THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 ART IN AMERICA 
 
 Addm^ss bicfoue the Nhvv VoiiK. Historical Soctkty, uton the Ruciir'TioN of 
 
 Ckawkokds St-aii;}': of thk Indian, pkesentkd by Kki-;di-:kic uu Peyster, 
 
 IL.l), I'KicsiDF.N r, Tuesday Kvening, Afk'H. 6, 1875. 
 
 By SAMUEL OSGOOD, D.D., LL.D. 
 
 I'UBLISHED BY ORDliK OF TH K SOCll-.TV. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 JOHN F. TROVV & SON, PRINTEf 
 1875.
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 ART IN AMERICA. 
 
 Address rsKFOHp: the New York Historical Society, upon the Recei'tion of 
 
 Ckaweoku's Statue of the Indian, I'kesented hv Frederic de Pevster, 
 
 LL.D., President, Tuesday Evening, Ai'kil 6, 1S75. 
 
 By SAMUEL OSGOOD, D.D., LL.D. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY ORDER OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 JOHN F. TROW & SOX, PRINTERS. 
 
 1875.
 
 Art 
 Lihrarj 
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 AND 
 
 ART IX AMERICA 
 
 AY^: receive to-night tlie gift of a niasterpiec'e 
 from tlie cliisel of tlie nuister sculjjtor of our Amer- 
 ica; and this fact, with its date, so full of interesting 
 associations, tells us, that Ave Americans, as such, have 
 somethino' to do with the world of art. This month 
 begins our round of Centennial juljilees; and whilst 
 our Massachusetts neighl)ors are bent upon cele- 
 brating the battles of Lexington, Concord, and Bun- 
 ker Hill, we may try our lungs a little at bragging in 
 a different way, as Ave think not of smashing human 
 profiles Avith muskets and cannon, bayonets and 
 s\\or(ls, l)ut of modelling the human face as well as 
 we can, in clay and marble, with hand and stick 
 and chisel. Four hundred years ago, a month since, 
 March (>, 1475, the prince of modern sculptors, ]Mi- 
 cliael Angelo Buonarotti, Avas born, and Ave are just 
 hearing the echo of the joy of Italy at the four hun- 
 dredth anniversary of the birth of her illustrious son. 
 This day, moreover, is the aimiversary of tlie death 
 of Raphael, who died April G, 15l^0, three hundred.. 
 
 10877'?).;
 
 4 TlIOilAS CRAWFOUD 
 
 and fifty-five years aijo. Thus Italy, in tlie ])ersons 
 <)f lu'i' Lfivatest sc'ulj)t()r and ])ainter, meets with us 
 now; and slie wlio gave us C<>1uim1)Us and Aniericus, 
 and wlio edueated Crawford in his art, looks witli a 
 patronizing eye uj)on the I'ising ait of our young 
 Anicrica. It is ncai'ly four liundred years since her 
 C'o!unil)US o])eiUMl our new Avoi-ld to the old; and 
 tlierc is something at first a litth; disheartening in 
 the thouglit, tliat in all that time we have done notli- 
 ing in ait to e(jual her doings in tlie first hundreil of 
 those years, and that the first centuiy since we be- 
 came a nation has given us no name in scu]|)ture or 
 ]Kiinting like those of ■Michael .Vugelo and Iia])hael. 
 But tljink a little more sei-iously uj»on the facts of 
 the case, and thei'e will be no occasion for discour- 
 agement. AVhen Columbus, in Api-il, 14!'i\ fixed 
 his articles of agreement with luMNlinand and Isa- 
 ])ella foi" his gi'eat voyaLT*' <»f discov«'r\', a Tuscan boy, 
 who at f<»urteen had been a])i)rentice(l in 1 fsi) for 
 thr«'e vears in tin* \\(>rk>;hoj) «>f Doinenlco (ihirlan- 
 dajo for about eight dollais a year, was j)iactising 
 his e\e and hand among the busts, statu<'<. nnd bas 
 i-eliefs in the gardens <»f Loicnzo (h- Medici. Then, 
 sev<'ntcen yeai-> <»ld, he had sliown hi>; genius, and 
 moi'e than a Ncai" before, when under sixteen \cars, 
 he had given imm<>itality t«> a j»iece of" mai-bic by 
 the touch of \\\< chisel the coji\ oj the ina-k of the 
 old I'.iun, which i> still )»re>er\('il in the public gal- 
 lt'I-\ of l''lorence. lie \\\<'*\ to be liealK' ninet\ \fars 
 <»f ;ej-e, and died I-'eb|-nai'\- 17. 1 .")(■> I. abont two 
 jnoiithv before W illi;im SllMki-|)e;ire W;is boI'U. 
 
 Tliei-e is vom<'thing in this conjunction of names that
 
 AND ART IX AlMEIilCA. 
 
 honors the Ttuliaii sculptoi", nud also comforts ns, the 
 ])1<)0(1 rehitions of the English jMX't. Witli all his 
 marvellous genius and his manifold works as sculp- 
 tor, painter, and architect, ^Michael Angelo never took 
 liold of the j)()])ular life of Italy as Shakesj)eare took 
 liold of Kngland. lie was obliged to give the gifts 
 of his ins])iration and the toils of his years to a 
 power \vhieh he did not h)ve, and instead of 1>reath- 
 ing a new sj)irit into dormant Italy, lie hel})ed to turn 
 the influence of the rising ]-evival of letters towards 
 the restoration of mediaeval des])otism. Without 
 meaning to do it, he hel])ed to tui'u the Home of 
 ])ante into the Rome of Loyohi, and ])efore he died 
 lie sa^v enough to tell him that the St. Peter's which 
 rose under his master hand was not lifting; the old 
 lloman manhood, with the llonian Pantheon before 
 the eyes of Italy, towards the mei'cy-seat of heaven, 
 Paphael, as he lay in state, robed for the grave, 
 Avith his marvelhms ])icture of the Transhguration 
 behind his 'head, this i\})ril G, 1520, in Rome, the 
 whole city doing him homage, was in inore respects 
 than one to be envied by his su])limer rival; for to 
 Ilaphael beauty was its own ])aradise, and he opened 
 its treasu]*es to astonished Italy without any misgiv- 
 ings of the time when retiu-ning suj)erstition would 
 ])refer the gi'otesque Bambino to his peerless Ma- 
 donnas and Holy Child Christs, and the Bai'occo ar- 
 chitectui'e of the Jesuit Church to the grandeur of 
 Michael ^Vngelo. Successful they botli A\"ere, an<l 
 tlieir art Avas literature and el(>(|Uence to their time. 
 Their ])ictures, statues, and Iniiidings were poems, 
 orations, romances, sermons, and philosophy, yet tliey
 
 6 T1I03IAS CRAWFORD 
 
 (lid not rise to tlie peculiar tnnni])]i wliieli belongs 
 to the herot^s of the new nations of Cliristendom, 
 and Thomas Crawford was hapj)ier tlian tliey in 
 liaviiiir a great nation encourage liis work and take 
 his art to fix its auijust memory and to exalt its ma- 
 jestic h<)})e. 
 
 Michael Angelo's poems l»i-ing out the sadness of 
 which his life was full ; and this generous Broad 
 Chui'chman, wh(>se creed joined the thought of 
 Plato to the faith of St. John, felt that in the height 
 of his fame he was grinding, like Samson, in the mill 
 of the Pliilistines, and slaving himself to huild up a 
 power \\hich he little lovccl. This soinict to Night 
 lirings out the s])ii-it of the man, and cheers our 
 America with ])i'omise of brighter dav for her 
 Art:—. 
 
 "() nij^lit I O sweet tlioui^li somln-e spiin of time I 
 All tliiiij,'s tiiul rest u|n>ii tlicir joiii-m-y's eml — 
 Wliosd liiitli praisfd thee well doth :i))jirfh(ii(l ; 
 
 And whoso honors thee hath wisdom's prime. 
 
 Our cares thou eaii.st to <jui<'tiide siililimc, 
 
 For d<'ws and daikiu'ss are of |i(acr the friend; 
 ( >ften hy thee in dreams u]>liorn<' I wiii<l 
 
 From earth to hea\cii, whcic yd 1 hope to climb. 
 
 Thou shade of I>cath, tliroUL.'h whom the soul at length 
 Shuns |iaiu and sadm-ss hostile to the heart, 
 AN'liere niourneis find their last and sure lelief. 
 
 Thou ilost restore i(Ui- sullerinLr tlesh to strength, 
 I hiest <iur tears, assuat.'e>| every smart, 
 I'urL'in;,' the spirits of tiie pure from L'ri<'f."' 
 
 Ill llii^ ^<iiiiit't. ami ill hi> whole tfiiijiei', tliei-e is 
 iiiiK'h <>t Mifliat'l Aii'jflo that coined honic to u-> all 
 i;o\\. A irreat aeliif\ ciiieiit, his lil'r was a ureat
 
 AND ART IX AMERICA. 7 
 
 propliecy, and ^vas always suggesting more tlian he 
 did. His paintings and frescoes meant statues^ and 
 ]iis statues meant poems, and liis ])oems ])reatlied a 
 grand luu-est, a per])etual sigli for tlie Kenaissance, 
 the re-birth, tliat no Ijeautiful arts nor priestly do- 
 minion, hut the reign of God with mankind can se- 
 cure. Tliomas Crawford's life, too, was full of 
 struggle, and it closed at forty-three yeai's in sliadows 
 dark" in })ain and disap})ointment without his fault; 
 but he was workins; towards the li<i:ht, and the statue 
 of America on his country's Ca})itol holds out to 
 Italy a fairer promise than Michael Angelo ever 
 saw in the Basilica that sacriii(;ed his country to a 
 caste. In the acre of Leo X. the arts flourished at 
 the expense of lil)erty, humanity, and tlie highest 
 intellectual culture. There was too much and too 
 precocious blossoming for the best fruit. Literature 
 lanixuished, that the arts of desio:n mio-ht thrive. 
 Why lament, then, that our America lias not suffered 
 thus, })oor as she has been in the treasures of art ! 
 Bather see the order of Providence in the destiny 
 that has allo^ved the sturdy trunk of our civilization 
 to grow for centuries here, and now at last the 
 promised l)loom of beauty is to come without sacii- 
 flce of wisdom and strength. The hand that Avas 
 raised up to set the flgure of AVashington upon the 
 stately monument at I\ichmond cannot envy Michael 
 Angelo the tomb of the Medici and the mythical 
 sliaj)es thereon. Washington and Cavour, ])ractical 
 and prosaic as they were, mean more good to man- 
 kind, and in the end deeper inspiration to high art, 
 than all the Medici combined. In Italy superstition
 
 8 THOMAS CRAWFOKD 
 
 nst'd art to koej) down tlie linniau iiiind, and made 
 Ka])liael |)nt it to slcej) l>y tlie cliann of his l)eauty, 
 and Mic-luu'l Aiigtdo, in s])ito of liiinsclf, to frown 
 down its lilxMty ))y tlie grandrnr of his genius. It 
 was worse in France, wliere the modern sj)irit was 
 langhed «h)wn hy tlie fun of Kal)elais and seared 
 away l>y tlie gloom of Calvin, 
 
 Times have changed now, and art, especially scnlp- 
 tnre, lia< lieeonie the ally of lilxTty, the chamj)ion 
 of all genei'ous cnlture. The spirit of ]\[ichael An- 
 gelo has gone, where it always Uehniged, to the fi'ee 
 mind of the northei-n nations, and Thomas Ciawford 
 was oneof his diMM])les: loyal memlx'i'of that iioMe 
 Itrotherhood of senlj)toi"s, am<»ng whom 'Diorwald- 
 sen was father, and IJaneh and Drake and Sehwan- 
 thaler and Dannecker w<'re 1»rother-. It devolves 
 uj»on nic to sjieakof him to-night in connection with 
 art in Americn, ami I mu-'t lie alIo\\<il to say that 
 thi> ojlice is not of my siM-king, and did not seem to 
 lie1(»nLf ti> me; for I am n<»t an .-irtist. iioi- a ci-itic. nor 
 a e<ni!i"i--«<'nr, \\<>v in an\' \\;iv tjUaliiicd t<» teach the 
 j)iiiic;plc< <•!• interpret the cxniiijilcs (»f art. I have a 
 certain lnveforthe Ite.-uitiful ;irt^. aii<l ni'Tc lovcfoi- 
 the idf.-il and li;irm'>!ii/.ing cultuiT \i> wliicli thev 1>e- 
 loiiLT ; .-iiid pci'hajK it i< not nnl'cci>miii'_;- in me. under 
 
 the circUm-tance-, to ;ippe;il' llel'e <>n tlli^ 'jTiMind, 
 
 and. .'i- .-I fi'ieiid and help, r of t iie hiLj'liei- eilucat ion 
 of oiir people and their cjiildi-eii. to ^.pcak of ilii< 
 Anieiican -eiilptor ;tnd lii< beautiful ail. A few 
 wonUof liim. and then let u- ]»re-ent the le-«-on of 
 
 hi^ lite. 
 
 1. Tlie anni\er-ar\ di«'our-e liefoj-c the societ\-.
 
 AND AIIT IX AMEIIICA. 9 
 
 Decem])er 14, 1S57, l)y Profpsi^or George AV. Greene, 
 was an elocjiieiit tril)iite to tlie genius and character 
 of Crawford. I liad tlie lioiior of offering tlie res- 
 olution of tlianks to the oratoi* Avitli some rcmai'ks. It 
 is not forme, tlien, to undertake to <lo now Avliat lias 
 ali'eady l)een dojie; yet lean ])ro])(^rly I'ecall enough 
 of Crawfoi-d's career to place him distinctly hefoi'e 
 the minds of the young who did not hear that address, 
 to s;iy nothing of the elders, whose im])ressi()n of it 
 may hav<;' been o1)SL'ured ])y the flight of years and 
 the burdens of care. He was born in Xew York 
 Citv, ^rarcli '22, 181-'), where he had a goo;! common 
 school education, and at the age of fourteen, after 
 much study <^f draAving. with great attention to en- 
 gj'avings and all works of art Avithin his I'each, he 
 engaged hims(df to a wood-carver, "with whom he 
 remained till he was nineteen years of age, diversi- 
 fyinif the Arork of carving wood Avith the study of 
 architecture. jVt nineteen he entered the studio of 
 Frnzee ik Launitz, monumental scul])tors in this city, 
 where he learned the mechanical pai't of sculpture 
 and shoAved decided ability in modelling leaves, 
 flowers, and other natural objects, and l)egan to work 
 upon portrait l)usts with succC'^s. In 1 8')5 he stai'ted 
 for Ivome, and there, in Tliorwaldscn, he met the 
 pi'esence and lieard the^vordsof encouragement that 
 opened to him his destiny. Xow t^ventv-t^vo years 
 of age, he had gone through his ])re})ara,tion, and his 
 strugii'le began, which may l)e said to have ended 
 Avith the rece])tion of his statue of Orjdieus in Bos- 
 ton, in 1841, and the ha])p3' man-iage in 1844, \vhich 
 irave him, in a favored Xew York ladv, the I']ui'\"(lice
 
 10 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 that lie sought, witlioiit seeking lier in any subterra- 
 nean sliades. From tliat (hite to liis early death, 
 thirteen years afterwards, his years of triuni]»li were 
 counted. Great indeed were his labors for a young 
 man of forty-three years, the age at which he died, 
 and during his twenty years of jtrofessional life, with 
 only three visits home, in 1844, 1<S41>, 185(3, he linislied 
 upwards of sixty works, many of them C( dossal, and 
 left about fifty sketches in jdastei- and designs of 
 various kinds. I low impressive is the record of his 
 bui'ial at St. John's Churcli in this city, where he had 
 always attended from his l)oyhood until he went to 
 Konie, and what changes have come since that day in 
 1857 when good Dr. Bcrrian read tlie burial scivice, 
 assisted by Kev. ^Icssrs. Dix, AVcston, and Young; 
 and Chai'lesSumnt'i', Henry T.Tuckerman, (ieoige W. 
 Curtis, Geoi'ge W. (ireein', Francis Liebei', and his 
 brother artists, liossiter, Kensett and llicxs, were 
 ])a]l-)(earers. As we think of liis death, at forty-tliree, 
 Octolter lO, 1S57, we may justly compare liim w itli liis 
 ])eers in art, and I'emembei' that 'i'horwaldsen died at 
 seventy-three, C'aiiova at sixty-live, I^-irtoliiii at sev- 
 <*ntv-two, lianeh at eighty, DaiiiH.'cker at eighty-three, 
 Flaxman at seventy-* tiie, Teneiani at (»ver seventv. 
 Srliwantlialer, who die<j at forty-six, after adorning 
 Avitli colossal statues the tlirone-i'«»oiii of Muiiicli and 
 the W'alhallaof Uatisbon, and modelling the gigantic 
 statue of Bavaria, comes iieai' to our American 
 sculptoj- in the originalit\ and force ol his genius, the 
 iiuinl»cr of his juvxluction-, and in his early death. 
 l)Ut the Munich ^culptoi- had a io\;il family to cheer 
 him. and the gold ot a kingdom to >ujtpoit him and to
 
 AND AKT IN A^IERICA. 11 
 
 carry out lils plans, whilst tlie American struggled 
 foi- bread. 
 
 ]. I will not undertake to describe or specify liis 
 works, but nuist be content with presenting the char- 
 acter of his genius and influence. And tirst of all he 
 inn)ersonate<l in himself the two essential (|ualitiesof 
 the artist mind, the union of intense ])ersonality with 
 the most generous and com])reliensive universality. 
 lie was, from first to last, Thomas Cra'wford and 
 nobody else, a marked and persistent individual, yet 
 he grew out in all directions towards nature, human- 
 ity and God's providence. Although not a great 
 scholar, familiar indeed with the French and Italian, 
 and knowing the Greek and Latin classics only in 
 translations, and never making any attempts at 
 authorship, content with studying as well as he could 
 the thoughts and style of the mastei's of literature, 
 he was in his way a remai'kable interpreter of the 
 ages of history and the phases of human culture and 
 genius from the days of Homer to those of Beethoven. 
 As generall}^ studied and written, history in its 
 universal relations is dry and al)stract, pedantic and 
 unideal, l)ut our sculj)tor made it live and speak in 
 his creations. Its soul was embodied and its body 
 was inspirited in every character that he studied and 
 modelled. He could not of course do all that he 
 asi)ired to do, and there are great gaps in his plas- 
 tic I'endering of the ages, but he evidently took them 
 all Avithin the s^veep of his high and strong imagina- 
 tion and his tender and comprehensive humanity, 
 and this New York wood-carver learned to accept 
 and interpret the place of the nations in the order of
 
 12 THOMAS CU AWFOUD 
 
 civilization ; aiul broader and wiser than many a 
 learned eoninientator, lie eallecl up the eliai'aetei's of 
 Judea, (ireece, Koine, (lei'niany, Aintriea, to unfold 
 the aj)ocalyj).se of time, to show the larL.'^eness of 
 Lumanity, and vindieat<' the j)rovidene(' oi (iod. 
 AVhat a icnderini^ he has iriven of the American 
 Indian in the statue presented to us to-niijht. Tile 
 sculptor (lil)son called it his liucst work. Wliat 
 streni^th and flexibility in the form : what majesty 
 and jKithos in the e.\])ressi(>n ; what I'eltuke in this 
 marble to us I 
 
 Intensely individual in his jx-rsonality, and br(»ad 
 and univer«>al in his symj)athy, he was able to 
 unite the two element^ lu his art and to present 
 the s])ii-it of the aijes in the sjieakinu" vitality <»t" his 
 creations. This is j»erlai>s the tir>t essential <d' the 
 artist, that whatever he touches mu>-r haxc the breath 
 of per>(»iial life and tiie breadth of mii\ci>al fell.»w- 
 shijt. The lonely little llowcr that blooins uj) from 
 umler the shelter (>1 an .MjMiie |ie:ik and cat<-hes tlie 
 i:-leam (»f sun>liine amoni;- iho^c icy baidx-, has its 
 own pertinacious <»riiaiii>iii, true in e\crv tint and 
 iibi'c t<» the record and lln- baiiiiei- of its dan: \ et it 
 is one with uni\fr^al naluie, aiil wlicii llie j>ainter 
 ]»uts it upon caii\ IS he briii^'^ out t in- cat holicii \(if 
 its s<»litai\ coiile--itin aiul niaki'> it t<-|| it^ wlii"<prr> 
 with llic w ind--. its bam | net- w :t li t lie dew - and rains, 
 and it-- nie->-a'_:<-s ot h.xc tiom the rock-- ol tjir earth 
 to the ^tar^ o|' lira\en. (fawiojil hail tlii- power 
 in an ari le-- ti(e than iiie painlei-^, and under the 
 l.iiicli of 111- elii-e| the >heal of Caliloriiia wln^at 
 bee.mn- p( r-onak and il-- lull blades were ^\^eHin^•
 
 AND AllT IX AMKIIICA. 13 
 
 with the iiiai>;nificenf'o of the Pacific doinain and even 
 |L!;h)wini^ witli the; ij^ohl of tiie lainci-i tliat seemed to ask 
 tlie irrain to siiiiial tlieii-liichh'ii si)leiidoi' to tlie worhl. 
 2. Ill one re.s])(H-t Crawford (h^serves lionoi'alde and 
 conspicuous name ainoni^ tlie leach'i's of our modern 
 culture, and its master-spirit Goetlie, woidd not liave 
 l)eeii asliamed t(»call liim l)r()t]ier for what T call his 
 next marked characteristic, lie is one of the s])irits 
 of peace who are hriiiLi'inu" the two o'reat schools of 
 civilization together — the classic school that insists 
 most u])on the ])ody and form of things, and the 
 ]'omaiitic school, that insists most upon the soul and 
 s})irit of things — or the Greek and the Gothic. A\'heii 
 Cra\\ford hegun his career these two poAvers were at 
 war, as in fact they have generally heen, but their 
 antagonism was coming to a head. The Greek spirit 
 was trying to set Uj) again the rule of the l)ody, and 
 the age of industry coni1)ined with the restless muscle 
 of the young nations to restore the dynasty of the 
 legs and arms, and to set the gymnast above the ])hi- 
 los()])her and the devotee. This muscular creed Avas 
 met by its ascetic antagonist, the Medi;eval devotee; 
 andPugiirs churches and Pusey's tracts made a dead 
 set against the Turner's leg and club law and the secu- 
 larists' Avhole code of culture. Thus it ^vas (rreek 
 against Goth — 1 xxly against soul. AVe saw the antag- 
 onism sometimes in buildings on opposite sides of the 
 same street. Here a bank in not ahvays cheap imita- 
 tion of the Parthenon, and there a lath and plaster 
 Gothic church in very cheap imitation of York ]\li li- 
 ster or Cologne CatluMlral. These extreme contrasts 
 marked schools of culture, not always extreme or
 
 14 THOMAS CRAWFOKD 
 
 extravagant in their tliouglit and enterprise, the 
 chissic and tlie romantic. Goethe in liis F'aust called 
 for the end of this (juarrel, and in Euj)hori<>n, the child 
 of the marriage of Faust with Helena, he predicted 
 the union of the classic and romantic schools in our 
 rising literature. 
 
 K«)\v I do not say that Cra\vf()rd cared much about 
 this literary quarrel, or meant to have his hand in the 
 fray, hut I am sure that he felt tlie })ainful differ- 
 ence and was moved to do his part towards the true 
 reconciliation. He certainly did nuich towards the 
 result. His chief itroductions unite classic strenirth 
 with romantic s])irituality. He isCJreek and Gothic 
 or German too. He gives us the l)ody and the soul 
 of man and nature. His fiist great work, his Orpheus, 
 is exam])le of this union, and when I saw the noble 
 figure thirty-four yeais ago in Boston, it seemed to 
 me to settle the (piestion tiiat sculpture is a modern 
 art and allows the modern inward life to show itself 
 Avith the antiijue strength of form. Orpheus is a 
 Greek and a Cliristian too, and he faces toward the 
 tlie Sliadesor lOrebus with limits trained in the j)ala'- 
 stra and with a soul illuminattMJ by the light tliat 
 is not of this woi'hl. 'J'his woi'k is a proj>hecy of 
 our coming litei-atuie as well as art It is (»neof the 
 siL'^ns (»f the new age <»f (ici-nianic inwardness and 
 (iroek nutwardncvs, Wr are not t<» hav*- nuisele and 
 materialism <>n one hand and spindling pietism on tin.' 
 other, but IkhIv and soul a*;«' to go together. Arehi- 
 teetuie and .-euljttuic are not t(» be l>ehind in the 
 leconciiiatioii. Sculptni-<- esj»eeially is to rebuke 
 alike the Lrho>tl\ shadow and thi' lleshv materialism
 
 AND AKT IN AMKIIICA. 15 
 
 tliat confront eacli otlier, and to sliow that ])erson- 
 ality re([uh'es soul and body; tliat witliin nature 
 there is a mysterious life, and all in art should inter- 
 pret the indwelling spirit and l)ring it out in fitting 
 form. This tliouglit is tlie key-note to our most 
 characteristic and h()])eful culture, and it throws 
 bright light upon the new age now opening upon us. 
 Crawford threw its radiance on every sphere of nature 
 and life, and under his hand the wheat and the wild- 
 flowers, playful children and merry youth, as well 
 as heroic men, were transfigured by his touch. 
 
 3. AVe see its application to the institutions and 
 life of our own nation to ^vhich Cra\\'ford has been a 
 teaclier and a prophet. The years of his artist work 
 were critical years for our America, and he went to 
 Rome after the first struggle ^vith nullification had 
 come to a head in its defeat, and the phans were in ])ro- 
 gress for the second struggle and final defeat. In 1835 
 our people were feeling, as never before, their place 
 among the nations, and when he returned home to 
 America in 1849, and I'eceived the orders for the Vir- 
 ginia monument of AVashington, and for the colossal 
 scul_[)tures for the national Capitol, we had entered 
 upon our cosmopolitan period and our imperial great- 
 ness, with tlie gold of California, the conquest of Mex- 
 ico, the accession of new States at home and swarming 
 fleets of ocean steamers abroad to make us proud of 
 our position and to call for some conspicuous ]ielp 
 from the hand of art to give America her true beauty 
 before the world, and to lift her above the materialism 
 that threatened her life. Crawfcu'd did tlie Avork 
 nobly, and at Richmond and in AVashington he set up
 
 10 THOMAS CliAWFORD 
 
 the nation in niarl>le and bronze as elo(|uently and 
 bravely and j)ersistently its Webster and Clay set it up 
 in s|)eeeli, or Meade or Ilancoek or Thonuis or (Jrant 
 ever set it u]) or kept it up by the swoid. And he did 
 ^vhat they j)erhaps negleeted ; for he not only sti'uck 
 liis ehist'l ai^ainst the eonspirators who soui^dit jK>wer, 
 but airainst the Manuiion \v<>rshipj)(*rs who were ready 
 to sell their eountry for money to the slave lords or 
 any other buyer. The sc-ul])tor was an insj)ired j)a- 
 triot, and his chisel was jien and sword at once. He 
 modelled and carved the tht)U<rht that was to rule the 
 land, and he jnit it uj>on the dome of the Caj)itol in 
 jeadiness for the ^^reat struLj<i"le that was to come. 
 The modern a<j:(^ is the aire of the nations, and the 
 modern lanirua<j:-'> are their voice, the declaration of 
 their liberty and law, the pletli^c of their birthrli^ht 
 and their perpetuity. These lani^iinir*'^^ speak not in 
 words alone but in dee(ls ab<». and sculpture puts 
 theirirreat utteraiiceintobrassautl marble. 'J'hoUL^ht- 
 ful, earnest luen are (h»ini: this Avoik now in every free 
 nation, and Crawford a-- no (tthcr man has done this 
 for u>i. I'pou th«' l>ronze dooi's. ujion the piMlinieiit 
 aFid the <h»m(' of the Caj)itoI, he ha^- embodied the 
 cliaraclt-ri-tic l<h'as aii<l insiit utions ol our counti-y, 
 and hi> record has liecii read b\ ihe nation and tohl 
 its ]io\\(i- in the liomes and schools, the armies and 
 
 the Senate h;ilb of the feplililic. lie has fecoi-(h'(l 
 
 not a spiteful clamii^hness (.r pro\ineial jeah»usy or 
 .•i._.-._.|-,-^l\ e sectionalism, but a broad and Lr«"nei(»us 
 natioiialitN, with prot'-etion to every citi/.en, and 
 toward- the whole \\«.rhi the 1»h'»sini;- tliat he read in 
 hi- j>ra\ er-l><»ok, '• unit \. peace, and concord to all
 
 AND AKT m AMERICA. 17 
 
 nations." The body and tlie soul of tlie nation lie 
 I'ecognized, and lie lias done liis part in keeping its 
 body and its soul together, tlie land witli the law, the 
 soil with the people. There "was power in that sculp- 
 tured record — power not wholly his o^vn ; for as there 
 is a mysterious life in nature, and wliilst man plants 
 and ^\'aters, but the increase is from above and 
 within, so it is in history. A mighty spirit moves over 
 the ages, and all true and high souls are its oi'acles. 
 The Lord of Hosts, who i-aised up the Father of our 
 country, raised up the hand that carved his statue 
 and enthroned that country in majesty. It takes 
 the combined lessons and arts of all a^-es to make a 
 good work of art ; and the America that looks down 
 upon us from the dome of the Capitol comes to us 
 from a hand not only trained in the schools of art, 
 but guided by the s])irit that of old called order 
 from chaos, and is the Lord and Giver of life. Noth- 
 ino- is done well that is done in self-will without the 
 mysterious overruling will, and our sculptor's ^vork, 
 like the workman, was proof that he bowed to that 
 power. Forces as well as ideas go with true art, and 
 the sculptor's chisel cuts the channels in which these 
 forces run, pouring as they do their tides of moral 
 power in characters that never fade. As beauty has 
 its point of bloom, and art pats it upon canvas to 
 bloom there always, so heroism has its point of fruit- 
 age, and the art that seizes this point and puts it 
 into stone or bronze, makes it tell the fact to all time, 
 whether in David's dashing Ijravery or Washington's 
 calm endurance. Thus interpreted, the America that 
 crowns the Capitol seized the rising national spirit of
 
 18 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 the country as it moved tlie artist to tlie inmost being, 
 and tliere it stood when tlie fearful trial came for 
 the nati<m's life, and there it stands now, calling us to 
 move on to the century o])ening upon us now, strong 
 in the God of our fatheis and with the transmitted 
 life of his peoph^ 
 
 How mucli any one Avork or any one man can do 
 or has done it is not easy to calculate, l)ut we must 
 i-emember that the measure of the mass of weight or 
 force of motion is not hy tlie sum total, hut l>y the 
 balance of conflicting elements. lie staits the ava- 
 lanche who ovei'comes the weight that keej)s the 
 centre of gravity in poise, and he moves the nation 
 to its daring who overcomes the inertia that keeps 
 it from moving. Tlie few monuments of j)ati'iotic 
 art that we had in our struggle gave their silent 
 ft)rce to the flag, and the majestic figures in our l'ni(Hi 
 S(piare and at the Capitol fought for us fnuii first 
 to last, and brass and marble gave out the latent 
 fires in which their material was formed and their 
 proportions were shajx-d. 
 
 II. The lesson of CrawfoiNTs life to us, his coun- 
 trymen, caniu)t be ea-Ily misunderstood. It tells us 
 to accept the true idea of the art which he followed, 
 to carry it out in thi- education «>f our childi-eii, and 
 to make it tell upon the jtuMic >pirit of the n,ation. 
 
 1. The true idea of art what is that ^ There 
 have been definitions of art without ininiber, but 
 tlu'V all amount to very much the same thing. Art 
 i< the wav to (hi things, and tine art is thewav toclo 
 tliiii'_r^ finely; the way t<t put soul into body, to lift 
 the actual to the ideal, to see and bring out the >pirit
 
 AND AKT IX AMERICA. 10 
 
 that is in iiatiii-(^ and life, and to exalt tlie tilings 
 that are seen to the standard of the heanty that is 
 unseen. All de])ends n])on following the method of 
 the Creator, and in accepting the two facts of soul 
 and 1)()dy wisely and effectively. Without soul we 
 liave clay and "Heshand blood without life, and M'ith- 
 out l)ody we have only noticnis, shado^vs, di'eanis so 
 far as ])i'esent evidence cm go. Tlie point is to study 
 carefully the reality of things, and to express the 
 truth in the form of beauty, understanding by l)eauty 
 not ])rettiness or ])leasantness merely, Ijut whatever 
 belongs to the true harmony and unites the many 
 particulars with the su})reme ])e]'fection. In this 
 sense art is not any one craft, ^vhether architecture, 
 scul])ture, painting, that use the hand and appeal to 
 the eye, nor ])oetry, nuisic, oratoi-y, that use the voice 
 and appeal to the ear; but it is all good work 
 that beautifies and exalts life, and raises nature and 
 man up to the ideal standard. There is fine ai't in 
 manners, in society, in influence over schools and 
 nations, in teachers and statesmen, in the pioneers of 
 civilization, and in the ministers of I'eligion. AVliat- 
 ever sees the truth of things and works out their 
 possible l)eauty is of the essence of beautiful art. 
 The mother, who refines her home and moulds her 
 children and elevates her family and helps Chi-is- 
 tianize her neighborhood, is sister of the Pluses, and 
 none of the jS^ine need be ashamed of her com])any. 
 The ca])tain who subdues the reckless animalism 
 of his crew and wins them to order, gentleness, 
 loyalty, and reverence, is brother to the sculptor 
 who strikes intelligence into sha])e from the rough
 
 20 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 m.iil)le })}' liis toucli, and makes it tell to all time its 
 lesson. 
 
 We need to acce])t tills i^enerous definition of art, 
 and to broaden its fellowsldj) in order to show the 
 narrowness of tlie mere craftsmen who wrong ])eauty, 
 just as j)riestei-aft wrongs i-eligion, by claiming tlie 
 ('xclusive riglit to its sj)irituality. The artist, like 
 tlie j)rcacher, needs to be one among men, not apart 
 from them, and the moi'e he is a rej)resentative 
 brother and the less an <»fhciMl lord, so much the l)et- 
 tcr for him and them. There is no danger that art, 
 any more than religion, will decline nndei- this ti'ue 
 fellowsliip of souls. Taking this view we must be 
 willing to apjtreciate all attenij)ts to adorn life and 
 to bi'ing thesu]»renie beauty to bear ii])on the world. 
 AVe must be willing to see the s])irit of art where 
 its imj»lements are jiooi-ly mastei'eil, and to Ix-lieve 
 that <»ur stout fathei's and frugal mothers were work- 
 ing America into shape before sculpture and ])ainting 
 apjK'ared ; that many an Isaac caived the image of 
 his IJebecca out ot the I'ough fortui:e with \vhich he 
 struL-'uled f<»r Inr sake, and inan\ a Jacob painted 
 hi^ Kacliel upon streiuns .'ind cloutls dui'ing his loni; 
 ser\ ice for her hand, and nia<h' the ]ticture s<)l;i<-e him 
 bv the Avav lii<e a ^^•ldonna face at the stations 
 ujion tli<' pilgrini"> path. In time the spirit (»f beauty 
 took more organic slmpe. and \\r h;ul j>ainters. scidp- 
 toi-, aichitects, as ^vell as oi-ator>>. jxiets, and sin'_rers 
 «d our own. I'erhaps free sjxech was the first of 
 oui' .\mericaii lin«- art» in <tr<ier of time, an<l the 
 c]o(|ii»'nc<' (.t ri^in^: rd>ert \ broni:ht t he spirit of iii'ace 
 earlie>t to our hind. iMtore j»rinting had made love
 
 AKD ART IN AM1:HICA. 21 
 
 to painting liere, and engi'aving Avas horn of tlieir 
 marriage, a ])rinter's boy began tlie arts of ])eanty, 
 and Franklin's prose style liad nothing to learn of 
 the scholars of England or tlie wits of France. 
 
 When Cra^vford apj)eared ^^'e had no fii-st-(;lass 
 scnl])ture, little good architectnre, little painting of 
 the high historical school. lie made us strong wliere 
 we expected to ])e most weak, and Avon to himself 
 a name in an art tliat ^vas sn])posed to l)eloiig to 
 antiipiity and to linger beyond its time npon the 
 modern staoe. He made us feel that it belon<>-s to us 
 and to oui' counti'}^ Why not, for Avliat does sculp- 
 ture mean but man and character, and Avliere ought 
 these to be more accepted than liere, where we liave 
 not the rich costumes and brilliant courts that paint- 
 ino; delio'hts in, and if ^ve have not men and charac- 
 ters we are poor indeed. Think of him, as he was 
 bent upon his first attempts at sculpture here, in his 
 years of service "wdtli Frazee cfe Launitz, and let the 
 desci'iption in Professor Greene's words bring him 
 and his art near to oui" American thought : " ]\Iost 
 of his time the Avhole of his daylight l)elonged to 
 his employers; 1)ut the evenings Avere his o^vn, and 
 hoAv ha])])}' A\as he Avhen the evening sunlight, sloAvly 
 cree])ing u]) the Avail, announced the a])]oroach 
 of the hour that Avas to set him free ; and Avhen 
 hurrying home for a hasty meal, he could take 
 his notes under his arm and return to his studio for 
 his evening lal)or of love. If, of the hundreds that 
 hourly ]:)assed by that humldedoor in the ])ursuit of 
 ])leasure or gain, some curious one had sto])])ed to look 
 in, he Avould have seen a y<-)ung man about live feet
 
 22 THOMAS CKAWFORD 
 
 eleven inches liigli, of a sliglit but vigorous frame, 
 Avith j>r<)niinent eyes of clear blue, aiHj)le forehead, 
 li]»s full ])ut firm, cheeks flushed with an excitement 
 that heii'htened the ruthlv i^low of health, the mus- 
 eles of the face alread\^ formed to the exj)ressi()n of 
 deep feeliuir and elevated thought, the tliick chestnut 
 hair sjn-inkled with marlde dust, a modelling tool in 
 his hand, an<l on the stand l>efore him a head of 
 clay on wliich the light fell impei'fectly from a ean- 
 dle strongly fastened in his hat. lie would have 
 seen that there was no common earnestm^s in that 
 face, no connnon skill in that hand ; and oh ! why, 
 of the hundreds revelling in snjteifluous wealth, eould 
 not one have diseov<'red in the toiling youth the 
 future auth(»r of the Orpheus, and, devoutly thank- 
 ing (lod for the j»rivilege, held out a hrother's hand 
 to hel]) him in his hour of need, over the rugued }){tss 
 that still divided him fi-oni the full ])ossession of his 
 ])o\\ ers ! " 
 
 •J. Sueh \\as Craw ford, a y<»uth of twenty-three; 
 and what he Nva-^ in su<ceptii>ility thousands and tens 
 of thousands now in the land are, and some of the<e 
 not without s])arksnf his genius. How great, then, 
 the need of a Itetter art education here for our chil- 
 dre:i an education not merely tor those who are 
 to Ite artists l»y profession, l»ut for all who have 
 any sense of beauty and any aspirati»»n for retine- 
 meut in life, 'i'liis education oULi'ht to be thorough- 
 goiuir, to begin at the Iteginning «»f intelliLrence and 
 comprt'lu'n<l all faculties of dur natui-e and all 
 field- of art. It should bcL^in Kefore Ix'oks an<l 
 >cho(.ls, and should liring all the intellectual and
 
 AlsB AP.T IX AMERICA. 23 
 
 active powers into direct contact "witli the -world of 
 beauty. 
 
 It is a fine remark of Saint Beuve that taste is tlie 
 first essential of criticnsni, and when we judge a book, 
 as when we eat an a})ple, it is more important to 
 taste its (piality well than to anjdyze its elements 
 scientifically. According to this idea it is ini])or- 
 tant to cultivate a living and just taste in our chil- 
 dren, and this is to be done not by treatises on 
 aesthetics, but by accustoming them to observe and 
 to enjoy the best things for themselves. All the 
 senses are to l)e properly trained, and instead of 
 making children plod over books and cram their 
 memories with Avords, they should l)e taught to touch, 
 and hear and see nature and art for themselves, 
 Obiect teachiuo; should o-o before letter teachino;, and 
 it is ])erhaps best that they should have nothing to 
 do \vith books and verbal lessons before they are 
 seven years old. This is evidently the method of 
 nature, and Froebel Avith his Kindergarten is the 
 pro])het of a good time coming for the emancipation 
 of children from the yoke of the old pedagogues and 
 of their admittance to the new lil)erty of nature and 
 art. All the senses are to ])e educated in connection 
 with their proper objects, and form, color, mass, per- 
 spective are to Ije kno^vn and inter])reted in them- 
 selves, and not in lifeless print and prosy description. 
 By Avise selection and adaptation, all the seiises may 
 be developed into a true sense of the beautiful, and 
 may o])en into a practical judgment that is not only 
 the foundation of the critical faculty, but also an 
 essential condition of all practical good sense.
 
 24 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 We neetl, not only for ])rofessional artists, but for 
 all well edueattid j)eoj)le, a certain judgment that 
 cannot be looked for too early, and which in matters 
 of taste holds the same jdace that conscience holds 
 in the sphere of morals. It is as luiwise to limit 
 this judgment to artists and j)rofessional critics as 
 to limit conscience oi* the religious sentiment to the 
 clej'ical class or to ethical and theological wi'iters ; 
 for just as all true men are called to have ethical 
 and religious convictions, so all cultivated ])eoj)le 
 are l)ound to have a due sense of the Ix'autiful and 
 fair judgment upon the ])est examples of beautiful 
 art. This judgment, like the moral sense, depends 
 more uj)on wholesome associations than u])on theory, 
 and when children are accustomed to see beautiful 
 objects, to walk among flowers and birds, lawns and 
 groves, l)y jivers and lakes, to look upon good pic- 
 tures and statues, and to be among ])eo])le of gentle 
 sjieech and graceful manners, they catch the s])irit 
 of beauty, botli as a sentiment and a conviction; 
 and their ])leasur(' in the taste, like the flavor of the 
 strawlx'rry and tlic jH-acli, ])ass('s into the very con- 
 stitution, and the sweetness on the lij)s Is liglit in tlu; 
 Itrain and in its cliambers of imagery. A\'e want in 
 all of our education moi'e of tliat inw. element in 
 reason tliat feeds on tlie beautiful and tiansiigui'es 
 its >weetness into light. Any one wlio lias gone 
 witli Itriglit chihh'en into tlie gardens or tlie art gal- 
 leries and seen the (jiiiek intuitions that Hash U]) 
 ii'oin theii' ready peiccjd inns, will discern at once 
 A\ hat I mean bv this intellectual inliuence of lieautx', 
 and he will not regard 1-Mniund Spenser a dreamer
 
 AND AllT IN AMERICA. 2o 
 
 for calling tlius ii2)on Ilejiveiily Beautie in his 
 Ilynnie : 
 
 " Cease, then, my tongue ! and lend unto luy inynd 
 Leave to bethink how great that JJeautie is, 
 AVliose xitniost })avts so Ix^autiful I find ; 
 
 Ifow nnich more tliose essential parts of His, 
 His truth, His love, His wisdome, and His hlis, 
 His grace, His doome. His mercy and His might, 
 By which He lends ns of Himselfe a sight ! " 
 
 There is of course another side to this art educa- 
 tion — tlie more active side, for art is essentially ac- 
 tive and its virtne is eminently in the sphere of the 
 will. This activity needs training alike in origin- 
 ating enthusiasm and executive power. Here is the 
 sad truth with the ])revailing methods of education, 
 that they do not stir the will to enter])rise or to 
 achievement, but content themselves too nuich with 
 im])i'essi()ns and words. Here too the common ar- 
 tistic culture has been too feeble, and passive taste 
 has taken the place of earnest as])iration and acti\'e 
 force. ^Vhy not l)egin ^vitli setting this matter 
 right? AVhy not put the spirit of originality into 
 our children l)y making them hunt out ol)ject les- 
 sons for themselves in the gardens and woods and l.)y 
 the ^vater i Little Billy can be trained to delight 
 more in l)ringing flowers, mosses, leaves, berries and 
 shells from his rambles than in roljbing l)irds' nests, 
 and he and his companions, girls as well as boys, can 
 gro^v up with a Avell-spring of original life within 
 them, that will tell not only u])on their o^vn lot, but 
 upon the tastes of society, and in time interpret it- 
 self in gardens, halls, ])ictui'es, statues, music and
 
 26 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 all gentle ai-ts, wlietlier })y the patronage that en- 
 courages genius to do its work, or ]>y the gifts of 
 genius itself in tlieir j)ers<)ns. We want tliis fresh, 
 life-seeking, life-giving s])irit everywhere to stir and 
 elevate our dull routine and our feeble and exactinix 
 ])lea sure-seeking generation. 
 
 AVith this original freshness executive force should 
 go, and it is the essential characteristic of art that 
 it conijwls its disci])le to work and never to be con- 
 tent with any dream of beauty aj)art fi'om doing it 
 into artistic form. Here our sculi)tor is a noble ex- 
 am])le — a good mechanic as well as an imaginative 
 designer, lie had learned to carve wood and mar- 
 l)le before he moulded clay or ])encilled sketches, 
 and his mechanical skill had nuich to do with his 
 artistic exc<'llence. AVe all need to remember this 
 fact and to Ix'wai'c of the dreamy, bookish, imbecile 
 culture tliat stops with tine notions and never car- 
 ries the idea foith to tlie deed. AVe cannot do 
 witliout mechanical skill, and our artists sometimes 
 fall short of the true mai-k by being content with 
 th<' lit<*rary jtart <>f tlieir art; calling themselves 
 architects an<l sculptors because they can dream of 
 buildings and statues w itli bttlc ]»ower to ]>ut them 
 into wood and stojjc. My impression is, that the 
 best recent exjtei'ieiicc of ai"t e<lucation leads us t<» re- 
 spect inoic and more tlu* exam]»h' of such men as .VI- 
 bcit Diii-er and Michael Ang<'lo, who Nvei-»' mechan- 
 ics as well as artists, and to uige the nee<l of train- 
 ing our voung artists in the sti'ong anil ti-ue hand 
 as well as in the <piick brain and the b-i-tile fancy. 
 AN'liy not cari'y this j)riiirij)]c into all education, an<l
 
 AND AliT IN AMEUICA. 27 
 
 put muscle as well as luind into all our schooling? 
 Why not put away a gn^at })art of th(! verbiage and 
 crMniniing from our schools, and t(^ach even little 
 children tlie al})hal)et of uature and the handwi-iting 
 of art ? Wliy not teacli them to seek out and to see 
 all the attributes of tlungs for thems(dves, and to 
 write them out Avitli their own hand in characters 
 of form, coloi', and mass ? We ought all to learn to 
 draw or ])aint or model, and if possible coml)ine all 
 these arts of expression, not to make us all artists, 
 but to give us mastery over our own faculties and 
 the nature of things. The leaders of education are 
 seeing tliis need and meeting it. The deluge of ])rint 
 is al)atino\ and as its waters su])side we are seeino; 
 the green earth, the meadows, the trees, the birds, 
 the cattle, and the farms and habitations of men, and 
 asking ])ower to render them in all their reality, in- 
 stead of being content Avith pale shadoNvs of them 
 on the printed i)age. We need to reform education 
 in l)otli directions — to make muscle more artistic 
 and to make art more muscular. Our modern divi- 
 sion of laljor is the result of the sectarian s])irit 
 that divides-meu 1)}' the very diiferences that ought 
 to Ijring them together,, and the se})aration of prac- 
 tical gifts, that need each other, is worse tlian the 
 war of speculative opinions that have ])erhaps out- 
 lived their day. The workman needs to l)e again 
 brother to the artist and to love the plan of the 
 building on Avliich he works. The artist nee<ls to l)e 
 again a worknnm and to carry ideal enthusiasm into 
 the hammer as well as tlie ])encil, and to ])ut hand 
 and heart into architecture and eno-ineerini^-. It is a
 
 28 TIIOilAS CRAAVFORD 
 
 j)ity tliat Italy did not aj^preciate Leonardo da Vinci 
 and Mirluud Ani^ido as nu'clianies and engint'ers as 
 well as painters and scnl])tors, and use tlieir genius 
 to ln'ing health to the malarious marshes and work 
 and eonij)etence to the impoverished ])eople. This 
 union of genius with industry nnist eonie, and the 
 true artist nuist not only charm our leisure by his 
 fancy, l>ut he nuist invigorate and ennoble the life 
 of nations }>y his skill and invention antl enter- 
 ])risc. 
 
 Carry out these ideas of art education, and our 
 whole standard of culture rises, our boys and girls 
 will have better senses and judgment, as])irations 
 and jtouei's for their various spheres, Avhilst they 
 who have es])ecial ability as artists will be pi-e])ai-e(l 
 f<»r th<'ir vocation in the especial schools of art. All 
 honor to tliesc esp<'cial schools — to the CoojU'r In- 
 stitute, to the Aca(h'iiiy of Design, to the j)ublic 
 schools of ai't Avhich are now rising throughout 
 Ciiristendoni and in Aviiicli, so far as America is con- 
 cei-ned, I believe the State of ^Massachusetts has 
 taken the leatl, not niei'elv for the retiniitg of the taste 
 of hei- people, but for the elevation of her industry 
 and till' increase of hei' wealth. 
 
 .'». In all this effoit we need a broad and generous 
 ])nb]ic spiiit, and we are a]»i)arcntly to have it in 
 due time. Our ])ubli(! spiiii ha^ not itcen hard or 
 seltisli, but it has been bu<ie<l luaiulv \\]\\\ working 
 the soil and our indu^tiy into >lia|)c and gixing as 
 far a< pos'-iMe the polish of gi-acetotli<' implements 
 of toil ;ind the >tamj» ■■>{' aH to tin- -t ructui'es of in- 
 du-tr\ and tliiift. W'c need to know better than
 
 AXD ART IX a^[p:kica. 29 
 
 we do, that ]al)or laiiguislies and tlirift 'fails wltliout 
 the true eiidowiiieiit of l)eaiit3' 5 ^^^'^^ '^^^ cai)ital is 
 not to be counted iu money, and tlie ])eei-h's.s be- 
 quests of former genei'ations, tlie masterpieces of 
 ages, are seen witliout money and enjoyed }\ itliout 
 1)eing exliausted. AVliat a ])lessing in the assurance 
 tliat so mucli lias l)een done l)y gifted men that is 
 tlie lasting projierty of tlie human i-ace, and that 
 the treasures of art, like the perfections of God, are 
 not wasted by l)eing used, and the more they are 
 known and appreciated, the more they abound. 
 IIai)py therefoi-e are they ^\ ho give such gifts to the 
 ])eo])le as our President has given to-night. The be- 
 quest shall live when he is gone and our children's 
 children have ])assed away. 
 
 The want of the art s})ii'it and its products here 
 puts us at disadvantage in comparison Nvith Europe, 
 and our people go abroad in ])art to escape the ^vorry 
 and anxiety of this new and crude country, ^vhere 
 nothing is hnished, to find relief in the old world 
 where centuries gather their treasures, and life has 
 something of the finish that makes it the Sunday of 
 grace and not the perpetual Avashing-day of scrub- 
 bing and discontent. The art s])irit is to helj:) us 
 out of this difiiculty, and instead of rol)bing us of 
 our young energy, it is to open to it new visions of 
 triunqih and to give our restless dash the calmness 
 which is the crown of true power, and Avithout ^vllich 
 its force is a fever that ends in iml)ecility and death. 
 Let us have, then, our true art cidture, and have it in 
 our own way in the interests of our liberty and or- 
 der, in loyalty to the justice and humanit}" that we
 
 30 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 ackiKnvledcre and in service of the relisjion that we 
 revere. 
 
 There is no want of saV)jects for onr artists, nor 
 of genius foi- the arts. PW more than a hundred 
 years we liad gifted men of our own stock wlio have 
 shown conspicuous gifts, and surely nature is fair 
 enough for our landscaj)e painters, and our people 
 and our history are not wanting in traits for the his- 
 torical ]>ainter and the sculi)tor. Some of our l)est 
 artists liave heen trained at home, ami tliey have 
 found scenes and fii^ures enou<j:h for them here. Our 
 men certainly are not had looking, and our women 
 are, to s})eak with moderation, as fair as any in the 
 woi'ld — the fairest of any, we may ])ei'ha})S safely 
 say. If our ai't took its lead from Italy, it lias in some 
 respects rivalled its masters, and })rol)al)ly we have 
 American sculj)tors an<l j)ainters — sculptors surely, 
 who sui-j)ass any contemj)oi-aiy Italians. They told 
 me in Rome that there was hut one Tenerani, and I 
 looke(l into his atelier, alas I on the day after his 
 death, earnest even at that time to j)ay my tri])Ute 
 to this gifte<l ]ni])i] of 'J'horwaldsen. But he evi- 
 d<'ntly had l»een <)ver])owered l)y tlu^ anti(jue that he 
 had so devottMlly studied, and he had not, like C'raw- 
 foi-d, used its sevei'e and massiNc form so as to helj) 
 him to shape a higher ideal of humanity. It is well 
 if our /Vmcrica can pay her delit to Italy in any 
 Avay, ami like the Roman daughter give 1»a('k the tide 
 of lift' to her parent. It is \v<'ll that .Michael An- 
 L,0'|o jiiids hei'c an interpreter that Rome has not al- 
 lowed him to find at home, and whilst Rome sends 
 to .Vnieriea the Cardinal's hat, Aniei'iea has aiitici-
 
 AND ART IN AMEIIICA. 31 
 
 pated tlie compliment by sending to lier tlie liberty- 
 cap wliicli Crawford there designed before lie cliin- 
 elled it on the head of his colossal statue. Tliat 
 liberty-cap is something more than a compliment, 
 and with tlu; cocked hat of the Continental arm\'<>f 
 our American llevolution it has told aiid is telling 
 upon the ])ublic opinion of Eui-ope and of liome 
 more ])owerfully than any of the honoi's or the ful- 
 minations of the Vatican. Perhajjs Italy is in this 
 respect changing places with America, and Avhilst 
 we are accepting her art, she is acce])ting our in- 
 dustry and thought, and doing last for her ])eople 
 the work of health and thrift, which we did tirst — 
 making the rule of utility come after her emj)ire of 
 beauty. 
 
 All honor and success to her in each spliere I Italy 
 and America — wIkmu God hath joined together let 
 not man ])ut asunder I This word for Italy it is 
 Avell to sa}' on this four hundredth year since ^Michael 
 Angelo's l)irth, and to add these nolde words of 
 Christo])her Pearse Cranch : — 
 
 " Ennobled by liis hand 
 Florence and Konie sliall stand, 
 
 8tani})ed with the signet ring 
 He wore where kings obeyed 
 The laws the artists made. 
 
 Art was his world and he was Art's anointed king. 
 
 " So stood this Angelo 
 Fonr linndred years ago ; 
 
 So gravely still he stands, 
 'Mid lesser works of art. 
 Colossal and apart, 
 
 Like Mennion breathing songs across the desert sands.''
 
 32 THOMAS CRAAVFORD 
 
 Now that we are counting our first century of 
 national life, it is well for us to recollect ourselves 
 sonu'wliat seriously, and in our letters and art try to 
 perj)etuate the hest lessons and examples of our 
 record. A\\ art rests upon experien(;e, and Memory, 
 mother of the Muses, gives the great subjects for 
 invention as for history. Crawford has done his 
 part to em})ody the great remend)rances of our nation, 
 and we are asked to comluue all true men and ]»rin- 
 ciples and powers to give continuity to his work. 
 Mere individualism cannot do anytliing great or 
 good, and all nobleness starts in a memory l)eyond 
 the individual man, aiul cond)ines forces and con- 
 tinues influences beyond his egotism. It is well for 
 us to bring out the wealth of our record, to set the 
 imngesof our fathers in the front of honor, to reV)uke 
 self-seeking and knavery in liigh ])laces by the dig- 
 nity of august examples as well as by tlie majesty 
 of ]>ure ])rinciples, and to give the innnortal touch 
 of art to tlie names of our ])atriots and lawgivei's. 
 Probably tlie latent s])ii-it of the ])eo])le is in this 
 I'esjx'ct in adwiiK-e of the standard opinion of our 
 scholastic m<Mi and oui' men of wealth : and as 
 in the defence of the nation against treason, so in 
 its (]\u' elevation ]»y the ])otent hand of art, our ]ieo- 
 ]»](' Avill sui'])i'ise the plodding Avorld by tlicir readi- 
 ness to \\('l('ome eveiy noble insj>iration that gives 
 llie <-ountiy her due ]>lace among the nations and 
 <»\\iis hei" due lo\alty to the kingdom of (lod. ( )ur 
 ])eoj)le ^vill a)»j)reeiat" Crawford's pati'iotic \vork 
 jiioic ;ind nioi'e, and Kielimond, no longer esti'anged, 
 A\ill in time be a slii-ine of pilgrimage to N«»rtliei'n
 
 AND AllT IN AMEllICA. ' 33 
 
 patriots wlio go tliitlier to look upon tlie noblest of 
 American monuments, ^vltli its statues of AVasliing- 
 tonand Patrick Henry and Jefferson and Alai-sliall, 
 tliat stand for tlie luiion and liberty that tliey won 
 for the whole country. 
 
 This New York Historical Society lias done its 
 part in this direction, and will do it still. 
 
 You, j\[r. President and gentlemen, have Iniilt 
 this solid hall of remembrance and tilled it Avitli 
 treasures of letters and. art, and oj^ened it to the 
 young generation. 
 
 No^vhere in this land is there a better collection 
 of historical memorials, and to-niglit a noble piece 
 of sculpture is added to the wealth of canvas and 
 marl)le that have lono; been £>:atlierinii:. 
 
 AVe have the requisite conditions for a great 
 institution of history and the arts. There is none 
 so good, nor is there likely to Ije any. Let the 
 ne^v building rise in its strength and beauty, with 
 ample room for all the ai'ts, for letters, sculj)ture, 
 painting ; all that presents the life of men and 
 nations, and speaks to our children its august 
 memories and its inspiring hopes. Here let our 
 citizens present their august fellowship with the 
 nations and the race, counting nothing human 
 foi-eign to our blood. Here let our rich treasures 
 unite their wealth and their ^vitness. Here let the 
 marbles of Nineveh and the antiquities of Egypt join 
 ^vith the art of Italy, Flanders, Holland, Spain, 
 France, Germany, and our o^vn land to enrich our 
 American l)irtln"iglit, and to tell coming generations 
 that we look to a worthy future, because we grow 
 3
 
 34 TIIOJIAS CRAWFORD 
 
 from a substantial rcx)t in the past and feed upon 
 its unfailing sj^ring of strengtli and beauty and joy. 
 Here write in letters and books, on canvas, in brass 
 and in marble, tlie Word of History, and God and 
 Humanity will breathe the Spirit of Life.
 
 AND ART IX AMKIMCA. 35 
 
 THHJUTE TO CRAWF(JRD, I)ECE:\rJ5EP. 11, ISru. 
 
 The uddress is made more complete ])y recalling; the 
 commemorative discoui'se of ProfesstM- Cieorge AV. (iiveiie, 
 DecemlxT 14, 1857, and the remarks from Dr. Osi^ood that 
 followed, which we here insert from the Kct-iuiKj Pu>it (jf 
 that week, 
 
 " The anui\'er,sary discourse of the New York Historicul Society 
 was given on Tuesday, Dec(;uiber 14, by Prof. George W, (Jn.'ene, 
 of tliis city, aiul treated of tlie life and genius of Thomas C'r;i\v- 
 ford, the gifted scidptor, whose sad death has taken from ns 
 perliaps the first of American artists. The discourse will he 
 2)ublis]ied. We add a few words of Rev. Dr. Osgood, who was 
 asked to introduce the resolution of thanks. 
 
 ''Dr. Osgood, after reading the resolution, said: "I am most 
 hap])y, ]Mr. President, to expicss the tlianks of the Society for 
 the beautiful and eloquent address to which we have just listened, 
 and camiot but think the subject most ap])ro[)riate for the second 
 anniversary in our new and expressive edifice. This building is 
 dedicated to history, in the highest sense of the term, and in- 
 cludes art as well as lettej-s, in its records of the deeds and 
 thoughts of men. Our galleries of painting and sculpture, as 
 well as Qwx library and archives, preserve the mark of man upon 
 the ages, and history, as we I'ead it, is written with the scidptor's 
 chisel and the painter's pencil (piite as eni])liatically as by the 
 author's pen and the printer's type. It is just, therefore, to give 
 this anniversary evening to the memory of our gi'eat — probably 
 our greatest — American sculptor, and our satisfaction in what we 
 have heard to-night is as warrantable as it is unanimous. 
 
 " I do not pi-ofess to be an adept in the beautiful arts, whether 
 of the connoisseu.r or the amateur kind, and am the more en-
 
 36 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 coui-Jigod to throw out a few thoughts suggested by the athh'ess, 
 from the very fact that I 8j>eak soinewliat as an outsider, and my 
 words may have something of the same interest as the notes of a 
 strange traveller — some Hindoo or Chine^se — upon our land and 
 j)eoj»le. The first thought that comes to me is the cheering con- 
 viction that kind Providence, in the ample bestowal of material 
 goods and enterprise, does not evidently mean to stint us in re- 
 spect to the rarer gifts of intellect and beauty, but is kindling on 
 every side, in the spirits of chosen men of our peojde, the sanui 
 divine fire that has glowed in the genius of a Phidias and Aj)elk's, 
 a Paphael and Michael Angelo. Education can do much, but it 
 can never bring out of a man what God never ]>ut into him, and 
 genius is born whilst knowledge is ac(juired. Education trained 
 Crawford's hand to its skill, but God gave him his genius, anil 
 this obscure New York boy, whose labors we now honor, was 
 taiight of heaven before he was taught of men, that he belongc*! 
 to the elect priestliood of the beautiful arts. His example, with 
 that of not a few others, is therefore most cheering, and en- 
 courages us in the faith that whilst we are for a time ol)liged to 
 rough it in this new country, and work hard for that prime essen- 
 tial, our bread and butter, in due s<'as(>n we shall carve arabes(pies 
 upon the bread-plate, and embroider flowers into our table-cloth, 
 and exalt <n\v plodding utility by all the retinements of taste ami 
 creations of beauty. On every side artistic genius is developing 
 itself, and prou<l as we are of our jiloughs and reapers, otir presses 
 an<l engines, we have no reason to he ashamed either of our artists 
 or their patrons, nor to doitbt that this land of corn and cotton 
 can bear its full proportion of heibs of grace and flowers of 
 loveliness. 
 
 "This satisfaction in the jironiise of American art does not 
 move us to the ial>id kind of patii(»tism that scotTs at everything 
 foreign, and, in its atteni|it to magnify, actually belittles us, by 
 cutting us off from the Old World and uiaking us a fragnient 
 of liuiiiaiiity instead of a hemisphere of the full globe. Crawford 
 ]>riipcrlv went to Komi; to schoul his genius under the discipline 
 of the l>est masteis and to study the great works that treasure up 
 the liciics of all ages in tlmx' pri<cless repositori<'S. It is w 11 for 
 us Aiiieiieans thus to believi- that we belong not tooiu'selves alone,
 
 AND ART IX AMEllICA. 37 
 
 l)iit to hniniinity ; and tliut as we receive iinich from tlie Old 
 World, so we owe mucli, and are called to pay back our debt for 
 so niucli wisdom and beauty by n(!\v enterpt iscs of iiianliiiess and 
 inspirations of hope. The fear is, however, that our youth who 
 ti'avel in Europe and revel in the arts of Italy, will nifine their 
 taste at the expense of their originality, if not softeft their man- 
 ners at the cost of their manhooil. Most of tliem s(!em to weaken 
 their force as they widen tlieir range, and to come back enchanted 
 rather than ins[)ired. But enchantment is not inspii'ution. 
 Caly})So's grotto is not Apollo's temjde, nor is Circe's cup Casta- 
 lia's fountain. Crawford did not confound the two ex])erii'nces 
 nor lose his originality among the master-pieces of ancient art and 
 the distortions of modern critics. Perha})s, without being con- 
 scious of it, he embodied his own brave thought upon the genius 
 of Italy, that mausoleum of humanity, whose inspiration is a 
 remembrance rather than a hope, in his marvellous statue of 
 Oi'})heus, who is repi-esented as calling up, by the charm of his 
 nnisic, the spirits of the dead, instead of leading on the march 
 of living humanity by his cheering strain. Italy, too, is looking, 
 like Orpheus, into the under world, and, like him, vainly trying 
 to recall its cherished past, that lost Enrydice. Italy, who gave 
 Crawford the finishing touch of her skill, did not overlay his 
 originality by her traditions. * He turned from the land of Mem- 
 ory to the new world of Hope, and his Washington embodied his 
 faith, whilst it crowned his genius. 
 
 " The stattie at Richmond is Crawford's histoiy of the Father of 
 our Countiy, and it will be read for ages by eager eyes, under the 
 light of God's own heaven, when most of tlie rhetoric that is now 
 called immortal is forgotten, and the ])eople who call him blessed 
 shall fill the continent with their civilization and oii-dle the "lobe 
 with their industry. 
 
 " There is something very friendly and sympathetic in tlie look 
 of this great assembly here met in honor of a fellow-citizen whose 
 brilliant life was full of trials, and whose early death was a 
 tragedy of anguish and disappointment. He was more sadly 
 atllicted than Milton, whose eyes, 
 
 " So tliick a drop severe hath quench' d their orbs, 
 Or dim suffusion veiled."
 
 38 THOMAS CRAWFOKI) 
 
 " The i>oet\s work may i)ros])er •without siglit, and he nmy sing 
 
 " As the wakeful bird 
 Sinps darkling, and, in .shadiest covert hid, 
 Tunes her nocturnal note." 
 
 " But how .shall the sculptoi* guide his hand without that 
 friiiidly light? The sense of vision — that gatt^ called Beautiful 
 to this living temple, the body — was to Crawford most painfully 
 darkened and closed. Yet to liim the world of loveliness was not 
 .sealed up, for, \nider God's discipline, sight becomes insight, and 
 the shapes of beauty that for years had l)een passing through that 
 temple-g;ite weie now kneeling before the interior shrine. The 
 Ideal that was the dream of his boyliood and the life of his 
 maturity did not de.sert him in hi.« dark sorrow, but was trans- 
 figured into faith in the triith and beauty that are heavenly and 
 etciiial. There is something in the genial and grateful spirit of 
 this assembly that throws brightness over our artist's great sor- 
 row and premature death, and brings him to us in his health and 
 joy. May we not devoutly trust that he who loyally gave him.self 
 to till- chosen ministry of Beauty does not renounce the mind in 
 putting off the body, nor abjure his ruling love in (putting its 
 earthlv spliere ? We leave his soul with that fnliniteand Eternal 
 Spirit whom we are called to know and a<lore, not only as the 
 Almiglity and All-Wise, but also as the All-Merciful and AU- 
 
 ]^OVflv."
 
 AND AllT IX AJIEUICA. 39 
 
 PEOCEEDTNGS OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 At a stat(Ml meeting of tlie Nkw York iriSTOuicAL Socikty, 
 held ill its Hall, on Tuesday evening, April Gtli, IS?-"), 
 
 "The Librarian, Mr. MoouE, read a letter from the rresident, 
 as follows : 
 
 " lAhrary of the 2^ew ^"ork Historical Socii't)j^ 
 
 April ("), 1875. 
 "Georok it. ]\roouE, LL.D., Librarian, &c. 
 
 "3Iy dear Sir — Having })iirchasod from Mrs. Lonisa W. 
 Terry, executrix of the last will and testament of the late Thomas 
 ( 'rawfoi'd, his marble statue of ' 21ie ladiany I Jiow ofler it as 
 a gift to the New York Historical Society. 
 
 " The 2)apers relatiiig to its proper legal ti'ansfer are communi- 
 cated herewith, as the nniniments of title for the Societv. 
 
 "I trust that this noble work, regarded as the masterpiece of 
 its distinguished author, may i-emain in per[)etuity among our 
 collections, to conniiemorate the Indian of North America. 
 
 "Fkedericde Peyster, 
 
 '' President, Arc." 
 
 The paper of the evening was then read by the Kev. Dr. 
 Samuel Osgood, on '■^I'ltomos Crawford and ^Irt in Aineri(;a.'''' 
 
 ^\v. William J. Hoppix submitted the folloAving resolutions, 
 wliich were seconded by Mr. Joiix Austin Stevens, and adopted 
 unanimously : 
 
 JlesoJved, That the thanks of the Society are cordially extended 
 to our Pieside]it, Frederic de Peyster, for his muniticent gift 
 of the colossal statue of " 2' lie Indian^'' by the eminent sculptor 
 Thomas Crawford.
 
 40 TIIO.MAS CUAWFORD AND ART IN AMERICA. 
 
 lirsoh'fil, That in our acknowledgment of this princely aiUli- 
 tion to our treasures, we recall the many previous similar bene- 
 factions, as well in works of literature as of art, "with whicli Mi*. 
 i)K Pevstkk has enriched the collections of the Society. 
 
 Jiesotni/^ That we recognize with pleasure in this grateful 
 record the names of two so highly honored sons of New York — 
 the Artist and the Citizen — now forever united hy grateful 
 association in the thoughts and atrections of our members. 
 * « iK * * « ♦ 
 
 !Mr. Ekastis ('. linxKnicT submitted the following resolution, 
 which was seconded by Mr. Jamks II. TiTLs, and adopted unani- 
 mously : • 
 
 liesolved, That the thanks of the Society be presented to the 
 Rev. Samikl Osfiooi), for his able and eloquent paj»er read this 
 evening, and that a copy be requested for publication." 
 
 Extract from the ^linutes. 
 
 Andkkw Warn El?, 
 Jieco rJiiuj Seer eta ry.