George P. A. Healy: Dedicated to the End

"Orestes Brownson" by George Healy

"The painter, so young in spirit, had aged without being really aware of it. A newer kind of art was asserting itself. My father, who had always been pleased to help his young brother artists, still made them cordially welcome at his home, and went to see their works, and, in all sincerity, praised them. He used to say to us, 'You little know how much talent it takes to paint even a poor picture.' His kindness was not always met in the same spirit in which it was proffered. It became the fashion among the younger artists to disparage his work. He was hurt to the heart, though no one ever heard him complain.

This, perhaps, had much to do with his sudden resolution to return to America, and so he and his family left Paris for Chicago in February, never to return. The move proved to be a wise one. He was received by his old and his new friends with such enthusiasm that he was much pleased and greatly touched. Home life in his own house was peacefully resumed. Once more he worked daily. Once more he received his friends with the cordial simplicity peculiar to himself. He thus had two happy years among those who loved and appreciated him. Then, very quietly, he passed away June 24th, 1894. To his eldest daughter, who stood at his bedside and who asked him whether he was comfortable, he answered, 'Yes, and happy - so happy!'

My father's talent was an unequal one. His best portraits are admirable for intensity of life, for fresh and natural color, for strong drawing. The large historical picture of Webster replying to Hayne in Faneuil Hall; the portrait of Brownson, which belongs to the Boston Art Museum, the group of Armenian bishops which he gave to the Art Institute of Chicago; several portraits of himself, an adorable series of children's heads - these would be enough to consecrate him as a great artist.

Unfortunately, at times, he worked too rapidly, carried away by his extraordinary facility. Many paintings thus hastily produced are unworthy of him. Moreover, toward the end of his life, his clear, keen vision was marred. He no longer saw colors as they were. This he never suspected, and he continued to paint until his brush fell from his weakened hand. It has been the fashion for the last twenty years of more, to pick out these inferior works as representative of his style. This is eminently unfair. Those who loved him can afford to wait. The time will come when all will agree that one of America's best portrait painters was George P. Healy."

(Excerpts from "Life of George P. A. Healy" by Marie Healy Bigot.)