me, however, or create any doubts in my mind as to my assured superiority. Doubts have come later in life, and in such full measure that I have abundantly atoned for my youthful presumption and vanity."

Years later a long-time friend, Alfred Garnier, wrote a letter describing those times to Saint-Gaudens' son, Homer:

"I was chiefly impressed by Gus' possessing so strongly the qualities of a man who was bound to succeed. I often went to see him in his room where he engraved cameos to earn his livelihood, as you know. For though in the mornings he came to the class room of the school, his afternoons had to be consecrated to earning his living. At this period Augustus was the gayest of young men, though that did not prevent his undertone of seriousness and reflection. I remember how much he was moved when he received a few dollars which his parents sent to him. He thought probably of the privations which he imposed on them for the sake of his success, and he used to ask himself if the time would ever come when he would be able to help them in turn. But I repeat that then he was the most joyous creature that one could see." 

But this formative time in Paris would abruptly, and unexpectedly, come to an end. 

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