Women artists in all ages and countries

by E. F. Ellet

“If I am alive,” said he, “I will be here,” naming some time on a certain day.

“Then, if you are not here,” was the reply, “I am to conclude that you are dead.”

Thus they parted. The day and hour arrived, but no doctor made his appearance. That evening Miss Hosmer rode into Boston, and next morning the papers announced the decease of Dr. ———. Half Boston and its neighborhood rushed to the physician’s house to leave cards and messages of condolence for the family, and to inquire into the cause of the sudden and lamentable event.

In 1850, being then nineteen, Harriet Hosmer left Lenox. Mrs. Sedgwick’s judicious treatment, and the motive and encouragement supplied by Mrs. Kemble, had given the right impetus to that activity of mind and body which needed only guiding and directing into legitimate channels. She returned to her father’s house, at Watertown, to pursue her art-studies, and to fit herself for the career she had resolved upon following. There was at this time a cousin of Miss Hosmer’s studying with her father, between whom and herself existed a hearty camaraderie. Together the two spent many hours in dissecting legs and arms, and in making acquaintance with the human frame, Dr. Hosmer having erected a small building at the bottom of his garden to facilitate these studies. Those were days of close study and application. Lessons in drawing and modeling—for which our young student had to repair to Boston, a distance of seven or eight miles—and anatomical studies with her cousin, were alternated with the inevitable rides and boating on which her father wisely insisted. The River Charles runs immediately before the house, and on this river Harriet Hosmer had a boat-house, containing a safe, broad boat, and a fragile, poetical-looking gondola, with silvered prow, the delight of her heart, and the terror of her less experienced and unswimming friends. The life of the young girl was at this period full of earnest purpose and noble ambition, and the untiring energy and perseverance which distinguish her now in so remarkable a degree were at this time evidenced and developed.

Having modeled one or two copies from the antique, she next tried her hand on a portrait-bust, and then cut Canova’s bust of Napoleon in marble, working it entirely with her own hands that she might make herself mistress of the process. Her father, seeing her devoted to her studies, seconded them in every possible way, and proposed to send her to his friend, Dr. M‘Dowell, Professor of Anatomy in the St. Louis College, that she might go through a course of regular instruction, and be thus thoroughly grounded for the branch of art she had chosen. The young artist was but too glad to close with the offer; and, in the autumn of 1850, we find her at St. Louis, residing in the family of her favorite schoolmate from Lenox, winning the hearts of all its members by her frank, joyous nature, and steady application, and securing, in the head of it, what she heartily and energetically calls “the best friend I ever had.”

Her independence of manner and character, joined to the fact of her entering the college as a student, could not fail to bring down animadversion, and many were the tales fabricated and circulated anent the young New Englander, who was said to carry pistols in her belt, and to be prepared to take the life of any one who interfered with her. It was, perhaps, no disadvantage, under the circumstances, to be protected by such a character. The college stood some way from the inhabited part of the town, and in early morning and late evening, going to and fro with the other students, it is not impossible that she owed the perfect impunity with which she set conventionality at defiance to the character for courage, and skill in the use of fire-arms which attended her.

Dr. M‘Dowell, charmed with the talent and earnestness of his pupil, afforded her every facility in his power, giving her the freedom of the college at all times, and occasionally bestowing upon her a private lecture when she attended to see him preparing dissections for the public ones. Pleasant and encouraging it is to find men of ability and eminence so willing to help a woman when she is willing to help herself. The career of this young artist hitherto has been marked by the warm and generous encouragement of first-rate men, from Professor M‘Dowell to John Gibson, and pleasant it is to find the affectionate and grateful appreciation of such kindness, converting the temporary tie of master and pupil into the permanent one of tried and valued friendship. “I remember Professor M‘Dowell,” writes Miss Hosmer, “with great affection and gratitude, as being a most thorough and patient teacher, as well as at all times a good, kind friend.”

Through the winter and spring of 1851, in fact, during the whole term, Harriet Hosmer prosecuted her studies with unremitting zeal and attention, and at the close was presented with a “diploma,” or certificate, testifying to her anatomical efficiency. During her stay at St. Louis, and as a testimony of her gratitude and regard, Miss Hosmer cut, from a bust of Professor M‘Dowell by Clevenger, a medallion in marble, life size, which is now in the museum of the College. It is perhaps worthy of note that Clevenger and Powers both studied anatomy under this professor.

The “diploma” achieved, our young aspirant was bent upon seeing New Orleans before returning to her New England home. It was a season of the year not favorable for such travel, and, from some cause or another, she failed in inducing any of her friends to accompany her. To will and to do are synonymous with some; and so, Harriet Hosmer having set her mind upon an excursion down the Mississippi to the Crescent City, embarked herself one fine morning on board a steamer bound for New Orleans. The river was shallow, the navigation difficult; many a boat did our adventurous traveler pass high and dry; but fortune, as usual, was with her, and she reached her destination in safety. The weather was intensely warm, but, nothing daunted, our young friend saw all that was to be seen, returning at night to sleep on board the steamer as it lay in its place by the levee, and, at the expiration of a week, returning with it to St. Louis. Arrived there, instead of rejoining her friends, she took boat for the Falls of St. Anthony, on the Upper Mississippi, stopping, on the way, at Dubuque, to visit a lead mine, into which she descended by means of a bucket, and came very near an accident which must inevitably have resulted fatally; a catastrophe which, as no one knew where she was, would probably have remained a secret forever. At the Falls of St. Anthony, she went among the Indians, much to their surprise and amusement, and brought away with her a pipe, presented by the chief, in token of amity. She also achieved the ascent of a mountain never before undertaken by a female; and so delighted were the spectators with her courage and agility, that they insisted upon knowing her name, that the mountain might thenceforth be called after her. In a subsequent visit to St. Louis, Miss Hosmer found that her rustic admirers had been as good as their word, and “Hosmer’s Height” remains an evidence of “the little lady’s” ambition and courage.

On her return to St. Louis, where her prolonged absence had created no little uneasiness, she remained but a short time, and, bidding farewell to her kind friends, retraced her steps homeward.