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.)