Mr. Conness. How was it in the case of Mr. Powell?
Mr. Sumner. I am speaking of the present case. One at a time, if you please. The person that you propose to contract with notoriously has never made a statue. All who have the most moderate acquaintance with art know that it is one thing to make a bust and quite another to make a statue. One may make a bust and yet be entirely unable to make a statue,—just as one may write a poem in the corner of a newspaper and not be able to produce an epic. A statue is art in one of its highest forms. There have been very few artists competent to make a statue. There is as yet but one instance that I recall of a woman reasonably successful in such an undertaking. But the eminent and precocious person to whom I refer had shown a peculiar genius very early in life, had enjoyed the rarest opportunities of culture, and had vindicated her title as artist before she attempted this difficult task. Conversing, as I sometimes have, with sculptors, I remember how they always dwell upon the difficulty of such a work. It is no small labor to set a man on his legs, with proper drapery and accessories, in stone or in bronze. Not many have been able to do it, and all these had already experience in art. Now there is no such experience here. Notoriously this candidate is without it. There is no reason to suppose that she can succeed. Therefore the Senator from Vermont [Mr. Edmunds] is wise, when he proposes, that, before the nation pays $5,000 on account, it shall have some assurance that the work is not absolutely a failure. Voltaire was in the habit of exclaiming, in coarse Italian words, that “a woman cannot produce a tragedy.” In the face of what has been accomplished by Miss Hosmer, I do not venture on the remark that a woman cannot produce a statue; but I am sure that in the present case you ought to take every reasonable precaution. Anything for this Capitol must be “above suspicion.”
Sir, I did not intend, when I rose, to say anything except directly upon the motion of the Senator from Vermont; but, as I am on the floor, perhaps I may be pardoned, if I advert for one moment——
Mr. Howe. Will the Senator allow me to ask him one question, for information?
Mr. Sumner. Certainly.
Mr. Howe. It is, whether he supposes that by the examination of a plaster model he could get any assurance that the work in marble would be satisfactory.
Mr. Sumner. Obviously; for the chief work of the artist is in the model. When this is done, the work is more than half done,—almost all done. What remains requires mechanical skill rather than genius. In Italy, where are accomplished workmen in marble, the artist leaves his model in their hands, contenting himself with a few finishing strokes of the chisel. Sometimes he does not touch the marble.
I was about to say, when interrupted, that I hoped to be pardoned, if I adverted for one moment to the onslaught made upon what I have said in this debate. I do not understand it. I do not know why Senators have given such rein to the passion for personality. I made no criticism on any Senator, and no allusion, even, to any Senator. I addressed myself directly to the question, and endeavored to treat it with all the reserve consistent with proper frankness. Senators, one after another, have attacked me personally. The Senator from Oregon [Mr. Nesmith] seemed to riot in the business. The Senator from California [Mr. Conness], from whom I had reason to expect something better, caught the spirit of the other Pacific Senator. Sir, there was nothing in what I said to justify such attack. But I will not proceed in the comments their speeches invite; I turn away. There was, however, one remark of the Senator from Oregon to which I will refer. He complained that I was unwilling to patronize native art, and that I dwelt on the productions of foreign artists to the disparagement of our own.
I am at a loss for the motive of this singular misrepresentation. Let the Senator quote a sentence or word which fell from me in disparagement of native art. He cannot. I know the art of my country too well, and think of it with too much of patriotic pride. I alluded to only one foreign artist, and he was that sympathetic and gifted Frenchman who has endowed the Capitol with the portrait of Lafayette. The other artists that I praised were all of my own country. There was Rembrandt Peale, of Philadelphia, to whom we are indebted for the portrait of Washington. There was Trumbull, the companion of Washington, and one of his military staff, who, quitting the toils of war, gave himself to painting, under the inspiration of West, himself an American, and produced works which I pronounced the chief treasure of the rotunda. There also was Greenough, the earliest American sculptor, and, until Story took the chisel, unquestionably the most accomplished of all in the list of American sculptors. He was a scholar, versed in the languages of antiquity and modern times, who studied the art he practised in the literature of every tongue. Of him I never fail to speak in praise. There also was Crawford, an American sculptor, born in New York, and my own intimate personal friend, whose early triumphs I witnessed and enjoyed. He was a true genius, versatile, fertile, bold. His short life was crowned by the honors of his profession, and he was hailed at home and abroad as a great sculptor. How can I speak of this friend of my early life except with admiration and love? I alluded also to Rogers, an American artist, from the West,—yes, Sir, from the West——
Mr. Howard. Who was educated in Michigan.