Daniel Chester French: Lincoln Memorial Preliminary Work

Daniel French with a 6 ft. high model for
the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.

"It was during the last years of the war [WWI] that Mr. French made, or at least finished, the seated statue of Lincoln for the Memorial in Washington D.C. His friend, and for years his collaborator, Henry Bacon, had been appointed the architect to design and build the Memorial, and he immediately engaged Mr. French to make the statue for which his beautiful building was to be the shrine. This was in 1915, but it was not till 1920 that it was finished and erected.

Few people understand the hazards, aside from the labor,  of cutting a statue in stone. The finest marble still comes from the ancient quarries in Italy - Carrara and Serravezza; but however carefully selected, a dark spot or defect of some sort may develop, necessitating the choosing of another block and beginning all over again. An excellent white marble from Georgia was chosen as being particularly well adapted to the execution of so large a figure as the Lincoln.

The popular idea that a sculptor rises from his couch at midnight, seizes his mallet and chisel, and, in a fine frenzy, hews out a beautiful statue before morning, exists only in poetry. Sculpture is a much more serious business than that. Occasionally a sculptor, when the spirit moves him, himself cuts a head or a torso out of the marble without a model or previous study, but usually the sculptor's model is copied by a marble-cutter and finished by the artist. There is evidence to prove that the old-time sculptor proceeded in much the same way as do the sculptors of the present day.

In order to determine how large the statue should be, a temporary plaster model of the Lincoln was made about twelve feet in height and erected in place in the Memorial. This proved much too small, and two solar prints were made, one eighteen feet in height, the other twenty feet, and put in place. Cut out from the background, they looked strangely like the real thing, and, as a consequence of these experiments, the statue was eventually made twenty feet in height instead of twelve as was orginally planned. Mr. French and Mr. Bacon, our daughter, and Evelyn Longman, who did much of the decorative work in the Memorial, went down to Washington to try the experiments."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)

 

Daniel Chester French: Portrait Painting!

"Margaret French," a pastel by Daniel French

"During our summers at Chesterwood, Mr. French's greatest amusement was to play at portrait painting. He always hoped for a free summer when he might go off with a painter friend and study, and, with no idea of exhibiting, he painted all the girls who came to visit us. He was quite wonderful at catching a likeness, which showed, of course, his trained hand and eye in another line of work.

Some painters, as we know, care but little for the likeness, but Mr. French always claimed that, if the drawing were absolutely correct, the painting must look like the sitter. 'A likeness,' he used to say, 'consists not so much in getting in all the details, as in getting what you do get right. It really does not need very many details to convey an impression of a face or figure. A silhouette is a strong likeness as far as it goes, and it goes pretty far in spite of the fact that there are no eyes, no ears, no modelling of any kind. If the outline is absolutely correct, it looks exactly like the person.'" *

"In 1885, he took lessons and studied in Paris the following year and frequently painted portraits of his daughter, Margaret. She sat for at least four oil portraits and five in pastel. Inspired by her father, she also studied art at the New York School of Applied Design for Women, and became known as a portrait sculptor. And it was Margaret, the Frenchs' only child, who ensured that Chesterwood and her father's legacy would be transferred to the National Trust for Historic Preservation." **

To be continued

(* Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.
** Excerpts from "Daniel Chester French: The Lincoln Memorial's Sculptor" by Cynthia Close for "Art & Object.")

 

 

Daniel Chester French: The Question of Expense

Maquettes by Daniel French

"In connection with studio life and the making of statues, there is one question - grave to every sculptor - which is naturally little understood by the outside world - the question of expense. A large room - for architectural sculpture a huge room - is an absolute necessity. The clay, the wax, the setting up of statues and busts, the skilled carpentry work, heavy express charges, models, the turning of the clay into plaster, and later the turning of plaster, by skilled workmen, into bronze or marble - all, unless a man is highly paid, eat up a large part of the profits.

I have known, in Mr. French's case, that sometimes when a statue was put in place, it was found that the entire large appropriation - in one case some $50,000 - was entirely used up in the expenses of casting, stonework, water for the pool, etc. Except in the case of another appropriation being made, there would be nothing left for the sculptor.

People generally do not understand the expense. For example, there was one of the great captains of industry. He wanted a statue of a certain kind for a certain place. He commissioned his architect to ask Mr. French - not to give the order, but to make a model on approval. Mr. French said that he should be glad to do so and submit the model, but that he charged for his designs, and that the price would be $500. Shortly after this, the architect received a letter from the captain of industry saying: 'What's the matter with these artist fellows What does French mean by charging for a design? Tell him that when I want a job, I go for it! Why, I've crossed the ocean in search of a job.' This so amused the architect that he told us about it, and Mr. French's comment was, 'Tell Mr. R___ that it's a great many years since I have had to go to Europe, or anywhere, to get a job.' 

I have often wished that I knew Mr. R___. He is a big man in his way, and I know that he must have a sense of humor and would appreciate the idea, if his attention were called to it, that he could not approach a work of art as he would a leak in the bathroom." 

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)

Daniel Chester French: The Chesterwood Studio

Daniel French studio, Chesterwood

"In 1897 we bought our place in Stockbridge, about three miles out in the country. We had lived in Concord and had spent two summers in Cornish, but we wanted to be on the direct route to New York with which, in those days, Mr. French felt obliged to keep in touch, both with his own work and especially with that of the Metropolitan Museum, of which he was a trustee.

We chose Stockbridge because we loved it from the first moment we looked upon it, the long flat street, with its old houses and great trees, its atmosphere of respectability and culture, and its intimate hills. We bought a place about three miles out on a back country road with a rambling house and beautiful trees, and a view which had an air of being especially created for our front porch. And there we settled down to live for the rest of our lives, at least from May through mid-November."

"The sculptor turned his immediate attention to the construction of a new free-standing studio, for this was to be not only a country home but a workplace. Construction began in the summer of 1897 while the Frenches were touring Europe. But the following summer, back in residence in Stockbridge, French was able to take up occupancy in his new studio, which he made sure included a colonnaded piazza from which, seated in wicker chairs, the sculptor and his visitors could enjoy unobstructed views of Monument Mountain. 

In the northern entranceway to the studio, French set up a sitting room to receive guests and patrons. The high-ceilinged workroom featured a strategically placed skylight to supply all-important soft, indirect illumination without shadows and shelving and pedestals ample enough to display plaster and bronze maquettes in abundance. A bookcase overflowed with easily accessible research volumes on such vital topics as military uniforms. Hanging intriguingly on one large hook was a leather saddle, ready whenever needed to accommodate a model posing indoors for an equestrian statue. A trap door in the floor allowed assistant to store old casts and fresh clay in the cellar.

'A fine casting room was at the back of the studio replete with all the paraphernalia that a sculptor needs at hand. There was a sink and faucet for the water that has to be sprayed on a clay statue every day. A portable wooden potter's wheel stood on casters, enabling French to roll his clay models from room to room so he could examine them from many angles and in different shades of light. But by far the most innovative feature of the studio was a revolving modeling platform atop a railroad flatcar. The car sat on a submerged indoor track leading outdoors through twenty-two-foot-high, double doors. By utilizing it, French could roll his latest work outside so he could view even his largest models in the full light of day - just as the public would eventually view his finished statuary."

To be continued

(*Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.
**Excerpts from "Monument Man: The Life & Art of Daniel Chester French" by Harold Holzer.)

 

Daniel Chester French: Six Bronze Doors and a Headstone

Bronze door depicting "Wisdom"

Bronze door depicting "Knowledge"

"When Mr. French made six bronze doors for the Public Library in Boston, it was just nine years from the time he began them until they were finished, and McKim, slightly discouraged, used to write to him and say, 'How long, at the rate you have taken for the doors, would it take to make two statues for Alabama or' - or any one of his numerous projects? The doors drew high praise from sculptor Lorado Taft who described the low relief  as 'one of the final tests of a sculptor's skill' Then he noted: 'In the importunate and most difficult problems of composition, foreshortening, and draping, reduced almost to the ethereal, Mr. French has shown his skill to be quite equal to his refined taste.'

About this time, Mr. French had the opportunity and pleasure to doing something towards the completion of the headstone which the Alcott family were having made for their famous Aunt Louisa. After it was finished, her nephew, Mr. Pratt, one of Meg's sons, in writing Mr. French, wished they could show their appreciation of what he had done, and for which, of course, he had not been willing to take any remuneration.

Mr. French, after thinking it over, wrote back to him and said: 'There is something I would like you to do. My child is eight years old, and it would be a great pleasure if she could have some memento of Miss Louisa and her work. Perhaps you would send her one of the books - for instance, 'An Old-Fashioned Girl.' Later, to our great surprise, and almost - but not quite - to our embarrassment came a box with twenty-seven volumes of Miss Alcott's works, beautifully bound in blue and gold, with an autographed poem in the first volume. Of course we were all delighted, and Margaret almost overwhelmed at the importance of such a present..."

To be continued

(*Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.

Daniel Chester French: The John Boyle O'Reilly

"John Boyle O'Reilly Memorial" by Daniel Chester French

"One of those winters, Mr. French was making the John Boyle O'Reilly for the Back Bay in Boston. It was a large group, and he had already devoted himself to it for a couple of years, but he called me into the studio one day and said with a few anxious wrinkles in his forehead:

'Mary, I left this group here last spring on purpose so that I shouldn't see it for six months and could come back to it with a fresh eye, and now what should you think' - he gazed at me with a still more troubled expression - 'if I told you that I was going to pull it to pieces and make it over, more like the original sketch? We may not have much to eat for a while' - which was, of course, only a figure of speech - 'but I know I can better it, and I really don't see what else I can do.'

So we studied it carefully - I had always liked the sketch better myself - and that winter was devoted to getting into something that he felt he had missed in his previous year's work. Of course, all artists do that kind of thing, and having an artist for a husband and cousin, I was quite used to the idea.'"*

"John Boyle O'Reilly was an Irishman, who had agitated, sometimes violently, for Irish independence in the old country. He had been captured, tried for treason, and exiled to remote Western Australia. From there he had escaped and come to Boston, where he resumed his campaign for a free Ireland. He also quickly rose to prominence, writing for, and later running, the Catholic Newspaper, the 'Pilot,' and published half a dozen books of fiction and poetry. Sadly, he died young in 1890 after accidentally ingesting an overdose of his ailing wife's sleeping potion, and quickly became a legend. His passing unleashed an outpouring of grief which resulted in a campaign to raise fifty thousand dollars to fund a statue in his honor. His admirers invited French to design and execute 'a suitable memorial to the genius and manhood of John Boyle O'Reilly.'

"French proposed a larger-than-life bronze bust of the thickly mustachioed O'Reilly set against a richly carved granite stele. For the opposite side, against a similar backdrop, he would install a trio of allegorical statues in tribute to O'Reilly's virtues. A draped, hooded, and enthroned central figure would represent Erin, the personification of Ireland, her head downcast in mourning, weaving a wreath of shamrock for the fallen hero. She would be surrounded by statues representing 'Patriotism,' a Celtic warrior clutching a sword in one hand and an oak leaf - the symbol of strength - in the other; and the seminude, winged figure of 'Poetry' offering laurel - the ancient reward to poets. 

 Dedication day for the finished bronze was scheduled for June 20, 1896. With outgoing Vice President Adlai E. Stevenson I in attendance and Daniel Chester French looking on, the presentation exercises drew a large throng to witness a program of prayers, orations, and music. Toward the conclusion of the ceremonies, a male chorus sang out the words of 'Forever,' one of O'Reilly's beloved poems, aptly beginning with: 'Those we love truly never, never die.' As its final verse floated into the air, the Irish martyr's daughter tugged at a cord, releasing the veils, and revealing the striking memorial to the appreciative crowd."**

To be continued

(*Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.
**Excerpts from "Monument Man: The Life & Art of Daniel Chester French" by Harold Holzer.)

 

Daniel Chester French: Cornish

"Christmas Morning" by Maxfield Parrish

"Cornish was, in my day, and of course still is, a community rather than a village, a scattering group of houses among the New Hampshire hills. For the mail and for whatever small business affairs there were, we drove down long hills, and along flat river banks, and through an old ramshackle covered bridge, into the town of Windsor.

The places were lovely and unusual. There was none of the old-fashioned method of clearing off a tract of land, cutting down trees, filling up ravines, laying out roads between the house and the view. In other words, the taking out of everything that naturally grew there and putting in everything that was foreign.

I think of the sculptor, Herbert Adam's place how exquisite it was, and yet a house and a barn about sixty feet apart with a high fence connecting the two and painted white, a parallelogram of green inside, a few columns, a stone floor against the house, and am amphora or a colored relief against the white walls of the barn - one might have been in Italy or anywhere, and yet no effort, no expense, no display.

And of course Maxfield Parrish's place - a little rambling farmhouse on a hillside, as I remember it. We wandered up along a winding pathway, and there, in front of the house a few yards away and slightly lower, was the oval pool which he has made famous with blue waters and peaked Alps, recumbent maidens and youths.

Charles Platt's home was a kind of American Italy. The Tom Dewing house, low upon the road, with its little garden ablaze, as I remember it, with every shade of yellow, and upon the hill opposite, the Italian villa which Mrs. Johnston, then Miss Annie Lazarus had built and made beautiful.

Some of the artists used to say that Saint-Gaudens had the only real house in Cornish. It was a brick of the severe Colonial type, and had in the earlier days been a tavern. He had done everything to it that he could think of to make it as little like New England as possible. He had put an elaborate fence around the top of the bank with Greek heads at regular intervals, and a big, elaborate porch at the front to get that 'infernal Puritan look' out of it, which offended his Celtic soul. This porch looked towards Ascutney, as do most of the houses in Cornish, just as in Sicily they look toward Aetna, and in Japan towards Fujiyama."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)

Daniel Chester French: The Chicago World's Fair

Daniel Chester French's statue of the "Republic" with his
and Edward Clark Potter's Quadriga atop the Great Arch

"When our child and I came back to America in the spring of 1893 and went to Chicago, we found Mr. French with a tremendous group of other artists working upon the buildings of the World's Fair. It was an interesting time, with so much going on, on a very big scale, everyone doing something, Millet, MacMonnies, Kenyon Cox, Blashfield, and others. Augustus Lukeman, sculptor of the 'Stone Mountain Memorial,' had charge of Mr. French's particular gang.

Mr. French was building the great statue of the 'Republic,' sixty-five feet high, which was to stand in the Lagoon. It was a good deal, it seemed to me, like building the Tower of Babel. They made a big square platform a few feet from the ground, and upon this, near the edge, a kind of stockade or fence ten feet high in broad convolutions, covered it with a mixture of jute and plaster which gradually developed into the great ripples of a not very conventional woman's skirt.

Of course, it was a good deal of a job for a mere artist to plan this great structure, but I have always said that, if Mr. French had not been a sculptor, he would have been an inventor; and the work went steadily on until finally all the sections, one at a time, were carried out, planted in the Lagoon, and the head and shoulders of the statue settled into place.

He and Edward Potter were also making some figures for the Quadriga, which was to stand upon the Great Arch where the Lagoon opened out into the lake, and four groups of bulls and horses and humans, to stand at the entrance of the Agricultural Building. One corner of the interior of the building was fenced off from this particular work into a rough studio, and there Mr. French and Mr. Potter made their horses with the attendant figures of girls and pages, and here the models came and posed for them, some in Greek draperies, and sometimes, I imagine, without draperies.

I used to go down and watch the work going on and shiver to see my only husband climbing around at such a height. The men were always tumbling off things, the work was rushed, and the workmen were perfectly reckless. Ambulances were dashing around the town at all hours of the day and night, and we wives, sitting at home, used to wonder at each noise clanging by the house which particular husband was being brought home, and what particular accident had happened to him!"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)

Daniel Chester French: The Music Club

"La Carmencita" by J.S. Sargent

"In those early years in New York we were invited to join the Music Club. It was started, I believe, by Mrs. Gilder, Mrs. Pierpont Morgan, Mrs. Henry Holt, George Vanderbilt and those two tall beautiful Minturn girls, who would have lent distinction to any assembly. It met in the great studio of William Merritt Chase on West Tenth Street. 

Chase was a real Bohemian with his soft tie, his narrow French silk hat, looking (as he, of course, wanted to look) as if he had just escaped from the Latin Quarter. He had no money to speak of, but he was long as to children - I believe there were eight - and as to studios. Room after room, as I remember them, full of all kinds of curios that he had picked up all over the world. We used to go there once a month in the winter to hear great artists play amid congenial surroundings and among friends. Among others I there heard Ysaye, Plançon, and Paderewski.

One evening Carmencita danced there, but it was not for the Music Club, and I did not see it and had to be content with that my husband told me of it. Sargent was painting her portrait. They said he sat and watched her as if almost in a trance, hypnotized by the motion, grace, abandon, which he put into every inch of one of his greatest of portraits."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)

 

Daniel Chester French: Marriage

"Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet and Alice Cogswell"
by Daniel Chester French

"Dan French and I were married in Washington in July, a terrible time and place to be sure, in which to marry, or to do anything, but if one will marry an artist...

A few weeks before the day set for the wedding, which was to have been in June, Dan wrote me, 'What should you think if I told you that even now at the last minute I must change my statue' - this was the Gallaudet which was to be put up at the Deaf Mute College outside of Washington -' and I am afraid it will put off our wedding for a month.'

The rest of the letter was apologetic and contrite, but - 'Saint-Gaudens has been in and says that the legs are too short. Perhaps I should have known this without any one telling me, had I not been diverted by the prospects of approaching matrimony. However, when you can pin Saint-Gaudens down and get a real criticism from him, it is better than anybody's, and so what can I do except give the Doctor an inch or two more of leg, and meanwhile, what kind of a lover will you think me anyhow?'

Of course I knew well enough that, in sculpture, legs and arms and heads were always being cut off and jostled about, and there was nothing to do but accept it, so we picked out a nice hot day in the hotteset city in the world, so to speak, and were married, and I went to New York to live.

Dan French had lived in New York only that last year before our marriage, having given up his studios in Concord and Boston. That first winter he had worked in that of his friend while his new house in West Eleventh Street was being prepared for us. This house was most interesting and I loved it, but a home in a side street, with all the hustle and hubbub of a great city, with no intimate friends and no neighbors, seemed somewhat appalling to me after the easy-going life of Washington in which Ihad grown up. My husband knew already most of the literary and artistic people who afterwards made our lives interesting, but it took a little while for me to know who people were, and to get used to the hurried, slap-dash methods of a metropolis.

There were the Gilders, the Saint-Gaudenses, the Will Lows, the Dewings, the Kenyon Coxes, the Blashfields, William Dean Howells, the Martin Conways, and always Mr. French's old friend, Benjamin C. Porter. And at these houses, which were thrown open to us, there were all their friends, writers and painters from all over the world."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)

 

 

Daniel Chester French: Endymion and Home

"The Awakening of Endymion" by Daniel Chester French

"Ensconced in the fairytale setting of Thomas Ball's studio whose uplifting atmosphere he likened to a Renaissance workplace of old, Dan French began shaping his concept for 'Endymion," the long-slumbering Aeolian shepherd of Greek myth. Although he carefully observed Ball chipping away skillfully at polished stone, French had not quite mastered the technique himself. If nothing else, he learned in Florence to concentrate on his clay and plaster models, and delegate to specialists the task of enlarging, casting, and carving his 'sketches' into final form. It was a routine he would follow for the rest of his long career. 

As French learned, great sculptors conceived their works, but did not necessarily carve them, too. Michelangelo may once have done so in this city, but the masters of the modern age were no longer expected to be expert marble cutters. French vowed never to take chisel to marble again. Except for polishing and finishing, which he would always insist on performing himself before any of his marbles were unveiled, after 'Endymion' he never again worked in the medium. 

During his final months in Florence, he added the finishing touches to his sculpture, for which he had high hopes. He had labored on it for more than a year. Once, after sending a photograph of the conceptual clay sketch home to his father, he had been gratified to learn that his family and friends thought it 'the loveliest thing that ever was.' But then others added what must have been received in Florence as a devastating critique 'Can a sleeping man's arm stay up from his body as the left one is? Would it not fall down?' Young French set to work trying to subdue it.

Not until late June did he satisfy himself that the sculpture could not be improved upon further. After bidding goodbye to the sprawling Powers family, French departed Florence on July 10, 1876 - just six days after the centennial of American independence. He was also determined to attract a high-paying customer for 'Endymion.' He was destined to be disappointed. Eventually, shipped back to Concord at considerable expense, it earned decent enough reviews when placed briefly on exhibit at Boston's St. Botolph Club, but still ended up a white elephant. Years later, perhaps eager to forget the entire experience, a disappointed French would leave the statue behind when he moved out of his Concord home. A century later still, a subsequent owner would relegate the weather-beaten marble to the backyard. Not until 1983 would it be rescued and installed at Chesterwood."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Monument Man: The Life and Art of Daniel Chester French" by Harold Holzer.)  

 

Daniel Chester French: Italy and Thomas Ball

"While Dan French's father in Concord was looking after his boy's interests at home, the son over in Florence, where his good luck seemed to pursue him, was trying not to have too good a time. 'They all do everything they can to make me happy,' he wrote. 'They not only treat me like one of the family, but they take me about to see everything and everybody - such interesting people!'

He lived with Preston Powers' family [Dan's friend and son of sculptor Hiram Powers], and within a few days of his arrival, he and Mrs. Powers, a young girl of twenty or twenty-one, went out in search of a room which would be suitable for a studio. They found one quite near the Porta Romana, outside which dwelt the numerous families of Powers, and Mr. Thomas Ball, at that time the most distinguished American sculptor as well as a man of a most wonderful personality.

Mr. Ball's villa was a large brown structure, in the middle of Italian gardens, a coterie of the literati, the musicians, the artists from America and England, and from the neighboring Florence, delightful surroundings for a young man who had led such a quiet life in a small town in America. To the youth it seemed incredible that such good luck could have come to him. 

Mr. Ball wrote to Dan's father:

My dear Sir: You would like to know why I have done this thing. I would ask you why the hearts and homes of the entire neighborhood were thrown open to your son before he had been here a week? Why do all the mothers (five at least), if he happens to be unwell vie with each other in their endeavors to make him enjoy it? Why did I, when I went from curiosity, to see his 'Minute Man,' notwithstanding its surprising merit for a first work, find myself when I left the studio, thinking much more about the artist than the statue? And why did I go again and take my wife to see the artist?

As far as I am concerned, I will tell you, I recognized in his simple, ingenuous artist nature, something more than talent; something indispensable to a true artist. And when he came here and took a studio not far from me, but too far for me to see him as often as was good for him, I thought how, twenty years ago, I came here to make my first struggle, and how welcome was the face of dear old Powers whenever it brightened my door. 

And then I thought how nice it would be, when I was up to my elbows in clay, on a ladder 15 feet in the air, to have someone that I could call upon to receive my visitors; and I decided at once to give him a corner in my studio and invited him forthwith. I find it works well... and if he does not try my patience...he can stay as long as he pleases... Believe me, my dear sir, it will always give me pleasure to do anything in my power to advance the professional interests of your son. Very truly yours, Thomas Ball

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)

 

Daniel Chester French: The Minute Man

The "Minute Man" by Daniel Chester French

"The town of Concord had decided to erect a statue of a Minute Man on the battle-field by the 'rude bridge that arched the flood.' The Commission appropriated one thousand dollars, and had unofficially asked Dan French, at that time twenty-one, to make the statue. The tradition in the family is that he made a sketch and took it down to Mr. Emerson and Judge Hoar, upon whose recommendation it was immediately accepted.

Of course this commission was a serious thing for a youth whose only training had been one month in the studio of Mr. Ward in New York, some lessons in drawing with Dr. Rimmer in Brookline, a prize in the cattle show the year before, and some advice from Miss May Alcott. 'I wonder whether I can do it,' he wrote to someone. 'By this time next year I shall know.'

He made his models, the second and final one in a room in a business building in Boston, with a poor light. He still wonders how he was able to do it. There was no one except a stray sculptor at that time who knew anything about the mechanics of the trade, so he and his father went to work, and his practical mechanical instinct carried him through, though with various catastrophes. When his first model was finished, they got the plaster ready - the amount which someone had told him would be sufficient - made their mold, dissolved the plaster, stood the model on its head, and poured the plaster into it. There must have been a hole somewhere, underneath the hair perhaps, for all the plaster ran through the mold and out upon the floor - the last drop they had - so they had to wait for another day when they could renew their supply.

I don't remember whether it was the 'Minute Man' or whether it was a bust made about the same time which gave him great trouble as to the hair. They tried in every way to make it have a natural look, and finally his father said, 'Oh, take a brush and comb, and treat it the way you would treat hair, and I guess it will look like hair.' His struggles must have been of great interest and amusement to his family.

The statue was unveiled after Dan had gone to Italy for studies. His father wrote, 'A perfect spring morning. The sun is bright and the air still, and the bluebirds and robins are talking very busily about their nests... The old Minute Man does us credit... Everybody, great and small, is delighted. I confess to a great thrill at the sight of 'D.C. French' on the base!'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.) 

 

 

Daniel Chester French: First Instruction

While still a teenager Daniel French
executed this bust of his father

"There was at that time in New England but little art but there was a love, as represented in old prints and engravings, a reverence for old furniture and for all inherited worth, that was at least appreciative. In Concord there was small need of money, small ambition for purely worldly success, and Dan French, with an absorbing interest in the worthwhile things of life, cared little, even at that period, for aught save to be left alone to work out his newly discovered vision of art.

His father wrote often for the magazines, was a man of literary attainments, and welcomed eagerly the first glimpse of anything like genius in his children. His family, who had probably never seen a sculptor in their lives, were amazed and interested, and his fellow townspeople immediately decided that something like a miracle had happened in their midst, that this young product of their beloved town was going to be the greatest sculptor of all ages.

But at that time there was no art school or art class in Boston, but he frequented the Athenaeum and studied the Greek casts there, modeled for a short time with J.Q.A. Ward in New York, and for a while in Boston with Dr. Rimmer, whose recognition as a sculptor, he always claimed, was not commensurate with his achievements. Rimmer was a very great draughtsman, and to him in after years Mr. French attributed the solid foundation of his work. Miss May Alcott, who had recently come back from her studies in Europe, did much to help him, both with her sympathy and with her tools. 

'Father talked to May Alcott about my newly developed interest in sculpture,' I have heard Dan tell many times in later life,' and she said, 'If he will come down to see me, I will lend him some tools.' I tell you I lost no time. I harnessed old Bucephalus, hurried down to the other end of the town, learned what I could in a short call, and brought a handful of tools back in triumph. One of these crude wooden implements I have always by me and am using it to this day.'" 

Some of Daniel French's sculpting tools

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.) 

 

Daniel Chester French: An Introduction

Head of the "Lincoln" and Daniel Chester French

Daniel Chester French, the creator of the famous Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C., was, at first, just one of Mary Adams French's cousins, but their lives were to become intertwined in the years to come, as he studied abroad and she grew into a young woman. This story is told in her book, "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife," which we shall take up at that point in their lives.

"When I was about sixteen, my cousin Dan came home from Europe and came with my young aunt Sarita to see me. I remember it perfectly, the first time I definitely remember him, in that square box of a convent parlor, the high room painted a gloomy brown, with horsehair furniture, and one entire side a square lattice, through which now and then a nun was permitted to talk to a friend. Dan was twenty-six, and, I thought, very handsome. It was romantic to tell to my school fellows of this new cousin, a sculptor - an unknown quantity in those days in Washington - who had lived abroad. He had just come back from his studies in Mr. [Thomas] Ball's studio in Florence, and spent the next two winters in Washington, where, though I saw him little, he brought a new and artistic touch into my life.

When I read of Raphael, 'whom the gods loved and whom women loved,' I have often thought that my artist was at least born with a golden spoon in his mouth. Of sturdy New England stock, a race of lawyers back of him, with an intellectual environment certainly unequaled in American life, Dan French seems never to have encountered the struggles of poverty and misunderstanding which have been considered - which he theoretically considered - as necessary to the development of genius.

His father was a judge, his two grandfathers were lawyers - one of them Chief Justice of the State of New Hampshire - while his life, during the most crucial years, was spent amid the 'high thinking and plain living' of Old Concord.

It was a simple and interesting life when I came to know it a few years later, but just before that time, while he was growing up, while his first statue, the 'Minute Man,' was coming into life, and during his two years in Italy in the studio of Mr. Ball, it must have been filled with an atmosphere of high purpose that was unusual as well as of great intellectual interest."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Memories of a Sculptor's Wife" by Mary Adams French.)  

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: The Curtain Drawn

Augustus Saint-Gaudens Memorial

 Concerning Augustus Saint-Gaudens' completion of the Albright Caryatids, Homer Saint-Gaudens wrote: "With that commission my father's work came to its end, closed while he was making almost superhuman efforts to keep active despite the progress of his illness. In that commission he gave his strongest indication of what his future work would have been, work notably of a monumental character he had never before attained. His sickness brought only feebleness of hand, none of mind. To the last his vision grew even fuller and deeper.

A few days before his death which came on August third, 1907, he lay watching a sunset behind Mount Ascutney, from 'Aspet,' the spot which years before had seemed to him restful and far away. He spoke out of a long silence, 'It's very beautiful,' he said, 'but I want to go farther away.'"

His obituary in "The New York Times" on August 8, 1907 read:

"Attended by artists of note from many parts of the East, the funeral services over the ashes of Augustus Saint-Gaudens were held late today in the small studio near the late sculptor's hom, 'Aspet.' The services were conducted by the Rev. O.B. Emerson, a retired Unitarian clergyman of Cambridge, Mass., while tributes to the life work of the deceased were paid by Kenyon Cox, the artist, and Precy Mackaye, the playwright. Arthur B. Whiting of Boston, presided at the organ, playing a number of selections throughout the service. 

Besides Mrs. Saint-Gaudens and her son, Homer, the relatives present included Miss Marie Saint-Gaudens of New York, a niece; Louis Saint-Gaudens of Plainfield, a brother; Dr. Arthur H. Nichols and wife of Boston, Joseph Homer of Brookline, Mass., and Mrs. O.B. Emerson of Cambridge.

The Summer colony of artists about Cornish was represented by Joseph Earle Frasier, John Flanagan, Mr. Keeck, and Adolph Weinman of New York, and Herbert Adams of Plainfield.

The ashes were interred in Ascutney Cemetery at Windsor, Vt., in a lot near that of Senator Evarts." 

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

Augustus Saint-Gaudens: The Brooks

"Rev. Phillips Brooks" monument
by Augustus Saint-Gaudens

Homer Saint-Gaudens wrote of Augustus Saint-Gaudens' monument to Rev. Phillips Brooks, a respected and beloved Anglican clergyman and author of "O Little Town of Bethlehem":

"Indeed there were few objects in his later years that my father 'caressed' as long as he did this figure. He selected and cast aside. He shifted folds of the gown back and forth. He juggled with the wrinkles of the trousers, which invariably obstructed the development far more than their final interest justified. He moved the fingers and the tilt of the right hand into a variety of gestures. He raised and lowered the chin of this long-studied portrait until finally he left it lowered, since he considered the angle of the head a question of art and not of fact, and since he felt that he expressed more definitely the magnetism of the preacher by having him appear to talk directly at the visitor. He shifted the left hand first from the chest to a position where it held an open Bible, and last to the lectern; because, although the lectern has aroused argument as not being the point from which Brooks spoke, it was vitally necessary for the composition.

The process certainly brought my father pleasure. As long as he could stand and model for himself, he resumed his former habit of singing airs from old Italian operas and of whistling as he worked, after the fashion of the days in Rome and later in the New York Thirty-sixth Street studio. 

When he first turned seriously to the character of the figure behind Brooks, he designed sketches of fully thirty angels. But after coming to work in Cornish he received the suggestion that he substitute a Christ for the angel he had planned. The conception appealed to him more because of what he might develop in the composition and because of the fitness of the subject than from any desire on his part to portray an idea of the character of Christ. However, as was his custom, he sought a biography, and on being handed Renan's 'Life of Christ,' read it eagerly. Next he procured Tissot's 'Life of Christ.' After that, the story has it, he went to his friend, Mr. Henry Adams, explained what he had been doing and asked for another book on the subject. Whereat Mr. Adams promptly suggested one called the Bible.

From that time Saint-Gaudens began to express a genuine faith in his conception of the physical image of Christ as a man, tender yet firm, suffering yet strong. He wrote to Tissot on the subject:

'I am making a statue of Christ and turn to you as the highest authority in anything pertaining to Him. I would be most grateful if you could give me some information with regard to the shape and size of the garments He wore; details of arrangement I cannot get by simply studying the illustrations in your extraordinary work which I have the good fortune to possess. Will you excuse me if I take this opportunity to express the profound admiration I have felt for your art for a long time, beginning with the etchings of 'The Prodigal Son' which I saw years ago at Knoedler's in New York. Your sincerity and devotion have been a great incentive and inspiration to me.' 

The head of the Christ was one of the last two pieces of sculpture that he actually touched with his hands, and as it stood alone he felt most happy over the result. However, when the bust had been placed upon the figure he believed it too abstract and too remote...and wished the head draped and in shadow. Accordingly, he set upon the problem an assistant, Miss Frances Grimes, who, under his direction, modified the features until at last he undoubtedly gained what he sought because, toward the end of the commission, and of his life, he said more than once: 'There, it's all right now; all right now!'" 

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 Albright Caryatids

Augustus Saint-Gaudens' caryatids for 
the Albright Art Gallery, now the Buffalo AKG Art Museum

Homer Saint-Gaudens wrote: "The Albright Caryatids* strongly held my father's attention since he appreciated the rich worth of the architecture he was adorning. For such a building, bearing to him a strong note of Greece, he wished to create his caryatids as large, reposeful women, in no way personal and to some extent archaic. Short portions of letters which he wrote to Mr. Albright on the subject show his feelings toward them as well as the manner in which, from his first commission to his last, he ruminated over his tasks before ever he touched his hands to clay. He writes:

'The scheme is a most alluring one, admitting of infinite possibilities as regards treatment. I have thought of making twelve different figures, but this would be a formidable undertaking; besides, it seems to me now that it would not be necessary. I think that the system adopted at the Erechtheum, [an ancient Greet temple on the Acropolis at Athens], would be the best here, and to have two, three, or four different models of which the other figures would be replicas, modifications being made in each of the other eight, nine, or ten figures, in the folds of the drapery, some detail or accessory.'

Again:

'This doing something to recall the Erechtheum is what perhaps frightens me more than anything I have done in my life. It seems so presumptuous. However, we shall see.'

And again, much later:

'They have made good progress, I suppose on account of the years of thought, and the year of preliminary studies devoted to them before the actual large size figures were begun a year or so ago. It's not the finer but the brain-work that takes the time; and I knew what I wanted to do and have done it, in fact more than I proposed, as I have made three different heads instead of two.'

At last he decided that he would place palms in the hands of the end caryatids, while by the middle ones he should denote Architecture, Sculpture, Painting and Music. At the outset he studied the figure of Painting with detailed care, as all the others were to be variations upon it. For example he had cast a heavy plaster cap, under which the living model could pose for only a moment, though during that moment he could see her head at an angle which banished the hated 'stuck out chin.' His general scheme of drapery he drew from the decorative figures on a terra cotta Etruscan altar, but he developed those compositions mostly through deliberate and original thought, partially through accident. One morning, for instance, showing pleasure when he found that the garments had happened to be cut off in a way that cast a straight, dark line across the feet."

These final works of Augustus Saint-Gaudens were first displayed in 1921 at the museum as part of an exhibition of works from the Albright collection, but it was not until 1935 that all of them were permanently installed on the east facade of the Buffalo AKG Art Museum in Buffalo, New York. 

To be continued

* A caryatid is a sculpted female figure used as an architectural support to hold up a roff or cornice.)

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