YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

Bought with the Income
of the
ANN S. FARNAM FUND

LIFE AND WORK
OF
EDWIN AUSTIN
ABBEY, R. A.
E. V. LUCAS
Vol. I.

A CHARCOAL PORTRAIT OF EDWIN A, ABBEY.
DRAWN BY J. S. SARGENT, R.A.
Circa 1888.

EDWIN AUSTIN ABBEY
Royal Academician
The Record of His Life and Work
By E.V.Lucas

With Two Hundred Illustrations
Volume I
1852-1893

LONDON: METHUEN AND COMPANY LIMITED
NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
192 1

PREFACE
THE purpose of this book — to record as simply and di
rectly and happily as possible the progress and achieve
ment of one of the simplest, most direct and happiest of
artists — is, or should be, so implicit in the text that no
prefatory signpost is needed. But I should like to say that without
the assistance of Mrs . Abbey the story could not have had either its
order or its fulness. No biographer probably was ever so well pro
vided with material, nor could material for a biography ever have
been so complete or in such perfect arrangement.
It had always been Mrs .Abbey's wish not to appear personally in
the book at all, but gradually she was led to realise that an associa
tion of such similarity of ideals , such minute and profound intimacy
and interdependence, as that of herself and her husband, made her
presence in these pages necessary. But for the preservation of the
letters passing between them before marriage and during their in-
frequent periods of absence from each other, as well ashermemory
of every incident of their joint life, the narrative would be far less
circumstantial. I was also indebted greatly to the late Alfred Par
sons , R . A . ,who was Abbey 's closest friend in his early London days ,
and who kindly allowed me to draw upon his recollections,
Mr. J. S. Sargent, R.A., Abbey's compatriot, friend and fellow-
worker,has selected all the illustrations from Abbey 'swork in black-
and-white, water-colour, pastel and oil, with the exception of those
in the text.
Special thanks are due to Mr. J. E.Kelly, the American sculptor
and an associate of Abbey in New York in the 'seventies, for hisun-
tiring efforts in collecting data concerning that period and in pro
curing material which it would otherwise have been very difficult
to obtain, such as Abbey's letters to the late Charles Parsons (kindly
lent by Mrs . Parsons) , and to the late C . S . Reinhart (kindly lent by
that artist's daughter) . I have also to thank other of Abbey 's early
American colleagues for the reminiscences which they have set
iii

PREFACE
down for thiswork— Mr.WillardP. Snyder, Mr. Gilbert Gaul, Mr.
CharlesMente,Mr.W.A.Rogers,Mr.W.H.Carroll,Mr.W.H.Low
and Mr. Kelly ; and I am grateful for similar services freely rendered
by Abbey's assistants at Fairford at the latter end of his career —
Mr.Cadogan Cowper ,A.R.A., Mr .W.G.Simmonds,Mr.GeorgeF.
Swaish, and Mr. Ernest Board ; while the chapter on Abbey's en
thusiasm for cricket would be inadequate but for the kind assist
ance of the Hon.Walter James, Sir J.M.Barrie,Mr.HenryFord,Mr.
G.H.Swinstead,Mr.Dermod O'Brien, and the late A.H.Studd.
The executors of the late Henry James have kindly allowed me
to make what extracts I wished from his letters to Abbey, none of
which have been published before; and to the courtesy of Miss Bir-
niePhilip is due the presence of the letter from Whistler in Chapter
XXX. Thanks are given to Messrs. Harper and Brothers for allowing
reproductions from their copyright publications of Abbey 's work,
and to Messrs. Curtis and Cameron for the use of their negatives.
The body of this book was printed in 191 9, hence the absence
of any reference in the text to changes which have since occurred.
July, 1921. E.V.L.

IV

CONTENTS CHAPTER I
BOYHOOD AND YOUTH
1852-1868 Aged 1-16
Roswell Abbey (Abbey's Paternal Grandfather) — William Maxwell Abbey-
Huguenot Descent — Abbey's Maternal Ancestors — A Wiltshire Family — Black-
and-White at Two Years Old — Schools in Philadelphia — First Instruction in Art
— " Oliver Optic's " Our Boys and Girls— Will H. Low and His Boy Colleague
CHAPTER II
FIRST WORK AND THE PENNSYLVANIA ACADEMY
1868-1871 Aged 16-18
Willard P. Snyder's Recollections — A Young Editor — Enthusiasm for Dickens —
Professor Schussele— A Student at the Pennsylvania Academy — The Pre-
Raphaelites — Arthur Boyd Houghton — Favourite Reading — Early Drawings
CHAPTER III
HOME LIFE IN NEW YORK AND THE HOUSE OF HARPER
1871 Aged 18-19
Out into the World — Charles Parsons — The Potter House and " Cousin Jo " —
The Lure of Music — Laborious Nights — The Firm of Harper and Brothers —
Journalists with the Pencil — Henry James on Abbey
CHAPTER IV
IN HARPERS' ART DEPARTMENT
1871 Aged 18-19
An Autobiographical Letter — The Art Staff at Franklin Square — C. S. Reinhart
— Winslow Homer — Gilbert Gaul's Recollections — Will H. Low's Recollections
— Abbey's First Magazine Drawings— A Scrap-book — The Great English
Illustrators — Millais' Tribute
CHAPTER V
IN HARPERS' ART DEPARTMENT
1 872-1 874 Aged 19-22
Charles Mente's Recollections — Charles Parsons as a Martinet — Abbey's Pur-
posefulness — An Illustrator's Versatility — J. E. Kelly's Recollections — AGlimpse
of the Promised Land — Herrick and Shakespeare V

CONTENTS CHAPTER VI
A FREE-LANCE IN NEW YORK
1 874-1 875 Aged 22-23
Departure from the Art Department — Mr. Kelly's Recollections — The 35 Union
Square Studio — Historical Drawings — A. W. Drake — W. H. Carroll's Recollec
tions — A Merry Studio — Dickens' Christmas Stories — The Blackburn Exhibition
of English Draughtsmen— The Old University Building—" The Stage Office"—
Winslow Homer — Mr. Kelly's Tribute
CHAPTER VII
RETURN TO THE ART DEPARTMENT
1876 Aged 24
A Growing Reputation — W. A. Rogers — A. B. Frost — Abbey's Helpfulness —
Abbey at Twenty-three — First Decorative Work — The Centennial Exhibition
CHAPTER VIII
THE TILE CLUB
1 877-1 878 Aged 25-26
An Epoch-Making Year in American Art — Influence of Paris and Munich —
Abbey and England — The Society of American Artists — The Fashion for Applied
Art — The Birth of a Confederation — A List of Sobriquets — A New Word and
its Coiner — William " Polyphemus " Laffan — A Week on Long Island
CHAPTER IX
END OF NEW YORK CAREER /
1878 Aged 25-26 Y~
A Critical Year— Mr. Gilbert Gaul and Mr. Kelly— Theatrical Drawings— Mr.
Brander Matthews' Bookplate — " A Rose in October "—Abbey Decides for
England — Two Farewell Parties — Abbey and the Old Country
CHAPTER X
STRATFORD-OX-AVOX 1878 Aged 26
Companions of the Voyage — Abbey's Illustrated Letters — First Sight of Eng
land — Stratford-on-Avon — Washington Irving and Abbey — An English Christ
mas — Financial Embarrassments — English Hospitality
CHAPTER XI
ENGLISH FRIENDS AND FAMILY LETTERS
1879 Aged 26-27
Fred Barnard— George Henry Boughton— F. W. Jameson— Dinner Parties-
Alfred Parsons — A Musical Evening — Brahms — George Henschel  Madam
Clara Moscheles — William Black — J. MacNeill Whistler — Alma Tadema— The
White House, Chelsea

CONTENTS CHAPTER XII
FIRST WORK IN LONDON
1879 Aged 26-27
Ways and Means — The National Gallery — Fred Walker — R. L. Stevenson and
His Cousin — J. Comyns Carr — Dick Whittington — Augustus St. Gaudens —
Westminster Abbey — Dean Stanley — A Hurried Tour in the Lakes — Moncure
D. Conway-^Burne-JoneO-Thackeray's Daughter — Illness — Scrtbner's Rivalry
larper's — An American Appreciation
CHAPTER XIII
ILL HEALTH AND HARD WORK
1 880-1 88 1 Aged 27-29
Convalescence and Misgivings — Art in America — Mrs. Cameron, the Photo
grapher — -Death of Abbey's Mother — The Pains of Conscience — Bastien Le
page's " Joan of Arc " — C. S. Reinhart — The Paris Ateliers — A River Holiday
— A Castle in Spain — In Holland with Boughton — Henry Irving and Ellen Terry <
— Munich — G. J. Pinwell — Lechlade — In the Highlands with Black
CHAPTER XIV
AN AMERICAN INTERLUDE
1881-1882 Aged 29
In New York with Alfred Parsons— 58^ West 10th Street— The Tile Club
Again — A Second Visit to Long Island — Another Club Discussion — Harper's
Christmas — W. A. Rogers's Recollections — Painting at High Pressure — The
Founding of " The Kinsmen "
CHAPTER XV
ENGLAND AGAIN
1 882-1 883 Aged 29-31
Costume versus Dress — A Tour in Germany and Denmark — Black's Judith
Shakespeare — Abbey's Herrick Published — Wood-Engraving and Process —
Illustrations to She Stoops to Conquer Begun — " The Widower " — Reinhart —
" Responsibility " — Illustrations to Pope — Austin Dobson — Poetical Tributes —
" The Kinsmen " at Stratford — Mary Anderson
CHAPTER XVI
SOCIABLE NIGHTS AND DAYS
1884-1885 Aged 31-33
With Black in Scotland — A First Salmon — Music and Conviviality — Andrew
Lang — Sir Luke Fildes' Recollections — A Dinner to Lawrence Barrett — A
Coaching Tour with Andrew Carnegie — Matthew Arnold — Charles Parsons —
" Cousin Jo " — Judith Shakespeare — A Spring Morning in London — First
Exhibit in the R.A. — A Dutch Tableau — Randolph Caldecott vii

CONTENTS
CHAPTER XVII
BROADWAY IN WORCESTERSHIRE
F. D. Millet — Henry James on Broadway — Henry James and Abbey — John S.
Sargent — Henry James in 1885 — Randolph Caldecott — Artist versus Editor
CHAPTER XVIII
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER
1886 Aged 33-34
Abbey in New York — A London Welcome — J. R. Osgood — Howard Pyle — An
Artist's Education — First Sight of Fairford — C. S. Reinhart — Henry James on
Abbey — Austin Dobson's Prologue to She Stoops to Conquer — The Goldsmith
Drawings
CHAPTER XIX
THE COMMISSION FOR THE " COMEDIES " AND PUBLICATION
OF OLD SONGS
1 887-1 888 Aged 34-36
The Sketching Club — Fred Barnard — Responsibilities of an Illustrator of Shake
speare — Theories of Illustration — Authors and their Illustrators — Sir Walter
Besant — Charles Keene — Preparations for Shakespeare — An Italian Journey —
A New Studio — A First London Exhibition — Old Songs — John Hay — George
du Maurier
CHAPTER XX
A NEW FRIEND AND THE QUIET LIFE
1889 Aged 36-37
Miss Mead — Introspective Letters — Art and Nationality — Aspirations and
Attempts — Solitary Work and London Recreations — Departure for New York —
The Quiet Life — Austin Dobson
CHAPTER XXI
BEGINNING OF THE " COMEDIES "
1889 {concluded) Aged 37
A Fortnight in New York — Further Letters to Miss Mead — Studies from Nature
—The " May-Day Morning "—The " Minstrel " Motif— Colarossi, the Model
—A Visit to Mr. Sargent at Fladbury— The Costumes for La Tosca
CHAPTER XXII
MARRIAGE
1890 Aged 38
Abbey Again in New York— Friendly Feastings— A Dinner to Charles Parsons—
The Wedding
viii

CONTENTS
CHAPTER XXIII
AN ACKNOWLEDGED MASTER
Taking Stock — Henry James on Abbey — The Paris Exhibition — A French Critic
— Meissonier and Edmond de Goncourt — Pennell's Pen Drawing and Pen
Draughtsmanship — The Masters of Modern Illustration — Menzel and Abbey —
Beginning of the " Comedies "
CHAPTER XXIV
THE BOSTON LIBRARY COMMISSION
1890 Aged 38
Another Critical Year — The Boston Public Library — Charles Follen McKim —
St. Gaudens — Abbey Becomes a Mural Painter — First Ideas for a Frieze — " The
Quest of the Holy Grail "—A Twelve Years' Task
CHAPTER XXV
ITALIAN TRAVEL AND AN ENGLISH HOME
1890-1891 Aged 38-39
First Academy Picture — Wandering in England — Fairford and Lechlade — The
Deserted Village — Morgan Hall — Charles Keene — Italian Travel — Domenico
Morelli — Amalfi and Ravello — Raphael's " Jurisprudence " — An Artist's Ideal —
Settlement at Morgan Hall— Mrs. Mead— J. S. Sargent— C. F. McKim— The
Largest Studio in England
CHAPTER XXVI
WORK AND TRAVEL
1 892- 1 893 Aged 39-41
Advice to Art Students — Progress With the Boston Frieze and Shakespeare —
American Historical Projects — Alma Tadema — -St. Gaudens — The Bayreuth
Festival — The Lure of Rothenburg — A Stained-glass Window — John Pettie —
A Feat of Painting — Venice — Carpaccio — A Boccaccio Room — Gondoliers at
Chicago — Midsummer Night's Dream and end of the " Comedies " — Henry James

IX

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS VOLUME L
A CHARCOAL STUDY OF E. A. ABBEY, BY J. S. SARGENT, R.A. Frontispiece
THE FATHER AND MOTHER OF E. A. ABBEY From a Daguerreotype facing page 2
E. A. ABBEY, A TWO-YEAR-OLD BABY, WITH PENCIL From a Daguerreotype . 4.
E. A. AND W. B. ABBEY AND THEIR GRANDMOTHER From a Daguerreotype . 6
FROM A SKETCH MADE IN PHILADELPHIA circa 1863 . . . .page 8
E. A. ABBEY'S PATERNAL GRANDPARENTS From a Daguerreotype facing page 12,
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  page 16.
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  ,,21
E. A. ABBEY'S FIRST AND SECOND DRAWINGS FOR HARPER'S MAGAZINE facing page 26
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  page 27
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  ,,32
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  ,,42-
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  48
EDWIN A. ABBEY From a Photograph circa 1878 .... facing page 58
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  page 61
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  68-
FROM A SKETCH IN A LETTER  81
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  ,,96.
FROM SKETCH IN A LETTER  99,
TO MEDDOWES  facing page 100
CORINNA'S GOING A MAYING . . . Two Illustrations . . 106
A BEUCOLIC, OR DISCOURSE OF NEATHERDS  109.
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  page 114
THE WIDOWER  facing page 125
THE MILKMAID  12&
STONY GROUND  i3I
THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES'S  134.
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  page 135.
MISS HARDCASTLE AND MISS NEVILLE. " SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER "
facing page 136-
MARLOW AND HASTINGS. " SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER " . . . .136-
MISS NEVILLE AND HASTINGS. " SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER " . . . 136-
MRS. HARDCASTLE AND HASTINGS. " SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER " . .138;
MISS HARDCASTLE AND MARLOW. " SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER " . . 140.
JUDITH SHAKESPEARE  143.
AN OLD SONG  facing page 145.
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  page 146-
FACSIMILE OF A LETTER FROM RANDOLPH CALDICOTT . facing page 146-
LIKE MY LORD PATELEY  148
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  page 153
MRS. HARDCASTLE, MISS NEVILLE AND TONY LUMPKIN. " SHE STOOPS
TO CONQUER"  facing page 154.
xi

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
MISS HARDCASTLE AND MARLOW. " SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER" facing page 156
MISS HARDCASTLE, MARLOW, SIR CHARLES AND HARDCASTLE. " SHE
STOOPS TO CONQUER "  156
SALLY IN OUR ALLEY : " OF ALL THE DAYS THAT'S IN THE WEEK." "OLD
SONGS"  159
SALLY IN OUR ALLEY :" MY MASTER CARRIES ME TO CHURCH " . . 159
SALLY IN OUR ALLEY : " WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES ABOUT AGAIN " . 159
" TONY LUMPKIN IS HIS OWN MAN AGAIN." " SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER" 162
MRS. HARDCASTLE, MISS NEVILLE, TONY AND HASTINGS. " SHE STOOPS
TO CONQUER"  163
" WITH JOCKEY TO THE FAIR." " OLD SONGS "  164
" AH ME ! WHEN SHALL I MARRY ME ? " " SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER " . 167
" SWEET NELLY, MY HEART'S DELIGHT." « OLD SONGS " . . . . 168
" HARVEST HOME." " OLD SONGS "  170
SUNBURNED FOLK THAT STAND AT GAZE. " QUIET LIFE " . . .172
QUINCE. "QUIET LIFE" .  172
" HERE'S TO THE MAIDEN OF BASHFUL FIFTEEN." " OLD SONGS " . . 174
EXEUNT SALARINO AND SOLANIO. " MERCHANT OF VENICE " . .176
" MISLIKE ME NOT FOR MY COMPLEXION." " MERCHANT OF VENICE " 176
" AWAY THEN ; I AM LOCKED IN ONE OF THEM." " MERCHANT OF VENICE " 176
JESSICA AND LORENZO. " MERCHANT OF VENICE "  176
FALSTAFF AND MISTRESS QUICKLY. " MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR " . 178
FACSIMILE SKETCH BY GEORGE DU MAURIER IN LETTER TO
E. A. ABBEY  page 180
FROM ABBEY'S SKETCH BOOK  „ 181
FALSTAFF : " BARDOLPH, FOLLOW HIM : A TAPSTER IS A GOOD TRADE "
facing page 187
SLENDER : " WHY DO YOUR DOGS BARK SO ? " " MERRY WIVES OF
WINDSOR"  I90
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  . page I9S
THE DUKE AND FRIAR THOMAS. " MEASURE FOR MEASURE " facing page 200
ANGELO AND ISABELLA. " MEASURE FOR MEASURE " . . . .202
CLAUDIO AND ISABELLA. " MEASURE FOR MEASURE " . . 202
E. A. ABBEY, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY HAROLD ROLLER . . 205
THE VILLAGE MASTER. " DESERTED VILLAGE " . 206
ADRIANA, LUCIANA, ANTIPHOLUS EROTES, DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
" THE COMEDY OF ERRORS "  2I2
IN THE FOREST OF ARDEN .... [ 2I,
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  ' p ' 2„
MAY DAY MORNING . . . . . . "facing page 216
THE WANDERING MINSTREL ... . . facing page 219
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  I* ^
MEDALLION PORTRAIT OF M. G. MEAD (MRS. E. A. ABBEY), BY AUGUSTUS
ST. GAUDENS  facing page 228
xii

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE, BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY . . .232
CHARCOAL STUDY FOR KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE . . . .232
DEPARTURE OF THE KNIGHTS ON THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL . 232
STUDY OF A JESTER  234
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  page 237
THE VILLAGE PREACHER. " DESERTED VILLAGE " . . facing page 238
" THE MIDNIGHT MASQUERADE." " DESERTED VILLAGE " . . .238
" THERE THE PALE ARTIST PLIES THE SICKLY TRADE " . . . .238
" SIGH NO MORE, LADIES." " MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING " . . .240
DOGBERRY AND HIS COMPARTNER WITH THE WATCH. " MUCH ADO
ABOUT NOTHING "  240
" WHERE SHOULD THIS MUSIC BE ? " " THE TEMPEST " . . . .242
THE BANQUET. " THE TEMPEST "  244
" FOR YOU ARE SPELL-STOPP'D." "THE TEMPEST"  244
" WHY THEN, YOUNG BERTRAM, TAKE HER ; SHE'S THY WIFE." " ALL'S
WELL THAT ENDS WELL "  246
THE DUKE AND VALENTINE. " TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA " . . 246
" WHO IS SILVIA ? WHAT IS SHE ? " " TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA " . 246
"AND EVERY PANG THAT FOLLY PAYS TO PRIDE." " DESERTED VILLAGE " 247
" IF MUSIC BE THE FOOD OF LOVE, PLAY ON." " TWELFTH NIGHT " . 248
OLIVIA, CLOWN AND MALVOLIO. " TWELFTH NIGHT " . . . .248
MARIA, CLOWN, SIR TOBY BELCH AND SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
" TWELFTH NIGHT "  248
" COME AWAY, COME AWAY, DEATH." " TWELFTH NIGHT " . . .248
" FAIR PRINCESS, WELCOME TO THE COURT OF NAVARRE." " LOVE'S
LABOUR'S LOST "  250
ARMADO AND MOTH. " LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST "  250
DULL, SIR NATHANIEL, HOLOFERNES. " LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST " . 250
FROM A SKETCH BOOK  page 251
" BUT FOR MY BONNY KATE, SHE MUST WITH ME." " THE TAMING OF
THE SHREW"  facing page 252
" 'TWAS I WON THE WAGER." " THE TAMING OF THE SHREW " . . 252
MORGAN HALL, FAIRFORD, GLOUCESTERSHIRE : 1. EAST FRONT ; 2. WEST
FRONT  254
" AWAY WITH HER TO PRISON." " WINTER'S TALE "  256
THE ORACLE PROFANED. " WINTER'S TALE "  256
AN OLD SHEPHERD AND HIS SON. " WINTER'S TALE " . . . .256
AUTOLYCUS AT THE SHEEP SHEARING. " WINTER'S TALE " . . .256
THE MARRIAGE MORNING OF THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA. "A MIDSUMMER
NIGHT'S DREAM "  262
" WHY DO THEY RUN AWAY ? " " A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM " . . 262
THE RE-ENTRANCE OF THE PLAYERS. " MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM " . 262
EDWIN AUSTIN ABBEY, DRAWN BY G. F. WATTS, R.A., Aet. 41 . . . 267
vol. 1 xiii

CHAPTER I
BOYHOOD AND YOUTH
1852-1868 Aged 1-16
Roswell Abbey (Abbey's Paternal Grandfather) — William Maxwell Abbey —
Huguenot Descent — Abbey's Maternal Ancestors — A Wiltshire Family — Black
and White at Two Years Old — Schools in Philadelphia — First Instruction in Art
— " Oliver Optic's " Our Boys and Girls — Will H. Low and his Boy Colleague
EDWIN AUSTIN ABBEY was born at 315 Race Street,
Philadelphia, on April ist, 1852. Thehousestill stands, but it
has been altered within.
His father, William Maxwell Abbey (1826-1897), was a
Philadelphian of English and French extraction, who, after en
gaging in various forms of business, had settled down to broker
age and commission agency. He was the fifth child of Roswell
Abbey (1789-1858), a typefounder, who spent much of his spare
time on the invention of new mechanism not only for printing but
for larger engineering purposes. Roswell Abbey was the first to
apply electrotyping to the production of the matrices used in type-
founding, and he devoted years in an attempt to perfect an engine
driven by compressed gas — an explosion during one of his experi
ments causing the injury that led to his death. From Roswell Ab
bey , beyond doubt, came much of his grandson Edwin's practical
adaptivity and his swift, decisive manipulative gifts. Writing of
his grandfather in later life Abbey, who admired him immensely>
says that he was an unworldly man, a constant dupe of the crafty,
and that he left a fine library.
Roswell Abbey, a New Englander by birth, came from Amherst,
Massachusetts, and did not settle in Philadelphia, where he was
greatly respected, until 183 1, to leave it again only for two years,
in 1844-46. His father, Samuel Abbey (1755 or 1760-1841), was
from Chatham, Connecticut, but also had associations with Phila
delphia , for he served there for awhile in Captain Coach 's Company
of Colonel Burr Bradley's Battalion of the Connecticut Line. On
retiring from the army Samuel Abbey settled first at Amherst , Mas-
B 1

THE ABBEY DESCENT
sachusetts, then at Canandaigua, N.Y., and finally at Milo, Yates
County, N.Y.
Farther back than this Samuel Abbey we cannot go , with any cer
tainty, on the paternal side; but it was believed in the family that his
right name was Abbaye, which he had changed to Abbey , and that he
was descended from Huguenot dmigris who came to America from
England. Abbey the artist, the subject of the present book, while
proud of this French strain, from time to time was interested in
efforts that were made to link up his family also with Abbeys in Eng-
land;buthe couldarrive atnothingvery definite. Among hispapersl
find correspondence on the subject, and a copy of the will of William
de Abbey, citizen of York, which was drawn upon July 15th, 1334.
So much for the paternal line. Abbey's mother was Margery Ann
Kiple (born November 1 7th, 1 82 5 , in Buckingham , died April 1 5th,
1 880) , daughter of Jacob Kiple ( 1 800-1 889) , of Buckingham, Buck.
Co., Pennsylvania, the son of Jacob Kiple or Kypel (d. i824),whoin
turn was the son of a Jacob Kypel (d. 1797), of Freiburg, Baden.
This, the earliest member of the Kiple family of whom anything is
known, emigrated from Germany to America in 1760, and settled
in Hunterdon, New Jersey. Jacob Kiple married, on January 3rd,
1823, Jane Clancy, who was born in Chester Co., Pennsylvania, on
July 2 nd, 1 802 , and died in Philadelphia on January 1 7th, 1 889. She
was the daughter of John Clancy and Margery Ferguson, both of
Irish descent.*
Margery Ann Kiple was married to William Maxwell Abbey in
1848, and they had three children: Edwin Austin, born, as I have
stated, April ist, 1852; William Burling, born December 17th,
1854, and Jane Kiple, born April 16th, 1858. Of these only the
last, who became a confirmed invalid, survives. William Burling
Abbey died in 1917, only a few months after his only son, Edwin
Austin Abbey the second, named after his uncle, was killed at the
# " My grandmother " (Mr. J. E. Kelly thus quotes a remark made to him by Abbey)
" was one of the young girls who greeted Washington and strewed flowers in his path
when he journeyed to New York to be inaugurated as first President." As this was
in 1787, Abbey must have meant great-grandmother, but wc cannot know which one
was indicated, maternal or paternal.
2

THE FATHER AND MOTHER OF E. A. ABBEY:
FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE.

PHILADELPHIA HOMES
battle of Vimy Ridge in France, where he is buried. Although an
American, he had enlisted with the Canadian forces in October,
1915, long before America joined in, and was gazetted a Lieu
tenant.* On his mother's side Abbey was remotely of German and Irish
descent. Any failure to derive his father's family from England
was made good by the unequivocal English blood of his paternal
grandmother's line. This lady, the wife of Roswell Abbey, was Eli
zabeth Truslow( 1790- 1863) , the daughter of JohnTruslow, of Dur
ham, Connecticut, whose family hailed from Avebury in Wiltshire.
In Abbey's veins, therefore, ran English, French, German, and
Irish blood.
Almost immediately after Edwin — or Ned, as he was called all
his life by those with whom he was most intimate — was born, the
family moved to Ellicott's Mill, Maryland, where Mr. Abbey had
heard of a business opening; but they were back in Philadelphia af-
terayear. They lived then at 609 North 5th Street, a house which,
the street having been since renumbered, must now be sought at
either 97 1 or 973 ; and afterwards moved into 816 North 6th Street,
where they remained for some three years . Later there was another
move, to 321 Vine Street, and in 1865 to 830 North 6th Street, Ab
bey's last and longest Philadelphian home, and the house from
which, as we shall see, he set forth to earn his living in New York.
A letter to him, in 1901 , from a lady who remembered him as a
very small child and wished, in his later triumphant days, to feli
citate with him on his success, tells of very early artistic efforts.
"If I also were an artist," she wrote, "I would draw you a picture
of a two-year-old baby sitting in a high chair with pencil and paper,
drawing omnibuses. On the opposite side of the room a lady em
broidering; close beside the baby a little girl attentively watching
the baby artist, ever ready to obey the demand of 'More paper,
Emma, 'and to huntand sharpen lost pencils. Thebabywasyour-
* In 1918 a collection of letters written by E. A. Abbey the second, to his parents, from \
camp and from the Flanders and French fronts, was published by the Houghton Mifflin
Co., under the title : An American Soldier.

CHILDHOOD
self, the lady was your mother, and the little girl was I." To de
lineate omnibuses at two is to exceed the precocity even of that
other Philadelphian painter (who was to become not only R. A. but
P.R.A.),BenjaminWest,who,itwillberemembered,asasmallboy did not wait for the attentions of any Emma , but himself pulled hair
from the cat's tail to make a brush.
The only other incident of Abbey 's childhood that I can recover
is one of which he himself used often to tell. Having contracted a
habit of dealing more daintily with his food than his mother thought
well for a little boy, he was admonished by her, before accompany
ing her on a visit to some relatives , to remember his manners , and in
their house, at any rate, on no account to pick and choose. Nor did
he . A glass of milk being given him with, all unknown to the giver,
a large fly struggling in it, he was for postponing the refreshment;
but on a nudge from his mother, who also had not seen what her
son was only too conscious of, he dutifully drank it down , fly and all .
The first school which Abbey and his brother attended was at the
south-east corner of Green and Dillwyn Streets , kept by M rs . Eliza
beth Hall. Thatwas between 1859, when Ned was seven,and 1862.
The two boys then moved on to the Randolph and the Jefferson,
two of Philadelphia's public schools, and in 1864 to Henry Gre
gory's at 1 108 Harbel Street. Gregory, who afterwards became
Vice-President of Girard College , was assisted by his son , till lately
a Professor at the University of Leipsic; by De Benneville K. Lud-
wig,who became principal of the Rittenhouse Academy; and by the
late Gerald F. Dale, who died as a missionary in India.
In a letter written in 1907 to Mr. G. H. Putnam, in relation to
some misleading statements which had found their way into print,
and to which we shall come later, Abbey wrote thus of these early
days: "My mother was a very well-read woman, who, early in my
life, as long as my memory goes back, did what she could to develop
and guide my tastes — primarily my literary tastes. She carefully
preserved my childish essays in drawing, but this predilection of
mine amounted to nothing until I was fifteen or sixteen years of age.
My father, who was then engaged in an agency for yellow pine tim-
4

E. A. ABBEY, A TWO-YEAR-OLD BABY SITTING IN HIS HIGH CHAIR, WITH PENCIL.
FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE.

ISAAC WILLIAMS
ber and tobacco, naturally suffered much from the war financially.
But although he was a poor man he always managed to buy good
books, and he sent my brother and myself to what was considered
the best classical school in Philadelphia at that time (Henry D . Gre
gory 's), hoping that we should enter the University of Pennsylvania
and adopt a profession. This my brother did. I was a disappoint
ment as a schoolboy."
To what extent it was a blow to Mr. and Mrs. Abbey that their
son could not take up the calling of a minister in the Episcopal
Church, of which they were members, I cannot say; but they seem
to have thrown themselves into his alternative and more congenial
career very warmly. "On Saturdays," he says in the same letter,
"from the time I was fourteen years old, I went to the studio of
an old landscape painter to take drawing lessons. I was never a
clever student, but all this time my mother was steadily directing
my reading and interesting herself in my artistic development."
The landscape painter was Isaac L. Williams, who, having been
born in 1817, was at that time, circa 1866, only forty-nine, but to
the eyes of fourteen forty-nine can be tragically venerable. He lived
to merit his pupil 's adj ective more thoroughly , surviving until 1895.
Except for a brief visit to Europe, Williams spent his whole life in
Philadelphia — in his earlier days painting portraits and in his latter
country scenes.
Nothing that Abbey did under Isaac Williams' tuition has been
preserved, but we knowthat he had to copy unexciting landscapes
by this Master, and that he detested the operation. There are,
however, extant various examples of a more frivolous development
of his artistic energy at this time, and we have the advantage of
being able to draw upon the memory of another Ameriqan artist
and very early friend of Abbey's — Mr. Will H. Low — in order to
see a little more of his boyish days. In an address delivered on
February 12th, 1912, before the Contemporary Club at Philadel
phia, in honour of two distinguished members recently dead —
Edwin Austin Abbey and Howard Pyle — Mr. Low said: "It is a
far call back to 1 867 , when the name of Ned Abbey first swam into 5

WILL H. LOW
my ken . It was not under that name, however , that I first knew him .
I was a small boy in Albany, devoted, as were most of my genera
tion, to the literature of 'Oliver Optic,' and was a subscriber to his
magazine. Included in the varied contents of this magazine was a
department called ' Our Letter-Box, 'which had tempted my youth
ful pen to write, to send illustrated rebuses, and to confide descrip
tions of my kiddish activities to the sympathetic ear of its editor. I
was soon rewarded by seeing my name in print, or rather the name
I had chosen, 'Ned Sketchley'; some of my proffered contribu
tions were printed; and, highest reward of all, the great 'Oliver Op
tic' wrote me a charming personal letter, which was soon followed
by his stopping, when passing through Albany on a journey west
ward, to see me. Soon after came a definite triumph, for the great
man dedicated one of his books to me."
Mr. Low's reminiscences may be interrupted here to say that
"Oliver Optic" was in real life William T. Adams (182 2-1 897), a
Boston schoolmaster, who edited Our Boys and Girls and wrote
more than a hundred good-humoured and healthy books for chil
dren. And now we return to Mr. Low: "At the period when these
honours were showered upon me I saw frequently in the corres
pondence department of Our Boys and Girls figure the name of
'Yorick.' Soon after I received, through the intermediary of ' Oli
ver Optic,' a letter duly addressed to ' Ned Sketchley,' and from
it I learned that ' Yorick' screened the personality of one Edwin
A. Abbey, who resided in Philadelphia. There then ensued a fre
quent correspondence. I wish that I could now lay my hands on
some of those early letters, and, above all, on some of the drawings
with which, to the number sometimes of a dozen, they were laden.
They have all disappeared, as I reluctantly assured myself not long
ago, but at one time I must have been in possession of the largest
collection of Abbey's works that has ever been gathered together.
We wrote assiduously, and I learned that our life stories, so far as
they had then proceeded, were very similar. We criticised each oth
er's work. I still remember keenly his demand: T wish you would
send me some decent sketches,' to which I probably replied in kind.
6

E. A. ABBEY, W. B. ABBEY AND THEIR MATERNAL GRANDMOTHER.
FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE.

THE RAMBLER SKETCH CLUB
"Finally I wearied of this long-distance communication, and, the
consent of my indulgent parents having been obtained, I wrote my
friend an invitation to come and visit at my home in Albany. This
he did, but first it was necessary that we should provide some means
of recognising each other, for it was planned that I should go down
on the day boat on the Hudson and meet him at Poughkeepsie upon
the boat which was coming up the river on the same day. I have
forgotten the details of the plan I devised, but it was effective, and
we had no difficulty in our mutual recognition.
"In Albany he found company to his liking. With two boyish
comrades a sketching club had been formed, and not long ago I
found a list inscribed: 'Rambler Sketch Club. Members: Walter
L. Palmer, Herbert M. Lawrence, Will. H. Low. Hon. Members:
Oliver Optic, Edwin A. Abbey.'
"Walter L. Palmer (b. 1854) is, of course, now well known as a
painter of snowy landscapes, and Herbert Lawrence has since done
much good interior decoration of an ornamental character.*
"My first visit to Philadelphia soon followed, and the hospita
lity of Abbey's parents was as freely bestowed upon me as his own
winning disposition had made him welcome in my home by mine.
In his company we haunted the permanent collection of pictures
in the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, and he took me to the
studio of one of the resident painters, named Isaac Williams. . . ."
Before leaving "Oliver Optic's" share inAbbey's artistic begin
nings, it should be said that after Abbey's death there was some
correspondence in the New York Sun on his contributions to Our
Boys and Girls, suggesting that he may have had two pseudonyms.
"Salt Point," who had also been one of the contributors to the
Rebus department, and who had met Mr. Adams not long before
his death, wrote thus: "The old gentleman remembered my name
and pen name and, though then over seventy, called off the names
and pen names of many others. It was then for the first time, of
course , that I knew that ' Rusticus ' of Our Boys and Girls was Edwin
* Mr. Palmer, who still lives at Albany, possesses a little sketch-book into which he
pasted drawings made by Abbey in those early days. Most of them are dated 1868. 7

"OLIVER OPTIC"
A. Abbey." This letter brought another from "L.G.," Cincinnati,
of which the larger part follows : " S eeing the letter in The Sun from
'Salt Point' in regard to Edwin Austin Abbey, I am prompted to
send you some first-hand information about the artist's first at
tempts. We two were both contributors to Oliver Optic's Magazine,
he as 'Yorick' and I as 'Wide Awake.' An extensive correspon
dence sprang up between us. My first visit to Philadelphia from
my Brooklyn home as a sixteen-year old boy was to see Abbey, who
took me to all the historic places, and I can see us now standing be
fore the iron paling and looking at Franklin's grave. Abbey was
jolly and hospitable. His letters were always profusely illustrated
with pen-and-ink sketches, mostly humorous, which I would give
much to possess now."
Ned remained at Dr. Gregory's school until June, 1868, when
he was sixteen, and not long after was sent to study penmanship
for three months under Richard S. Dickson.
So much for the first phase of his life.

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CHAPTER II
FIRST WORK AND THE PENNSYLVANIA
ACADEMY
1 868-1 87 1 Aged 16-18
Willard P. Snyder's Recollections — A Young Editor — Enthusiasm for Dickens —
Professor Schussele — A Student at the Pennsylvania Academy — The Pre-
Raphaelites — Arthur Boyd Houghton — Favourite Reading — Early Drawings
THE second phase of Abbey's career began in 1868,
when, at the age of sixteen, he entered the firm of Van
Ingen and Snyder to learn the art and mystery of draw
ing on wood for illustrating, the intention of his father
being that the boy should be apprenticed there until he was twenty-
one. The indentures, perhaps fortunately, were, however, not exe
cuted, and the youth was thus left free to listen to the call of New
York, when, not long after, it sounded.
The earliest of the recollections of Abbey , which very kindly have
been written for this book by certain of his early friends, are those of
Mr. .Willard P. Snyder, son of one of the partners in the firm, and
Ned's exact contemporary. "I first met Edwin A. Abbey," hesays,
"when he was sixteen. He was seated at a drawing table in the
office and not with the general staff of engravers in the larger room,
for his talents were already showing to exceptional advantage in
other channels. His work was to make drawings for school books,
geographies, readers, and spellers; while an endless chain of Sun
day School-book MSS. passed through his hands. Another part of
his work was to read the galley proofs and select the incidents for
illustration. Some he himself drew, others were given out to the
artists on the staff. In this way he acted in the capacity of what may
be termed an Art Editor." To be so soon entrusted with such re
sponsible duties as these shows us that the sagacity which distin
guished Abbey throughout his life was of early growth and even at
sixteen was duly appreciated by those about him.
Mr. Snyder continues: "The illustrated English journals were
at hand in the office, and he was soon busy showing them to me . We9

IMPROVISATIONS
were both at home with the men and their work, and conversation
went apace. . . . Before our first interview came to an end his pen
cil was moving over a blank sheet of paper on his drawing board.
In a short while it was overflowing with images and a sense of life.
I saw Chinamen, negroes, a mendicant, and a parson; then came
Uriah Heep, cringing and crafty, finally Mr. Pickwick, beaming
and very rotund, standing on a chair. It all came instinctively and
without apparent effort, full of easy gestures and simple piquancy,
a dazzling caprice of fancy. He began by placing the eyes first, with
full emphasis, the other features followed in the finest hair lines,
as well as the general outline; the mouth and a lock of hair would
receive some extra strength, and the work was done. It was plainly
seen that his mind was boring deeper than a mere effect of line or
colour, for there appeared first of all human emotion, with the ele
mental law of contrast everywhere in evidence as a vital point."
— This memory of the Dickens illustrations is interesting in help
ing us to the knowledge of the boy's literary tastes, too. All his life
Abbey was much under the dominion of Dickens, who, to a large
extent, in those early days, stood for England, and intensified the
English lure.
Here let me interpose Mr. Snyder's portrait of Abbey at seven
teen: "In appearance he was short and possessed unusual physi
cal beauty, the body and limbs formed for strength and symmetry,
the head and features were of the classical type and well poised on
a round, full neck; the complexion fine and clear, eyes brown be
neath brows low and firm; hair of a neutral warm tone, neither light
nor dark, thick and slightly curling above the ears. There was an
irresistible effect about his appearance that drew people to him.
His habits were those of a youth of an established family, and
in all things, under all circumstances, he acted wisely. There was
something of decision and reserved energy in his whole being.
His nerves were always calm, although within him was stored the
warmth of sunshine."
The Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts had at that time
as director an (Alsatian" artist, Professor Schussele, and it was de-
10

PROFESSOR SCHUSSELE
cided that Abbey, by becoming a student in the night class, should
have the benefit of more scientific tuition than Isaac Williams had
imparted. Mr. Snyder, who, as a youth, joined him in this enter
prise, again supplies reminiscences. " The Academy was situated
up a broad alley opening from Chestnut Street. There was a high
iron gate at the entrance, and the front of the Academy presented
the appearance of a Roman Doric temple , a long broad flight of steps
leading up to the entrance. After passing in through the vestibule
and signing your name on the register, you were in the rotunda,
a large high room. From the dome above, the light fell on the co
lossal group entitled ' The Battle of the Centaurs . ' This piece of sta
tuary was directly in the centre of the rotunda, and a low bench
covered with cushions formed a sweeping circle around it. There
[on the day of the two boys' introductory visit] we sat down to await
the coming of Professor Schussele. To fill in the time we looked
about at the large paintings on the walls, the busts of Roman Em
perors and the marble statues on pedestals; while over it all there
was a stillness: the smallest noise made an echo; it all seemed ma
jestic. Abbey pointed out one master and another to me, and used
a modulated tone; and I did the same in replying to him.
"Before very long a middle-aged gentleman approached who re
sembled Shakespeare; he came steadily toward us with fixed atten
tion, one leg dragging slightly, as he had had a stroke of paralysis
and used a cane for assistance. After the letter had been presented,
he asked to see our work . Abbey had a composition to show. There
were several Puritans and Indians in the composition; it was done
in pencil and sepia wash, on buff watercolour paper, with Chinese
white for the high lights. [I fancy it must have been an early ver
sion of the first Harper's Weekly drawing, described a little later.]
The Professor was impressed and took considerable time in exam
ining the subject. He told us to report to the Antique Class for
instruction. Professor Schussele, I should note in passing, stood
as a thoroughly trained exponent of the academic school of France.
Qrle taught the importance of truth , of going to nature for all things ,
even to the accessory data necessary to make a complete expression n

AN INDEPENDENT STUDENT
of an idea, holding that it was only by following these lines that the
picture could be made convincing. Abbey received instruction
freely and was in perfect accord with the teachingjip to ^that_p_oint,
but when it came to seriously studying the antique I was aware in
him of a lack of interest. I often wondered why the spirit of the
class did not move him, for all about he saw men and women mak
ing clever, bold studies from the antique; but he appeared more
in the attitude of an observer than one of the class. I do not re
member that he ever made a complete drawing in the class. ... In
the Life Class at the Academy he did more work, although I never
knew him to make an earnest effort to make what the student would
term a 'study.' While the members of the class were busy giving
the best they could to one point of view he would perhaps be busy
with a dozen sketches, some of them simply a part of the figure.
For example, I have seen him devote considerable attention to the
forearm and hand, with particular drawing of the veins and mas
ses of hair on the back of a hand. At the best his attendance was
not regular, but he always had a composition to show, sometimes
several.") As to these compositions, Abbey's brother remembered that
among the subjects were "Perseus Rescuing Andromeda," "The
Crowning of the Emperor Nero," "The Journey of the Queen of
Sheba," and a^scene iromMacbeth. In order tofithimself to cope
with the difficulties of costujne and so forth , Abbey j oined the Mer
cantile Library and became a very assiduous reader. Mr. Snyder
tells how he frequently found him there. "His memory was reten
tive, with a prehensile faculty to an unusual degree; he could look
through a book and get the vital points of interest just as clearly as
the fluorescent screen shows the coin in the pocket-book under
the X-ray conditions. It was not his habit to sit with a book for
any length of time; it was not necessary for him to do so, since he
had other and more direct methods." At this period not only was
the foundation laid of Abbey's remarkable store of information,
but he began to nourish his instinct, which later became very re
markable, as a reader. It is one thing to have a library, it is quite
12

ROSWELL ABBEY AND HIS WIFE, ELIZABETH TRUSLOW, E. A. ABBEY'S PATERNAL GRANDPARENTS
FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE.

B. R. HAYDON
another to know what it contains and to be able to go straight to the
right spot. This was very noticeably Abbey's gift. He used books
as though they were tools.
Apropos of that early reading, in a letter to his future wife, many
years later, Abbey recalls a period during these days when he was
under the influence of Haydon's Autobiography. " What a fusty,
f udgy place , " he says , ' ' that Philadelphia Academy was in my day !
The trail of Rembrandt Peale and of Charles Leslie, of Benjamin
West, and all the dismal persons who thought themselves ' Old Mas
ters,' was over the place, and the worthy young men who caught
colds in that dank basement with me, and who slumbered peace
fully by my side during long anatomical lectures all thought the
only thing worth doing was the grand business, the 'High Art' that
Haydon was always raving about ; and in my mild, willing way, I
rather believed it, too, because I was told it, and contributed to the
composition class my ideas of 'Solomon in all his glory' going out
for his daily drive in the park of the period, of 'Moses watching
Laban's flock,' and so on, and so on." But Haydon's rule was brief,
weakening almost at once and disappearing (as Abbey explains in
the same letter), when he came, in the Illustrated London News, on
the artist's demonstration of the correctness of the drawing in his
picture of Curtius leaping into the gulf: a loss of confidence which
was only too completely justified when, on coming to London, Ab
bey saw the original painting.
We must consider it more than a happy chance that led the boy to
Schussele's care, to be so early set on his true course. He himself
thought so too. When, on February 2nd, 1908, the Academy of
Fine Arts at Philadelphia conferred its Gold Medal of Honour
upon him, Abbey wrote thus to the President, Mr. E. H. Coates,
concerning his early training there: "An exile from my native town
for some twenty- eight years, I still cherish deeply the memory of
the days and evenings I passed at the Academy of the Fine Arts —
in those days in a transition state. I have seen a great deal since then
— and heard artistic theories propounded without number — but
the science of constructive drawing as taught by Mr. Schussele re-
13

THE PRE-RAPHAELITES
mains clearly with me, and is, in my opinion, as thorough and right
as a method can be. I have endeavoured through all these years to
carry out his theory (I have never studied under any other master),
and whatever of shortcomings is said to be laid at my door — and
alas! I fear this is not a little— I can truthfully say that I owe what
ever of science I have to the groundwork of advice I had at Mr.
Schussele's hands. It is the more gratifying, therefore, that my old
school has paid me the compliment of which your letter advises me,
and I beg to assure you that among the honours that have fallen to
my share this testimonial will hold a cherished place . ' '
A powerful influence at this time was that of the Pre-Raphaelites.
"Abbey's conversations, "Mr. Snyder continues," wereinlargepart
about the Pre-Raphaelite school and the leaders in England. The
movement there had gained great momentum, and in the whirlpool
of discussion Holman Hunt and Rossetti were the vortices of in
terest. This circumstance drew him to their cause : he was in full
accord with their doctrines . Hunt, Rossetti and Millais were names
he mentioned constantly, but when he spoke of Rossetti, it was
always Dante Gabriel Rossetti, in full — of his great power and the
unconventional treatment of his compositions. To a large degree
the romantic element in his writings had a deep influence , and nearly
everything that Rossetti wrote he accepted without reservation . To
show how thoroughly he absorbed the doctrines of the Pre-Ra
phaelites, on one occasion he took me expressly to see an illustration
by Houghton in an English magazine; the title was ' The Four Disci
ples.' There I saw the possible truth from the Pre-Raphaelite view
point. The long hair was unkempt and matted over their foreheads,
their faces were pinched with suffering; deep shadows lay under
their hollow, burning eyes; they were dishevelled and in rags. The
drawing was done in a masterful way. It was compelling and made
an impression that was enduring. Abbey contended that the view
point was justifiable, as it was the simple truth."
Of Houghton we find a passage in a letter from Abbey to Mr.
M . H . Spielmann, many years after , from which further quotations
will be made later. "I remember," he says, referring to the Art
H

ARTHUR BOYD HOUGHTON
Department of Harper's Magazine and Weekly, "Boyd Houghton
coming in and hearing that he had brought all his boxwood with
him; and it lingers in my memory that it was screwed together with
brass screws (ours were steel or iron). The quality of boxwood
made a good deal of difference, you know; if you drew a face or a
hand on a spongy bit it had to be plugged, and it was very difficult to
draw on the plugged bit. Houghton must have been on his way
home, for I remember one, at least, of his drawings before I ever
went to Harper's. I remember sticking up for it at the Academy
School in Philadelphia in the face of much opposition — a picture
of some Western children and toboggans. I remember, too, Elder
Evans of the Shakers coming down there and kicking up a row about
Houghton's picture of him, which had been reprinted in Harper's
Weekly." — Arthur Boyd Houghton was a powerful draughtsman,
somewhat severe in temperament, who is best known for his edition
of The Arabian Nights. He also illustrated Don Quixote, but most of
his work is buried in the files of Once a Week, Fun, the Graphic, and
other periodicals . He was born in 1 83 6 , and died in 1 875 .
Another passage in Mr. Snyder's reminiscences is striking: ' ' The
writings of Hamerton, Clarence Cook, and Eastlake were often dis
cussed. The last-named led Abbey to an exhaustive search on fur
niture of the Georgian period, and to exploring the antique furni
ture shops." — Here we see the beginnings of that interest in furni
ture, developing into profound knowledge, and leading to many
valuable acquisitions, which Abbey never lost, and which helped,
no doubt, to determine his trend towards the reconstruction of his
torical scenes.
In addition to his work for Van Ingen and Snyder and his Aca
demy tasks, Abbey made a number of drawings in a more popular
vein and sent them to Harper's Weekly, in the hope of adding to his
very slender resources . Many of these were no doubt returned ; the
first to be accepted was a full-page rendering of "The Puritans'
First Thanksgiving," published on December 3rd, 1870, when the
artist was eighteen. This was almost beyond question the drawing
that the boy took to Schussele on his first visit to the Academy. 15

FIRST HARPER DRAWINGS
Another early — possibly earlier — drawing, "Tracking Rabbits,"
was held back until December 20th, 1873. An interesting point to
note in "The Puritans "is the resemblance of the seated Indian on
the left to the seated Indian, also on the left, in the Harrisburg
rendering of Penn's Treaty, painted more than forty years after.
The child is father to the man.

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Tij rtrj (O Uv)«<0
-A,:) (.'¦*'* R»k/- <<<)

CHAPTER III
HOME LIFE IN NEW YORK AND THE
HOUSE OF HARPER
187 1 Aged 18-19
Out into the World — Charles Parsons — The Potter House and " Cousin Jo " —
The Lure of Music — Laborious Nights— The Firm of Harper and Brothers —
Journalists with the Pencil — Henry James on Abbey
ABBEY'S career as an artist began seriously when, in
February, 1871, aged eighteen — nearly nineteen — he
entered the illustrators' department of the publishing
firm of Harper and Brothers in Franklin Square, New
York. This step was made possible by the intermediary offices of
William Truslow,a cousin, and the high opinion of the boy's gifts
and potentialities formed by the firm's art editor, the late Charles
Parsons, who, on receipt of a packet of specimen drawings, had
written to Mr. Abbey in the most encouraging and confident terms
with regard to his son's future, and who was destined to be for
many years the young artist's friend and counsellor. Charles Par
sons, who in 1 87 1 was fifty years of age, had already occupied his
position at Franklin Square for eight years, and he was to remain
in it until 1889. Himself a landscape painter, he brought a trained
eye to his work as a supervisor, and much of the prosperity of the
Harper publications can be traced to his intelligence and zeal.
When the boy left Philadelphia for New York, Willard Snyder
went too; and this chances to be a fortunate circumstance for the
biographer. The two youths shared lodgings, living at 90 Morton
Street, just off Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn, a boarding house kept
by a Mrs. Birdsaye — drawn to this abode by the reason that Ab
bey's cousins, the Sylvanus Beards and their two children, occu
pied the whole of the second floor. Above them lodged Bleeker N .
Mitchell, an amateur artist, his nephew, Samuel Post, Abbey and
Willard Snyder. Mr. Mitchell was a cultured and travelled man,
whose room contained many relics of his wanderings and indica-
c 17

THE POTTER HOUSE
tions of his sound and catholic taste, and it was an advantage to
the boys to be made free of it. There they would pore over photo
graphs of Italy and pictures in the foreign galleries, talk, sing, and
play. Abbey ,whowasclever with thebanjo,hada repertory of plan
tation melodies ; and he was famous also for a wonderful somersault
with which he would bring a song to an end. "The rare physical
strength," says Mr. Snyder, "needed for this somersault explains
the mastery he had over things. It led him to trust wholly and to
have faith in himself."
But 90 Morton Street was not Abbey's New York home; it was
merely his lodging. His home was a short distance away, at the
Potter House, where he spent all the time that he could, and always
dined. Mr. and Mrs. Potter, their son, and their son-in-law and
their daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Curtiss, lived in very perfect
amity. Mrs. Potter had been a Miss Truslow, and thus was Mr.
Abbey's cousin; her daughter, Mrs. Curtiss, was then — and re
mained to the end of her life — Edwin Abbey's favourite intimate
among all his kin. Of "Cousin Jo," as he called her, he never ceased
to speak with the deepest affection. " She was my safeguard for many
years," are his words in one of his later letters. And again: "She
brought out all that was best of me in my growing years." Mr.
Snyder was also under the spell of Mrs. Curtiss, who must have
been a strikingly beautiful woman. He speaks of her conversational
ease and charm, her inherent loveliness of spirit and fine aristo
cracy of demeanour.
Mrs. Curtiss, he tells us, presided at dinner, with her young rel
ative on her right. Afterwards there was either music or cards or
both. Abbey carried throughout his life a detestation of cards, which
to him were an anti-social infliction. He therefore did not play , but
played instead, in those early days, a diabolical game of his own in
vention, which consisted in recording minutely everv exclamation
that the card-players uttered. These, amid indignation and denial,
he would read aloud when the rubber was done.
The Potter House was a musical centre, in a more serious way
than Mr. Mitchell's room, for the whole family were members of
18

THE LURE OF MUSIC
the Mendelssohn Glee Club, and Abbey, though he did not sing
in it, never missed a concert. Mr. Snyder recalls an instance of the
fascination of music — not quite of the Mendelssohn Glee Club or
der, butjmusifijvith more glamour — for the young artist. "It led
him, "he says, "once to follow a band playing in 5th Avenue. The
Seventh Regiment was marching up, and at the head was the band
of nearly one hundred pieces. I think Arbuckle was the leader;
he made use of a mass of woodwinds, and played marches of the
bounding, tripping kind, with frills and rocket phrases. ... As
the band passed, Abbey gripped me by the arm and I found myself
a part of the usual mob on the sidewalk following it. I hardly rea
lised at first his intentions , but after being pushed and hustled from
shoulder to shoulder for a block or two, I made an effort to get him
away; his only response was a firmer grip on my arm; he seemed
fascinated by the stirring music. It is the only instance that I re
member where external influences had an effect on him. When the
music stopped we turned aside, and I said, 'Will you please tell me
what ails you, that you must walk with a mob in 5th Avenue?' He
said, 'Oh! let yourself out, and don't talk like a book.' Then, with
a laugh he added, 'But wasn't it fine ! ' "
Referring to another of his early Brooklyn lodgings with some
Truslow cousins, Abbey wrote, in a letter to his future wife, "I was
an intensely shy boy then and used to go to my room after dinner
and work and read. Most nights I used to paint in water-colours, by
candle light, or draw my own beautiful figure in the glass — catch
ing awful colds sometimes , for there was no fire up there ... . Some
times I used to work nearly all night."
In 1 87 1 the firm of Harper and Brothers consisted of John Har
per, Fletcher Harper, John W. Harper and Joseph H. Harper, the
sons of John, Fletcher Harper, junior, Joseph W.Harper, junior,
the son of Wesley, who had died in 1870, and Philip J. H. Harper,
the son of James, who had died in 1869. The acorn from which
the oak grew was the partnership of John and James Harper, the
sons of JosephHarper,aprinter in DoverStreet, New York, in 18 17 .
It was in June, 1850, that the first number of Harper's Magazine 19

THE FIRM OF HARPER
appeared. The nominal editor was Henry J. Raymond, but its real
conductor was Fletcher Harper, who was then a man of forty-four.
Within six months its circulation was over 50,000; in 1853 it had
risen to 130,000, and the magazine had become a power. The late
George William Curtis took charge of "The Easy Chair" in 1853 ;
the late Charles Parsons was placed at the head of the firm's Art
Department in 1863 ; and in the same year Mr. Henry Mills Alden,
who until very recently was still editor-in-chief, began his long asso
ciation with the magazine.
Harper's Weekly was founded in 1857, also by Fletcher Harper,
and when, in 1871 , Abbey entered the Art Department, it was at
the head of American illustrated journalism. To-day it has ceased
to be except as a title incorporated in The Independent. Such are the
vicissitudes of periodicals !
Photography being then in its infancy and process-blocks having
not yet come into existence — the two inventions which make pos
sible the momently topical pictures in the morning and evening
papers to-day — it follows that Harper's Weekly had to depend up
on draughtsmanship . The draughtsmen drew chiefly on the wood ,
which afterwards passed to the engravers. To-day, to the regret of
many artists , wood engravers are difficult to find ; in the 1 870 's they
abounded. One has only to compare any volume oi Punch, say, of
that period with any volume of the same paper of the present time,
to realise that scientific inventiveness and artistic gain are not sy
nonymous terms.
What Abbey and his colleagues had to do for Harper's Weekly was ,
practically, to be journalists with the pencil. Subjects poured in,
just as they pour in to the desk of the ready-writer, and the artists
had to rise to the occasion in the same way. Artists are, as a rule,
dreamy folk who hate equally to be hurried and to obey instruc
tions too closely. But the artist who is also a journalist must either
be in time with his drawing or lose his job . And especially so in New
York. It was this training on Harper's Weekly which no doubt gave
Abbey much of his quickness, his instant mental and manual re
action and his sense of business obligation . Few artists can have had
20

ART AT HIGH PRESSURE
as well-ordered and tractable a brain as his; none ever had a readier
hand. The late Henry James — who, as we shall see, was to become one
of Abbey's closest friends — criticising, in 1886, Abbey's work in an
article of great discernmentjdevelopsthispoint. "For us, "he wrote,
"no artistic genius that our country has produced is more delight
ful than Mr. Abbey's; so, surely, nothing could be more character
istically American than that it should have formed itself in the con
ditions that happened to be nearest at hand, with the crowds, streets
and squares, the railway stations and telegraph poles, the wondrous
sign-boards and triumphant bunting of New York for the source
of its inspiration, and with a big hurrying printing-house for its
studio. If to begin the practice of art in these conditions was to in
cur the danger of being crude, Mr. Abbey braved it with remark
able success. At all events, if he went neither through the mill of
Paris nor through that of Munich the writer of these lines more than
consoles himself for the accident. His talent is unsurpassably fine,
and yet we may reflect with complacency that he picked it up alto
gether at home. If he is highly distinguished, he is irremediably
native, and (premising always that I speak mainly of his work in
black-and-white) it is difficult to see, as we look, for instance, at the
admirable series of his drawings for She Stoops to Conquer, what
more Paris or Munich could have done for him. There is a certain
refreshment in meeting an American artist of the first order who
is not a pupil of Gerome or Cabanel."

CHAPTER IV
IN HARPERS' ART DEPARTMENT
1 87 1 Aged 18-19
An Autobiographical Letter — The Art Staff at Franklin Square — C. S. Reinhart
— Winslow Homer — Gilbert Gaul's Recollections — Will H. Low's Recollections
— Abbey's First Magazine Drawings — A Scrap-book — The Great English Illus
trators — Millais' Tribute
ABBEY'S early career in New York falls into three divi
sions: the period from 1871-1874, when he was work
ing in the "Office"; the period 1 874-1 875, when he set
up a studio of his own and became a free-lance; and the
period from 1875 to the close of 1878 , when, although still working
in a studio , he re-allied himself to Harpers '.
Of the first period we have some of Abbey 'sown memories in a
letter to Mr .M .H .Spielmann, called forth by some (as it happened,
lucky) inaccuracies in the proofs of a series of articles on himself and
his work in theMagazine of Art in 1 898-1 899 .And here the reader's
attention is drawn to the vigour, clarity, and spirit of Abbey 's epis
tolary style, qualities which will be noticed again and again as ex
tracts from the correspondence occur to add vivacity to these pages .
"To begin with, "he wrote, "the 'Office 'at Franklin Square, aswe
used to call it, was the dumping ground of the entire illustrated and
foreign press This mass of material— even in 1 87 1 —was prodigious ;
what it must be now — if the same custom is kept up — 'passes' me;
but one saw every week and every month all that was being done
—good, bad, and indifferent— and I was drawn to the English
draughtsmen in black-and-white of the time irresistibly. Reinhart
—the only other figure man then in the office — had studied in Paris
and Munich (he was ten years my senior) and had been introduced
by Arthur Murch to Poynter, Arthur Severn, and several English
painters, and had many legends of du Maurier and other men of
Murch 's circle— Leighton, too— which I listened to with eager in
terest; and in the pages of the English exchanges read with equal
interest descriptions and criticisms of the current exhibitions, so
22

THE HARPER STAFF
that when the Centennial Exhibition came off— in '76 — I knew
nearly all the pictures of the English exhibit — the modern ones , that
is — quite intimately .
' 'Alexander was not one of the staff then . I took the hard wooden
chair that had just been vacated by C . G . Bush , the caricaturist , who
had been its occupant for some years . Reinhart was there , Theodore
R. Davis (a war special), Stanley Fox and, a little later, Granville
Perkins — a clever marine painter in a conventional way, who had
been scene painter at the Havana Opera. The officeboy— just going
away — was a remarkable fellow, and was a really fine painter. He
didn't find his niche there — or anywhere else — for some time. His
name was Alfred Kappes. Kappes had compiled an enormous and
remarkable scrap-book in which were pasted nearly all the Walker
illustrations — and hundreds of others — from the Cornhill, Once a
Week, Punch, Fun, Good Words, Sunday Magazine, etc., and over
this I used to pore by the hour .
' ' Every one of the men I have named is dead . Extra times we used
to have in two brothers named Waud — Englishmen — A. R. Waud
and William Waud. By extra times I mean the Chicago and Boston
fire times , the July riots , etc . , when we used to keep it up all day and
all night, too. I have done thirty-six hours on end, but I've suffered
for it afterwards (cold coffee and a wet towel, you know) . Both the
Wauds are dead . William was in great req uest by architects . H e used
to make perspective drawings in water-colour; remarkably good
they were, too.
"I remember very early in my career, when I was still backward
about availing myself of my opportunities , the destruction of a mass
of original sketches sent in by the specials during the rebellion.
There were literally thousands of these. A few were saved (by
Kappes), but the rest went to the paper mill. I remember a lot by
Winslow Homer, the most original and the most American painter
we have ever had . We were changingour room , and the opportunity
was seized of clearing out the litter. I wish I had some of it — now. "
Certain of the names just mentioned need a few words . Charles
Stanley Reinhart, who was born in 1844 and died in 1896, had been 23

A WARM RECEPTION
a landscape andgenre painter, but for many years worked as an illus
trator for Harpers ' . Some of his black-and-white was very brilliant,
in particular his studies of types . He resided in Paris from 1 88 1 to
1 89 1 . Reinhart never quite fulfilled the promise of his younger days .
-Arthur Murch was an English landscape painter , very well known
in London artistic circles, and a special friend of Fred Jameson, the
architect, who was to be so hospitable to Abbey in 1879. Murch's
widow, also an artist, married the late Matthew Ridley Corbet, the
landscape painter.— John W. Alexander (b. October, 1856, d. May,
1915) is the American portrait painter whose fame is now world
wide.— Theodore R. Davis "did" the Civil War for the Weekly.—
Granville Perkins (b. 1830), who is still living, is chiefly known for
his marine subjects-both drawings and paintings— Alfred Kappes
(b. 1850) became a genre painter of some popularity. — Winslow
Homer was sixteen years older than Abbey; he died in 19 10.
The earliest personal recollection of Abbey at work(shall one say ? )
in the ArtDepartment bears rather upon his sense of fun. It is sup
plied by Mr. Gilbert Gaul , the battle painter , who says that in 1 872 ,
when he was seventeen and a student at J. G. Brown's, he was sent
with a message to Charles Parsons. "It was," he writes, "a dreary
place, up a winding iron stair and through ill-lighted lofts to a lead-
coloured board partition, on the door in the centre of which was a
sign 'Art Department.' There was considerable commotion on the
other side of the door, I thought, but I proceeded to enter. I had
no sooner shown my head than a heavy hair cushion belonging to
one of the office chairs struck my head with a bang and fell to the
floor . Instinctively I drew back , using the door as a shield , and when
I again looked round it into the room everyone was at a desk and
working so rapidly and seriously that one would imagine there was
no other obj ect in life . ' The cat was away and the mice were at play . '
Oneof their number had left the room and my footsteps in the empty
loft had led them to suppose that he was retu rning. The cushion was
only part of the reception that had been planned for him.
" The man at the nearest desk to me finally slowly left his absorb
ing task and very gravely asked me my business. When I found that
24

INARTISTIC NEW YORK
the head was absent I suppose I smiled my appreciation of the state
of affairs, for the young man smiled also and invited me to wait.
This was Abbey, but I found afterwards that it was he who had
thrown the cushion."
All Abbey's old friends, it may be said, agree in noting the rare
union of fun and purposefulness which distinguished him not only
as a boy and a young man, but which he preserved to the end.
It was in his first days at Harpers' that Abbey again met Mr. Will
H. Low, between whose career and his own are certain affinities:
they were of much the same age , both had an idyllic vein , both found
subjects of the past more congenial than the present, and both gave
much time and thought to mural decoration. Mr. Low, however,
had this great advantage over his friend, that the golden years be
tween eighteen and twenty-five were spent by him in study in Paris ,
Abbey's unattained Mecca. "I remember how I envied you," he
wrote to Mr. Low, "when you came in and told me that you were
going abroad. There was I, stuck, doing three years' time." And
in a later letter: "It seems extraordinary that we ever survived the
artistically barren existence that once was ours in the early 'seven
ties. Our highest artistic treat was to buy a tube of Chinese white
atKnoedler's and as a reward to be asked up into the gallery, where,
after one , one saw Gerome 's ' Caesar and Cleopatra , ' ' Sword Dance ' ,
or 'Chariot Race,' and Boughton's 'Young Heir,' and many more
interesting and unattainable works of art."
The chief activities of the art staff under Mr. Parsons were, of
course, concerned with the Weekly. The Magazine being a more
leisurely publication, its illustrations were not produced under
the same high pressure. Through the pages of the Weekly, where
re-drawing and adaptation formed a large part of the draughts
men's task," it is not perhaps necessary to follow Abbey's pencil
too closely. But the Magazine and he were destined to be so linked
together for so many years that there we shall trace his hand to the
end: that is to say, from 1871 to 1909, when his last illustration ap
peared. "The first drawing," Abbey says, in the autobiographical
letter to Mr . Spielmann , " I made was one for the magazine . It was
25

ABBEY AS VICTOR EMMANUEL
supposed to depict Victor Emmanuel at the deathbed of Count
Cavour. I hope it may never be dug out of*its resting place. I stood
for V.E. myself on a chair before a shaving-glass."
Although this Cavour article, which appeared in the magazine
for August, 1 871 , was the first on which Abbey was set to work by
Mr. Parsons, one of his later drawings saw the light before it. In
July, 1 87 1 , had been printed a patriotic ballad by R.H. Stoddard,
entitled "When this Old Flag was New," several of the illustra
tions for which were, it is probable, assembled from stock rather
than made for the poem; but among those which we know to have
come from the staff, for the purpose, were two signed "C.S.R." (by
Reinhart), and one signed "Abbey." Abbey's depicts a review of
volunteers and has much spirit and drollery.
Truth to tell, the level of illustrations in Harper's Magazine at
that time was not high; that of the literary contributions being in
finitely better. This is rather odd, considering how superb was
English illustration at that time, and how quick the Americans were
to import and appreciate English books. For a surprisingly long
time it seems to have been held that pictures did not really matter.
But that Abbey himself entertained other views as to the desira
bility of the best drawing we know not only on the evidence of Mr.
Snyder, which has been cited, but upon that of a scrap-book of
his own, a more select compilation than Kappes 's, to which he al
ludes above, dating from those days. In this he pasted a number
of those black-and-white drawings in Good Words, Once a Week,
Cornhill, Punch, and so forth, which most took his admiration and
his imagination. It lies before me as I write, and it is impossible
to turn the pages without a thrill as one masterpiece after another
is revealed ; masterpieces not only of draughtsmanship , strong , ner
vous, and essential, but of wood engraving too. The artists repre
sented are G. J. Pin well, William Small, Fred Walker, Millais, and
Charles Keene, and though Abbey was the direct derivative of no
one, but a sensitive student of the best of all his forerunners, one
can feel here and there how deep an impression this drawing and
that must have made upon him. It chanced that on the same day
26

E. A. ABBEY'S FIRST AND SECOND DRAWINGS FOR HARPER'S MAGAZINE
In compliance with the Artist's wish, as expressed in his letter on the opposite page, this draw
ing was not to be dug out of its resting-place ; but towards the end of 1919 the following in
scriptions, set down in his own hand (no doubt in the early part of the last year of his life) were
discovered in his copy of Harper's Magazine written very distinctly in pencil on the margins
of the reproductions of the first and second drawings which he made for the Magazine. This
seemed to remove the objection to reproducing them here.
1. " THIS IS THE FIRST DRAWING I MADE AT HARPERS— [SIGNED] EDWIN A. ABBEY."
2. " THIS IS THE SECOND DRAWING I MADE AT HARPERS— I THINK IN JANUARY, 1871—
[SIGNED] E. A. ABBEY."

COUNT CAVOUR, ,AND THE UNIFICATION OF ITALY.

345

THE umfl AT THE DEATU-IiED OF OAVOUR.

'AND OENF.KAt. MU8TEE-DAT.'

THE ENGLISH MASTERS
on which Mrs . Abbey showed me this scrap-book came a letter from
Mr. Will H. Low reverting to his intimacy with Abbey at the time
that the book was in the making, and recording a discussion of
which the genius of Keen£ and du Maurier was the subject: " I
being champion of the merits of du Maurier, based upon a love
which I have never outgrown for his 'divinely fair' and more than
' divinely tall' maidens , and Ned somewhat scorning these and filled
with admiration for Keene's wonderful grasp of character." Ab
bey's thoughts must have returned to this scrap-book when, in
1889, after gaining the First-Class Medal for his black-and-white
drawings at the great Paris Exhibition , he read in a French critici sm
of his work, "II continue ainsi dignement les traditions des fameux
dessinateurs d'outre Manche: des Fred Walker, desPinwell, des
Millais, et des Keene."
In turning these pages and lingering upon the drawings that are
signed with the initial "M" I like to remember that less than twenty
years after (as is recorded again later in this book), Millais gave it
as his opinion that a certain American artist named Abbey, who
had settled in Europe, should be elected to the Royal Academy on
the strength of his black-and-white work alone.

CHAPTER V
IN HARPERS' ART DEPARTMENT
1872-74 Aged 19-22
Charles Mente's Recollections— Charles Parsons as a Martinet— Abbey's Pur
posefulness— An Illustrator's Versatility— J. E. Kelly's Recollections— A Glimpse
of the Promised Land — Herrick and Shakespeare
THE recollections of Abbey and Harpers' Art Depart
ment, which Mr. Charles Mente, the artist and an old
colleague, has written for this work date from 1872.
WritingtoMr. Spielmann, Abbey says that "he utilised
Charles Mente — as good-natured a chap as ever breathed, and a
very good painter at this writing [1899], for all sorts of things.
Our way — as a rule — was to hand the block to the next chap, and
tell him to 'just run me in, like this ' — striking the pose oneself.
It was all on that dreary wood, and nine times out of ten bits of
the block would be in the engraving room."
"Abbey," writes Mr. Mente, "was always a hard worker and
student, often working at home at night as well as on holidays.
He was fine looking, manly, with broad shoulders, well built, and
beautiful teeth. Fletcher Harper, junior, remarked one day, 'I like
to see Mr. Abbey laugh, so I can see a fine set of teeth.' Models
were rarely used. The artists posed for each other here and there.
I often posed for Abbey, but Mr. Parsons never took kindly to
that, as taking up time which I should devote to the house of
Harper. He was a kind old gentleman, whom we all liked, but very
conscientious when it came to the interests of Harper and Brothers.
One of the artists caught a dying mouse one day in the office, put
it on his desk and started in making very careful sketches, when
Mr. Parsons showed up and remonstrated with him in a kindly
way about taking up time which belonged to the firm. The artist
tried to explain how usefully these sketches might come in, but Mr.
Parsons could not see it that way, so the poor mouse was drowned
after serving as a model. I mention this to show the discipline in
28

ADAPTABILITY
the office. Abbey showed his strong individuality from the start,
as can be seen by his early drawings on wood which appeared in
Harper's Weekly and the Magazine. You can spot them at once.
His salary in 1872 was twenty dollars per week, pay-day every two
weeks; but as we could draw on account if necessary, his envelope
was often rather slim on pay-day, as he would rarely hesitate to
pick up a costume or have it made, or buy a book or art publica
tion. His lunch would then often consist of half a pound of crack
ers for several days, and he would stay in for the noon hour. He
would sometimes get hold of Jones to pose for him at noon — this
was the letter-carrier who brought the mail around to us — and
in return Jones would sometimes get a sketch. 'No model to pay
and lots of fun,' as Abbey said, instead of tinkering over a block of
boxwood." Further light on the methods of these young men is found in an
unfinished letter written by Abbey to Charles Dudley Warner in
1894: "Whenlbegan todrawfor Harpers', an illustrator, although
he might have a preference, was usually prepared to undertake
any mortal thing, from the Bible to a catalogue of new designs in
stoves. He usually had an office in John Street, or Beekman Street,
or in some quarter affected by wood engravers, upon whom he was
dependent for commissions, as a rule. Here he had a small library
of illustrateiLliooks — Shakespeare, with John Gilbert's illustra
tions, Cassell's or Wood's Natural History, as many as he could
afford of the gift books illustrated by Birket Foster, and J. D.
Harding's Lessons on Trees. If he were pretty successful he had a
boy to run errands, whiten blocks, and so on. When a job came
in accompanied by a small parcel of blocks, the draughtsman, af
ter having mastered his subject, would turn to his library, turn
it over until he had found figures and trees suited to his purpose,
and copy them neatly upon the blocks before him. If he was a very
superior person he didn't do the trees himself, but farmed them
out to an assistant. ..."
It is in the Magazine for March, 1872, in an article upon the
United States Treasury Department, that we find thefirst drawing 29

J. E. KELLY
of Abbey, signed "E.A.A."and giving promise of his more serious
trend: "Washington in Consultation with Morris and Hamilton at
his House in New York." Other of Abbey's drawings in 1872 il
lustrate negro life in America, life in Japan, life at German spas,
life in California, life in Syria, discoveries in Cyprus, and so forth,
all.of course ,redrawnf rom photographs or other people's sketches .
But in September he had a chance to be himself and record some
of his own observations, in the illustrations to a description of a
trip on the Great Lakes, in which he caught very happily several
types seen en voyage.
Of Abbey in 1 873 we have a glimpse in the reminiscences written
for this book by the sculptor James Edwin Kelly, who was by three
years Abbey's junior. Mr. Kelly's recollections are concerned
chiefly with a slightly later period, but his first sight of his friend
and hero being in 1873, 1 quote the description here. "The first
time," he says, "that I saw Abbey was when he came bounding
into Harpers' Art Department, after a vacation in 1 873 . His soft,
light brown hair, his strong, beautifully modelled brow, gleaming
brown eyes, straight nose with sensitive nostrils, mobile, flexible,
merry mouth, and his smile showing his bright white teeth, won
me at once. On studying him he grew upon me. His complexion
was pure, the colour of ivory, as were his shapely high-bred hands.
He was short, slight, and well set up. He seemed bright, brilliant,
and joyous, and that impression has never been effaced. We soon
got acquainted, and I found his soft voice added to his charm. I
can understand that in his future career it must have won him
many hearts."
In 1873 Abbey, although London was still unknown to him, did
not hesitate to illustrate for the Magazine a series of anonymous
descriptions of life in that city. His sketches have spirit, but
naturally they lack authenticity. One of the articles treats of the
artists' quarters, and we imagine with what feeling the young rest
less draughtsman, whose thoughts were so often with the English
masters, read the text. Such a passage as this, for example, on
the district about Newman Street, where he was afterwards to
30

A VERSATILE ILLUSTRATOR
have a lodging of his own, must have been more than exciting: "In
this network of streets is your true Bohemia. In the dingy first
floors of these houses what dreams have been dreamed by young
Salvator Rosas coming to town for the first time! The British stu
dent looks to this metropolis as the Italian to Rome —
And at night along the dusty highway near and nearer drawn,
Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a dreary dawn,
And his spirit leaps within him to be gone before him then,
Underneath the light he looks at, in among the throngs of men.
— What pictures he will paint ! What Academy honours he will
win ! What lasting fame he will achieve ! How sternly he will set
about correcting the public taste so notoriously degraded !"
In the Magazine for 1874 and 1875 we find many significant
things, all done earlier. Late in 1874, Abbey, as we are about to
see, left the firm to become an independent draughtsman. A sur
vey of the illustrations in 1874 throws light on the diversity of Ab
bey's tasks. We find, signed by him, views of Martinique, a por
trait of William Barnes, the Dorsetshire poet, and various Dor
setshire relics, a view of Cape Horn, scenes in Bermuda, scenes
in the Faralla Islands, sketches of women flower-sellers, a snowy
landscape to illustrate a poem by Mary Mapes Dodge, a comic
Irishman to illustrate a poem by R. H. Stoddard, sketches for an
article on the boundary line between America and Canada, types
of railroad men in America, and a view.of a giant tree at Nassau.
Photographs again, no doubt, formed the basis of most of this
work. This year, 1874, saw Abbey's first publicly exhibited water-)
colour, "Rustics Dancing in a Barn," which was hung in the Ame
rican Water Colour Society's Exhibition.
But the most interesting of Abbey's contributions to Harper's
in 1874 nave Yet t0 be named: his first effort both with Shake
speare and with Herrick — two authors with whose names he was to
be so closely associated. But whereas his first Herrick drawings
were serious, his first dealings with the dramatist were frivolous.
The famous illustrator of Shakespeare's "Comedies" and "Trage- 31

FIRST HERRICK DRAWINGS
dies," whose drawings were to shed such distinction on Harper s
Magazine for many years, began his Shakespearean career in its
pages with a travesty. The May number of Harper's, 1874, is not
able for containing the first of the Herrick drawings — illustrating
"Corinna's Going a-Maying." Mr. Kelly tells us that the sugges
tion — a very fruitful one — came from Mr. Alden. Since it is Ab
bey's work on Herrick that led to his visit to England in 1878, and
determined the main course of his career, this early example of his
most characteristic work in pen and ink is very noteworthy; and
not the less so because the same poem served him as the subject of
his first oil painting, in 1890, "May Day Morning." When, how
ever, the edition of Herrick was published in 1882, these Corinna
drawings were replaced by others. Abbey's most interesting con
tribution to Harper's in 1875 — done probably in 1873 or T^74 —
was a series of illustrations to the famous story of "The Three
Bears," as extracted from Southey's Doctor. They are a proof that,
had he so wished, he could have been one of the most acceptable
illustrators for children. We find him more in his later style in the
drawings of "Major Pitcairn Stirring his Brandy" in an article on
"The Concord Fight" later in the year.

CHAPTER VI
A FREE-LANCE IN NEW YORK
1 874-1 875 Aged 22-23
Departure from the Art Department — Mr. Kelly's Recollections — The 35 Union
Square Studio — Historical Drawings — A. W. Drake — W. H. Carroll's Recollec
tions — A Merry Studio — Dickens' Christmas Stories — The Blackburn Exhibition
of English Draughtsmen — The Old University Building — " The Stage Office" —
Winslow Homer — Mr. Kelly's Tribute
ABBEY was paid 15 dollars a week during his first year
at Harper's, 187 1 -1872; 20 dollars a week for the second
year, 1 872- 1873; and 35 dollars a week, or, in English
money, at the rate of ^350 per annum, during his third
year, 1873-1874. It was at the close of this third year that he came
to the decision that he could earn more money , and certainly do his
powers more justice, if he exchanged the routine of the Art Depart
ment for the independence of a private studio, and put his talents
on an open market. This would be a bold step for so young a man,
but he took it. With all his modesty, Abbey never lacked courage,
and he had long been curiously mature in judgment; moreover,
there was a spice of adventure to the plan. Having made up his
mind, he acted quickly, according to his custom through life, and
took a studio at No. 35 Union Square, on the top floor front, young
Kelly joining with him. Here he was prepared to make drawings
not only for the Harpers, whose good will he preserved, but for
Scribner's Monthly Magazine too, and for anyone else. Although
this seemed to him the wisest course, it was not pursued without
difficulties. Writing some years after, he says, "That time I left
Harpers and had to go to other publishers for work, I nearly died
of sheer shyness."
The circumstance that Mr. Kelly joined in the enterprise is for
tunate, for his recollections illumine those days. "Abbey," he
writes, "came to me and said that he was going to leave because
Harpers would not give him 40 dollars a week. He said he was
going to set up a studio, and asked me to go with him. I jumped
at the opportunity, and was for leaving at once without consult-
D 33

INDEPENDENCE
ing anybody, but he said I must get a release. I asked Mr. Parsons
to let me go. He said, 'If you want to go with Abbey you will not
be happy here,' so he wrote out a release. In the fall of 1874
Abbey hired a small room at 35 Union Square. The building was
originally the home of the Townsend family, and it bore in its con
struction evidence of past dignity: a high brown stone stoop, pil
lared entrance, broad halls, etc. It had been turned into business
offices, and the top floor cut up into studios with skylights. The
front was divided in the centre, the south one being Abbey's. It
was about 12 ft. wide and 18 ft. long. Two small round windows
like portholes gave a view of 17th Street and Union Square. The
furniture consisted of one fine chair, afine old desk, a model-stand,
a screen, and a grate with a marble mantel on which were an anato
mical bust and a plaster cast of a queer old horse. A partition ran
along the end of the room, concealing a coal-bin, and a lot of old
costumes. "Abbey never demanded anything of me, but my affection for
him made me not hesitate to do anything for him; so I arranged
that, as he had a reputation to keep up, and I had none to lose,
I would carry out the ashes to the street, get water from the base
ment, and go to the publishers as though I were employed by
him; while he was to sweep up, kindle the fires, and so forth.
"He must have been under a hard strain at that time, as he had
not much work, and what little money he had seemed to disappear.
Reinhart and I used to tell him about his extravagance. He would
smile, but never answer us. I found out later that all he could spare
he sent to his family and stinted himself.
"The first drawings I recall his getting were from Marvin, Art
editor of Scribner, Armstrong Co. It was a drawing of Icabod
Crane for a school book which they were publishing. My lanky
figure, long nose, and sunburned face seemed to suit the part.
They were also about publishing Bryant and Gay's History oj the
United States. Abbey was commissioned by them to make a couple
of large pictures: one was 'Columbus before the Council at Sala
manca' and the other was 'Endicott Cutting the Cross from the
34

A. W. DRAKE
King's Banner.' I posed for all the pictures, and Smith wick engrav
ed the 'Endicott.' This History, which ran through four volumes,
has probably the most valuable collection of artists and engravers
that has ever been gotten together in this country; and it is specially
valuable for the index, which gives the artist and engraver credit,
which was not the custom at the time."
The History reappeared in 1896-1898 in a new edition, in five
volumes, under the title, Scribner' s Popular History of the United
States, begun by William Cullen Bryant and continued and re
vised by Sydney Howard Gay and Noah Brooks. "The complete
work," says the introduction, "contains over 1,600 illustrations,
which represent practically every illustrator who has been favour
ably known for the past twenty years"— that is, since 1876. Not
only is Abbey among them but here also are many of his early
New York associates at Harpers', such as Winslow Homer, C. S.
Reinhart, J. E. Kelly, A. R. Waud and W. Waud, Charles Mente,
Alfred Kappes , A . B . Frost. Here, too , are some early topographical
scenes by Charles Parsons, while his successor in the Art Depart
ment after his retirement, F. B. Schell, is also among the artists.
Abbey's nextpatron,saysMr. Kelly, was Alexander WilsonDrake
(1843-1916), of Scribner's Monthly and St. Nicholas, and later of
The Century, who would drift into the studio, pace about the room
and pickup a sketch "as though he were inspecting old clothes.
He began by being very cautious, and gave Abbey occasionally a
photograph to copy on wood. After a while he gave him his first
manuscript, called 'A Middy in Manila.' It was written byJ.D. J.
Kelly, Lieutenant U.S.N. Then came a book on fishing to illus
trate, portraying a party of gentlemen, one of whom was Chester A .
Arthur, afterwards President.
"One day Abbey came in all aglow and bustle with the news that
his mother, sister, and cousin, Mrs. Curtiss, were to call and seethe
new studio . Then we started in and made the dust fly, and got the
room in ship-shape, so trim that we could not think of mussing it
up again by working. So wedawdled around, till at last they arrived:
his mother, short, dark, bright-eyed, and suggesting Abbey; his sis-
35

WORK FOR SCRIBNER'S
ter, as I remember, was lighter and suggested him slightly. Mrs.
Curtiss was dark-haired, bright-eyed, cheerful and merry.
"In the drawing of 'Mrs. Murray Entertaining the British Offi
cers/for the History, Mrs. Curtiss posed for Mrs. Murray; although
it is only a back view it suggests her charm. I posed for the offi
cers . For this beautiful drawing, which first appeared in Scribner 's
Monthly, Drake gave 25 dols., and retained the original. These
drawings, published in the January and February numbers of the
magazine in 1876, struck the pace for the other artists, who made a
specialty of illustrating the Revolutionary period . ' ' Another Scrib
ner drawing for July 1 876 — made in 1 874 or early 1 875 — which , cu
riously enough, was not reproduced in the History, and which fore
shadows the later work of the artist — almost indeed the latest work
— is the drawing of "John Nixon Reading the Declaration of Inde
pendence in the State House Yard, July 8th, 1776" — for this was
to be the actual subject of one of his Harrisburg decorations thirty-
five years after; and a comparison of the two treatments, so widely
separated in time, is interesting. The drawings to Edward Everett
Hale's story, "Philip Nolan's Friends, "were Abbey's last work for
Scribner' s Monthly. They have much spirit and show an excep
tional sense of selection; and the author was delighted with them.
"Abbey, "Mr. Kellycontinues," tried in every way toget thepub-
lishers to give me work,but theywouldnot trustmeas I looked too
young. But he always encouraged me to keep on. His criticism
and personality enthused me. He finally induced Drake to give me
some illustrations for St. Nicholas, which were pubhshed a year or
so afterwards. I find the following memorandum in an old note
book: 'July9th, 1875 — DrakegavemehisfirstorderthroughAbbey.
What a brick he is ! Love him as a brother.' "
Other glimpses of Abbey on his top floor at 35 Union Square are
given by Mr. W.H. Carroll, the artist. "I shall always," he writes,
"remember his kindly greeting. He was engaged in illustrating a
magazine article on General Washington, and that morning he was
disappointed by his model. I volunteered my services. The result
was that I, in the full uniform of General Knox, wept on Kelly's
36

THE UNION SQUARE STUDIO
shoulder, Kelly taking the part of the father of our country. While
Abbey was sketching he not only explained methods but spoke
about the importance of correct costume and detail, and also kept
up a fire of repartee with Kelly, who had hard work to keep up the
dignity of his part.
"This led to many visits, in which Abbey always invited me to
sketch from his model ,giving me his criticisms and often his original
pencil sketches after drawing them on wood. In Kelly's absence
he often spoke about the great trouble and untiring energy Kelly
spent to get the correct dress for his warlike studies, as he called
them, and would always refer me to Kelly for information on that
subject. 'And as for myself ,' he said with a smile, T never spare any
expense.' . . .
"Thestudio at 35, as I remember it, was of office-like simplicity,
littered with pamphlets, old reference books, magazines, a large
easel and a model-stand between two porthole windows, guns,
swords, and old army uniforms, and a few sketches on the wall —
one of Wolfe by Abbey. It was a workshop. It was very interest
ing to hear Abbey reading aloud a manuscript — himself and Kelly
acting out positions to illustrate the article — and then both sketch
ing different details from the same model, Kelly sitting between
Abbey's legs to get the same point of view.
' ' Often Abbey would entertain us by quoting Pepys' Diary . When
the unexpected cheque arrived for him it was always celebrated
by a dinner at the Everett or the Clarendon. His many visitors
never interfered with his work; he had the faculty of entertaining
and producing at the same time."
"Orders," says Mr. Kelly, "now began to come in. Mr. Parsons
sent him a commission to illustrate Dickens' Christmas Stories for
Harpers 'Household Edition. We had great fun over it. He would
read the story, and I would act out the character; and when I got a
position to suit him, he would call time and make the sketch. I sel
dom saw him make a composition. He would say to me, 'Stand this
way ,' and I would do it. Then he would sketch the figure on paper
or directly on wood . He would then sketch the companion figures, 37

ILLUSTRATIONS FOR DICKENS
and work in the backgrounds until the composition was finished.
I never could understand how he held them together. Of course,
when he made a subject for the editor to decide on, he made the
designs in the conventional manner. I believe I posed for all the
figures. For 'Old Scrooge' with 'Marley's Ghost,' he took me over
to the house of Mrs . Curtiss . He arranged the lights in the parlour
by darkening the upper part of the window, giving the effect of fire
light." The Christmas Stories made one volume oi Harpers' Household
Dickens, described by the publishers as "elegant and cheap, with
characteristic original illustrations . ' ' Nicholas Nickleby was given to
Reinhart , Pickwick to Nast , and others were done by Fred Barnard ,
the English draughtsman, whom Abbey was to know in London
and J. Mahony. Abbey's volume, " entered according to Act of
Congress in the year 1875 /'when he was twenty-three, shows signs
of English influence, Walker, Pinwell, Small and Keene predomi
nating. One regrets that the scheme of the series demanded so few
illustrations. An event of 1875 which cannot be overlooked is mentioned by
Abbey in the autobiographical letter to Mr. Spielmann. "It was
in 1875 ,"he writes, "that Henry Blackburn brought over an exhibi
tion of English water-colours — and a very dull lot they were — but
with them he had a lot of black-and-white drawings. The originals
of illustrations to Charles Reade's Wandering Heir, bv Fildes,
Woods, and Mrs. Allingham, and many very beautiful du Mauriers
— of his best time — before he had stopped using Indian ink. These
drawings were simply exquisite, and were a revelation to me. In
that same exhibition was a water-colour by Pjnwe.ll — 'The Great
Lady'; this appealed to me more than anything I had ever seen in
colour up to that time."
On leaving the Union Square studio, Abbey and Kelly moved to
the studio on the third floor of the old University Building in
Washington Square, since demolished. "It extended," writes Mr.
Kelly, " from the Square to Waverly Place, and was built of grey
granite, with towers and castellated roof. In it Professor Morse
38

F. L. LATHROP
had developed the telegraph; and, in many cases, the wires on
which he had experimented remained in position. There, too,
Professor Draper had made his first experiments in photography,
and had taken the first portrait in America. Old tin signs were
nailed on the walls, indicating where in the past had lived men of
national fame, in art and literature, such as Eastman Johnson,
etc. I remember Winslow Homer's sign still remained, although
he had removed to the Studio Building in ioth Street. And now
Abbey was to add another page to the hallowed memories of the
picturesque old landmark. It was here he found himself, and it
was here fame found him."
Mr. Low tells us that the scene of Theodore Winthrop's story
Cecil Dreeme was laid there. In an unfinished letter to Mr. Will
H. Low, written more than thirty years later, Abbey recalls that
one of the most interesting of his neighbours was Francis Lathrop ,
who occupied one of the University towers. "Lathrop," he says,
"had lots to tell me about Rossetti and Holman Hunt and Madox
Brown, etc., and had a water-colour copy of a Holman Hunt, and
was altogether wonderful to me, especially when he read all at
one go — and was much excited thereby — Browning 's 'Inn Album , '
which was published first as a Sunday supplement to the New York
Times. I remember his being given the very first bit of Stockton's
'Rudder Grange' to illustrate too, and how much I wished I had
had it to do. I never hear of Lathrop now. He isn't dead, is he?"
— Francis L . Lathrop , who died in 1 909 , was three years older than
Abbey , andbecame an Associate of theNational Academy of D esign .
In 1870-73 he was in England studying under Madox Brown and
Burne- Jones and working in stained glass in the school of Morris.
He was an illustrator, painted portraits, and designed stained glass,
but latterly confined himself to decorative work.
Mr. Kelly's reminiscences of the old University Studio are now
resumed. "Abbey came down one morning, with a boy carrying a
very small trunk, covered with cowhide. Some relative had given
it to him. Opening it he brought out an old Leghorn coal-scuttle
bonnet and a skimpy gown of the early thirties. They inspired 39

THE FIRST WATER-COLOUR
him. He set to work on his epoch-making picture, 'The Stage
Office,' showing a young girl sitting pensively beside a high desk,
with the little trunk at her feet. In profile beside her, a tall model-
face coachman in a long buff coat and top boots stood at atten
tion. The bleak office, with its notices, and little character touches
on the walls, all intensified the charm of that sweet young face.
On looking at her one felt, as he gazed into the big bonnet, as the
poet expressed it, that 'he was looking at beauty down a Leghorn
lane.' I posed for the coachman, and between times I worked on
a large black-and-white drawing illustrating Walt Whitman's poem
'The Vigil,' the centre figure of which Abbey posed for.
"We worked on our pictures for sometime; at last came the day
for the Academy to send for them. I urged him to let the express
go and put the extra time on our work; and we could deliver the
pictures ourselves. He finally yielded, and we gained a couple of
days, working till dark on the last day, when we started up Fourth
Avenue to the Academy on 23rd Street carrying our pictures. His
was the largest. His cousin Truslow and friend Post walked behind
us. "Delivering the pictures, we awaited results. Abbey went to the
opening. Next day he came in, looking a little earnest, and said
'I have sold "The Stage Office" for 300 dols., and Sarony wants to
buy your "Vigil" for 50 dols. You had better let him have it.' He
told me that the man who bought 'The Stage Office' thought it
was painted by an Englishman, but was glad it was painted by an
American. "We got the morning's papers, and began to read the criticisms.
All sounded his praises. This seemed to rouse him. Notice after
notice was read; each proclaimed him the success of the year. He
began to laugh like a boy, the happy boy he was. He would read
an article, or I would read one, be would then jump up, begin to
sing, or dance a walk-around . Some of the papers compared him
with Winslow Homer, to Homer's disadvantage. At this he looked
serious, then annoyed. 'I don't like that. I don't like that, 'he said,
and began to pace the room impatiently. Then putting on his hat
40

WINSLOW HOMER
he started round to Homer's. On his return he told me, 'Homer
seemed cutup over the article, and said, "All these years they have
been calling me a rising young artist, and now in one day they call
me an old fossil." ' Shortly after Homer called at the studio and
went over Abbey's works with great interest.
"Of course things in the large studio were not always at a high
tension. We had lots of fun. Abbey's cousin, Truslow, and his
friends Post and Mitchell cheered things up. We used to fence a
good deal and box. Post would sing and dance; Abbey, after hours
of intense application, would sing plantation songs and dance walk-
arounds, or, in a loftier mood, would sing old-time melodies; but .
his song of 'Maud' made the most enduring impression. As his
reputation advanced and his finances improved he was able to
gratify his tastes. He bought historic costumes and quaint bits of
furniture. The bleakness of the room disappeared, and cheer and
cosiness took its place.
"As a tribute to Abbey's historical accuracy Hartley one day
brought in St. Gaudens, just returned from France, who wished
to consult Abbey on a Revolutionary costume for a proposed de
sign for a statue of Sergeant Jasper. . . .
"There were very few models at that time, and they were a non
descript lot. Duffy — or Duff, as Abbey called him — was an old
fellow with a long beard, who lived till he was a hundred. Most
of the women would do washing or posing, whichever was most
needed . At last a lovely girl named Maggie Keenan began to pose for
the artists. Shewas tall, stately, and beautiful. Everyone respected
her. She posed for Abbey's picture 'The Rose in October.' "
We have read of Mr. Gilbert Gaul's first meeting with Abbey,
when the cushion was thrown. His second meeting with him was
in the University Building Studio. Writing to Mr. Kelly, he says,
"Abbey was at work from the model, and continued work, as he
always did, but this did not detract from the genuineness of his
welcome; in fact, it made one immediately feel at home with him.
Possibly," Mr. Gaul concludes, "it will give the best idea of Abbey
as I knew him to say that I never knew him to say an unkind thing 41

TWO TRIBUTES
of anyone, and I never knew an unkind thing said of him by anyone
else. He took a serious, kindly interest in everyone, and the world
seems to have returned it to him in kind. His intuition, his serious
thought shown in his work , his industry , also shown by his work , his
sound judgment in other things, and last, but not least, his lack of
egotism, would have made him great in any other pursuit chance
may have led him to choose. He was a great artist, and he was also
a great man , which is another story . ' ' When in 1 876 Abbey returned
to Harpers'his studio was taken by Reinhart, Mitchell, and Willard
Snyder. Mr. Kelly was asked to join them , but he now had thoughts
of becoming a sculptor and wished to work out of doors.
Let the following words from a letter from Mr. Kelly to Mrs.
Abbey in 191 1 conclude this chapter: "He was the ideal of my
boyhood, he had all the qualities that inspired my love and admi
ration, but, boy-like, I tried to hide the sentiment, fearing that it
might not be understood; till, as years went on, it became a habit,
and I hardly dared admit to myself how much I treasured his mem
ory. Yes, everything associated with him I have preserved, his
portrait at twenty-three, his sketch-books, a box of paints which he
gave me and urged me to accept Winslow Homer's offer to teach
me painting — even the little boxwood block he used as a hand-rest
when he drew on wood. These material treasures are nothing to
the memory of kindness and encouraging words which he gave me.
These, added to his refining influence on my work, make me his
artistic debtor as well. But his universal kindness was appreciated
by all. He fairly seemed to burden himself with the woes of others."

CHAPTER VII
RETURN TO THE ART DEPARTMENT
1876 Aged 24
A Growing Reputation — W. A. Rogers- — A. B. Frost — Abbey's Helpfulness —
Abbey at Twenty-three — First Decorative Work — The Centennial Exhibition
IN 1876 Abbey's work for Harper's Magazine — all commissioned
when he was still a free-lance — was v ery slight : some illu strations
in the April and May numbers to an article on Old Philadelphia,
by Rebecca Harding Davis, mother of the late war- correspon
dent and novelist; in the June number a spirited representation of
Richard Henry Lee addressing the Virginia Convention in 1775,
when the flames of war were about to burst forth — ' ' Give me liberty
or give me death! "; and in the July number two illustrations to a
ballad, by Paul K.Hayne, of Macdonald's Raid, showing a vast
increase in power and certitude. Some time during the year the
Franklin Square authorities realised that it would be wise to try to
claim the whole, or the chief part, of Abbey's services once more,
and they, therefore, made him so good an offer — 50 dollars a week,
or some £500 odd a year — that he did not feel justified in refusing
it , and once again , although in a more indep endent p osition , entered
the Art Department.
We see him at work there in this, his second, period, in some re
miniscences kindly written for this book by Mr. W.A.Rogers, the
cartoonist, who was by two years Abbey's junior. "All about the
domain of Charles Parsons," he writes, "were the marks of Abbey 's
buoyant spirits. In the coat room, on each hook or nail, he had
painted the legends: 'Ab.,his nayle,' 'Frosty, his nayle,' 'Perky, his
nayle,'etc, and over his own desk, suspended from a girder, swung
a trapeze where he sometimes sought relief from the monotonous
grind of office work. It was characteristic of Abbey that he must be
always either at work or at play. His enthusiasm for one or the other
never seemed to flag." "Frosty" was Mr. A. B.Frost, the disting- 43

W.A.ROGERS
uished American illustrator, who, born in 185 1 , was by a year Ab
bey 's senior . Writing in 1 9 1 7 M r . Frost say s that on recently visiting
the old quarters he found " Ab . , his nayle ' ' still there ; but it has gone
now. It is greatly to be regretted that Mr. Frost cannot find the
letters which he received from Abbey, most of which belong to the
early London days, and are illustrated. Only one has he been able
tofind,andthatisof an earlier date, October 17^,1877. Ittellsof
Sothern's success as "The Crushed Tragedian" in a marvellous
make-up as Count Johannes.
"I had induced Mr. Parsons," Mr. Rogers continues, "to accept
a sketch for a Christmas front page for the Weekly, and it had been
redrawn on wood in the office. On the occasion when I first met
Abbey he said, almost immediately, with a friendly chuckle,' Frosty
and I redrew that Christmas sketch of yours. We didn't know ex
actly what it meant, but Frosty said he didn't beheve you knew
either, so we went ahead.' Then we both laughed, and I felt we were
friends from that moment. From the foregoing it would be inferred,
naturally, that my first impressions of Abbey were of a humorous
nature, but such was far from being the case. In appearance he was
different in many subtle ways from anyone I had ever met. His fea
tures, while strong, were cut like a cameo; by force of contrast his
dark, deep-set eyes gave his face an effect of great pallor. And, while
he treated me with the utmost cordiality and used every effort to
put me completely at my ease and on a basis of comradeship, I can
feel to this day the thrill of an experience away beyond the material.
As I grew to know him better in after days, this feeling grew deeper
rather than less. It was all well enough, it seemed to me, for his
companions to call him 'Ned,' to laugh at his merry pranks and
funny sayings, but always, to me, his visible presence and what he
said and did seemed tobe the least of what hewas."
Mr. Rogers, who was then the latest recruit to the staff, quickly
discovered "how generously and with what patient kindness Abbey
would put himself out to help a youngster struggling to learn. It
will be necessary to explain here," he adds, "that a double page was
often made up of thirty-six small blocks bolted together. After a
44

DEVOTION TO DETAIL
drawing was roughly outlined , the block was divided into a number
of pieces, on which, if the time was limited, several artists worked.
Numbers of times Abbey and I sat together working on the figures
in a drawing, while Charles Graham or Theodore Davis ('Dory,'
we called him) drew in the architecture or landscape . I would draw
the figures in the middle distance and Abbey those in the fore
ground. Sometimes he would leave a figure roughly outlined and
tell me to finish it. Naturally I would demur — no, I couldn't do it.
Then he would laugh, hand me the block and coach me through
it. Often, as we sat there, he opened up some subject that would
broaden my horizon instantly — never any long disquisition, but just
enough to set me thinking on new lines. All during the year from
the autumn of '77 to that of '78 1 enjoyed these occasional meetings
in the Art Department and came in contact with the many sides of
his kaleidoscopic genius.
" To Abbey, perhaps more than anyone else, was due the intro- '
duction among illustrators of careful work from the model, and,
for all details, from nature itself. I remember one morning in the
spring of 1878 meeting him in front of the oldUnionSquareTheatre
in 14th Street. He was , as usual, dressed with the greatest care, but
in his arms he carried a huge wooden tub, out of which grew an
English ivy vine trained high on a wooden frame and towering far
above his head. This piece of artistic 'property' he had borrowed
from a florist on 4th Avenue, and was carrying it to his studio in
13th Street. Down Broadway, all unconscious of the passers-by,
he carried his burden; and when I left him at the foot of four flights
of stairs he looked back with a cheerful grin, joyous over the bit of
old England he had captured in the heart of New York. To anyone
who knew Abbey and knew how careful he was of appearances, this
little incident tells the story of his faithfulness in his study of details
for his drawings.
' ' One of the pleasantest memories of those days was the beautiful
friendship that existed between Mr. Parsons , then about sixty years
of age, and Abbey , in his early twenties. And while in artistic work
manship Abbey was exploring paths that Charles Parsons had never 45

HELPFULNESS AND PRAISE
trod, and trying new art methods which were contrary to every tra
dition that Mr. Parsons had been brought up to revere, the older
man was broad enough to see that Abbey's way led upward, and,
if he sometimes held the younger man back a little, it was generally
on some point of fundamental truth which only enabled him to get
a firmer foothold." — In a recent letter to Mrs. Abbey, Mr. Rogers
says further that he most vividly remembers Abbey's helpfulness.
"One of his most charming traits," he writes, "was his helpfulness.
There was no limit to the generous outpouring of his knowledge to
anyonewhohad thedesire to learn; and if one succeeded in produc
ing something he thought worth while, he would greet it with en
thusiasm. The first opportunity I had in Harper's Magazine was
the illustration of an article on a Brooklyn hospital. I made all the
sketches at the hospital and some of the finished drawings. The oth
ers were made by Abbey and Reinhart. When they appeared in the
magazine Abbey came to me, smiling all over, and declared that I
had made more of my subjects than either he or Reinhart. Now, of
course, it wasn't so; and I had no illusions about it then or since —
but Abbey said it was so.
"Then when he came back from England [in 1882] the first thing
he said to me, in the Art Department, was: 'Your pictures of 'Toby
Tyler ' have made you — they used to make me dreadfully homesick,
they were so true. ' But he did not stop at telling these things to me;
he told them to Mr. Parsons and the Harpers." Although we shall
return to Mr. Rogers' narrative, his last words may with more pro
priety b e quoted here : " One thing is stronglv consoling to me — it is
that so much of him was pure spirit that, more than almost anyone
I know, he lives on in the hearts of those who knew him well and
loved him much."
Reference was made just now to Abbey's studio in 13th Street.
But before he took one for himself alone he did some work in that
which Reinhart and Willard Snyder shared, Mr. Kelly tells us, ad
ding"! went in one afternoon and found them at work on panels
for the frieze for Harpers' reception room. Abbey was painting an
old-time wood engraver; the background showing a view of some
46

THE CENTENNIAL EXHIBITION
quaint houses from the window. He called out laughingly to Rein
hart, who was at work beside him, 'I've sprung a red roof on you.'
This was his first wall decoration, I believe." The year 1876 was
important to Abbey not merely for Harpers' re-recognition of his
value and its consequent stimulus to his artistic development, but
for the quickening of ambition which he found in the study of the
foreign contemporary paintings brought together at Philadelphia
in the Centennial Exhibition, and particularly those in the English
section. Again and again in after life he told of the disturbance and
restlessness which they set up in his mind and the immense fillip
they gave to his determination. To quote from the unposted letter
to Mr.Low, in 1908, which has already been so useful , the Centen-
nialExhibition , Abb ey says , was ' ' my great eye-op ener . That show
had an'Art Section' which was really a great one. England's exhibit
was tomymind by far the most interesting and inspiring — and I can
close my eyes now and see nearly every picture in it and its position
in the rooms: Leighton's 'Summer Moon' and 'House in Damas
cus ,' Watts 's p ortraits of Leighton and of Millais ; Fildes 's ' Casuals ' ;
Brett's ' Cornish Lions'; Pettie's ' Sanctuary' and portrait of Bough
ton, etc., etc., and they seemed to me infinitely superior to the
French show — with, among other things, Carolus Duran's 'Croi-
zette' on a horse, and Becker's 'Rizpah,' and other things in the vein
of the latter with which I had scant sympathy. For I had been an
omnivorous reader while at Harpers', and after that, too, perhaps,
and these English things told me something of the things I had read
about, and reflected the ideals of the country that interested me
so much. . . . The young men I knew — I didn't know many —
admired Fortuny and the various things we saw at Goupil's. I
admired some of 'em myself , but my heart lay with the English." —
That, it must be borne in mind, was written in 1908 , when from a
serene altitude the artist could look back on his career and see every
step of the way.
About 1877 Abbey's return to the Art Department began to tell,
and we see his influence very clearly in the magazine. Not only were
his own contributions stronger and more vivacious but the general 47

ABBEY'S INFLUENCE
tone of illustration was improving. Among his work are an admir
able series of drawings for a comic story for children entitled "Fizz
and Freeze"; three drawings from a poem called "The Deacon's
Lament"; and another set to illustrate a long poem by Troubridge
entitled "The Book of Gold."

CHAPTER VIII
THE TILE CLUB
1 877-1 878 Aged 25-26
An Epoch-Making Year in American Art — Influence of Paris and Munich —
Abbey and England — The Society of American Artists — The Fashion for Applied
Art — The Birth of a Confederation — A List of Sobriquets — A New Word and its
Coiner — William " Polyphemus " Laffan — A Week on Long Island
ABBEY was not alone in feeling the stimulus of the Cen
tennial Exhibition. In fact, the birth of modern Ameri
can art may be dated then, although where Abbey was
impressed rather by the classic English painters, most
of his young compatriots were more disposed to follow the influ
ence of Paris and Munich. No matter from what nationality the
impetus, the interesting circumstance is that in 1877, the year fol
lowing, the National Academy of Design, which corresponds in
America to the Royal Academy in England, accepted several large
pictures of native production but foreign in their character, which
caused one of those sensations that are of periodical recurrence in
the history of Art. Protests were raised, and the result was a cleav
age among artists and art critics from which proceeded the newly
formed Society of American Artists. Abbey belonged neither to
the Academy of Design nor to the new association; but his sym
pathies were rather with the parent body, as were those, among
others, of Winslow Homer and Eastman Johnson. The English
painters at the Centennial, and particularly the Pre-Raphaelites,
still held his allegiance.
Writing to Mr. Low many years later, on this very subject, he
said: "Taking all this terrifically seriously as I did then (I suppose
as we all did), some of the things you chaps admired seemed to me
almost wicked! I couldn't see the use of painting or drawing un
less we said something in a sympathetic way. I recall well at one of
the private views or something . . . that you pointed out to me a
head of a hideous girl and remarked upon its qualities. I couldn't
bear it! Then there was a dull little thing — a head that appeared
e 49

AN ART QUICKENING
to be done from an old photograph. It seemed to me dull and mean
ingless beyond expression. I was wrong, but I was young, and I
retired more and more into myself."
Mr. Low, however, does not seem to have thought Abbey either
wrong or immature. In a letter written in the spring of 19 17, he
says, "I remember on my return from Europe early in 1878 see
ing on his easel a charming water-colour of a young girl (leaning
against a stile, I think), replete with grace, in which I recognised
for the first time a new phase of his remarkable talent. ... It must
not be forgotten that however much his work improved, even to
the last, he went to England an artist formed. In fact, to the dis
cerning, to one like me who knew his work from the first, it is in
teresting to see through all its development the traces of his earli
est efforts: certain types portrayed with ever-increasing mastery
but observed or conceived in his adolescent years. Of course,"
Mr. Low concludes, " I recognise all that England did for Abbey
— including that last touching honour, to pause, in the midst of
war , to erect [this was in March, 1917] the memorial tablet; but we
did something for England as well in giving so gifted a being into
their hands — their generous hands, in truth."
Continuing his letter to Mr. Low, Abbey says, after the phrase
"and I retired more and more into myself": "I liked all you chaps
[the home-coming Americans with French methods]; you were a
breath of very fresh air, but I thought you should be doing some
thing else. That is probably what you all thought of me too, for
I wasn't asked to join the new society [the Society of American
Artists], for which I dare say I wasn't ripe." And, then, after re
verting to his English sympathies and the hold of him which the
Pre-Raphaelites had taken, he concludes, "Well, there it was ! The
things I enjoyed with my whole heart you didn't care for — most of
you in the least— and there it was. ' ' Had he remained in New York,
to take his part in this renaissance, there is no saying how he might
have developed ; but he was fated very shortly to emigrate to the Old
World , where he was thenceforward to live and work , and wherein
all his great career there was no halt in the progress of his art.
5o

WILLIAM LAFFAN
Many of the men who were thus suddenly to bring America to
the fore in the world of art were Abbey's fellow members in the
Tile Club, of which it is time to speak. The Tile Club owed its
existence to that wave of fashion for decorative art which in 1877
surged across the Atlantic from England, where William Morris
and De Morgan and Alma Tadema were working each in his own
decorative way, and washed the shores of New York. Rather taken
by this new movement toLget beauty into domesticity] a number
of New York artists, of whom Abbey was not the least enterprising,
met one evening and fell to an informal consultation as to what
might be done in New York. From their deliberations the scheme
of the Tile Club emerged.
Various suggestions having been made during the discussion(the
record, in Scribner' s Magazine, is from the pen of another original
member, the late William Laffan — an Irish artist and journalist
connected with Harpers', who, later in life, became the editor and
proprietor of the New York Sun, and was one of Abbey's closest
friends) , a " large artist of architectural proclivities ' ' settled the mat
ter. " There is," said he, "no object that so readily supplies this
deficiency (decorative utility) or that tells so on all its surroundings ,
asthe tile . Letus do tiles ! " Finally someone suggested : " Why sh ould
we not all meet once a week and each man do a tile ? ' '
"This was early intheautumnof 1877, when studios werebeing
dusted out and men were going around and smoking fraternal
pipes with one another and comparing notes about the results of
the summer work out of doors. There was more or less prelimi
nary talk on the subject, and it was finally agreed that meetings
should be held in one another's studios, every Wednesday even
ing, and that those participating should possess each in turn the
results of one evening's work. It was determined, in an informal
sort of fashion, to adopt the title of 'The Tile Club,' and to main
tain it as a body without officers, limited in the number of its mem -
bers to twelve, and to dispense altogether with entrance fees or
dues of any description. It was understood that the tiles for each
evening were to be supplied by the person to whom when done 5i

THE "CHESTNUT"
they would accrue; and the same person was permitted to supply
some other things, but under rigorous restrictions. Cheese and
certain familiar species of crackers were admissible. Sardines were
not prohibited. Clay or corn-cob pipes and tobacco and stone bot
tles of cider , and a variety of German ink notunknown to commerce
completed the list. . . . The tiles that it was decided to use were
those of Spanish make, of a cream-white colour, glazed upon one
side, and in size eight inches square. Designs drawn upon them
in mineral colours are subsequently 'fired' in an oven and perma
nently glazed in. This process changes some colours entirely and
it greatly improves the design by the brilliancy it imparts to the
colour and the manner in which it softens the outline. The first
meeting of the Tile Club was called and was attended by two per
sons, whose feelings may be imagined. They painted two tiles,
but as there is no record of those objects of art their authors are
supposed to have relieved themselves by throwing them at each
other. These two primeval tilers were respectively known as the
'Gaul' and the 'Grasshopper.' "
So far, Mr. Laffan. Here let it be stated that every new member
of the Tile Club had to drop his own name and assume another;
but whether he himself chose it or whether it was thrust upon
him, I am not sure. More probably it was thrust upon him. Each
member having acquired his sobriquet had to design a seal em
blematic of it. The " Gaul " was Gilbert Gaul, some of whose remi
niscences of Abbey we have seen; and the "Grasshopper" was the
late Swain Gifford, the landscape painter.
Abbey was known as the "Chestnut, ' ' and his seal was a burr sur
rounded by the word "Chestnut," the origin of this style being
explained by a fellow member, Earl Shinn (writing as Edward
Strahan), some years later, in an article to which we shall come
in its right place, but from which a little may now be quoted.
Honour where honour is due; it is to Abbey, even although some
what tortuously, that the use of the word "chestnut," as signify
ing an old, stale story— something that has been heard before — is
due. "We all," says Mr. Shinn, "have our titillable spot of vanity,
52

THE NICKNAMES
and Abbey, who thought nothing of many of the common sources
of personal pride, was probably a little vain of having added a word
to the English language." Although his conception of a chestnut
was different from that of the majority of us to-day, he it was who
led up to its present sense. Abbey's chestnut was a "spoof" story
— a story, that is, which went nowhere and never finished. It had
something to do with the number of chestnuts on a tree, and could
be carried on indefinitely, with endless ramifications, and was told
with a face of profound gravity , until at last the purpose of the nar
rator broke on the baffled and patiently expectant audience and
they burst into laughter. Before that moment, however, the more
astute listeners would gradually have stolen away to enjoy the joke
in corridors apart.
"This reprehensible hoax of Abbey 's was little by little quoted in
social circles as a symbol. English literary men who had heard it,
and been taken in by it, began to use the title in their writings as a
type of an endless or unsatisfactory yarn. And the word chestnut
crossing the sea returned again to the land of its birth and became
the accepted definition of what is tedious, old, and interminable."
— Thus do we find humorous artists also among the neologists.
So much for Abbey 's nickname. Among the others the "Terra
pin" was Frederick Dielman, the painter and one time President
of the National Academy; the "Puritan" was Boughton, so called
from his favourite subjects only; "Sirius" was Reinhart; Laffan,
having lost one eye, was "Polyphemus"; Arthur Quartley, the sea
painter, was the "Marine"; Julian Weir was " Cadmium"; Stanford
White , the architect , was the ' ' Builder " ; W . A . Paton was the " Hag
gis"; Napoleon Sarony was the "Hawk"; F. Hopkinson Smith was
the "Owl"; Frank Millet was the "Bulgarian"; Elihu Vedder was
the "Bishop"; William Chase was "Briareus"; A. B. Frost was the
"Icicle"; Augustus St. Gaudens was the "Saint"; and so on. The
list — by no means a complete one — is sufficient to show that the best
artists of that day were members of this very pleasant fraternity;
and since artists rarely refrain from talking shop we may be sure
that Abbey , who was among the youngest and most enthusiastic and
53

LONG ISLAND
impressionable, lost nothing by meeting so many brother-brushes
on terms of intimacy. Of the Tile Club men just mentioned three
or four were to become his close friends — such as St. Gaudens, the
sculptor, who, in 1877, was twenty-nine, Millet, and Boughton.
The painting of tiles was diversified by music, an innovation for
which, according to Laffan, Abbey was largely responsible. "One
evening the 'Chestnut' opened a piano, sat him down thoughtless
ly and played. This he did in an artless and simple style, so free
from the conventionality of the schools, and so fresh, original, and
unhackneyed in its quality, that the club was delighted, and the
'Gaul' left the apartment. To correct any false impression which
this latter statement might create, it should be stated at once that
he presently returned with a case, from which he took a cherished
violin. Nimbly attuning the same, while across hisamiablefeatures
there expanded a prodigious smile, he made it to discourse most
prettily a choice and pleasing ballad, whereto the 'Chestnut' affor
ded a discriminating accompaniment. From that evening music
became a feature of the meetings of the Tile Club . ' '
So much for the Tile Club in New York in its early stages. Laffan
goes on to describe it on holiday, for in the summer of 1878 most
of the members set out to discover Long Island, although Abbey
had desired the Catskills . On June 10th the party met at Hunters'
Point for a week's fun. One of the most interesting spots on the
island is Easthampton, where John Howard Payne, the author of
"Home, Sweet Home," is said to have been born, notwithstanding
that both Boston and New York also claim him as a native. East
hampton having become an established Mecca, the Tilers , although
far from harbouring the reverence proper to such pilgrimages, went
there , too . That they enj oy ed the j aunt Laffan 's record makes abun
dantly clear; but there is no space to quote it.
And here for the present the proceedings of the Tile Club cease
to concern us, for by the end of 1878 Abbey had left for England,
so that when , in 1 879 , the Club , with increased daring , hired a suit
able vessel, the John C.Earle, and cruised on the Erie Canal, he was
not with them. In 1881 we shall meet the Club again.

CHAPTER IX
END OF NEW YORK CAREER
1878 Aged 25-26
A Critical Year— Mr. Gilbert Gaul and Mr. Kelly — Theatrical Drawings — Mr.
Brander Matthews' Bookplate — " A Rose in October " — Abbey Decides for
England — Two Farewell Parties — Abbey and the Old Country
THE year 1878 was a critical one in Abbey's career be
cause it was then that he embarked upon so momen
tous an enterprise as a journey to England. The occa
sion for it was the firm's recognition that the Herrick
drawings had become sufficiently attractive to be worth fortifying
by authentic English backgrounds and atmosphere, together with
the immediate need of illustrations for an article on Stratford-on-
Avon; but we know that the Old Country had been luring Abbey
ever since the Centennial Exhibition in 1876. "I came," he said,
in a speech at a Pilgrims' lunch in his honour in 1908, "as soon as
I could— because a collection of English works of art was shown
at Philadelphia which profoundly impressed me."
Before, however, we reach the time for Abbey's departure, let us
glance at his work in 1878. In this, the last year of his New York
period, from February ist, 1878, he had a studio in the Y.M.C.A.
building at 52 East 23rd Street, opposite the National Academy
of Design — Room 25 — among his artist neighbours being Swain
Gifford in 26 and Louis Tiffany and William Sartain in 28. Im
mediately before that he had been at 51 West 10th Street, and it
was there that Mr. Gaul one day found him at work on some thea
trical drawings for Scribner' s.Monthly . Mr. Gaul's reminiscence
bears upon Abbey's powers of divided attention. "His work," he
writes, "was always a source of wonder to me, and one of the most
wonderful things about it Was the ease with which it was done —
thrown off without effort or any that was apparent. I found him
doing an illustration for an article on the stage. This article, though
unsigned, was by Brander Matthews, now Professor of Dramatic 55

THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
Literature at Columbia. Coghlan, then of Wallack's stock com
pany, was posing for a portrait in costume — blue satin with much
lace, I remember — and Miss Keenan was also there waiting her
turn to pose for one of his Puritan maids. At a table was a num
ber of men interested in a game of cards. Everyone was smiling
and talkative, except Mr. Coghlan, whose pose proscribed change
of expression and action, and he seemed to be the only person tak
ing life at all seriously. Abbey worked all the time, but it looked
like play. He kept in touch with the conversation, and often took
part in it, while at other times a quiet smile was the only indica
tion that he had caught a remark intended for him."
The commission is peculiarly interesting, for it is not impossible
that while Abbey was at work on the drawings(with sittings from
the performers in costume}- Charles Surface, Bob Acres, Sir Peter
Teazle, and so forth — he began to think with more seriousness of
the attractions of the eighteenth century in England, a period that
he was to make his own. It was a natural step — for him — from the
artifice of The School for Scandal to the fresher and more congenial
atmosphere of She Stoops to Conquer, with which his name is so
happily associated.
The New York theatrical drawings were republished in 1885 in
an edition of Sheridan's Comedies prepared by Professor Brander
Matthews, who, in his pleasant autobiographical volume published
in 1 91 7 under the title These Many Years, says that his friendship
with Abbey began at the time when the illustrations were being
made. "With his customary kindness," says Mr. Matthews, "he
offered to design a book-plate for me, if I could supplv an idea for
his pictorial treatment. I suggested that as I was an American in
terested in the drama he might portray an Indian gazing at a Greek
comic mask." When the book-plate was done Mr. Matthews asked
Abbey where he had found the Indian. He answered, "I posed an
Irishman for that. Irishmen make thundering good Indians."
A further reminiscence by Mr. Kelly shows us Abbey in his own
studio. "There I found him one afternoon [in 1878] at work on a
beautiful girl"— Maggie Keenan once more. The picture was "A
56

A SECOND WATER-COLOUR
Rose in October" in water-colour, and Abbey was painting against
time, for it was the sending-in day. "While at work on this," says
Mr. Kelly, " he seemed to be in a despondent mood. He said, 'I
have such a short stroke I feel as if I will never be a great painter.'
The critics gave the answer the next day, for the picture was the
success of the year."
Some correspondence with Anthony, the engraver, who was then
with Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., tells us that Abbey had ac
cepted a commission for the Boston firm to contribute to an illus
trated edition of Longfellow. "King Olaf's Saga" was one of the
poems, and we find Abbey writing, "I sometimes envy these fel
lows who can reel things right off — anything that comes in : fig
ures, marines, landscapes, still life, animals — anything in fact. I
can't find anything in the libraries that will give me that material
I want for the Swedish landscape and priests' costume, etc. If you
will kindly let me know of some work containing matter of this des
cription I will be very much obliged . Do give us something a little
easier next time . I think single figures in meditation , ' maidens fan
cy free,' etc., are more in my line."
The proposition for the great English adventure was formally
made in November, and this is Abbey's reply:
"My dear Mr. Parsons,
"I have thought very carefully over the project of my going to
London and the proposal you are so kind as to make me.
"I should like to go, of course — and I know it would be of great
advantage to me — but I think I would be doing myself injustice
did I accept the proposition as I understand you to make it.
"If I take the money you have so kindly placed at my disposal
(600 dollars) it would be a long time before I could hope to work it
off (at 50 dollars a page) , and the consequence would be I should be
always in debt , which you know I 'm pretty tired of. The next batch
of drawings I bring in will make me all clear — and I want to stay so .
' ' I have been offered a great deal of work of late at twice the prices
I receive from you, and in one case more than that, and to-day I
received an order from Cassell of London for two drawings which I
57

THE ENGLISH ADVENTURE
could have charged my own price for. These I was obliged to reject
because I could not do them with the other work I have promised.
"It seems to me that I should not go over unless I received in ad
vance what it would cost me to make the change — say 500 dollars
—and that I should then receive the same price that I could get
here for the same kind of work.
"You know that I am attached to Harper's Magazine, and would
do more for them and at less prices than anyone else — but you also
know how I am situated and how necessary it is for me to put myself
in a way to assist those dependent upon me as quickly as possible.
"These are the reasons which lead me to decline your proposi
tion. If the Harpers are willing to advance me 500 dollars now and
pay me 75 a page for the work I do — it being understood that I am
guaranteed all the work I can do for oneyear and that I am at hberty
to return the 500 dollars in work during the year — I think I would
be willing to go. I presume this will appear high to you — it does
to me — or did — but I find I can earn it, and I am glad I can.
"Very respectfully,
"51 West 10th Street, <<E' A> Abbey-
"Friday, November 8th, 1878."
This letter gives us the first information we have received that
Abbey had any financial worries: not only of his own, but family
liabilities too, which, as the correspondence of the next few vears
shows us, were long with him. The embarrassments of his father
were probably due to a want of business ability; the artist's own
were caused by a careless open-handedness and that thorough
ness of purpose which distinguished him through life, making it
imperative that he should provide himself with the best accessories
of his calling, whether models, costumes, or books.
In 1 878 Thomas Hardy 'sReturn of the Native and William Black's
Macleod of Dare were running through the magazine. Abbey had a
few drawings, among them some illustrations to an article on Tun
bridge Wells, which he would have done better a year or so later,
one of his colleagues on this joint task being Willard Snvder. Ano-
58

EDWIN A. ABBEY
Circa 1878.
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY SARONY, OF NEW YORK.

FAREWELL FEASTS
ther Herrick drawing is to be found in the October number, illus
trating ' 'Ye Bellman" — this to reappear in the volume in 1 882 with-
outany change. The Christmas number for 1878 contains evidence
of his remarkable versatility, for in it he illustrated three Christ
mas poems, a serious story by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, and a comic
short story by Rose Terry Cooke.
All arrangements for the English visit beingcomplete — the result
probably of compromise on both sides — Abbey made his plans to
sail early in December. Such an event as the departure for Europe
of a popular Tile Club member could not, of course, be allowed
to pass without ceremony; and he was feted and speeded by his
friends, first at dinner by the Tile Club, and then at breakfast, on
the day of sailing, by thestaff of Harpers'. TheTileClub's dinner
was at the Westminster Hotel on November 20th, and the menu
card , signed by all the guests , has been preserved . The names run
thus : Charles Parsons, Gedney Bunce, W.M. Abbey (Abbey's fa
ther), A. W.Drake, Walter Paris, Edward Wimbridge, Winslow Ho
mer, W. R. O'Donovan, W. C. Brownell, Antonio Knauth, Charles
Montagu Waud, Gustav Kobbe, F.Hopkinson Smith, Charles H.
Isham, William Shippen, J . Lewenberg, J . Aid en Weir, William M .
Chase, R.W. Gilder, Charles Reinhart, Earl Shinn, W.C.Baird,
CharlesW.Truslow,S .G.W.Benjamin, Arthur Quartley, W.'Toly-
phemus"Laffan,andAbbey himself. Nearlyforty years have passed
since that merry evening, and to-day only one or two of the guests
survive. The Harper breakfast was on December 7th, and the menu,
which has also been preserved, is signed by the following names,
under that of the guest : W. R. O 'Donovan, Arthur Burdett Frost,
Thomas Nast,WilliamM. Chase, Charles Parsons, William A. Sea-
ver, John Harper, C. S. Reinhart, Ivan P.Pranishnikoff, R.Swain
Gifford, Walter Shirlaw, S.S.Conant, Arthur Quartley, Edmund
C . Stedman, J . Alden Weir, J . Henry Harper. Of this company only
three or four are now ( 1 9 1 9) living . Speaking , in 1 908 , in the height
of his fame, at the Pilgrims' lunch to which reference has already
been made, Abbey humorously referred to this breakfast, remark- 59

BEGINNING OF EXILE
ing that often afterwards , in his early days in England , the reflection
was forced upon him that the money which the meal had cost (it
was given at Delmonico's and a four-in-hand bore the guests to the
docks) would have been an even more agreeable thing to have. But
this is to anticipate.
Towhat extent they oungvoyagerwas made unhappyby thoughts
of exile, we cannot say . No doubt excitement carried him high, for
how could it not, with his youth (not yet twenty-six) — and the ful
filment of his wish to see at last the land of his heart's desire? But,
on the other hand, he was of an affectionate nature and was leaving
not only his native country but his father and mother. Since in one
of his letters to his mother, written on board, he says, "I chirked
up wonderfully at the breakfast," we must assume that before that
event he had been depressed. "I was half anhour late," he writes
in the same letter, "and the whole crowd were waiting for me and
wondering. It was a bad breakfast to go to sea on. I counted up
thirty-six people who came to see me off. The last fellow I saw was
old Weir climbing up a post and waving a handkerchief on a stick.
He and Frost were the only fellows Icould recognise in the gang that
rushed out of the pier doors when they opened them."
And there, on this December day in 1 878 , as the Germanic's pro
pellers began to revolve and all the friends on the quay waved fare
well and godspeed, ended the first phase of Abbey's life. Little
though hesuspected it, he was leaving Am erica for ever. A brief visit
now and then was all that he was to pay the land of his birth and the
land of which he was so proud to be a son and for which he con
tinued to toil until the end of his life. Henceforward, although al
ways he clung passionately to his American nationality, his home
was to be in England.
Destiny plays us strange tricks. This young American's purpose
in sailing for the Old Country was, as we have seen, to do no more
than gather enough English atmosphere to qualify him to com
plete an edition of Herrick and attack other kindred themes with
authority. He little thought that he was not only to make his home
there, and live his life there, but to become the quintessential deli-
60

A LOVER OF ENGLAND
neator of the England of the past. Yet so it was . This visitor from
the New World was destined to do more towards the visible recon
struction of English life of the past than any other man; and when,
on March 13th, 1917, a tablet to Abbey's memory, set up by his
friends, and calling him "beloved both in the country of his birth
and that of his adoption, "was unveiled in the crypt of St. Paul's, the
then American Ambassador, the late Dr. Page, in a brief address,
laid emphasis upon that part of the artist's life which was spent in
instructing the New World in the charms and graces of the old.
England was to Abbey a happy hunting ground indeed, but pri
marily only that the spoils of the chase might be set before the eyes
of his compatriots, to delight and enlighten them. He may be said
to have come to England as a kind of retrospective Columbus, and
every drawing that he sent back, in many of the years of hard work
that were now to follow , was another proof of how fair a land he had
discovered and how well he had discovered it.

CHAPTER X
STRATFORD-ON-AVON 1878 Aged 26
Companions of the Voyage— Abbey's Illustrated Letters— First Sight of Eng
land — Stratford-on-Avon— Washington Irving and Abbey — An English Christ
mas — Financial Embarrassments — English Hospitality
WITH the voyage to England begins Abbey's real
correspondence, from which I shall borrow co
piously during the rest of this book. He wrote,
as we have seen and shall see, admirable letters —
crystal clear, emphatic, to the point, and full of his almost pugna
cious sunniness — and it is fortunate that so many of them h ave been
preserved; but only once again did he ever write with such fulness
and regularity as in these early, lonely days in a strange country.
Writing on board , both to his parents and to Charles Parsons, he
described the daily routine and his more immediate fellow-passen
gers. Thus, to his mother : "Professor Youmans is the only one I
really know, and he says I'm the only one he really knows, and we
take our exercise on deck together . H e is really a delightf ul old chap ,
and most interesting. He don't know anything about art, and I
don 't know anything about science, so we enhghten each other. I 've
heard all about the electric hght and the wonders of the great deep,
and I listen ; and the old man likes to talk, and we have a good time.
He is going with Herbert Spencer to pass the winter at Nice; and —
would you believe? — he thought Nice was in Italy , and didn'tknow
it was on the Mediterranean. This is the Professor's seventeenth
trip, and he's seasick every shot."
These home letters of Abbey 's were richly and humorously illus
trated, but unhappily the originals no longer exist. Mr. Abbey,
senior, copied a few with great care (but, of course, completely
losing the spirit of the drawings) ; the others, together with the
originals of the copied ones, were all destroyed. Those to Charles
Parsons were also illustrated, but not so amusingly. It is related
62

FIRST IMPRESSIONS
that at the time that they were arriving regularly, Abbey's mother
replied to the question where had she been of late, by saying that
she had been in England, so vividly did her son's descriptions and
thumbnail sketches re-create everything there.
The Germanic reached the Mersey on December 17th, in typical
Mersey weather , which Abbey describes with much feeling. From
the White Star's tender he saw England for the first time, and here
are his impressions as they approached Liverpool: "I look around
for the first time upon someone else's country. I see a high bank
covered with light snow, rows of houses sort of terraced up , a bat
tery of stone with short towers at the corners. Everything looks
dirty ; water is dirty , boats that we pass are beastly dirty, sails almost
black. I'm looking away and talking to the Professor about these
things, when — down comes the fog, in less time than it takes to say
so, denser than ever, and the tooting and ringing begins again.
Chilly, damp and disagreeable again. We back and wait for about
fifteen minutes. Then the fog lifts a little and right back of us is
the landing stage — a long flat with house on it (custom house) and
bridges going up on the quay. We tumble off again, and are imme
diately accosted by the dirtiest newsboys I ever saw, and bootblacks
— and for the first time I see a 'Bobby.' Oh! such a funny one.
Really his face was so ridiculously like a caricature mask that I
thought at first he had one on. All the people look so different some
how — they shuffle about; the boys all wear caps — all ragged and all
with small scarfs tightly tied around their necks, the police keeping
them out of the way. Newsboys with big printed placards of news
hanging in front of them. Ticket porters, real 'Toby Vecks' with
brass labels tied on their arms, all in sleeved waistcoats, all with big,
heavy , ugly feet and red noses — all small , and all old . O Id men with
funny-shaped plug hats and black ribbon about their necks, all
the poor people with mud up to their armpits. And certainly the
poorest-looking people I ever saw. I would never have believed
that people would go about looking so desperately wretched. Our
tramps are princes to them. They seem to be lame, most of them —
anyway they nearly all of them jam their hands away down in their 63

STRATFORD-ON-AVON
pockets, and limp. I think of 'Poor Jo,' I think of Fildes's 'Casual
Ward ' at the Centennial , of Leech's pictures in Dickens —of Charles
Keene." The next morning, after a night at the Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool,
Abbey started for Stratford-on-Avon, where he was to make draw
ings for an article by William Winter, the dramatic critic, who died,
at the age of eighty, while this book was in progress. At Stratford
Abbey put up at the Red Horse Hotel, and on the evening of his
arrival began a letter to Charles Parsons, from which I quote a pas
sage here and there to show not only the young artist's zeal but also
the vivacity of his observation: ' ' Sketching out of doors is hard work
— and almost an impossibility. The snow falls every two or three
hours, and perhaps ends up with a drizzle; then the sun comes out
for a few minutes, in a very sickly way, and it gets foggy; and about
three it begins to be dark. . . . There are quantities and quantities
of quaint little bits all over this town, which is much larger than I
expected to find it. The trouble is to select them. Everything has
a remarkably neat and swept-up look — the streets are as neat as a
pin. I don't know what they can do with their garbage and ashes
— there are no traces of anything of the kind about , no boxes of any
kind on the side walks, very little in the way of shrubbery. The
houses close u p against each other , with the ground floor flush with
the street, and very low ceilings; sometimes you step down into the
shops. There are no trees, no front yards except as you get to the
outskirts. The people and carts and things, however, are very in
teresting, and many of the countrymen who come into the town are
very picturesque, reminding me strongly of Keene 's drawings in
Punch. It's really remarkable how true the English illustrators are
to the character of the people. I am making many sketches from
the window of my little parlour (the same that Washington Irving
had when he was here), for to-day is market-day, and as it is the last
before Christmas, the market carts, ranged along the wide street,
are more than usually numerous — so I 'm told — and are gaily decked
out with holly and green. They are very picturesque — all two-
wheeled affairs, with big covered bodies, and wicker chicken coops,
64

WASHINGTON IRVING
etc., up behind. They take the horses out and put them in the inn
yards. These inns remind me strongly of the old Philadelphia tav
erns on 2nd Street and in that vicinity. . .
' ' This hotel reminds me all the time of D ickens . The great fires ,
rope bell pulls, one labelled 'Boots.' The chambermaids with little
flat caps. . . . My little parlour is quite cosy. It's rather larger than
Irving said, perhaps ioby 15 feet. There is a bright fire burning
in the same grate that he poked at; his chair in the corner, with a
brass label in the back certifying to that fact; a comfortable hair
cloth sofa with a red pillow and claw feet; a small serving table,
with the castors and pickles and a few glasses; a large round table;
a small one upon which I draw; a big leather easy chair; some wall
chairs; an Stager e ornamented with railway guides, etc.; on the floor
by the fire a japanned funeral urn containing coal; on the walls
quantities of framed prints and souvenirs of Irving; little water-
colour views about Stratford; red curtains and a Venetian blind to
the window; and a very sociable, respectable Manx cat without any
tail sleeping on the rug before the fire."
There was a peculiar fitness in Abbey's decision to occupy the
very room in which Washington Irving, when on a precisely simi
lar adventure and romantic quest, had lodged years before. Be
tween author and artist is no little resemblance. Both were Ameri
cans; both had a lover's eye for England, and particularly England
of the eighteenth century; both had leanings to what was gentle
and pleasant and humorous; and both set before their country
men the results of their researches — Abbey in thousands of draw
ings, every one of which might be called a valentine from the Old
Country to the New, and Washington Irving in Bracebridge Hall
and Old Christmas. Nothing, of course, but the fact that the work
had been perfectly done by one who (as we shall see) was destined
to become one of his friends — Randolph Caldecott— prevented
Abbey from illustrating also these two books, so near to his own
heart and genius. Washington Irving, it may be said, had come to
England first, in 1805 , from the Continent. In 18 15 he returned
and remained away from America for seventeen years. His Sketch
F 65

A MERRIE CHRISTMAS
Book, with its delightful papers on English ways and humours,
appeared in 1820, and Bracebridge Hall, which carried these de
scriptions further and almost linked up New York with Addison
and Steele, followed in 1822. He died in 1859, when Abbey was
seven. A letter to Mrs. Abbey tells the story of her son's first Christmas
on foreign soil: "I was very busy before Christmas, and didn't have
timetoget homesick. The landlord insisted upon my taking Christ
mas dinner with his family, which I accepted. Then the 'Waits.'
Two or three bands came on Christmas Eve, one made up of choir
boys from the church, who sang beautifully. I think there must
have been fifteen of them. They sang , each company , pretty much
the same carols. 'God rest you, merry gentlemen!' and 'Nowell,
Nowell,' seemed to be the favourites. They came again on Christ
mas night and on Boxing night. On Boxing night I again accepted
the hospitality of my kind host, Mr. Colbourn. I was seated to play
whist with an old lady who reminded me of ' Mr . F - 's aunt ' [in Little
Dorrit] against this [a drawing here] and her husband. Well, I got
outof this afterfour games, and had a good time'turning the tren
cher ' with the young folks and Mr. and Mrs . Colbourn . You ought
to see these substantial Enghsh girls — such red cheeks I never did
see. They don't say a great deal, unless you get them alone in a
corner, and they all have such pretty voices and nice teeth. We had
lots of forfeits, and I had to pay a lot — such as we read of: 'bowing
to the prettiest , ' etc . I was quite a cuss when I got warmed up , and
did 'Thatcher,' and a lot of old things which seemed to amuse them
greatly, one young lady remarking, 'Hi think the Hamericans har
sohentertaining!' These people were real Dickens people: hearty
Englishmen who went in for a good time, good specimens of Eng
lish middle-class county townspeople. I wish you could hear them
talk. They do stick on the H 's in the most alarming way . We had cha
rades after the older folk had retired, and one of the young ladies
certainly shewed a great deal of ability in that direction ; and then
about 12.30 we had supper — cold roast beef and duck, and mince-
pies and cheese, and Ale and tea." — For a young artist who had
66

EARLY EMBARRASSMENTS
come to England to illustrate Herrick and Goldsmith and Praed,
and who had most of his sympathies in the merrie past, this was
not a bad beginning.
We find further light on Abbey's Stratford-on-Avon adventures
in a later passage of the speech to the Pilgrims (in 1908) which has
already been quoted; for excessive cold, beyond anything that he
had felt in America, and a hearty English Christmas, were not the
explorer's only new experiences. He contracted a bad sore throat
while sketching in the churchyard, and he contracted debts, too.
Continuing, in his dry American way, his remarks to his Pilgrim
hosts, Abbey said, "I was given to understand in casual conversa
tion on the way over (in the s.s. Germanic) that living in England
was — on the whole — cheap . This was a superstition that generally
obtained in America at that time, and it gave me a good deal of com
fort. . . . The first incautious thing I did was to inquire at the Post
Office whether heavy packages of , say, drawings might be sent to
America without a postage having been prepaid. I was assured that
this was possible and thereupon took a nice private sitting-room at
the hotel, and didn't ask for any actual terms.
"This was also incautious.
"I stayed some time and made drawings and sent them off with a
2|d .stamp on them ,thebalance tobe collected , and asked for my bill.
' ' This bill , although a shock to me , was what you all know it would
have been.
"I left my trunks with the landlord and started for London.
"In the train, after very careful calculation, I arrived at the result
that I could, with care, last until I received my remittance for the
drawings I had sent off to America; which I reasonably expected
would be in about three weeks' time.
"When the three weeks were up I had a notice from Washington
to the effect that my drawings were held for postage in the dead
letter office and would be forwarded to their destination on receipt
of the balance due.
"I was a young man of twenty-six, and this was all a long time
ago, but I vividly recall those next three weeks. 67

NEW YEAR'S EVE
"I am not sure it wasn't a month.
"It seemed a year."
Here, however, we encroach on the next chapter, but it maybe
said now that the drawings were in time liberated and appeared in
the magazine for April, 1879.
Abbey spent New Year's Eve, 1878, at another social gathering
at the Red Horse, among the landlord's family and friends. Writ
ing to his mother a few days later he speaks of the kindness of these
hospitable people. "We got to be quite good friends. The lady
hurled her H's about in an extraordinary way, but she was good-
hearted and jolly. The barmaid was a merry little woman, hard
working, and, I should think, a mighty nice httle body. We all sat
up over the New Year's Eve, and I thought of you all more than
once. I was going to pull the Stratford church bells with a lot of
the town young fellows, but it was too cold. They toll for a half-
hour before twelve, and then they peal merrily for another half-
hour. They had some old friends from Coventry, and the gent was
musical and sang nobly 'Arts of Hoak' and 'The Vicar of Bray,' and
brewed a rum punch, which was quite acceptable that cold night.
Let me ask you whenever a strange young man ' of poor but honest,
etc.,' drops in your way, go for him! I've been so touched by the
warm-hearted way perfect strangers have treated me here that I
don't want any Englishman to go to America and meet with any
less cordial reception."

O0rv^_ (/u_, _

CHAPTER XI
ENGLISH FRIENDS AND FAMILY LETTERS
1879 Aged 26-27
Fred Barnard — George Henry Boughton — F.W.Jameson — Dinner Parties —
Alfred Parsons — A Musical Evening — Brahms — George Henschel — Madame
Clara Moscheles— William Black— J. MacNeill Whistler— Alma Tadema— The
White House, Chelsea
WE sawinthelastchapterunderwhat circumstances
— which might have been far worse had he not
fallen into honest hands — Abbey left Stratford.
Arriving in London early in January, he took a
lodging in Bloomsbury, establishing himself on the fourth floor of
No. 32 Montagu Place. If he was not in the highest spirits there
were sufficient reasons. To begin with, he was a solitary young
foreigner in the largest city of the world. Secondly, he was short
of money. Thirdly, he doubted very much whether his Stratford
drawings would be acceptable to the powers at Franklin Square.
Fourthly, he was suffering both from a cold and disordered diges
tion. But, guided by his shining good sense, he forced himself to
be active. In his own words, to his mother, "I had a sort of feeling
if I didn't hght out and see somebody artistic or jolly, or at least
friendly, soon, I didn't know what dreadful thing I might do. So
I hurried out my shaving things , and shaved , brushed my hair, etc . ,
and put myself into some clean linen , and after a few minutes ' study
of the map I hurried down Tottenham Court Road and took a 'bus
marked 'Hampstead, Haverstock Hill, etc' I went as far as I could
go, to the foot of the hill, and, taking the advice of a policeman, I
took the second turning to the left, Steele's Road, and looked out
all the way along for 'Warrington House.' "
Warrington House was the home of the late Fred Barnard, the
illustrator, to whom Abbey had an introduction from Mr. Frost,
and who had, by letter, pressed Abbey to come up to town for
Christmas. At this time Barnard was thirty-two, and already
known as a master of grotesque, chiefly by his illustrations to the
69

FRED BARNARD
"Household Edition" of Dickens, published by Messrs. Chapman
and Hall from 1871 onwards. Later he was to issue a series of
"Character Sketches from Dickens" based on his earlier concep
tions; and he had done also much work in periodicals.
Barnard, as Abbey tells his mother, was at work on a Dickens pic
ture when he found him . " I was shown into the parlour, facing back
on a large half-acre of garden — a big studio extension at the back,
too, on the left. Mr. Barnard shortly came into the room and re
ceived me warmly, and asked me into the studio, a big room with
open raftered roof of oak. He was painting ' Old Gabriel and Dolly
Varden,' with Sim Tappertit looking in over the door. A model was
on the throne, posed for Gabriel  I was very kindly invited
to come to tea next evening (Sunday) and departed, feeling that I
wasn't quite friendless at any rate."
That was on the Saturday; on the Sunday Abbey presented an
other letter of introduction, this time to a fellow countryman estab
lished in London — the late George Henry Boughton, who had re
cently built "West House," on the top of Campden Hill,which was
the scene of so much hospitality ."Oh dear! [exclaims the astonished
youth] such a house! Mosaic floor, panelled and tapestried walls,
great window on the staircase. The room I was shown into was a
large square one, with most beautiful rugs on the floor, and elegant
furniture, tiled fireplace, blue china all about, and everything de
noting extremely fine taste, and — prosperity. Mr. Boughton was
lunching with his family in the adjoining room, separated by por
tieres, and I was asked up into the studio. . . . Mr. Boughton shortly
came up. We met in the most everyday manner possible. He said
he hadn't read my letter of introduction as he didn't think it neces
sary, as he knew me so well already. So we had a good talk about
America and his old friends, etc." — Boughton, who was to be so
valuable an influence in the early London life of his young compa-
triot,was born on December 4th , 1 833 ,and was thus by nearly twen
ty years Abbey 's senior . It is generally thought that he was of Amer
ican birth, but, as a matter of fact,he was born near Norwich and did
not go toAmerica until the next year . There,however , he remained,
70

G. H. BOUGHTON
chiefly at Albany, N.Y., with one or two absences in Europe, paint
ing, and exhibiting in New York , until 1 860. In that year he settled
in Paris, where he studied under Edouard Frere, famous for his
cottage domestic interiors . Leaving Paris in 1 862 , Boughton made
London his home, never again to forsake it except for brief spaces of
travel. He was elected an Associate of the Royal Academy later in
this year, 1 879 , and became a full R.A . in 1 896 , in the same year that
Abbey was made an Associate. Boughton was never a great painter,
but he was an accomplished one, and in both his favourite themes —
the peasant life of Brittany and Holland, and the NewEngland days
of The Courtship of Miles Standish — he was acceptable to collectors.
Most of the important modern galleries have samples of his delicate
and graceful work. He did also some illustrating, The Scarlet Letter
and Rip Van Winkle being among his best efforts . Although English
by birth and for so long a resident in London, Boughton always
called himself an American . Abbey could not have had at that time
a kinder friend or a more wisely useful one . Boughton and he were
destined to be firm and materially helpful allies for many years; but
this we shall learn from the letters.
Meanwhile, the Bloomsbury attic having been found impossible,
Abbey, on the recommendation of another American artist settled
in London, the late Ernest Parton, moved to Newman Street. The
house wasNo. 80. At No. 14 Abbey's fellow Philadelphian and pre
decessor as an historical painter and R.A . , BenjaminWest, had lived
for forty-five years : Newman Street, which is off Oxford Street,
being in the early years of the last century the very centre of artistic
London. No sooner was he settled than Abbey began to work seri
ously on the drawings for Longfellow's Evangeline, while by way
of recreation he walked about London on expeditions of discovery,
and was delighted to find how much of it was already known to him
through pictures. In the evenings Boughton took him to this house
and that — one evening to the American Minister's reception to
General Grant, another to a musical party, and so forth.
Oneof these musicalparties,atthehouseof the late Fred Jameson,
the architect (known familiarly as "Jampots"), a very sociable and
7i

MARYL.GOW
hospitable figure in London at that time, led to an invitation to a
dinner which Abbey describes very minutely to his mother. Here is
an amusing passage: "I wish I could write you all of it. Now I re
membered seeing a drawing-room in Punch once, of a gentleman,
as the ladies rise to leave the dining-room, opening the cupboard
door by mistake, to allow them to pass out. I remembered this, and
imagined it to be the thing to do — so, as I was nearest the door I
rose and held it for them. I seem to have a pretty good memory ,
for nobody ever told me that . Every little thing we hear or read of is
of some use some day .
"I got through my first dinner very well. English people are so
plagued particular about etiquette that I was scared I'd come out
wrong. However, Boughton coached me up. I mustn't get there
more than five minutes before the time I'm asked, nor on any ac
count two minutes after." Atthe end of this letter, dated January,
1879, ne draws a girl beside these words: " This is Miss Gow ; I
think I'll marry her. A girl who'll eat cold beef at an evening party
is too valuable to be lightly passed over." Miss Gow, who has since
becomeknown to fame as Mary Gow, R.I ., the water-colour painter
of portraits and charming decorative subjects, married otherwise,
her husband being Mr. Sydney P. Hall, the artist. But for the burn
ing of theoriginalsof these letters of Abbey to his family , Miss Gow's
portrait could be reproduced .
A further piece of news is that on the Monday following Abbey
was to move into a studio at 8oPeel Street, Campden Hill, close to
Boughton 's, this being let to him by the late Matthew Ridley Cor
bet, the landscape painter. From this studio the next letter, on Jan
uary 27th, was written: "I hadn't been here half an hour before I
was drawing away as hard as I could at my easel, Boughton sitting
by and giving me valuable hints . He asked me to come in to dinner
on Friday night as Aldrich and his wife were to be there, and old
Robert Browning and J . W . Comyns Carr , the writer on art . I went
anbTn^dalovely time. . . . Browning wasn't at all the man I expect
ed to see . I knew his face, of course, but he is a rather short, dumpy,
dapperold chap, and a most entertaining talker. Aldrich is remark-
72

ALFRED PARSONS
ably witty, and so is Boughton, and I tell you it was a bright table."
Aldrich was the late Thomas Bailey Aldrich, the American poet.
Comyns Carr died as recently as 1916. In 1879 Browning was sixty-
seven , and was living in Warwick Crescent.
We have now reached January 27th, 1 879 . The next day was an
eventful one , for it was then , according to the di ary kept by the new
friend who here enters the scene, at a party at Mr. E.M.Hale's
studio, that Abbey met Alfred Parsons — an artistwho was destined
for several years to be not only one of his closest companions but a
sympathetic ally in all his projects and often an actual collaborator.
Alfred Parsons, already well-known as a flower and landscape pain
ter, was then thirty-two, and Abbey's senior by over four years. A
sympathetic note was instantly struck. One great bond between
them was this England of ours, which the elder man knew so deeply
and lovingly and the younger man so longed to know. Already was
Alfred Parsons 's name a household word by reason of his delinea
tions of the English countryside — its meadows, its flowers, its trees,
its streams, its tender skies: all of which he had been studying since
a child and has been studying ever since, throughout a long and
distinguished career.
"What a lucky fellow I am [Abbey writes] to drop right into
the society I most enjoy and from which I can learn so much," a
remark which leads to a description of another musical party.
"When I got there I found a large square room in the centre of
which was a four-sided music stand with lights, and around it four
fellows fiddling away for dear life, at an allegretto movement in
one of Beethoven's symphonies. . . . There were possibly a dozen
there — all musical people, amateurs and professionals. Johann
Brahms_(pf the 'Hungarian Dances' chap) was one. We hadTotsof
ine music. A great big chap (Berlin correspondent of the Daily
Telegraph) played magnificently. I don't know when I've enjoyed
anything more . He played several Russian things of the most lovely
character, and with the most exquisite feeling and touch. . . . After
this we had Schumann's String Quartette— the quartette! — for the
piano, for which our Berlin friend took off his coat, and undid his
73

A MUSICAL EVENING
vest and collar. I certainly never heard it played so well. I occupied
a big chair by the fire all by myself , the rest of the company being
at the other side of the room, and I tell you, I enjoyed it 'to the top
of my bent.' I wrote a note to Jameson to thank him for being the
means of giving me so much pleasure." Brahms was, of course,
the great Brahms, who died in 1897, and in 1879 was forty-five;
the musical journalist was the late William Beatty Kingston. Ab
bey was always intensely fond of music. He was also to some extent
a performer — that is to say, he could play well enough to amuse
himself at the piano — butprobablytonoonewasthepianola,when,
years later, it sprang from some inventor's brain, a richer boon than
to him.
Through Boughton 's good offices he was meeting artists too,
having the use of the best models and making many acquaintances.
Among these, for example, was Gustave Natorp — an Austrian who
had lived in America and studied art and was now a wealthy con
noisseur and amateur sculptor. Natorp , who had taken Boughton 's
old house in Palace Gardens Terrace and was a famous gastronome,
not only entertained Abbey regally but lent him valuable pieces of
furniture to draw from. As for artists, Abbey tells of a dinner with
Boughton at the Arts Club , at which R. W. Macbeth, Fred Barnard,
Marcus Stone, Charles Green, and J . D . Linton were present, fol
lowed by a migration to the Grosvenor Gallery to a "discussion
about the copyright that artists ought to have and haven't. Frith,
Alb ert Moore , H erkomer, Sir Coutts Lindsay , and a lot more spoke .
... I sat by Barnard and nearly killed myself trying not to laugh at
his running comments on the speeches. He had the fellows all about
on a broad grin."
Music again, and an historic evening for a young enthusiast, for
the scene was the studio of the late Felix Moscheles, who died in
1918, the son of Mendelssohn's two closest friends. "I think I
have kept Ash Wednesday better than by going to church. Bough
ton took me. We went first to the Arts Club and had dinner, and
then to a little place in Cadogan Gardens, down a step into a gar
den, and back to a pretty cottage, and knocked. When the servant
74

MORE MUSIC
came we asked her, Ts Mr. Moscheles at home?' 'Not here,' she
said /I'll show you . ' So we followed her through the garden around
the corner of the house, and up a little flagged walk to a very mo
dest looking door, with a lantern over it, which was opened by a
spruce little boy with an immense eruption of buttons. A little L
of a hall, the walls covered with bagging stuff embroidered a little
with worsted. The back of the hall door was panelled with glass,
and we brushed up our hair,and were shown into the dining-room,
a low, bright room withaqueer Moorish lampoverthe table covered
with sage green, upon which were several glasses of lilies of the
valley and white hyacinths. The chairs (old ones of the square
Cromwell pattern) covered with deep red, and the walls covered
with artistic knick-knacks of every description. A wide door, and
an immense studio beyond, lighted from the top. A pleasant grey
headed man came forward with 'Hush-sh a moment! Henschel is
just beginning to play a scherzo of his own.' So we sat just inside
the door and heard him.
"It was like getting in somewhere and having a good rest. I had
been labouring all day, and the day before, and the night before,
too, at a face of Keats 's Madeline, and I was all worked out and
feeling that it was a very Ashy sort of a Wednesday indeed, when
Boughton came in this afternoon with 'Don't think I'm going to
bore your hfe out coming so often, but I want you to come with
me this evening and dine at the club, and we'll go to the Mos
cheles "evening" afterwards. And, what's the matter? Oh, the
face? Ah, it's coming better — you'll get it. I've been reading over
the poem since I came in yesterday, and I thought you were get
ting her a little too old. Just make the lower part of the face a little
fuller, and her lips not quite so thin, and I think you'll have it.'
So he turned the drawing over, and I had my poor, tired model,
who was just going, sit down a minute, and he drew her face on
the back, showing me where it would be better, and making me
feel as though the world wasn't quite hollow, after all." I interrupt
this letter both to say that Keats 's "Eve of St. Agnes," with nine
drawings by Abbey , was printed in tlarper^sMagazine for January, 75

MADAME MOSCHELES
1880, and to draw attention to the remarkable powers of quick ob
servation which it indicates.
"While Henschel is playing at the grand piano at one side of the
big studio, I take in the big mediaeval fireplace at the other side,
before which on the rug is a pretty lady with blonde hair and a
black velvet dress, and another lady with a grey satin dress; they
were embroidering some curtain stuff or other. On an ottoman
in the middle of the floor are three dark girls in green, with lace
collars; these have serious German faces, and are taking in Hen
schel 's music with open mouth. . . . And by herself near the piano
is a dark beauty, decidedly Spanish, with dead black hair, and a
satin dress of a deep black blue. A few other faces over in a dark
corner, and in the foreground a lovely old lady, with white hair
and a lace cap. Everything is quiet, and soft and resty. Henschel
surely never had a more appreciative audience. I turn around to
Boughton when he had finished, and his eyes are full of tears. There
is no applause, but the old lady goes up to Henschel and 'Thank
you for that, my dear friend!' is the only thing he hears. It is quite
hushed for a moment, and then the voices begin to hum a httle.
And I am introduced to Madame Moscheles, junior, the pretty
blonde in black, and then they take me to the old lady, who is so
like Coz. Jo that I want to jump at her. And she is Madame Mos
cheles, the intimate friend of Mendelssohn — think of that !
"I sit down and she begins a most animated conversation about
America, and how much she would like to go there; 'But is it not
too much for an old woman with five great-grandchildren?' She is
glad the Americans are interested in her letters, and that they are
such a musical people, and if her husband were alive it would glad
den his heart to know how much they think of his dear friend, who
is, alas! going out of fashion now in Europe. But he will live again
after these modern noise-makers are dead and forgotten! The dear
old soul goes on to tell me any quantity of interesting little things
about Mendelssohn, and I must come and see a water-colour draw
ing of his own of the Bridge of Sighs. I am beginning to tell her of
our 'Mendelssohn [Glee Club'] in New York, and how delighted
76

THE SPANISH LADY
they would be to see her there, and how she would be received —
not as a stranger, but almost as a mother — when Henschel begins
playing again, and the buzz subsides. I am sitting where I can see
his face now, and it is a study. He seems to just glory in what he
is doing, and when he is finished they ask the dark lady to sing, and
she does, and Boughton leans over to me to whisper ' This is what I
came for.' He comes over with his chair and sits next me with his
arm around my shoulder, and (if I could only have 'the pen of a
ready writer' to tell you of this!) the dark lady sits down.
"Her olive face and black hair against the dull brown red of the
wall behind, and if you close your eyes you can imagine the place.
Some bright sunny Spanish courtyard with gaily dressed trouba
dours and Castilian beauties in yellow and black lace. I never
heard any Spanish music like this. The face of the lady is a study.
She must have been a great actress, and what a pity thatMr.Mon-
crieff (whoever he is) married her, and took Nina Gitana away
from her own sunny land. It always seems wrong to me, this idea
of despoiling an artistic country of its treasures. It doesn't seem
right that the wonderful Elgin Marbles should be disturbed in their
own native graves, or that Cleopatra's Needle should rear its deli
cate shaft on the borders of the bustling Thames, with the London
fog and smoke to look up to instead of the blue skies of Egypt. I
don't pretend to have a more delicate sense of the 'eternal fitness of
things' than the wise and great people who look after the aesthetics
of a nation, but what will there be to go to Greece or Rome or Egypt
for, if they keep up this sort of thing? Think of the poor despoiled
Poles crowding the railway station when the great Modj eska is leav
ing them, and crying 'Madame Helena, return to thy native land!'
It will be a cosmopolitan world after a while , I suppose , and as ages
roll on and nations intermingle, and the  " That letter, which
here breaks off, is to me fairly conclusive proof that had Abbey
chosen to become a writer instead of a draughtsman he would still
have made a name.
Madame Moscheles was referring to the article in Harper's Mag
azine for February, 1879, in which a mass of her correspondence 77

WILLIAM BLACK
with Mendelssohn was printed. The old lady, wee Charlotte Emb
den, had married Ignaz Moscheles as long ago as 1 826 . Sir George
Henschel, who remembers the evening well, says that Nita Gitana
(the dark lady's real name), who married Mr.Moncrieff,was born
in Spain but lived in London, where she sang professionally, chiefly
in private houses.
On the next page of the letter — for these letters to his mother
were written like serials, and posted at intervals of a week or so —
we meet William Black and his wife, with whom the artist was to
spend so many happy hours. The occasion was another of Bough-
ton's dinner parties. Black is described as "a little man with black
hair and big black moustache, a rather abstracted manner, and a
slight Scotch accent, though he didn't ask me, 'And are you ferry
well, whateffer?' I talked to him a little, and I thought him a queer
sort of chap . He seemed to be thinking of something else. I didn't
seemuchof him. Imagine my surprise when Boughton came in next
evening and read me a note he had just received from Black asking
my address, as he wanted to ask me down to Brighton for a couple
of days." William Black at that time was thirty-seven, and one of
the most popular of English novelists. He would be of special in
terest to Abbey through having already supplied Harper's Magazine
with more than one serial. Macleodoj Dare was, in fact, running at
the moment. Later, Abbey was to illustrate his Judith Shakespeare.
The next evening Abbeymet another compatriot artist, Whistler.
Let him tell the story: "Looking over my drawings Boughton said,
'You've made a wonderful improvement in your work since you've
been here, and if you are not very careful you '11 do some good things
by and by' — and then, 'Jimmy (Whistler) is going to dine with me
to-night (when we give a dinner, we always give two, as the things
are all there, and the men and everything). I'd ask you, but we've
got fourteen coming, and you'll get sick if you eat too many din
ners, but I want you to come in afterwards. Go up to the studio,
and turnup the gas, and read if we've not finished dinner. Jimmy
is sure to do or say something funny, and I 'd like to have you meet
him.' So I got into my swallow-tail— it takes an awful lot of shirts
78

WHISTLER
to go out so much . At about ten I went in . Shortly afterwards they
came up — the gentlemen — among them Rudolph Lehmann, Sid
ney Colvin, and W. S. Gilbert ("Bab"), Lewis, the lawyer, and a
couple of ' Sirs . ' Natorp , too — and Whistler. Queer-looking chap
— short and very thin, with an immense head of black, curly hair,
with right in front one perfectly white lock or curl,a blackmoustache
and dab under his lower lip , one eyeglass, and no necktie. Perfectly
good humoured and satisfied with a conceit that is colossal, so co
lossal that it is really delightful, and — cheek! They were begging
Boughton to show his pictures, which were carefully curtained on
the easels, and he, of course, wouldn't, when Whistler says, ' Oh, go
ahead! Don't mind me!'
"I told him that he had a great many admirers in America, and
mentioned a few of his pictures I had seen there — one in particu
lar of a girl sitting in the sand; when 'Oh, yes; that was a good
picture. You liked that? H-m — yes; that was an excellent picture
— the girl very well drawn, indeed, as I remember it,' and so on.
He showed me the farthing which he received as damages from Mr.
Ruskin — he has it on his watch-chain. I can't, of course, remem
ber or write here everything he said. I'm going down to see him
soon, and hope to have something interesting to say about that."
— Whistler in the spring of 1879 was forty-four, and was living
in the White House, Tite Street, built for him by E. W. Godwin.
The White House is exactly opposite Chelsea Lodge, which, many
years later, Abbey was to buy as aLondon home, thehouse in which
he worked and died. Whistler's lawsuit with Ruskin had been heard
in 1878. The picture to which Abbey referred was probably one
entitled "The Coast of Brittany." Thus we see Abbey meeting the
men who were to be his friends, liking them, and being instantly
liked. At Dr. Max Schlesinger's, a night or so after, another artist
destined to be very closely associated with him until the very end
came into his life. "A big man, as regards voice and beard (not stat
ure), was talking in the library to an amused circle, as we entered.
He was telling of a hew Roman room he'd built, and was going to
give a dinner in [at Townshend House, North Gate, Regent's Park] .
79

ALMA TADEMA
'And you zhall be dere, Henschel — and my dearvriend Sir Henry
Thompson , doo — and ve vill all vear dogas , and haf de real Roman
schtyle.' This was Alma Tadema. . . .Henschel sang wonderfully,
among other things Brahms 's 'May Night.' Sitting at the piano, he
turned half round and played his own accompaniment and sang
away bits of things — Schumann's' Grenadiers' — He uncrossed his
legs and faced the piano to play that accompaniment and let his voice
out to the full. I felt quivers 'way down in my boots. Boughton 's
eyes were full of tears after the 'May Night' song, and he pinched
my arm so, that the marks remain there still. . . . I wish I had been
a musician. To be able to hold the emotions of people in one's hand,
to do what you will with, is a great thing indeed. I shall try to pick
up some musical instrument before I come back."
Laurens (afterwards Sir Lawrence) Alma Tadema, famous as a
painter of Roman and Greek life, who was to remain one of Abbey 's
closest friends, was then forty-three. A native of Holland, he never
lost the Dutch accent, although he became very Enghsh in many
ways. Tadema survived Abbey by only a year, dying in 1912. His
house in the Grove End Road, where he lived the last twenty-five
years of his life, was the resort of all who loved the best music.
Whistler again. "Boughton and I went down to see Whistler one
afternoon, and I had a most interesting time. His house ... it is
queer on the inside. The front door is in the middle of the house,
and you tumble downstairs when it is opened to you by his solemn-
looking butler (who is a most attached servant, and will do anything
for him, and is as well known as Whistler himself). You tumble
down about six steps into a large low-ceiled room with pleasant
casement windows looking out upon a neat little yard , over the back
wall of which you see the trees in the park beyond [the gardens of
Chelsea Hospital]. Here is matting on the floor, and many cosy
chairs, and a big table, an alcove with a big fireplace; at the end a
piano, and over it Whistler's great portrait of Irving as Philip II.
On the wall are framed proofs of Whistler's etchings.
"The butler shows us up a narrow winding stair into the studio
— an immense room with white walls , and one side all windows like
80

THE WHITE HOUSE, CHELSEA
a bare country church. At the other side a throne, with his lunch
on a tray, and books and papers. At one end a battalion of easels
and canvases, and an old mahogany candle stand which W. uses for
a palette. At the other end is a printing press and a printer's table,
with a mob of bottles, nitric acid, paper screen, and other parapher
nalia of the etcher's art, and bending over a pile of binder's board
is Whistler, who salutes us noisily through his nose, and spits out
his eyeglass, which he has swallowed preparatory to polishing it
upon his handkerchief. He has a funny , uncertain way of walking ,
acquired from wearing very tight boots . He is most kind , showing
us proofs of etchings he has just finished — some very , very fine ones .
There never have been finer etchings made at any time. He shows
us a life-size portrait of a little dancing girl in tights doing a skip
ping-rope dance — 'A Harmony in Yellow'; a large canvas of three
nude girls, most exquisitely drawn, and charming in colour. I wish
it could go to America; I think it would open the eyes of some of
the Philistines there. They think he can't draw." — The " Dancing
Girl" was, of course, Miss Connie Gilchrist. The large canvas was,
I suppose, the "Three Figures" in pink and grey, now belonging
to Mr. Alfred Chapman.
And there the home letters give out. Abbey, of course, continued
to write; but these are all which, even in the form of copies, now
exist.

CHAPTER XII
FIRST WORK IN LONDON
1879 Aged 26-27
Ways and Means — The National Gallery — Fred Walker — R. L. Stevenson and
His Cousin — J. Comyns Carr— Dick Whittington — Augustus St. Gaudens —
Westminster Abbey — Dean Stanley — A Hurried Tour in the Lakes — Moncure
D. Conway — Burne-Jones — Thackeray's Daughter — Illness — Scribner' s Rivalry
with Harper's — An American Appreciation
THE loss of Abbey 's further letters to his mother is not to
be madegood. Fortunately , however, he was at the same
time writing regularly to Charles Parsons — although far
less buoyantly, for money difficulties were increasing
and werethecause of much anxiety and depression. Of these, being
a good son, he wished his people to know nothing. One reason of
impecuniosity in the early English days was that the artist was paid
not per drawing but according to the size of the drawing when re
produced; and not knowing how its capacities would strike the art
editor of the magazine, he was unable to forecast his earnings with
accuracy. The excessive reduction of some of his work troubled
him on another account. In one of his letters to Charles Parsons
we find him writing : "It seems scarcely worth while to work a
drawing up so highly as you have always impressed upon me you
desired, and then make it so trifling in size that the detail is entirely
lost. Do you think this is quite a fair shake? "And again: "I've about
decided that I put in too much work. That hallway in the Manor
House I took a great deal of pains with, especially with the carving
on the cupboard at the right. This is all cut away — and rightly, too
— for the cut is too small to show it." The drawing in question
was one describing "A Moorland Village," reduced to z\ in. by
z\ in., published June, 1880. The embarrassments resulting from
the postal muddle did not clear up for many weeks, and Abbey had
to borrow from Boughton, live with the utmost economy , and even
walk all the way from Campden Hill to and from Fleet Street, where
the offices of Messrs. Sampson, Low and Co., Harpers' London
agents, were situated.
82

A TITIAN HEAD
Here are extracts from letters to Charles Parsons: "I spent a little
while the other day in the National Gallery, and was tremendously
overpowered by what I saw there; so much so that I began to have
the headache and had to come away. I had no idea that the works
of the great genii of times gone by would so impress me. I always
supposed that I was unable to appreciate the great things. There
is a head of Titian's there that goes away ahead of anything I ever
thoughtpaint could do , and a most wonderful collection of portraits
of the Italian school, and of the works of the earlier Italians, and
of the Dutchmen. Everything is confused and mixed as yet. I shall
probably be able to write more coherently after a couple more of
visits . The Turner collection is marvellous , and there are some won
derfully good portraits by Gainsborough. But the Titian 'knocked'
me. . . .
"Whistler tells a funny story of Martin, who stayed with him
when he was here, Martin banging on his door in the grey dawn, ' I
say, Whistler! where do you keep your scissors that you trim your
cuffs with ? '. . .
"There's a picture of Frederick Walker's at Agnews' Gallery, a
water-colour— 'TheHarbour of Refuge '—anold poor-house garden
with figures, one of the most exquisitely delicate and refined pic
tures that I know of, wonderful in colour and beautiful in draw-
ing. ..."
"I have been invited [March ioth] to exhibit at the 'Grosvenor,'
which the men seem to think a great deal of here, and shall try to
get a little water-colour done. The Secretary of the Gallery, Mr.
J. Comyns Carr, is also the English editor of L'Art, and would
like to have a little sketch of mine to reproduce in that periodical."
— The selected drawing, published in the first number of L'Art for
i88i,wasthatof"The'Griffin'atWork,"engravedbyMr.Timothy
Cole, in the Scribner account of the Tile Club onLong Island. The
article in which it app eared was by Comyns Carr on American wood
engraving. O 'Donovan's Tile Club relief of Abbey, engraved by
Juengling, was also given.
A letter to Mr. Will H . Low in 1 908 , from which I have elsewhere 83

R. A. M. STEVENSON
quoted, gives us a glimpse of R.A. M.Stevenson, cousin of R.L.S.,
and himselfan artist and writer on art. "Oneofthefirst menlmet
here, and I can't think now how I came to know him, unless thro'
Bob Arthur (what's become of Arthur ?), was little ' Cally ' Bloomer,
and a cheery chap in face of dire misfortune he was. I went one
dreary, snowy, slushy, foggy day to see him that winter, at a hole
of a place he lived in, with two desperate studios in the back yard —
Radnor Street, King's Road, Chelsea. (These studios have been to
let for years .) There had just moved in that day a long-legged thin
chap in a short coat, and a small black hat on the back of his head
— Bob Stevenson — and he was taking out of boxes some of the most
dismal sketches (of dismal snow scenery, in the forest near Bar-
bizon) I have ever seen. The studio was the most awful place you
can think of, in a nasty backyard, with a dripping spout and a large
puddle under it. I remember that I wanted to lean my head against
the wall and cry. After that I saw a good deal of Bob S . at the 'Cafe'
Monico,' and some time afterwards, it was, I think, he had Robert
Louis with him . I don 't know wheth er you ever knew that old place,
a long high room with marble tables running the length of it, and red
plush sofas to sit on . My feet never used to touch the floor , they were
so high. But it is all torn down now and a new 'Monico' is there." —
"Cally" Bloomer(so called from his native land of California) is a
landscape painter, still (19 19) living. Robert Arthur, who died in
1915 , was best known as a painter of the Maine coast.
To Charles Parsons on April 27th , 1 879 :" My landlord [M .Ridley
Corbet] having come back to his studio, I spent a week running
around trying to find a place to work in, and Parsons very kindly
offered me the use of his, as he is going to the country for a few
months sketching soon." Abbey's chief tasks were drawings for
Herrick, for "St. Agnes' Eve," and for a ballad of Dick Whitting-
ton. He had some difficulty with this poem, as we see from more
than one letter which show their writer to us with all his conscien
tious thoroughness about him. Thus: " Whittington will be agood
subj ect , though the ballad is an extremely ordinary one — quite poor
in fact. I suppose Mr. Alden means the one called 'Sir Richard
84

% i

CARE FOR DETAIL
Whittington's Advancement.' I know of no other." Then, in June:
"You shall have all of the Whittington this week if I can get it off,
which is doubtful, as the right boy has not yet turned up . I might
use a man, but I can't get him into the costume, which is the same
thatMillais used in his 'Princes in the Tower , 'which you must know
pretty well by this time through the engravings . ' 'And , later : " I have
aman down at the British Museum, tracing the original old ballad
from the one in the Roxburghe folio . It is very quaintly set up , and
will be very decorative on the page. It is a great thing to get permis
sion to have this done, as the old Roxburghes are among their most
precious possessions, and are kept along with a host of other price
less volumes of a like nature in a sort of 'Holy of Holies' they lock
you into, and they watch you all the while you are there."
On May 29th Abbey went to Paris with Frank Millet for a short
visit, of which we hear something in his letter to Charles Parsons of
June 1 5th . The letter, however, is chiefly taken up with suggestions
for strengthening the magazine , showing how closely Abbey had its
interests at heart . Thus :" I should like to get a short story for Christ
mas by Henry James, junior. He is here, but he is such a bird of
passage it's hard to put your finger on him. Frank Millet has two
or three excellent short stories under consideration, if he will only
writethem. . . Hegoes to America in August, and you are tobe very
fond of him indeed, because he is such a thoroughly good fellow,
and because he is a very dear friend of mine. I have been talking to
Moncure Conway about going to Holland and tracing out our Dutch
[New York] ancestors — in a way . This has never b een done . I think
severalveryinterestingandnovelpapersmightbemade.Thiswouldnot only interest the N ew Yorker s but also the New England pub lie ,
and could be made interesting enough to interest everybody else.
. . . Boughton would go with us for a while, and I could get some
drawings from him, I am sure, which would be a valuable thing. I
should think apaper on Jimmy Whistler would be of interest, with
reproductions of his etchings, andsomeof his pictures, which would
engrave admirably. People generally have a very vague idea of
Whistler's work. . . . I consider Awn a very tremendous artist. Con- 85

"THE STOMACH CLUB"
way knows him and could write of him in a way, but the best man
would be Comyns Carr, whose collected Essays on Art has justbeen
published. "By theway.Ihavebeen to Paris.and saw things that fairly para
lysed— I can't spell that word— me. As sculptors the French are
immense— I don't see why they are not as great as the greatest.
As painters, they paint well, but cui bono ? Their subjects are not
worth the immense amount of clever painting they put into them.
The Salon on the first day— varnishing day— was overwhelming.
It seemed to me that I had never seen anything before worth
looking at, but upon my third visit I had sifted out from the 3,000
pictures about half a dozen that really seemed fine. The large altar
piece of Duez, 'The Potato Harvest' of Bastien Lepage, a woman
sculling a boat, by Butin, and Bunce's Venetian scene — one of the
finest skies I ever saw in paint. Bunce is an American, you know. A
queer chap , at sword's point with nearly all the Latin Quarter sheep
— on account of his outspoken honesty and contempt for men who
blindly follow their masters — a shepherd's lead. I don't wish to
abuse the students of the Latin Quarter, for thtey were very polite to
me: they dined me at their 'Stomach Club, 'and were very kind. St.
Gaudens, Dubois, Bunce, Barnum, Butler, Brush, Anthony, Bur-
nap, Harrison, Millet, Richard Whiteing, Henry Bacon, and several
others were there. ... I am going to try to get you a photograph or
drawing of St. Gaudens 's statue of Farragut, which is about com
plete, and which is to be placed in Madison Square, I beheve. It is
really a very fine work, and the arrangement is quite a novel and
'Tiley'one ... a most successful attempt to make a statue planted
firmly on both legs." Augustus St. Gaudens (or Saint-Gaudens
as his name is sometimes printed), was just four years older than
Abbey . Having been born in Dublin, the son of an Irish mother and
a French father, he was at first even less American than we have seen
Boughton to be . Taken across as an infant , he was almost lost on the
voyage. At the age of twenty he went to Paris, and in 1870 to Rome.
This statue of "Farragut," shown at the Paris Salon in 1880, estab
lished his fame. We shall often meet him as this narrative proceeds.
86

WESTMINSTER ABBEY
Two other pieces of news in the letter of June 15th are that Harry
Harper, when he saw Abbey in London in May, dissuaded him
from returning to America that year, saying that a longer stay in
England was much better for him ; and that Abbey was about to
leave for the Lake District with Conway.
To Anthony, the engraver, he writes at this time, with a sug
gestion or so for a large compositely illustrated Longfellow in which
Boughton might share. "You should get Mark Fisher to do some
of your pastoral subjects — cattle and things; he is a Boston man,
and by long odds the best cattle and landscape man here. I don't
think he draws on wood, but he draws beautifully on paper. . . .
I saw Aldrich at Boughton 's fancy ball, which was a superb affair,
and most delightful to everyone except one poor young man who
came in plate armour and couldn't walk upstairs. . . ."
Reference has been made to Abbey's drawings for the article on
music in London. Another of them, dated July 23rd, 1879, repre
sents the choir in Westminster Abbey. The artist little thought, as
he sat there, that twenty years or so later he was to be in the same
church making notes as the accredited historical painter of the
Coronation of King Edward VII. Concerning the drawing of the
choir he writes to Charles Parsons : " I most earnestly b eg the favour
of a little space at the foot of a column in the article, or in the per
sonal column of the Weekly, to express my sense of the extreme
courtesy I have received at the hands of the choir at Westminster
Abbey. Yesterday , the master of the choir school stopped his school
for two hours, had the boys don their surplices and pose for me for that
length of time in the choir of the Abbey. ... I suppose this act of
courtesy is a sort of acknowledgment of the attention Dean Stanley
received in America, but it was done in the most spontaneous and
graceful way imaginable — almost as though they felt it a privilege
to be allowed to stand for me . As I sat there in the quiet of that grand
old place, of which no one can form any idea who has not seen it —
with the row of pure bright little faces b ef ore me, a sense of the utter
insignificance of worldly things as compared with those devoted to
the adoration of the Most High came over me to such a degree as to
87

THE WAX EFFIGIES
be oppressive, and when I had finished my sketch I found that my
nerves and brain had been at such a tension that I was completely
exhausted. All the greatest work I have seen here has been builded
and fashioned in a spirit of religious devoti on — the greatest pictures ,
the greatest sculpture, and the greatest architecture. One cannot
wonder at the simpler-minded p eople of former ages f ailing down in
worship before the statues of the great Greeks . As y o u walk through
the aisles of the great abbey there is the same sense of awe that one
feels in the presence of the tremendous, simply grand Venus of
Milo in the Louvre. . . .
" In an old musty loft of the Abbey we were shown as a great fav
our the old wax effigies of the Kings and Queens of England, the
existence of which is only known to a very few people. These effigies
were formerly carried at the funeral processions of their originals,
and were supposed by many to be in reality the bodies of the de
ceased . They are not, as you imagine, clumsy , inartistic affairs, but
are really works of art, the faces being modelled from casts taken
from the original after death. And they are clothed in the original
costumes worn by the originals in life. There is Queen Elizabeth
standing erect and haughty in her robes of state, with crown and
sceptre : such an awful lesson of the decay of earthly grandeur —
her hard merciless face, with pearls and diamonds encircling the
withered neck, and the immense ruff, wilted and covered with the
dust of centuries . The gorgeous satin robe embroidered with silver
and covered with cobwebs. There is Sheffield, Duke of Bucking
ham, in his ermine cape and gorgeous brocade dress, his coronet,
and beautiful lace cuffs and frills, silk stockings, etc. William and
Mary, Queen Anne, Charles II., in a crimson coat and black velvet
hat. The Duchess of Buckingham and her little boy, and a row of
boxes containing fragments of decayed royal images of hundreds
of previous years, which have fallen to pieces. And— among other
odds and ends— a deal box containing the bones of Major John
Andre! Now, this has never been touched as far as I can discover,
in any way by an artist; and Mr. Lillie is writing the thing up as
hard as he can for fear someone will get ahead of us ; and after I
88

DEAN STANLEY
come from the Lakes , unless I have heard to the contrary from you ,
I shall go down there, use every nerve to get permission to make
careful studies of these things for a magazine article, the originality
of which this earth will never have beheld before."
The drawings for the article on the wax figures were subsequently
relinquished by Abbey. Returning to the matter, in a later letter
to Charles Parsons, he says : "Apropos of the 'Effigies,' the Lillies
and I were invited to lunch by D ean S tanley at the D eanery in West
minster Abbey — and such a delightful old place ! Imagine living in
Westminster Abbey ! You enter a little low doorway under an arch
way out of the Close, and are ushered into a large square hall with
a bright blazing fire — very cheery looking, after coming, as we did,
through several miles of foggy, snowy streets. There is a quaint,
square old staircase, ornamented by some portraits and a large re
lief — one of the Elgin Marbles (Lady Augusta Stanley was daugh
ter of the Earl of Elgin) . Then we were shown to a great drawing-
room with three large windows looking out upon the Close, and
a charming old lady came forward to meet us, the late Lady A.'s
sister, Lady Frances Bailey. After a while the Dean came in. He
is a delightful little old chap, and made us very welcome. Then
we went in to lunch and were waited upon by (I have strong reasons
for believing) theological students in disguise . The butler I 'm sure
was a retired clergyman who had lost his voice or something. The
dining-room was most picturesque, with portraits of former D eans
— in wigs of their various periods — lining the walls, and a greatbig
mullioned window looking out on the cloisters. We had a merry
luncheon , and afterwards we were taken by the D ean through a long
low passage , where there was a little door which he unlocked , and we
were in theNave of the Abbey.
"We had the most interesting time you can imagine. The Dean
spent,Ishouldthink,nearlytwohourswithus,explainingandpoint-ing out all sorts of interesting things, and finally he took us into the
loft where the effigies are, and was really very eloquent. If I could
have done shorthand, the articles would have been all ready. Then
it was time for service, and we were shown into the Dean's pew, and
89

MONCURE D. CONWAY
as the darkness began to creep up the walls the choir in their white
surplices came chanting in, and the evening servicebegan. And we
came out of the wonderful place after it was all over, and while the
last notes of the great organ were echoing through the place, feeling
that this really had been a red-letter day. It is a feeble thing to write
a thin description of aplace like Westminster. I neverwasinaplace
in my life that so affected me . The D ean has given me the most cor
dial permission to sketch anything and everything that I like about
the Abbey, and as soon as the weather is anyway half respectable, I
shall go to work there."
InalettertoCharlesParsons,writtenattheSalutationInn,Amble-
side, on August 4th, 1879, something *s sa^ °f tne Lakeland tour:
' ' Conway went away on Saturday night after having b een here with
me for six days, and the way we skimmed over this country was a
caution  I've made about sixteen very superficial sortof sketches.
They cover a lot of ground , and it cost a lot of money to get 'em , but
I do hate to spoil a good subject by hurrying through it — It is pro
voking just as you have become interested in a nice subject to have
a man look over your shoulder and say, 'Dear me, that is the most
finished sketch I ever saw. Don 't waste any more time on that; we've
got to get to Borrowdale before lunch, and you'll have to make a
sketch there, and we must get back to Keswick in time to catch the
7.15 train or we won't get to Penrith to-night.' Finally the expedi
tion resolved itself into a sort of lightning express . . so that I decided
to stay up here a week or so longer and to go all over the interesting
part of the ground again." Moncure Daniel Conway , the Unitarian
minister, who died in Paris in 1 907 , and is chiefly known by his Life
of Tom Paine, was at that time fifty-seven years of age, and was
being very useful to Harper's Magazine. The Wordsworth article
waspublished in December, 1 880, and January and February , 1881 ,
with illustrations by Abbey, and also by Alfred Parsons, who had
made them either from Abbey's notes or from photographs. In
Conway's narrative his companion figures as "The Abbe," but
there is nothing characteristic told of him.
The letter continuing, we find another reference to Mrs. Lillie,
90

EDWARD BURNE-JONES
who was an American writer settled in London performing "far
mer's pony" tasks for Harper's Magazine. This she did for some
years, working up this subject and that, according to editorial in
structions, both in England and on the Continent. In 1883 a little
book of children's stories written by her was issued from Franklin
Square, under the title Mildred's Bargain, in which were a few early
drawings by Abbey. "Mrs. Lillie [he says] and I want to do an ar
ticle on Surrey; there is some beautiful stuff there. Anything you
send Mrs. Lillie to do, you can rest assured, will be as complete as
it is possible to make it."
The letter of August 4th also contains this survey of English art
at that moment: "You asked me several letters ago whether there
were any signs here of a newbirth — in art.'vl find, and tell myself
over and over again that every man has to be himself — but what a
hard thing that is to be!]About fifteen or twenty years ago, there
was a decided new birth here, when Leighton'was first beginning
to make a noise, and Poynter was looming up, and George Mason
and Fred Walker and Pinwell and Keene and du Maurier were as
tonishing the slow-pokes. Now Poynter and Leighton have either
ceased to loom in the one instance or have loomed all they are going
to. Du Maurier has reached his top rung ; so has Keene — and the
other three are dead, poor Walker of pure nervous exhaustion . . .
Mason's body was too weak to support the nervous strain. Since
that time they either copy Walker flatly (there are about fifty , with
out exaggeration, pure and simple copyists of Walker here) or
Burne-Jones. "Burne-Jones is a great man. There are great heights in some of
his things— -his drawing is at times very exquisite , and there is a sim
plicity and purity about his types that his imitators simply fail utterly
to reproduceTIrnitators usually choose the vulgar in a man's work.
The young men here are Frank Holl, Lionel Smythe, and Gregory.
. . . There is a quiet, modest young fellow here named E. R.Hughes,
who is trying hard to do the best according to his light."
The next letter to Charles Parsons, on August 24th, is chiefly
concerned with magazine matters. It says, among other things, 91

NEWTON ABBOT
that Abbey and the Lillies are about to start in search of a typical
English village to describe with pen and pencil. I find this sen
tence: "Nothing can ever make me believe that agood thing can't be
madejust as popular as a bad one." On September 12th he writes
again, from Newton Abbot, in Devonshire, the village that was se
lected, the article appearing in the magazine for June, 1880, with
some of his happiest plein-air drawings. The letter declines a sug
gestion from Mr . Alden that Abbey should collaborate with Bough
ton in the writing of the book on Holland which they were contem-
plating("I think thecobbler had better stick to his last"), and itsays
also thatheand the Lillieswere taking afurnished house togetherfor
three months , in Auriol Road , W . Kensington , where the next letter,
onNovember 5th, was written. Oneortwo passages are interesting.
This , for example, states his solicitude for his family, who were still
none too prosperous. "I wish I could make an arrangement with
you to send my people at home a regular sum every week — say 35
dollars — until my engagement is up; but I suppose this would be too
much trouble. And then, would you please send 150 dollars now.
I don't know whether you have my father's address — 231 8.39th
Street." Abbey goes onto speak of work, and uses this odd phrase,
' ' I don't know whether you want me after the middle of next month
— December"; which suggests that his arrangement with Harper's
was by no means the rigid affair that most people must have thought
it. He adds, "I should like to draw for Punch and the Graphic, but
have said no word to them yet. Although I have several times been
'approached' I have invariably declined to talk business." And we
know also that the late R. W. Gilder, who was in London on a visit
and had dined at Auriol Road, had thrown out hints that if Abbey
joined Scribner' s, of which he was then editor, he would not regret
it. But very wisely the Harpers frustrated these schemes, and Abbey
remained as an illustrator exclusively in their employment.
The next letter tells of ill-health. It was written from 10 Auriol
Road on November 30th, and attributes a general weakness to over
work, the relaxing air of Devonshire and the new house's drains.' 'At
dinner the other night at IN I r . Simpson 's — a Q.C . , whom the Lillies
92

THACKERAY'S DAUGHTER
have introduced me to — I met Baron de Bunsen, Signor Garcia, old
Dicky Doyle, and Mr. and Mrs. Ritchie [Miss Thackeray] . A most
interesting party. Canon Vaughan of the Temple was there, too. I
had a long talk with Mrs. Ritchie. . . . She is a lovely woman, and
full of the most interesting reminiscences. If one could only get her
to write some of it down ! I have been since to her house in Young
Street to tea — and it is an interesting place. There is a low white
panelled drawing-room with sketches by Leighton, Wilkie, C. R.
Leslie, Fred Walker, Doyle, Wm. Hunt, Severn, Geo. Mason, etc.
Old furniture, old china, old rugs, 'and foolish old odds and foolish
old ends . ' B est of all the exquisite M S . copy of The Rose and the Ring ,
written for them by their father, when Miss Thackeray and her sis
ters were ill of scarlet fever. The illustrations are really very delicate
and beautiful, in pen and a slight wash of colour, and all the chap
ter heads and initials are in red. Think of the pains the old gen
tleman took with them ! Mrs. Ritchie told me she would rather
write for Harper's than anyone, and but that she is expressly for
bidden to write at all at present, she would set to work at once,
as she knows exactly what I want. I'm spinning a long yarn. Don't
let any 'personal' man get hold of what I 've said . If you do, my little
jig is up over here, and I'll have to go back home. There's nothing
English people hate as they do an American 'personal' writer, and
the mischief of it is they think we all are secret reporters — until they
find out better. . . .
"Carr is going to write a series of articles for Scribner' s, entitled
'ThePresentTendenciesofEnglishArt/tobepublished afterwards
in book form . Boughton and Tadema are mine, however, and Gilder
has promised to do the handsome thing — and not 'run' me. . . . We
are all thinking of going to Canterbury to spend 'Christmas in a
Cathedral town , ' the Lillies and the Gilders and I . ' ' — Signor Garcia
was the brother of Malibran, and himself a teacher of singing who
lived to be over a hundred and died in 1906. Dicky Doyle was the
Punch artist, who died in 1883. He was at that time fifty-three.
The next letter — December 16th — tells of thefailure of Abbey's
plan to take a holiday and thereby be healed: ' ' I have been very ill —
93

A SPELL OF ILLNESS
to-day is the first that I have been up for nearly a week. Everybody
has been so very kind that I couldn't help getting better. I caught a
severe cold, which settled upon my digestive organs and produced
the most acute pain I ever suffered . I am still pretty weak, or I would
write you a longer letter. . . . I don't think I care about tying myself
for another whole year upon the present terms. I'll wait until I've
caught up a little. If you will kindly send to my people — 231 8.39th
Street, Philadelphia, the 35 dols. per week I shall be very grateful.
I hop e to get to work before very long . I am tired of this idleness . ' '
On the next day he writes again: "I am feeling better to-day, and
am getting stronger, I know, and I shall shortly be able to get to
work again. It is dull work, and unprofitable, this lying in bed all
day looking out into the nine sections of grey sky squared off for my
especial delectation by the window sash . To b e sure , upon one more
than usually pleasant (?) day, a red ball made its appearance at one
side of the window , and remained visible for an hour or so , when it
disappeared at the other. I understood later in the day that this was
the sun. It was so long since I had seen it that I didn't recognise
it. . . . Alfred Parsons came to see me this afternoon, and brought
me a couple of water-colours he would like to exhibit at our Water
Colour Exhibition. ... I told him to seal them and send them to
you . . . and that I would write you about them. . . . Parsons has
been most kind to me, and since I have been so ill has come every
day and brought me grapes and jelly and things and has suffocated
himself in the close air of a sick room to read to me by the hour. . . .
Everybody has been more than kind."
"December 18th, 1879. In the dearth of good engravers don't
you think it well to use some of the processes more? I think my
pen drawing of the cat jumping off the table would have been far
better, processed, and so would the last one of the 'Whittington'
series. I was much disappointed with a great many of the proofs
you sent. The faces in almost every instance had suffered, espe
cially the one of Madeline leaning against the bed . The face here was
just vile. She looks as though she were thinking of all the wicked
things she could conceive of, and her nose is dirty, and her hair is all
94

ENGRAVERS' SHORTCOMINGS
matted on her forehead, etc., etc. The rest of the engraving is ex
quisite; all is good — except the flesh. It seems to me a pity not to
take more pains with the most important part of a drawing instead
of elaborating the borders so much . . . and the way T. engraved
the foot of the old 'beadsman' was frightful. His ankle is about an
eighth of an inch too wide. I'm sorry you don't send me proofs to
look at as soon as they are sent in. I think I ought to be allowed to
correct some of the things.
"December 21st. I've had a little relapse; I wasbetter, and Alfred
Parsons came to stop two days while the Lillies went away to see
somefriendsinthecountry . I did some imp rudentthing or other and
caught a httle more cold, and was lying in bed feeling blue enough,
whenP.cameupandbroughtmetheHarpers'mostgenerousChrist- mas present with the accompanying highly-prized note. I cannot
tell you how much appreciated it all was — most especially the note,
which made me feel better than I have felt for weeks. I don't know
what I have done to deserve all this. I had begun to feel during the
past few months as though I were losing ground, that maybe — like
Frank Smith's old donkey — ' I was a-passin' myself off fo ' corn when
I'se nuffin' but shucks.' If I have in any way been of service to the
Harpers I am very glad, and they may be very sure that I shall leave
nothing undone here that I can see would further their interests.
. . . Scribners have secured Vierge of the Monde Illustri — and later
of the Vie Moderne — for their 'Peter the Great.' He's a ripper, and
we'll have to look out for squalls."
Before leaving 1879, which at its close found Abbey still in bed,
I should like to say that in Harper's Magazine for February was
printed an article on the condition of American art at that day
and its tendencies, in which many of Abbey's Tile Club friends
were represented by reproductions of their work and from which
an excellent idea can be obtained of the quickening in American
painting that had set in. The article closed with a very apprecia
tive reference to Abbey: "It is difficult, among a number who are
all brilliant and gifted, to assign to each his proper rank, but it will
generally be conceded, we think, that the artist who shows most 95

AN AMERICAN TRIBUTE
original inventive power, scarcely equalled by any other artist we
haveproduced,isMr.E.A.Abbey. It must be taken into consider
ation that he is still very young, that he now for the first time visits
the studios and galleries of Europe, that his advantages for a regular
art education have been very moderate, and that he is practically self-
educated. And then compare with these disadvantages the amount
and quality of the work he has turned out, and we find represented
in him genius of a high order, combining almost inexhaustible crea-
tiveness, clearness and vividness of conception, a versatile fancy, a
certain quaint, delicate humour, a poetic perception of beauty, and
admirable chiaroscuro, drawing, and composition."

CHAPTER XIII
ILL HEALTH AND HARD WORK
1 880-1 88 1 Aged 27-29
Convalescence and Misgivings — Art in America — Mrs. Cameron, the Photogra
pher — Death of Abbey's Mother — The Pains of Conscience — Bastien Lepage's
" Joan of Arc "— C. S. Reinhart— The Paris Ateliers— A River Holiday— A Castle
in Spain — In Holland with Boughton — Henry Irving and Ellen Terry — Munich
— G. J. Pinwell — Lechlade — In the Highlands with Black
THE first letter of 1880 was to Charles Parsons, begun on
January 17th: "I just write you a line to let you see that
I am sitting up (though I haven't been dressed yet) and
to tell you that I hope shortly to be well enough to get
to work again . I b elieve I have b een very ill — so I 'm told — and I cer
tainly feel weak enough to believe I have been through anything.
They say I must take six weeks' vacation at least, which is all very
well, but hardly practicable. Just as soon as I can get at it, I will
finish up the behind-hand work. Though it may not seem to you
that I send you a great deal of work, don't infer, please, that I am
in the habit of doing nothing. The constant struggle to 'get ahead*
and to do it a 'httle better this time' is in itself retarding to any
thing like speed. . . .
"It is utterly impossible to do good work straight off, I find. All
this 'impressionist' business is well enough in its way, and as far
as it goes. I like to feel in a man's work that it has hurt him a little,
given him a wakeful night or two, and a little headache. The great
trouble, it seems to me, at home is that the main idea is 'paint,' no
matter what the subject be, so that it be 'nattily' painted. I must
say with all my heart that I believe this to be debasing to art, as art.
Paint as well as you please, but do say something. The more I find
out, the more there seems to be to find. . . .
"January 18th. — It's very weary work,this convalescencing busi
ness, but everybody is so very kind. Mr. Lillie is worn out sitting
up with me at night. He sat up every night with me for two weeks .
Last night the telegram came from Harpers' to 'take vacation.' I
h 97

SIR FREDERIC LEIGHTON
cannot tell you how grateful I am to them for this kindness. I am
not quite up to writing them a letter now, but will you convey to
them the expression of my sincere thanks. ..."
On February 17th Abbey wrote to Charles Parsons that he was
about to start for Biarritz with the Lillies. Referring to the water-
colour exhibition in New York, which he hears was a good one, he
says: "It seems to me that small, strong, earnest bodies of live men,
working together and using each other's experience, as theTile Club
does , cannot help but become a strong power and influence for good .
I never seemed to work so easily and surely as I did when I was with
the boys on Long Island [in 1878] , and I feel greatly the lack of the
same congenial companionship here. I suppose, though, that isola
tion to a certain extent tends to make one self-reliant. I long to be at
work again , but my doctor looks very serious , and b ecomes violently
obstructive whenever I express myself thus to him. Sometimes it
seems as though I must do something. My head gets so full of unex
pressed ideas and arrangements and combinations that it seems as
though it would burst sometimes . I am looking forward anxiously
to the time when I will have acquired enough technical facility to
enable me to do some of these things — right. I am greatly encou
raged by the criticisms and advice of the few men I go to see here
— Boughton and Sir Frederic Leighton and Tadema and Parsons.
Leighton takes the greatest pains to explain anything one is misty
about in the way of method, and is just as much : one of us ' as though
he was still an Academy student."
The letter continues : " I think I had b etter give up the rest of D e
Mille's story [A Castle in Spain~\,i£ you must have it by the first of
July. . . . I am anxious to get at and finish a number of the Herrick
things before the end of the year. I have half a dozen or so on the
stocks, and these with Miss Veley's things and the other work I have
—the Holland, the Effigies, the Thames, Surrey, and a number of
other things— will keep me busy for some time. I dread to do the
Tower. There are quantities of men who could do it better than I
can; it consists mainly of a series of rooms with show cases in them.
There are many other rooms doubtless that I haven't seen. ... I
98

"INTENSE" ILLUSTRATION
shall not try to illustrate much of the ' intense' modern school of Eng
lish poetry , of which this is an extract :
The Lady leaned from her lattice
Low as the land leaned she. . . .
which is very alliterative and rhythmic, but hardly illustratable. I
cannot conceive any other form for it than this . This must have been

her little game. I can only think the lady must have been exceed
ingly uncomfortable. . . .
"I am sure that the coming ten years will place American art on
an equal footing with that of any other country. In some respects
it will surpass that of a good many countries. The main difficulty
in the way seems to be the lack of pictures to 'key up to.' There
are many good pictures in America — one of the best Rubens I
have seen is in Wilksbarre, and there is a stunning Velasquez in
the N.Y. Historical Society— but these things are inaccessible to
the mass of painters, and ignorance always breeds indifference, so
that few avail themselves of even the few opportunities there are
for seeing good things." — Thanks to the wealth and enterprise of
99

THE ARTIST'S MOTHER
American collectors and the willingness of English owners (even
when they are National Gallery trustees) to sell, America has now
some of the finest pictures in the world , both in public galleries and
private collections . The Metropolitan Museum of New York could
not to-day be disregarded by any conscientious student of art.
The next letter is from Biarritz on March 30th. Owing to anxiety
on receipt of a cablegram about his mother's illness and his inability
to get to her, Abbey had had a relapse. "Dr. Roberts forbids me
utterly to cross the Atlantic just yet, and really I do not feel up to it.
Later letters and telegrams have relieved my mind as to my mother's
immediate danger, but I believe one never quite recovers from
Bright 's disease, so I am trying to b e patient and look things squarely
in the face. I think you never saw her? No one ever comprehended
my slightest impulses or whim more completely, and all through
what you can easily imagine to have been a most troublesome boy
hood she was ever patient and lovingly forbearing. I have taken to
her dear ear the very innermost of my thoughts, good and bad, and
have never found else than the most tender large-hearted sympathy .
We are all in all to each other, and it will not be difficult for you to
comprehend how the severe illness of the one being to whom I
owe all that is highest and best in my nature fills me with such deep
grief  "
Writing on April 21 st to Mr. Alden, Abbey says that he is better,
but still far from well, that he cannot walk much yet, but hopes to
begin work again in a couple of weeks or so. He gives a long list
of tasks on which he is to be busy directly the hour strikes. This is
interesting: "The house in Miss Thackeray's From an Island (you
remember the story) , always had a great charm for me , and one day
I asked her about it. It is a real place — as I find nearly all her back
grounds are— and is (or was) the house of Mr. and Mrs. Cameron,
on the Isle of Wight. Mrs. Cameron is the lady who made the won
derful photographs some years ago of Carlyle, Tennyson, and of
various groups of costumed children — you have probably seen
some of them. Mr. C. and Mrs. C. are both dead nowand their
beautiful home is broken up. Mrs. Ritchie has a very good sketch
100

" TO MEDDOWES."
"SELECTIONS FROM HERRICK.'

Jo /Vaio«,ey
Y^ j^e Jeen -ft. eft and, £«ji
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A^A *e *-e "»1KJ" Jim* Been,
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With, -wicker arfc did «».*
1* Jfii>5 Mid ieiu-e woy
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Y&ue K^ard (him freely finf,
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*W*T* fil'ttriff £«t dld lrejLd|
And -with difheuejj'd ha.ire.
5\d°rn'd tltij- iJn°0ihe>r mead.
JLik« vnthiifiJ", Jiaiiing fjt^ht
Y°vre ft OCX. and. ne«d^ grVn.
Y»r< Jft Ji«r* t° Jam^t.

THE LAWN OF A NIGHT
of it by Arthur Severn, hanging up over her back drawing-room
chimney piece, and she pointed out to me where they had added
on here and there and everywhere as they felt disposed. A friend,
a lady who had been ill, was asked to visit them, and as she needed
sun they thought the windows in the room she was to have were
too small, so they had a long window built into it. One of the young
ladies was engaged to be married and had no place to be courted
in, so they built a quaint httle veranda in one corner out of the way
where they billed and coo'd to their hearts' content. Mr. C, who
was an invalid many years, looking from the dining-room window
one evening, regretted that the kitchen garden,which lay in front of
it, was not a lawn. That night, after he had retired, Mrs. Cameron
had a little army of workmen come and they completed a beautiful
lawn for him by next morning's breakfast time. All this was very
charming, I thought. Mrs. Ritchie said the neighbours, who were
steady-going philistines, thought they were crazy people, but that
it was the most delightful house she had ever visited, nevertheless.
"My description is rather bald, or a 'catalogue of things,' as Aid-
rich said of Walt Whitman's poetry. If you had heard it described
by Mrs . Ritchie you would have had a better idea of the place . I wish
we had places of this sort in America . I hop e we will have one of these
days. Tennyson lived half a mile away and used to wander in and
out of this house at his own sweet will. We couldn't have this, but
we might have some other fellow who would be quite as agreeable.
"April 28th. — I have very sad news every day now from home
and am expecting daily the tidings of my poor dear mother's depar
ture from this world. This is the greatest grief that I have ever
known; who could know a greater? I try to be philosophical about
it and to rise above it all, but it is dreary work." — Mrs. Abbey died
on April 1 5th, aged fifty-four.
Writing from 1 o Auriol Road on May 3 1 st, Abbey was angry with
some remarks on painting and engraving which G. W. Curtis had
been making in the magazine for February. "Perhaps Mr. Curtis
is not aware that one at least of his draughtsmen for the engravers
takes as much pains with the details of a drawing which appears in
101

AN ILLUSTRATOR'S WHOLE DUTY
his magazine — an inch and ahalf square in size — as ever any painter
did with his most elaborate pictures  I could tell you how 'Julia's
Clothes' [in the Herrick series] cost me a week of search among
costumes and historical authorities, and how, failing to find what I
wanted, I had her dress made of black satin from an old print of the
time by Hollar at an expense of more than half of what I received
for the drawing. A case in point is found in the very batch of draw
ings which I send with this letter. I had finished an elaborate draw
ing of 'Mindwell and his Mother , 'when I discovered that I had made
the costume at least twenty years later than the date Mrs. Cooke has
set down as that of her story, and although she distinctly describes
one of her characters as wearing a costume which was not thought of
until thirty years at least after her date — still, I threw mine out and
lost all that work. . . .
"Icouldnotbegintotellyouoftheworrylhadwiththe'St.Agnes
Eve' illustrations in this respect. I had to have some things made;
others I borrowed of Boughton and hired of Barthe [the costumier] .
My maxim in all my work is that if it is worth doing at all , it is worth
doing as well as it is possible to do it — in every minutest respect.
A man who allows himself the habit of being slipshod about httle
things, willgraduallybecomeslipshodabouteverything. If an illus
trator is to show the manner and appearances of the people of the
Middle Ages, it seems to me it should fairly smell of that time. I am
picking up piece by piece a very valuable collection of accessories. I
musthaveatleastfiftycompletecostumesofvariousperiods,mainly of the last two hundred and fifty years . These are nearly all original
articles, or are carefully copied from originals which I have bor
rowed for the purpose." ^
Alfred Parsons had met Abbey in Paris on May 1 2th, whence they
returned together on the 19th. Continuing his letter, Abbey thus
describes their visit: "I have been profoundly stirred by my sight
of the pictures in Paris during my late little visit there. I must have
just been in the mood for it — or something. I couldn't get away from
the awful Venus of Milo in the Louvre— mooned away a whole
morning there with Alfred Parsons. Lord! how I would have wor-
102

BASTIEN LEPAGE
shippedherif I'dbeen anoldPagan. And then the Titians upstairs,
the immortal 'Homme au Gant,' the great Venetian things, by men
whose very names have passed away and are unknown to us. . . .
There is in the Salon this year the very greatest picture ever painted
by anybody since the fifteenth century , a picture before which stand
crowds of reverent people every day , too full of the sentiment of the
picture to speak of it. This is Bastien Lepage's wonderful 'Joan of
Arc' It is a life-sized figure of a coarsely and vulgarly moulded
peasant girl,who has in her eyes the vision of the possibilities of her
future. She is turning her radiant face away from the vision which
appears just over her flax wheel — a vision faintly seen through the
trees, of a knight in golden armour holding out to her, in both his
hands, a sword . Behind him appear two figures in bride wreaths and
veils. There is no forcing of effect. The scene is a homely, weed-
grown orchard , and the vision is only faintly seen . The girl is dressed
in a rough dress of grey and brown, the light is perfectly diffused
throughout, as it would be out of doors, yet your eyes cannot get
away from thegirl's face. You don't see any paint or anybrush marks
— there the real girl just stands . . . everything looks cheap and com
monplace and feeble beside this wonderful masterpiece. I never had
anything so stir me up in my life. ... If I could half express to you
the wild longing within me to grab a b rush and set my teeth and paint
until I dropped dead, this pen would get red hot. I haven't said any
thing in this of the crushing trouble that has come to me, simply
because I don't dare to let myself think of it. When I get stronger I
shall write to you of my darling mother. "
Again, to Reinhart, on June 3rd : "The reason the Salon looks so
mean is because Lepage so utterly swamps and bangs the lot. But
they are nowhere in comparison. I think 'Joan' the greatest picture
of this age — those I have seen — and pretty nearly the greatest — i.e.,
the most emotional — of any other."
A year later Abbey returned to this painting, which had gone to
the Metropolitan Museum in New York, where it now hangs. "It
is [he again assures Charles Parsons] by all odds the greatest modern
picture I have ever seen. Thefaceis very greatwork — inspiration, if
103

FRENCH ART IN 1880
you like— tremendous art anyway. It affected me much as the great
Venus in the Louvre does. I have seen a great many heads painted
by a great many men, but I never saw a face that stirred me up as
this of Bastien Lepage's does. The old Masters never beat it. . . .
You have no idea how paltry it made everything else in the room
appear, and how mean all the rest of the pictures in the Exhibition
looked after it. Bouguereau, Bonnat, Carolus-Duran, Lefebvre,
even Jules Breton wereall hunginthesame room, unfortunately for
them. There was a Vollon there — a big golden pumpkin and a bat
tered black pot with abrass inside to it — the only other picture in the
room which held its own."
Reinhart came to Europe with his family this year and settled in
Paris. From a letter to him we gather that Abbey, too, had a serious
Paris sojourn in prospect. The date is June8th, 1880: "I have about
decided to try Paris next winter, if I get a wholesome place to work
in. I want to study painting, and, do you know, I have come to the
conclusion that Julien's school is about my dot ; Dagnan Bouveret
works there. Didn't you think his 'Accident' very fine? I'd like to
study with him if I could get at him; he is very young, I beheve.
There's Cazin — I thought he painted about as well as I could ever
hope to; Bastien Lepage has too decided a method perhaps, and
then I don't believe he would take anybody. [Alfred] Parsons wants
to go and have a while with Pelouse. All the old men seem to be
falling off , except Jules Goupil. This putting men in dark caves and
throwing electric light on them gets stale after 500 times. I suppose
you have seen the Ribots at the office of L 'Art and have decided that
that sort of thing gets monotonous also . I liked Jules Goupil 's ' Last
Hours of Madame Quelquechose ' — whatever her name is; good,
honest, straightforward painting I thought it, and Vollon. If I could
get all that out of pumpkin and dipper I think I'd go in for them.
Bonnat is too tricky. Dagnan seemed to me to have fewer tricks per
haps than any of them . His way seemed to be to paint what he had
to paint with as little fuss as was compatible with making what he
painted look like what he was painting it from. Think this over — it
is a little involved, but it is what I mean."
104

THE LURE OF PARIS
Abbey's ambition to study inPariswas, however, never fulfilled,
although from time to time during his career he revived the project
of living there, at any rate, for a year; and there seems to be a wide
spread impression that, like so many Americans, he had learned his
painting there. Writing to Mr .WillH. Low as lateas 1908, hesaid:"I
never have been very much in Paris— never for more than a fortnight
at a time, I think— and for the first time in the spring of 1879, after
you had gone away, and after the Latin Quarter days of most of the
men who were my friends were over. . . . But the things I had to do
were Enghsh and keptme in England . ' '
The letter to Reinhart continues : "Poor Boughton looks badly —
he is far from well. I spent yesterday afternoon with him, and he
was interested to know you were coming here soon. If you don't
love him when you know him you don't deserve to know him. But
you will  We went out to Hammersmith yesterday and explored
a brie a brae place, and planned to go up to Cookham on the river for
a day soon and have a square loaf. F.Walker is buried at Cookham,
you know. I wish you would come over here and go along with us.
I've just about finished five Herrick pages. I wish you could see
them before they go ; two of them are much better than anything
I've done, I think."
The summer of 1 880 was spent chiefly in London at Auriol Road ,
but two or three weeks were given to Alfred Parsons at Frome.
Afterwards Abbey and Alfred Parsons went to Oxford , where they
were joined by Abbey's cousin Charles Truslow, all three rowing
from Oxford to London and the two artists making sketches. Mrs.
Lillie having gone abroad to visit her mother in Italy, Abbey and
Mr. Lillie took a furnished house, No. 72 Bedford Gardens, with a
studio attached, for a few months. A letter to Charles Parsons, on
September 2nd, states that Abbey and Boughton were to start on
a sketching and writing tour on October ist, that he had done
much work and was very tired of illustrating the novel, A Castle
in Spain, and that money difficulties were harassing him. The
trouble again proceeded from the custom of paying not for each
drawing used, but according to the size of its reproduction. Could 105

A STUBBORN TASK
there not, he asks, be a new arrangement? It is doubtful if he was
extravagant or foolish; but he had taken up the most expensive
branch of art and he was dominated by a passion for thoroughness
which could never lead towards economy . As for A Castle in Spain ,
this was a novel by James De Mille for which Abbey had been mak
ing drawings ever since 1878, to be engraved by the regular wood
cutting staff. It ran through the magazine in 1883 and was after
wards republished in volume form with the illustrations. Abbey
writes of it, in his letter of September 2nd : "I am getting on with
that bugbear of mine — the Castle in Spain . I 'm thinning the illus
trations out a good deal towards the end. I wish I could have had
Hardy's story [A Laodicean] . Du Maurier has not done himself very
proud on the illustrations to it, and the engraving has not been very
much b etter . I don 't think du M . is the man to do that sort of thing
— it is completely out of his hne, as much as, or even more so than,
this awful Castle is out of mine, and it is difficult to take an interest
in a thing with which one is not in sympathy — and when one is not
in sympathy one is very heavily handicapped. When du Maurier
illustrates a story like that of Hardy's he is merely absurd. It is a
pity Small didn't have it to do. You have no idea how beautiful
Small's drawings on the wood are. With our cutting they would
be a different thing altogether from the sort of thing Swain turns
out. These English engravers are good on large work, but play
the mischief with delicate things." — Abbey never tired of extolling
Small's work, and to find him thus recommending that draughts
man for work which he, himself, would like to do is another proof
of his want of any tinge of jealousy.
The next letter, on September 26th, also to Charles Parsons, indi
cates that Abbey was by no means yet strong again. It suggests, too ,
that he was overworking — a tendency with him all his life, and un
avoidable where there was such a union of energy, ambition, and
experimentalism. Concerning, for example, the Herrick illustra
tions, which were his staple task at this time, he says: "It is impossi
ble, as you suggest, to finish things up as they ought to be done, right
slap . It takes a long time sometimes to gethold of one little seemingly
106

CORINNA'S GOING A MAYING.
ii " COME, MY CORINNA, COME, LET'S GO A MAYING."
2. " THERE'S NOT A BUDDING BOY OR GIRLE, THIS DAY,
BUT IS GOT UP, AND GONE TO BRING IN MAY." ROBERT HERRICK.

IN HOLLAND
unimportant detail, which isn't noticed after it is put in, but would
be if it weren't there. ... I have made four attempts at the 'Night
Piece to Julia,'and am finally getting it into shape. I suppose the first
one would have been just as 'popular' as the last one will be, but I
don't see how one is ever going to get anywhere if one is satisfied
with a popularity based on no more substantial foundation than
mere ignorance."
The Dutch tour with Boughton came off in October. Writing to
Charles Parsons on October 20th from the Hotel Bellevue at The
Hague, Abbey says: "Boughton and I have got hold of some capital
stuff — really . We lost about a week going to places we didn't care to
look at after we got to 'em. The Friesland part was most uninterest
ing, but in North Holland— at Hoorn, Edam,Monnickendam, Alk-
maar, Vollendam, and Marken , we found quantities of stuff Just ly
ing about loose. At Amsterdam we saw Rembrandt's great pictures
— the portrait of Burgomaster Six, thegreatest of all of 'em. No one
has seen the Dutch school at its best who has not seen the great Six
collection. How much greater a man he was than his duller- witted
fellow-citizens who are now utterly forgotten!"
The next letter, written from his new home at 72 Bedford Gar
dens, on November 6th, refers to the Dutch adventure less hap
pily, and tells us that he was still far from well or at peace. "A few
more trips of this sort would effectually ruin me, as it is about the
same thing as taking a vacation — my expenses at home running
on just the same and nothing coming in. I had to run home before
I had half done the Thames trip , and make some drawings for pay ,
and had the same trouble with the Lake drawings last year. We were
a little over twenty days in Holland, and visited nearly thirty towns,
beside doing a lot of country travel, so you can readily understand
that our sketches are of the scantiest description. It's all very well
for Boughton, who proposes to use a lot of his sketches in pictures,
but I am not quite so prosperous a cuss, and am worried well-nigh
crazy with demands on me for money. My doctor has forbidden me
to work more than four hours a day — which is all very well — but
rather impracticable . Every rap I receive — and of late there has been
107

THE LIGHTNING TRAVELLERS
mighty little — goes to pay some debts contracted during my illness.
I have pawned a good many things I can do without, and still I can
not seem to keep up. I think it would be a cheap job on Harpers'
part to discharge me, and call it square. I caught a cold crossing the
Channel the other night, and was in bed nearly five days, and the
row and confusion incident to moving has unsettled me generally."
Returning once again to the Dutch trip , in a later letter to Charles
Parsons, adjuring him to persuade the Harpers to allow more time
for such expeditions, Abbey says: "Imagine a country brimful of
interest, almost as large and as thickly settled as the State of New
York, run over in less than a month, with no stoppage in any one
place of longer than a day and a half, with a constant anxiety not
to miss anything that ought to be had, and a still more constant
regret that it was utterly impossible to do justice to any feature of
a place other than the most trivial. The mere physical fatigue of
travelling at such a rate almost prevented any work at all . At several
of the most interesting places we saw we were unable to stop more
than an hour. I finally hit upon the plan of buying the complete
costume of the peasants of each district, and all the photographs I
could get,and these,with the roughest possible notes, some written,
some hastily sketched, are all I have had to work from in the draw
ings sent you. You will readily agree with me, I think, that this is
not quite the right way to do work of substantial value." — In the
very pleasant work which resulted from this trip , entitled Sketching
Rambles in Holland, is a picture by Abbey entitled "Selling Cos
tumes," in which we probably see the two collaborators. Further
description of the volume is deferred until its appearance a few
years later.
The letter of November 6th is the last in 1880. On December
nth Mr. Lillie left hurriedly for Munich, where Mrs. Lillie was
ill with peritonitis. Abbey accompanied him, and there for some
weeks he remained, lodging at 7/3 Gabelsberge Strasse, studying
in the galleries , and inquiring into the mysteries of oil paint . One of
his last tasks before leaving for Munich had been to make drawings
of the Beefsteak Club and the armoury in the Lyceum Theatre, to
108

-^^

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*J3vl hark *!<**' I e^n h«w fxpref./**
/*\y Iv!te v»t<* my Afcailiprc]ef,re

[«¦«> /**>,

V^- Kin* Mrfi'n th^y ai miIKin|« m«t
>l'ws for t° ^in ihv HAHi'r fair*
Ilc flriHe (h« iWi a hiTnble air«
Thai th»v fhalt fay* tHy f*If * , cli-^ r.\r* ;
!A*d <itlc ti\c wrtf>°vt ^mjia-r*-

--S*^

-^Tt*"

^•r. Lny* ty awhil* y<

NT ]»ijse/;

r'f«

tAnf 1j°1Ii J,»v» Kjr« d'ft'ru'd lh« l^ft

"P> g't th/ ftRrling ,"ii" afnin

°''°J' £\,„< UJI.VJ- fliMi I'll by thi^
"^Jiofa n»-w* th* JvrlT» and **^r iJ*

A BEUCOLIC, OR DISCOURSE OF NEATHERDS.
" SELECTIONS FROM HERRICK."

ENGLISH STAGE DRAWINGS
illustrate an article on Henry Irving by Joseph Hatton. Abbey also
had one or two sittings from Miss Ellen Terry for the same article;
but there is no record that any drawing was completed. Many years
later, in 1906, when Miss Terry celebrated her stage jubilee, Abbey
contributed to the souvenir programme a drawing of Olivia in The
Vicar of Wakefield.
Writing to Charles Parsons from Munich on January 2nd, 1881 ,
he says: "I have been much disappointed in the proofs of my work
you have lately sent me. I hardly think it a fair thing to process the
Herrick drawings so badly as the 'Neatherds' set are done. All the
delicacy I have tried to put in them has vanished, and they have a
dreadfully coarse look to me. Why not leave the type part as it is,
and engrave the pictures ? The 'Bellman,' too, is a beastly cut by
Muller. The standing figure is cross-eyed, and the cut generally is
entirely without any character at all as line work. It has a look as
though it had tarlatan stretched over it to keep the flies off. Two of
the Castle in Spain cuts are very, very bad. I hope to Heaven this
novel isn't going to appear in the Magazine. I like very much the
cuts Smithwick made of the 'Borrowdale Yews' and of T Come
Back,Amassy' [illustration to "Mrs. Flint's Married Experience,"
by Rose Terry Cooke], and the little view of 'Ulleswater' [all in
Harper's, December, 1880]. The Gallery here is very rich in early
German work. There are some fine Holbeins and a fine show of
Riberas, and a fine head of Titian. The Rubens-Vandyke school
I care less and less for the more I see of it. Though some of the
Rubens work is certainly stupendous, I have far more sympathy
with the 15th and 16th century schools."
Mr. Charles Mente, whose reminiscences of Abbey in the Art
Department at Harpers ' are quoted in an earlier chapter, was living
in Munich at this time. "I saw Abbey," he wrote, "continually.
I was a student at the Royal Academy, and he came to my rooms
almost every day towards evening. While there he kept on with
his illustrations for Harper's, and when a draft came he always
spent some of it for costumes, weapons, or whatever he could get
that was worth getting. He was an admirer of Dietz's work (Pro-
109

IN MUNICH
fessor Wilhelm Dietz, who was then professor at the Royal Aca
demy), and as he seemed desirous to study under him for a short
time we called at his studio one day with a portfoho of proofs of
Abbey's work. Dietz was very pleasant and glad to meet him ; he
knew of his work, having seen some illustrations in Harper's Maga
zine. Indeed , many Munich artists were familiar with his work, and
bought Harper 's mainly on account of his illustrations . As Dietz had
no studio empty in the Academy then that Abbey could utilize, he
advised him to get one on his route so he could drop in often and see
him, but nothing came of this as he shortly after went back to Lon
don. At Abbey 's request I engaged a clever Dietz pupil by the name
of Erdelt, a good painter of heads, to give him a lesson in painting.
We took our stretchers to Erdelt on the day appointed . The model
was an old woman, and at Abbey's request Erdelt painted also, as
he wanted to see him work . ' '
The prevailing tone of the next letters, written in February and
March from London to CharlesParsons, was still dismal ; but Abbey
confesses to a little social gaiety again . " B oughton gave a dinner the
other night to Booth [Edwin Booth, the American actor] . Edmund
Yates, W. S. Gilbert, Ernest Hart [the surgeon and collector], old
Browning, and many other people were there. Charles Green [the
water-colour artist and illustrator] gave a studio party the other
night. A lot of men were there. Old Dalziel was one of them, and he
is most enthusiastic over the American magazines. Everybody is,
but the preference is usually given to Scrtbner's. I walked part of the
way home with Tenniel, who is a remarkably well preserved old boy
—looks like a retired Colonel."— Tenniel was then fifty-eight; he
lived on until 1914. Dalziel was probablv George Dalziel (1815-
1902), eldest of the three Dalziel brothers, all of whom had been
engravers in their time and were intimately associated with the rise
of English black-and-white art. Among Abbey's cherished books
were their editions of the Arabian Nights, with drawings by Hough
ton, Millais and others and their Goldsmith illustrated by Pinwell.
In the same letter Abbey urges on the controller of Harper's the
importance of both the editor (Mr. Alden) and Charles Parsons
no

ENGLISH ARTISTS
coming to London to get the English point of view for themselves
— since the magazine, hitherto imported, was now published in
London independently. He expresses a great desire to return to
America, offering to take Charles Parsons 's place intheArt Depart
ment for a little time and so release him to visit England. This is in
teresting: ' ' I painted the figures in a landscape of Ernest Waterlow's
— at the last minute, when he was in a dreadful stew about them 
Linton came and lunched with me on Sunday in all the prosperity
of a green velvet coat, and told me he gets one thousand guineas for
each of those large pictures of the young warrior's adventures 
He has also an order from a Manchester gentleman to paint two
subjects and six single figures from each of Walter Scott's novels.
These chaps are all aggravatingly prosperous . Colin Hunter is off in
ayachttotheMediterranean,havingsoldout. Boughtonis sold out,
and everybody is taking a long breath now that the agony of show-
Sunday is over and the pictures are gone in. . . ." — The picture
by Sir Ernest Waterlow, who died in 1919, was called "Outward
Bound." The letter was continued on April 14th. "I was up rather late
last night — Tadema had a small party on. Leighton was there and
Millais and Poynter, and there was wonderful music by Joachim
and Piatti and Madame Schumann. . . . Lowell was there too. . . .
I wanted to hear Sir Frederic fiddle, but he wouldn't before swells
like Joachim and Piatti . He was kind enough to say I had been very
ill-advised in being persuaded to return to America — that it only
rested with me to be whatever I would in England. He has a way
of saying things like this that is extremely alluring. . . .
"I am trying hard to work off what I have on hand. At Dalziel 's
the other day I saw a large number of wonderfully beautiful draw
ings by Pinwell and Millais and Walker and North and many others.
Whenever Pinwell or Walker or North or anybody else would bring
him a drawing that he liked, he would order a picture of it. He has
both of Pinweh's 'Pied Piper' pictures, and most of his other things
except 'The Great Lady,' which is in America." I think I have al
ready said something of how high a place among Abbey's heroes in

G. J. PINWELL
was occupied by George John Pinwell, who had died in 1875 at the
early age of thirty-two , while Abbey was free-lancing in New York.
Abbey had one of his original sketches.
These were for Abbey anxious and arduous days. Not only was
he overworked and not really strong, but the want of pence was
constant, both for himself and for his father. The letters to Charles
Parsons are filled with financial worries; and a bill for dilapidations
at 72 Bedford Gardens, which he gave up in the spring — moving to
Alfred Parsons 's house at 54 — put the finishing touch. The neces
sity then became so great that he had to ask the Graphic for work
that would lead to immediate payment — his first non-Harperian
commission in this country. He was also made uneasy by the dif
ferent views held by himself and Franklin Square as to the value
of magazine articles — Abbey holding that the best was always the
cheapest in the long run , and that each task should be done as though
it were to be the final treatment of the subject, and the firm holding
that the fullest expenditure of time and energy was not always called
for — or, in other words, that some commissions might be taken
more lightly than others. The competition of Scribner' s was also
much on Abbey 's mind , and altogether he was , in this 1 88 1 summer,
as little like his true gay and buoyant self as ever in his life.
But the tide suddenly turned . A more than sufficient draft arrived
from Franklin Square, and visits to Lechlade with Alfred Parsons
and to the Highlands with William Black set up his health again
and prepared him for the happiness of the return to America in late
September. To Lechlade, on the upper Thames, on the borders of
Gloucestershire and Oxfordshire, he was to remain true through
life, even to making his home for over twenty years near the neigh
bouring town of Fairford. It will be time to speak of Fairford and
its vicinity later; here let it merely be said that Lechlade 's cool loveli
ness is untouched since that day. It is a place that no Abbey pilgrim
can disregard, for it was in the Swan Inn that he found the long
window(since removed) which forms the background for the water-
colour "The Sisters," and at Buscot rectory, a mile down the river,
he found the panelled hall which forms the scene of thewater-colour
112

YACHTING WITH BLACK
"The Widower"; while at Bridge House, Lechlade, many drawings
for The Deserted Village were, in 1890, to be made.
Writing to Charles Parsons on September 1 5th, he thus described
his Scotch experience. "I had certainly a most delightful week in a
most wonderful country. Themostindescribably grand and solemn
and lonely land I've ever seen. Black has a steam yacht with his
shooting, and we cruised all about Mull and the Lochs about Oban.
Wecouldn't go far, as the coal accommodation was limited, butwe
took the steamer through the Sound of Mull and to Staffa. They
left us a small boat at Staffa, where I sketched, and which is an
awful place, and then we sailed across from there to Iona in the
sunset, and I saw the purple Dutchman's Cap and Gometra and
little Colonsay and the Island of Rum and the peaks of Skye behind
it, and the three peaks of Jura, and all the wild places we have read
of in Macleod of Dare and White Wings. Black showed me where
Castle Dare would have been built if anybody had ever built it,
and I sketched hard, making notes of the wonderful skies and the
mists on the hill sides. As for character — the few people there are,
I should think, had lots of it, but there's scarcely a house to be seen
and very few boats; but everyone knew Black, big and little. We
stayed at Iona one night at a little bit of an inn and were nearly
walked away with by the rats. I wished that I could have stopped
longer and gone on to Skye, but I had to leave that until another
time. I have quantities of sketches useful and a few ornamental."
— The fruits of this Black and Abbey partnership did not reach the
publicuntil December, 1883 ,when,under the title "A Gossip about
the West Highlands," Black recorded a number of entertaining ex
periences on the coast. The only reference to his companion is at
the close: "I never in my life saw despair so visibly depicted on a
human countenance as when he [Abbey] took out his neat little
sketchbook and then looked up at the mountain Giants of Glen-
coe." The little sketchbook, however, behaved nobly, as the draw
ings, in due time reproduced, testify.
The chief Harper drawings f or 1 88 1 , all or nearly all of which were
done in 1880, were for Herrick 's poems — their sweetness and light
1 H3

SCOTCH SKETCHES
adding a new charm to that increasingly popular magazine. But not
until the number for October,i 88 1 ,themonth in which Abbey arriv
ed in America, was his name mentioned in the index. The occasion
was a drawing, engraved by Henry Wolf, for frontispiece, entitled
"With Grandpa. ' ' In the J^rnenumber had appeared an interesting
foretaste of what was to be Abbey's principal work as a draughts
man, in two drawings for an article on"Ballads and Ballad Music,
illustrating Shakespeare."

CHAPTER XIV
AN AMERICAN INTERLUDE
1 881-1882 Aged 29
In New York with Alfred Parsons— 58^ West 10th Street— The Tile Club Again—
A Second Visit to Long Island — Another Club Discussion — Harper's Christmas
— W. A. Rogers's Recollections — Painting at High Pressure — The Founding of
"The Kinsmen"
ABBEY and Alfred Parsons sailed for New York on Sep
tember 26th, 1881 , arriving there on October 7th, and
forgetting their bad passage in the warmth of their wel
come, part of which took the form of a Tile Club dinner
in their honour. Indeed, the return of their "Chestnut," bringing
The Englishman " (as they were to call Mr . Parsons) with him , had
a galvanic effect on the Club , which not only at once set forth on the
annual summer tour that had been postponed to include the two
friends, but under his inspiration blossomed forth, as we shall see,
into successful authorship .
Abbey's first concern was to find a studio, and this he did at 58^
West 10th Street, which was taken in partnership with his cousin,
Charles Truslow and Alfred Parsons, and which subsequently was
to become famous as the New York quarters of Colonel Carter of
Cartersville, the lovable hero of Hopkinson, Smith's novel. To-day
the place exists no more, having been destroyed or incorporated in
No. 58 West 10th Street proper. The new tenants were no sooner
established than they put the place at the disposal, in the evenings,
of the Tile Club , and a few months after their return to England the
Club took it over as their premises. The following description of it
by George Parsons Lathrop in The Art Amateur, applies chiefly to
it at that later time, but it will help us to visualise Abbey 's surround
ings too: "The entrance, which is so unobtrusive as to be easily
missed in the dark, even when one knows where it is and keeps a
look-out for it, remains as non-committal as ever. The fortunate
guest who betakes himself thither burrows through the narrow pas
sage under the outer building with a pleased sense of engaging in
H5

58i WEST ioth STREET
mysterious business — attending a secret conference, say, of the In
ternational. Butatthe end, behold! a small flagged courtyard, a patch
of starry sky above, and off on one side , beyond the dim and broken
forms of the larger houses , a tall , pointed clock-tower with glowing
dial-face, and close in front the mellow lights of festal windows in
the two-storey Tilers' Den. The parlour has been panelled, and a
high shelf, above the level of the average level head, runs along one
side of the room, laden with large bronze jars and other objects of
aesthetic value  Pictures by the members or other artists are hung
here and there; aroadthrough autumnfoliage,besideaharbour with
ships, by Hopkinson Smith; one of Abbey's quaint and trenchant
figure-pieces, perhaps, done in pen and ink; a Bo-peep shepherdess
from Winslow Homer, presenting skilful gradations of contrast in
green and white; or it may be that, glancing around , your eye meets
the trembling glow of a humid English sunset by Alfred Parsons. ' '
On October 26th, 1881 , the Tile Club started for Port Jefferson,
L ong I sland , on its postponed holiday , and a most exhilarating week
followed. The party consisted of William Laffan, Arthur Quartley,
Frank Millet, William Paton, William Baird, William Chase, Alden
Weir, Frederic Dielman, Napoleon Sarony, Abbey and AlfredPar-
sons. All made sketches, and all made jokes; but of their adventures
no record was kept, as had been of the historic week in 1878 when
Long Island was discovered.
So much for play. Abbey was busy, too, on a water-colour or so,
and on various tasks for Harper's, chiefly the Herrick; while he con
trived to blend play with work by instigating the Tile Club to pre
pare a Christmas Miscellany. The following conversation, as re
ported by William Laffan in the resulting publication, tells the story
better than a later historian can :
"Something had to be done.
"The maintenance and perpetuation of the Club depended on it,
for inactivity was nothing short of fatal.
"The situation was grave; but as it had never been other than
grave, it was not especially oppressive, and was merely stimulative
to renewed fertility of expedient.
116

THE TILERS IN CONCLAVE
" 'We might,' said a member of whom there had been reasonable
suspicion that he had designed a new wall-paper,' we mightdecorate
a church.' . . .
" 'Let's do abook,' said 'The Englishman' [Alfred Parsons]. ' It
would sell well.'
" 'It might,'said the Bone, 'providing that noneof uswroteit.' . . .
" 'Nonsense!' said the small 'Chestnut.' 'A book won't go at all.
What we ought to do is something pictorial, and as new as possible.
Get up a Christmassy thing. Do the best we can for it, and get all the
people we know to write for it. We've got cheek enough, I imagine.'
" 'Not a bad notion that,' said the worthy 'Hawk' [Napoleon Sa-
rony] .
'"You see,' said the 'Chestnut, 'with the fire of speculation kind
ling in his eye, 'a good, big Christmassy paper is wanted. They've
got 'em everywhere else, and why should we be without them here?
We can make the pictures, the engravers can fix them so that they
will have some merit, and the authors will give a real value to the
production. See?'
" ' Great head ! Great head ! ' said the Club .
'"Modest, too,' said the 'Bone.'
" 'Besides,' pursued the 'Chestnut," we needn't have any bother
about it. We can make Polyphemus Laffan do all the work. The
labour will be mostly manual, and that is his gift, if he has any.' '
That dialogue formed part of the letterpress of a very notable
compilation entitled Harper's Christmas: Pictures and Papers done
by the Tile Club and its Literary Friends, published both in America
and England for Christmas, 1 882 . It consisted of a number of illus
trations by Elihu Vedder, Reinhart, Boughton, Millet, Alden Weir,
Hopkinson Smith, Alfred Parsons, Abbey and others, and stories
and poems by some of the best writers of the day , including Thomas
Hardy, W.D.Howells, Mark Twain, T.B. Aldrich, G.W.Curtis,
and Joel Chandler Harris, whose contribution Abbey illustrated —
an office thatheperformed also for apoembyE.C.Stedman. The re-
sultwas a very entertaining medley ,which produced so much money
for the Club that it took to feasting , and declined on a wave of splen- 117

THE TILE CLUB'S BOOK
did persistent hospitality. Not, however, until it had set before the
woridstill anotherproof of itsversatility,for,in 1887, app eared that
imposing and sumptuous volume which Earl Shinn and Hopkinson
Smith wrote, andallthemembersillustrated,andHoughton,Mifflin
and Co. published : A Book of the Tile Club, from which passages
have already been borrowed here and there. This work tells us much
of what American artists of that time, circa 1886, were doing, and
how distinguished was some of their work. It contains many plates
in phototype and many line drawings in the text. The frontispiece
is "A Woman in White," by the late W.M.Chase. On the title page
is one of St. Gaudens 's fascinating reliefs. Abbey contributed his
water-colour"The01dSong,"anumberofsketches,andoneortwo portraits of fellow Tilers, including W.A.Paton. Alfred Parsons is
represented by a painting, ' ' Sunny Morning, ' ' and many drawings .
F.D .Millet, Gedney Bunce, Hopkinson Smith, C.S .Reinhart, Fre
deric Dielman, Arthur Quartley, R. Swain Gifford, J. Alden Weir,
and Elihu Vedder are among the other painters illustrated. Among
those who contributed only line drawings are A. B . Frost, Stanford
White, and George H. Boughton.
Mr.W. A. Rogers, whose recollections of Abbey at Harpers' have
been already quoted, has an interesting memory of Abbey at work
in the studio at No. 58^, and of the old coloured manservant who
keptit more or less shipshape. "The story." he says, "of avisit to
this artistic home will give, I think, a picture quite characteristic of
Abbey and his life there. An exhibition was to be held at the Aca
demy, and on this particular day the private view was to be given.
I had kept away from the studio for some time, knowing that Ab
bey was working on an important water-colour, but, supposing, of
course,thatitwascompletedandinitsplaceattheAcademy,Iwalked
up the little narrow stairs which carried the visitor directly into the
studio . There was Abbey at work on the face of one of the figures in
his exhibition picture, with a rug sketched in, but with one end en
tirely unfinished — and it was then twelve o'clock. I took one look
and said 'Good-bye, old man,' and almost fell over the old coloured
man who had shown me up in my haste to get out.
118

A STUDIO SCENE
'"Holdhim,William!Don't let him get away !'Abbey called down
the stairs, and plunged down after me, caught me by the arm and
dragged me up again. 'We're going to have lunch in a few minutes
and you must stay.'
" 'But,'saidl,aswe struggled on the stairs, 'yourpicturewill never
be done in time.'
" 'Oh, yes it will; besides the jury has passed it, and the frame is
hanging in the gallery,' he replied. And then, remembering the
days when we used to work on the same block at Harper's, he said,
'If you were a real friend you would get a brush and paint in that
rug while I fuss over the girl's nose.' (His model, by the way, was
sitting over in a corner reading a newspaper.)
"About one o'clock, Gedney Bunce came in, old William an
nounced lunch , and we descended to the dining-room . H ere we sat ,
Abbey talking of Tadema, Boughton,Barnard andmany of his other
friends, of pictures he had seen and experiences in England, leaving
the table occasionally to dive into a big portfolio and bring out a
sketch to show me, until I became so nervous thinking of the un
finished picture upstairs that I finally coaxed him over to the foot
of the stairs, took him by the shoulders and forcibly started him up
to the studio.
"That nightlwent totheExhibition in fear and trembling,dread-
ing the fiasco of that empty frame; but there was the picture, two
girls at a piano. . . Magic? Yes, it was the work of a magician." The
picturein question, which served a&air ontispieceto Harper's Maga-
zine in May, 1883, was"The Sisters, "begun at Lechlade in August,
1881. Resuming Mr. Rogers's narrative: "One of Abbey 's most beauti
ful traits was his sympathetic interest in what the other men were
doing or trying to do . I seldom went to his studio , for I felt his popu
larity was likely to swamp him ; but he came every now and then to
mine,and itwasalwayshisdelightto rummage through my sketches,
making helpful and illuminating comments. There was never the
least assumption of ' knowing it all ' on his part, but a sincere desire
to be helpful to a friend. As it is my belief it is the impression a man
119

W. A. ROGERS
makes on those who know him well, and not so much what he says
and does , which constitutes the real man , I must repeat that beyond
the Abbey who attracted you by his humorous and engaging man
ner, the good companion and true friend, one always felt there was a
greater man who dwelt apart.who lived in a different age and world,
into which you caught but glimpses. His mind was like an old Eng
hsh inn, to which the characters of a bygone day came to refresh
themselves before they stepped out upon the printed page, there to
live their lives over again — sad, quaint, or gay — and to become our
friends for all time. Over the threshold of this inn you could never
step. All thatwaspossible was to catch an occasionalglimpse through
the windows." Mr. Rogers closes his recollections of Abbey with
these words: "The last time I saw him was at the Century Club in
New York,when we sat together for an hour or more. When we rose
to go up to the dining-room , he placed his hand on my shoulder, and
so we walked up the stairs and to the table. Whether he had, with
his fine psychic nature, a premonition that it would be our last meet
ing,! do not know, but it was one of those gracious and charming
acts which endeared him to all who were fortunate enough to win
his friendship."
Abbey was naturally much at Franklin Square during his 1881-
1 882 visit to New York. Not only was his position with the Harpers
thenceforward more secure and important, but more than one new
subject for illustration was hit upon in their conferences, notably
that one by which his greatest early fame was made — She Stoops to
Conquer. It was on April 3rd of this year, 1882, that the Anglo-American
Association called "The Kinsmen" was founded . The occasion was
a dinner at Florence House, New York, the original members being
Abbey, Lawrence Barrett the actor, Lawrence Hutton the writer,
William Laffan, Frank Millet, and Brander Matthews. Abbey de
signed the symbol for the Club, representing John Bull and a Red
Indian fraternising, each with a glass in his hand. " The Kinsmen"
had no club house, but met and still meet periodically, in this res
taurant and that, with the purpose of narrowing the Atlantic.
120

CHAPTER XV
ENGLAND AGAIN
1 882-1 883 Aged 29-31
Costume versus Dress — A Tour in Germany and Denmark— Black's Judith Shake
speare — Abbey's Herrick Published — Wood-Engraving and Process — Illustrations
to She Stoops to Conquer Begun — "The Widower" — Reinhart — " Responsibility"
— Illustrations to Pope — Austin Dobson — Poetical Tributes — The "Kinsmen" at
Stratford — Mary Anderson
"TL BBEYandAlfredParsonsreturned fromAmericainMay ,
/ \ 1882, and in June they were in Paris to see the Salon.
/ \ Under the date July n th, 1882, is a letter from Thomas
JL V. Hardy to Abbey remarking, "I follow your drawings in
Harperwith great interest and hope you will never exhaust the range
of subjects you have chosen to make your own ";(which suggests the
reflection that it was a very happy instinct that had led Abbey to
confine himself to reconstructing the congenial past. Since what
we call costume — as opposed to dress — is toookftob e old , it follows
that he was to be always fresh . By obeying the fashions within our
own memory dress is always going out of date. To look at Victorian
or even Edwardian Graphics is to be made melancholy by thoughts
of a too recent past ; all these people are, we know, either declining
or dead. Old Punches can equally depress, for no matter how ex
cellent the joke beneath the drawing, one is concerned for the days
thatoncewere gay andare now nomore. Butthe eighteenthgentury
is so remote that death has lost its sting; well outside our ken, it is
so far away as to be " once-upon-a-time " — and Abbey is its most
triumphant explorer and exponent^
On July 1 9th Abbey started for Lubeck to meet Frank Millet and
Swain Gifford and accompany them on a projected tour through
North Germany , Denmark, Norway and Sweden for Harper' sMag-
azine. But the trip was not a success, and he never spoke of it with
anything but regret for wasted time; nor was the record of it ever
published. A letter to Charles Parsons written at Bergdorf, in N.
Germany, on August 20th, recounts experiences: "A whole district
left Holland in the sixteenth century , and emigrated to a similar sort
121

IN VIERLAND
of land aboutthree miles from this little town, and called itVierland.
They must have been well-to-do, as the houses they built are very
large, built of brick and carved timber ; most elaborately carved,
many of them are, with inscriptions — telling when they were built
and who did it, and praying God to bless them and all who come in
and out, sometimes running all round the house, elaborately carved
rooms in solid oak, wonderful old furniture, and all sorts of old-
world ways which Millet will dilate upon. The people built dykes
to keep out the sea, and the houses are in the drained land below, just
as they are in Holland . They are market gardeners ,and the whole dis
trict, covering a good many square miles, is one great garden, filled
with orchards and flowers and vegetables of every sort."
Abbey passesontogiveutterance toadisability under which every
illustrator of travel must have suffered and will suffer : "The great
difficulty I find in getting subjects for an article of this sort is that the
people are not doing anything pictorial, or rather illustratable. You
can't always 'do' people working in the fields or on the way home, or
sweeping the streets, or reading their Bibles on a Sunday, or drink
ing beer before inns ; yet unless you stop some time — long enough
to get a glimpse of their daily hves — these are the only subjects that
present themselves . Market places are always the most picturesque
spots in these foreign towns , but for illustrative purposes it is always
the same thing. In Demnark it took so long to get from one place to
another , the trains are so unutterably slow — ten miles an hour being
considered quite a crazy rate of speed — that, although we travelled
over the whole extent of that very poor and worked-out httle king
dom , there is such a mournful sameness in the doings of the inhabi
tants thereof that it can easily be comprehended in a series of a very
few articles indeed.
Unlike Holland , it has no art history . The extremely meagre and
third-rate talent of Thorwaldsen is so much greater than any other
art sensation the country has ever had that they talk of him still 
In Holland there is enough material in nearly every town, however
little, to make an interesting magazine article. The costumes are
different in each village. In Denmark it has been the same sort of
122

JUDITH SHAKESPEARE
thing, but latterly nearly all the picturesqueness has disappeared
from their dress, which, owing possibly to the extreme poverty of
the people, has gradually become more and more utilitarian, until
to-day it is of the plainest and meagrest description."
Abbey returned toEnglandat the end of August and at once joined
Alfred Parsons at the Swan Inn at Lechlade, where, the Herrick
drawings being done, he hoped to find some background for She
Stoops to Conquer. While there he began the water-colour " The
Widower," setting his scene in the hall of Buscot Rectory, a beauti
ful square house said to be built by Inigo Jones , standing remote and
apart, with its church, amid the meadows beside the Thames . Wil-
liamj^tonis , then hving at Kelmscott, which is a mile or so down the
river, was a friendly neighbour, and the two artists often went over
to see him.
Soon after their return to London a letter arrived from William
Black which was to have some influence on Abbey 's career , in that it
led to his illustrations for the novelist's story Judith Shakespeare : a
task in which Abbey had need of all his knowledge and adaptability ,
for it meant that he was henceforward for some months to drive the
sixteenlh-€entury, as represented by Shakespeare's daughter, and
tneeighteenth in She Stoops to Conquer, in double harness . In a let
ter to Charles Dudley Warner on the theory of illustrating, which
was never sent, and from which I quote again in a later chapter, Ab
bey says," One of my most interesting experiences was making the
Judith Shakespeare drawings, some of which were arranged before
the story was written out and the whole ground and scheme of action
of the story gone over and studied with him [William Black] on the
spot. This, I think, is exceptional — probably owing to the fact that
Black had artistic leanings before he took up the pen;" but these
Stratford expeditions were not until the following year.
At the end of 1 882 was published the first boo^to make Abbey's
genius known outside the pages oi Harper's Magazine — his edition
of Herrick, of which we have seen much while it was in the making"
for serial publication. Most of the drawings had appeared in Har
per's; a few were new. The decorative title ran thus: Selections from
123

THE HERRICK VOLUME
the Poetry of Robert Herrick : with Drawings by E.A Abbey, and these
drawings were dedicated by the artist to his friend Alfred Parsons, a
fewofwhoseflower-pieceheadingswereincluded. Mr. Austin Dob-
son supplied a preface, concerned wholly with the poet. Abbey's
hand may not have in the H errick quite its full cunning and mastery ,
but there are abundant indications of what was to come. The book,
even if it shows him only in the making, must have convinced Eng
lish readers not only that here was a new artist with endless possi
bilities of grace, power and fancy, but that a young American had,
in two or three years, succeeded in recapturing more of the spirit of
England than many an indigenous draughtsman can do in a lifetime.
One of the interesting features of the Herrick is the fact that most
of the drawings are engraved. Mechanicalprocesswas soon todomi-
nate the illustrator, but in this volume he had the advantage of such
translators into wood as Smith wick, Cole, J.P.Davis, Carson, Clos-
son, and Hellavelle — all, or nearly all, now unfamiliar names, but
men to whom the readers of the illustrated books of those times
owedagreatdebt. Mosthave passed away , but happily Mr. Timothy
Cole still survives to practise, almost alone, his beautiful art. More
than once, in his letter, Abbey expresses appreciation for Cole's and
Smithwick's work. Writing to Charles Parsons he says: "Smith-
wick's cut of the 'Mad Mayde'is most beautiful, and so is the cut
by Cole. I hope he will have a good many of my things. He and
Smith wick are the men for me."
We have already seen, while it was in preparation, much of Ab
bey's Harper'sworkior this year: such as the Herricks,the drawings
for the article on Irving, and for that on a Surrey village. But he had
also a humorous frontispiece entitled "Fallen Short," in which an
arrow carrying a love-letter intended for a young lady in one garden
alights at the feet of an old maid in the next; and two drawings for
a poem entitled "Pastor Dankwardt."
A letter to W.B. Abbey at the end of October, 1882, tells of pro
gress. Writing from Bedford Gardens the artist says that he is now
really about to begin on She Stoops to Conquer in earnest, and he was
sufficiently true to his word to have twelve drawings nearly done by
124

THE WIDOWER.
WATER-COLOUR.
Two feet by one foot six inches.
1883.

"THE WIDOWER"
December 5th. Hewasalso at work on "The Widower, "which he
thus describes : "An oldish man in black, with a pretty daughter in
white and black doing him up for church ; a little boy all done and
starched is sitting by in a big chair. It is in an old panelled hall, with
window seat and black chimney piece." Writing to Reinhart a little
later he says: "I am just finishing the interior, 'The Widower, 'and
have with great pain and inconvenience stuck to full wash through
out, which I don't think I will do again."
The first letter of 1883 — to Reinhart, in Paris — is another proof
of Abbey 's readiness (even though a "selfish three-cornered bache
lor," as he somewhere called himself) to help others. "I have been
thinking ," he writes to his old associate in Harp ers ' Art D epartment ,
"of your undertaking some more important work than you have in
hand, and wish to urge you to beat about and get hold of something
that will make a book and at the same time get you out of the hum
drum of magazine work. Barnard thinks your work is the best that
is published in the American magazines, and Fildes spoke of it the
other evening in the warmest terms. I don't think you ought to let
anothery ear go by without going into somethingthatwillhelp you out
of your present routine of work. Don't make it as big as the Herrick
book. A book half the size would have done better.
"I am in the depths of despondency about She Stoops to Conquer.
I have got costumes and furniture galore, but, with the exception of
one drawing of the scene in the inn , I have done nothing to satisfy me .
Old Hardcastle, strange to say, is the stickler, and I 've got a good old
man , too . A splendid old fellow came the other day — very fat, must
weigh 200 — and I'm thinking of throwing over the three drawings
I've already made of the old man and using this new one . ' '
A week later , writing to Reinhart again, Abbey remarks incident
ally: "Am a little grayer to-day from having just delivered three
children safe home who had been lent to me to take to the panto
mime; I don't think they caught cold, but am sure they'll all have
stomachaches  Firstreturnsfrom'Herrick'up to December 15th
600 dols . ! ' ' — Thechildrenwerethe Messels, one of whom , Leonard ,
was to become the husband of Linley Sambourne's daughter. 125

"RESPONSIBILITY"
To Reinhart on February 1 3 th : " The Institute boys are lively and
all putting theirbestfootfirst.Youmustsendsomething. Why don't
you do a 'Moyen Age' sub.? Everybody likes your GermanReichs-
tag drawings. They are good. You will get some lovely subjects
on the Loire; get a carriage at Blois (Hotel de France excellent and
reasonable). Splendid subject on an old bridge there. Drive down
the other side of the river to the Chateau Chaumont; wonderfully
preserved interiors there, furniture, tapestry , beds, etc. You can get
permission to paint them — I forget how. Natorp will tell you. . . I
am about beginning a water-colour 24 by 1 6 for thePictorial World,
tobechromoed. Ionlydoitbecausetheypaysowell. I'mnotanxious
to be chromoed ; £300 is what I am to get." The reference is to a
water-colour entitled "Responsibility," which, when reproduced
in colour, made no little fame for its creator ; for it was notable for a
very attractive colour scheme and a whimsical humour. Groups of
people in the costume of the early nineteenth century are walking
on a pier by the sea . In the foreground are two young girls , between
them a formidable duenna, and just behind are two gay gallants
much interested in the group in front.
The letter to Reinhart continues: "She Stoops to Conquer comes
on slowly. The costume is most difficult, and the chairs and things
worse. I'm doing a little poem of Pope's to keep my hand in while
the big thing simmers." — Pope's "Ode to Solitude"
In February Abbey again became ill; but this was a short attack,
and by March he was active again. In this month he was elected a
member of the Royal Institute of Painters in Water Colours, his first
contribution being a picture painted jointly with Alfred Parsons,
"Along the Shore of Silver Streaming Thames," which they had
done at Buscotin the preceding summer. The next letter to Charles
Parsons, dated March 27th, is a rather gloomy one. Abbey is still
hammering away at the advisability of someone from Harper's Mag
azine coming over to London and making captures. The English Il
lustrated Magazine, under Comyns Carr's editorship, was about to
be launched, and Carr was throwing a wide net. Abbey had been
approached ; but, says he, "I have declined to draw for him, for,
126

THE ILLUSTRATOR IMAGINATIVE
although I am no longer under an engagement with the House, I 'd
rather see my things appear in its publications than anywhere else
— aslongas they'll have them." The letter continues: "I'm not at
all well, and have been really worse than those about me suspect. I
suppose this must be the reason that my work is so difficult to me. It
seemstometotakelongerto do less everyday. I don't think the qual
ity of work is any better either. I regard this last year as almost lost,
except that I haven't become conceited, but have my eyes opened
more and more to the shortcomings of my work. The ' She Stoops '
is quiescent at present. I shall forward shortly a series of drawings
illustrating — or rather carrying out a littlef urther — 'Happy the man
whose wish and care,'which I have nearly completed. . ."The refer
ence is again to Pope's " Ode to Solitude," the charm of which in
Abbey's rendering could not be surpassed. Abbey's qualification of
thefunctionof the illustrator, ' ' carrying out a little further, ' ' is inter
esting. Without the imaginative sympathy which this ideal implies,
the illustration of a purely reflective poem, such as Pope's "Ode,"
would not, of course, be attempted ; but the artist's success with it
is triumphant. The letter continues: "Austin Dobson has been inspired to write
a song to one of the drawings, which will go to you by Thursday's
post. I shall substitute something else for it." This was the very
charming "Milkmaid," and Mr. Dobson tells me that he remem
bers how the refrain came to him as he walked down Campden Hill
on his way from seeing the drawing at the Bedford Gardens studio .
Here is Mr. Dobson 's part of this most happy collaboration, and
the drawing which inspired him became Abbey 's first exhibit at the
Royal Academy. The Milkmaid
A New Song to an Old Tune
Across the grass I see her pass;
She comes with tripping pace, —
A maid I know, — and March winds blow
Her hair across her face: — 127

" HEY, DOLLY ! HO, DOLLY ! "
With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
Dolly shall be mine,
Before the spray is white with may,
Or blooms the eglantine.
The March winds blow. I watch her go:
Her eye is brown and clear;
Her cheek is brown, and soft as down
(To those who see it near!).
With a hey, etc.
What has she not that they have got, —
The dames that walk in silk ?
If she undo her 'kerchief blue,
Her neck is white as milk.
With a hey, etc.
Let those who will be proud and chill!
For me, from June to June,
My Dolly's words are sweet as curds —
Her laugh is like a tune.
With a hey, etc.
Break, break to hear, O crocus spear!
O tall Lent-hlies, flame!
There'll be a bride at Easter-tide,
And Dolly is her name.
With a hey, Dolly! ho, Dolly!
Dolly shall be mine, —
Before the spray is white with may,
Or blooms the eglantine.
Mr. Dobson recalls that the ' ' Milkmaid" resulted from a message to
Abbey from Franklin Square saying that there must be more pretty
girls in his drawings.
Abbey's letter goes on to state that Mr. Dobson and he were con
templating a small volume in partnership; but that particular plan
did not mature. The poet and the artist, were, however, to be asso
ciated in more than one book, for Mr. Dobson, who had already
128

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AUSTIN DOBSON
contributed a preface to the Herrick, was to furnish a prologue and
an epilogue to The Quiet Life and a rhyme Introduction and an
Envoi to She Stoops to Conquer, while Abbey provided both Old
World Lyrics, 1 883 , and At the Sign of the Lyre, 1 885 , with exquisite
frontispieces, one of which was afterwards used by Mr. Dobson as a
bookplate. Abbey's copy of the former book, a gift from the author,
contains an inscription which states that to him it "owes its chief
adornment;" and when, in 1885 , At the Sign of the Lyre was pub
lished , it was dedicated j ointly to Abbey and Alfred Parsons . I have
always thought these volumes two of the most beautifully published
books of our time. Onthe flyleaf of another of Mr. Dobson's works,
his edition of The Vicar of Wakefield, with a frontispiece by Ran
dolph Caldecott, published in the year 1883, are these lines in the
poet's hand: To E.A. Abbey
I can read Goldsmith, Ah! but you,
Dear Friend, can read and draw him too.
You , with a pen as keen as fine,
Make Maidenhood seem more divine;
More comely middle age; and throw
A ray from Heaven on locks of snow.
While on the subject of the partnership between Abbey and the
most graceful and charming poet of latter days — a partnership of
the utmost felicity — some lines contributed to the New York Critic
some years later by Mr. F. M. Smith may be quoted:
When Abbey Draws
(After Austin Dobson.)
When Abbey draws, the roses cling
About grey walls; old taverns ring
With jest and song; the brown ales flow,
Quaint old-time maidens laughing go,
And gay-dressed gallants have their fling.
Above green fields the skylarks sing;
By river's brim the willows spring,
K 129

THE GOLDSMITH DRAWINGS
And daffodils and daisies blow
When Abbey draws.
A touch of pen and George is King;
A stage-coach comes with lurching swing,
The travellers shout, their faces glow —
Ah! those were merry times, I know.
We get Life's sweet without its sting
When Abbey draws.
Mr. Dobson, in talking to me of Abbey, said that he thought of
him always as a child full of the joy of hfe.
During the Easter holiday Abbey, Alfred Parsons, and the late
R.W.Macbeth scampered over the island of Walcheren; while, at
the end of May, the two friends paid their usual visit to the Paris
Salon. The next letter to Charles Parsons (June 25th) mentions the
Goldsmith illustrations . "I dare say it worries you all that I don't
get on faster with She Stoops — I hterally can't. I hate the chairs and
the same faces and the same dresses, so that I am paralysed when I
sit down to work. I could easily run off a lot of drawings that would
'do/ but I don't want to seem to get fatigued just at the end; I see
there is a difference, and I wish I hadn't mapped out so many — but
they are coming." FromAugustto October, Abbey and AlfredPar-
sons lived at the White Lion at Bidford-on-Avon, where Abbey
found things much easier, with the river to provide him with exer
cise, and the open air to work in, and frequent visitors. Rowing was
in these years one of his greatest delights. As an oarsman, indeed,
he was particularly good, and not a little proud of his skill, so that
when once at Henley that incorrigible jester J . L . Toole , taking the
helm , steered him into this and that party and then excused the mis
chance by saying that his young friend Abbey was only a beginner,
there was trouble. But for every joke played on him Abbey could
provide reprisals.
A letter to his brother, written from Bidford, tells us much about
his hesitancies as a worker at that time — how far in advance of
his powers was his ambition, how exacting a critic of his own per-
130

STONY GROUND.
WATER-COLOUR.
Approximately two feet six inches by one foot six inches.
1884.

"STONY GROUND"
formances he had become. "Time with me is measured in pictures.
I begin a water-colour, thinking it will be simple, and usually look
forward toTihishing it in a month. Before I know it I have spent ten
days on a head ,then I change my scheme of colour usually , and sub
stitute a dress of a different colour from the one I have painted, and
this necessitates alterations all through the picture, and before I
have finished three months have slipped by. I began a large water-
colour last year at Lechlade and worked at it for weeks and weeks —
at least six weeks, I should think — and finally got it in such a mess
that I had to chuck it up. I only tell you these things to show how
it is with me. I'm sure I wish it were otherwise. . .
"Billy Laffan goes back to America next Saturday. He will let
you hear from him when he gets there. We are awfully sorry to lose
him — one of the best fellows and the cleanest men on this little
sphere. Heiscomingdownto Stratford-on-Avon,sevenmilesfrom
here, to spend his last two days. Wm. Black and Boughton are com
ing with him , and as Frank Millet and Larry Hutton and Alfred are
here, there will probably be two or three very active days, and then
an awful lull."
Larry HuttonwasthelateLawrenceHutton,whoisknownonboth
sides oftheAtlantic as a connoisseur of England, chiefly byhisbooks
on the homes and haunts of English authors, a branch of research in
which he specialised very pleasantly. He played a more important
part in the life of Abbey and certain of Abbey's friends than he
guessed , for it was he who discovered Broadway , in Worcestershire ,
and led the Millets to settle there; but of that more later.
A letter to William Abbey in October, 1883 , shows that not only
was The Quiet Life in contemplation, but also the Old Songs, for
Abbey refers to his work for "Sally in our Alley," with which the
Old Songs begin. In the same month he tells Charles Parsons: "I
have a very large water-colour on the stocks now — an elaboration
of a theme suggested by one of my illustrations to Black's Judith
... I call it 'Stony Ground,' but may alter the title if I don't like
that when it is finished. A Puritan family, prayers going on, and
a girl looking out of the game — that's all. . . I haven't had but one
J31

MARY ANDERSON
proof for over a year. The Century has sent Alfred whole piles of
proofs. He is hard at work on his Wordsworth — made some extra
ordinary sketches on the Lakes this summer for it." — This reluc-
tanceonthepartofCharlesParsons,oranassistant,toprovideproofs
was a steady grievance with Abbey, and one with which all illus
trators will have full sympathy.
Alfred Parsons 's notes tell us that the winter of 1 883-1 884 was a
festive one at Bedford Gardens; and among the names of the two
friends' more constant visitors and guests are those of John Pettie,
Colin Hunter, Austin Dobson, George du Maurier, Linley Sam-
bourne, Tadema, Marcus Stone, Comyns Carr, Luke Fildes, Black
and Boughton, of whom only three now (19 19) survive. One name
occurring now for the first time demands fuller attention — that
of Mary Anderson. This famous lady, who was then enrapturing
London with her performance of Galatea in Gilbert's play , was (she
tells me) taken to Bedford Gardens by Frank Millet one afternoon
in the winter of 1883, during a series of very wonderful sunsets;
and that an amusing occurrence marks it in her memory, for as they
entered they found Abbey and Parsons in a state of high nervous
ness, because Alma Tadema was expected at any moment in the
capacity of critic, and Tadema's verdicts were serious affairs . Sud
denly a deep Dutch voice was heard in the passage booming out
the information that "The zun has zunk, and all his glories are dis-
abbearing with him," and in burst the famous painter.
Madame de Navarro, as Mary Anderson is now known, has only
the happiest recollections of those days. To recall Ned Abbey, she
tells me, is to have before her a young vigorous man, with notice
ably beautiful eyes and exquisitely delicate eyebrows, always gay —
"blithe" is her word — always kind and always ready for fun. "Ned
was full of mischief." His hands were noticeable, too — powerful but
delicate. Anyone, says Madame de Navarro, that knew anything of
character as revealed in the hands would have trusted him on his
hands alone.
Abbey was a useful friend for an actress contemplating a Shake
speare revival, and he designed several of the dresses which Miss
132

"AN OLD SONG'
Anderson wore in A Winter's Tale both as Hermione and Perdita.
Nor was it only with costumes that he was concerned. It will be re
membered that Hermione, on hearing of the death of Mamillius,
falls swooning to the ground : a heavy fall, not without danger; and
Abbey contrived an arrangement of springs to lessen its discomfort
and risk. Vtn return Miss Anderson sat for him for the water-colour
"The Old Song," posing as the girl singing at the harp to two old
people; and what with her own height and ;jhe painter's natural
partiality for tall and slender girls, she attained an altitude that pro
voked Punch to gentle railleryJjAccording to the late Wemyss Reid,
who wrote the Life of Black, it was Abbey who brought Miss An
derson and the novelist together: a happy meeting, for hencefor
ward Miss Anderson was to serve him as a Muse. Forherbeguile-
ment Black planned a thousand parties and excursions and jokes,
while she was the heroine of the successor to The Strange Adven
tures of a Phaeton — The Strange Adventures of a Houseboat.
There is every evidence that the Bedford Gardens dinner parties
were great fun. The origin of Abbey's Tile Club nickname "The
Chestnut" has been explained earlier. By this time the word had
assumed its present meaning, as a reproachful description of a tale
that is too far from new. Although, as we have seen, the word had a
different signification when he first brought it over, Abbey was
active to support its new one. Among the Bedford Gardens set,
Madame de Navarro tells me, story-telling was highly cultivated.
Everyone was a raconteur, and there was great competition to bring
the very latest and freshest story. But should someone produce a
story that was familiar, straightway the notes of the" chestnut bell"
were heard — a tiny tinkle proceeding from this pocket and that,
everyone being provided with one of these little monitors. On one
evening when some of the brightest spirits were present, Abbey
arranged with two or three other reprobates, of whom Miss Ander
son was one, to ring their bells systematically whether the story was
old or not. It was a daring joke — and it failed; for, as a result, and
a not unnatural one, the evening, says the now penitent lady, was
ruined in a quarter of an hour and never recovered itself. 133

THE FATAL KETTLE
There was also the institutionof the kettle, which was maintained
chiefly by William Black. It seems that a story— perhaps it was in
Punch — had been popular, of a group of navvies boiling a kettle at
the end of a station platform, to whom, the day being cold,a waiting
Bishopapproached both for warmth and company. On asking what
they were discussing, he was told that they had agreed that the one
among them who could tell the biggest lie was to receive the kettle .
Invited to join in the competition, but declining on the ground that
he never told untruths, the Bishop was amazed and outraged to have
the kettle handed to him. This joke taking Black's fancy, he had a
number of tiny kettles made, one of which, in perfect silence, was
passed to whatever guest was considered, by the tallness of his re
marks, to have earned it. The one which (all unjustifiably)fell to the
lot of Mary Anderson, whom Black revered equally as "The Be
loved ' ' and "The Wretch , ' ' was of solid gold with a p earl for the tiny
knob of its tiny lid.
A letter on December 16th, 1883 , to Charles Parsons, mentions
Black again, saying that the Judith Shakespeare drawings are not
coming very easily; "which is annoying, because Black is certainly
one of my dearest friends over here . . . Tell Laffan that the Haver-
stock Hillers scooped Alfred and Marcus Stone and Cohn Hunter
at blind hookey last night at Jimmy Linton's. They all came home
this morning in a milk wagon and waked me up to get some money
topayforit." A week later, to the same correspondent: "There will be a lot of
She Stoops soon. I have a number finished, but I must keep them
for the faces. I went up to Small's the other night and was made
envious by the number of drawings he has. . . I hope my drawings
are as well taken care of as his are. Cassells always mount them in
passe-partouts and keep them under glass. I don't care for the passe
partout so long as I get the drawings one of tliese days in a clean
condition  Since my return to England I have not had one single
proof of my work" [i.e., since May 27th, 1882].
In the magazine in 1883 Abbey had been represented chiefly by
the illustrations to the artist-strolls in Holland and to the novel
J34

" THE LADIES OF ST: JAMES'S." AUSTIN DOBSON
Eighteen inches by thirteen inches.
1882.

THE MAGAZINE IN 1883
("a pack of rot" he called it) A Castle in Spain,which he had found
so uncongenial. He alsoillustrated poems by Mr.Dobson and Mar
garet Veley and a story by Rose Parsons Lathrop called Prisoners,
and in the December number was the article by Black on the West
Highlands, to which reference has already been made, and the be
ginnings of the exquisite "Quiet Life" series, the first poem being
Pope's "Happy the man, "with perhaps the most felicitous illustra
tions of the whole set. But to the "Quiet Life" we shall come later.
Mr .Dobson's' 'Ladies of St James 's ' ' appeared in the same year with
two drawings . Everyone knows this charming antithetical poem.

CHAPTER XVI
SOCIABLE NIGHTS AND DAYS
1884-1885 Aged 31-33
With Black in Scotland — A First Salmon — Music and Conviviality — Andrew Lang
— Sir Luke Fildes' Recollections — A Dinner to Lawrence Barrett — A Coaching
Tour with Andrew Carnegie — Matthew Arnold — Charles Parsons — "Cousin Jo"
—Judith Shakespeare — A Spring Morning in London — First Exhibit in the R.A.
—A Dutch Tableau — Randolph Caldecott
IN the first letter of 1884 (there are only four altogether) Abbey
tells Charles Parsons that he is off to Scotland to stay withWilliam
Black. A letter from the novelist, to his "Wretch, "indicates that
the odd experiment (January being hardly the Scotch season) was
SUCCeedin^: "Altnaharra,N.B.,
"Dear Miss Anderson, "January 16th, 1884.
' 'Along with this should reach you a Scotch salmon, the only crea
ture of its kind likely to be in London at the same moment. I think
Mr. Abbey and myself should apologise to you for sending such a
thing, for young ladies' presents should be pretty and nice, such as
scent baskets, bouquets, volumes of poetry , and the like; but the fact
is that this finny and scaly animal is somewhat remarkable , as it is the
first that has been caught in any Scotch loch this year, and also it is
the first salmon Mr. Abbey has caught anywhere.
"Accordingly there is much rejoicing in the inn among the gillies
and keepers, etc., etc., and if Mr. Abbey doesn't show them how
to do the cake-walk to -morrow evening, when they are going to have
a small and early dance, it will be a most ungenerous return for all
their sympathy and congratulations. But why should I bother you,
amid all your arduous and delightful labours, with the experiences
of the two maniacs who have adventured into the North Highlands
in midwinter? I hope the actual presence of the salmon will con
vince you, at least, that we don't tell lies; and with kindest regards
(in which Mr. Abbey would, no doubt, be most glad to join, only
that he is half asleep in a novel before the peat fire),
"Believe me, Yours very faithfully,
"William Black."
136

MISS HARDCASTLE AND MISS NEVILLE.
MISS HARDCASTLE : " AM I IN FACE TO-DAY i "
Fourteen inches by nine inches.
1884.
" SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER ; OR, THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT," ACT I.
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

MARLOW AND HASTINGS.
HASTINGS : " UPON MY WORD, A VERY WELL-LOOKING HOUSE ¦ ANTIQUE, BUT CREDITABLE."
Twelve inches by ten inches.

' SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT II.
GOLDSMITH.

MISS NEVILLE AND HASTINGS.
HASTINGS : " THOU DEAR DISSEMBLER."
1884.
" SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT II.
GOLDSMITH.

A FIRST SALMON
Writing to his brother on January 30th from the Savile Club , Ab
bey says: "I havebeen rather overworking, and, of course, the result
of that has been a general run-downedness — so , inasmuch as Black
has b een doing the same thing , we started off f or th e extreme north
of Scotland about three weeks ago , where we remained for nearly a
fortnight. He has a loch there — the earliest one open — and I got the
first salmon of the season out of it — not a very extraordinary one
compared to a Rhine salmon I saw at a fishmonger's shop in Bond
Street to-day . Mine weighed 1 o lb . ; the Dutchman weighed 42 lb .
I am all right again now, and hope to get on bravely with my pic
tures . . . I am so unsettled here, with my reputation in a very ticklish
state . People don't know whether I 'm as clever as I seem , or whether
I'll come a cropper before I do anything serious. . . .
"Just to show you how engaged I am — and have been — I send a
leaf from my engagement book, which you must return — please.
This is Wednesday — the first night I 've had^ff since I left Suther
land. The week began on Sunday. I had ^digestion call to make on
Boughton in the afternoon, went to a reception in the afternoon at
Mrs. Edmund Gosse's to meet Hamo Thorny croit's fiancee — and a
pretty girl, too — and to dine in the evening with Mrs. Luke Ionides.
Monday — model in the morning; five men to dinner in the evening
— Boughton, Sambourne, Colin Hunter, Marcus Stone, and Luke
Fildes — to eat some canvas-back ducks and a 22 lb. wild turkey
sent over by Frank [Millet] . Won ten shillings at blind hookey later ,
which is a detail. Tuesday — model, and a great sweat to get a draw
ing off to America by 5 .30 post. Dined with Andrew Lang, who is
dismal and ill. Later to a musical party at Alma Tadema's : Marie
Krebs, Norman Neruda, Piatti, Hollander, and an American girl,
Miss Little, did the music. Home2.30  Dined home, came down
here to write some letters and to hear about the Academy election,
which takes place to-night — and so it goes. To-morrow night a lot
more are coming to eat the rest of the ducks, and a goose which
was sent also — Macbeth, Gregory, Waterlow, Caldecott, and four
more. Ididn'tsendoutthecards,soIdon'tknowtherest. Friday —
meeting of the costume committee at the Institute." A postscript 137

ELECTION CONVIVIALITY
says: "They elected Hunter, who dispersed magnums of fizz like a
little man, all the evening, to an admiring circle at the Arts Club.
Took him home in a hansom." If Abbey 's work hung fire a little at
this time there was, one perceives, reason for it!
Several new names occur in the foregoing letter. Andrew Lang,
whose association with Harper's was of long duration, was at that
time making suggestions for the poems for the two series, "Old
Songs" and "The QuietLife, "upon which Abbey was then at work
or pondering. Lang was then forty. He survived Abbey by a single
year, dying in 1912. The charming frontispiece to Rhymes a la
Mode which Abbey made for him, is dated July, 1884. Gregory
was the late E.J. Gregory, R.A. (then A.R.A.), an artist for whose
work Abbey always had a great admiration. Waterlow was Mr.
(afterwards Sir)E. A. Waterlow. Caldecott wasRandolph Caldecott,
then very near the close of his tragically short life. Hamo Thorny-
croft,the sculptor, married Miss Agatha Cox. Mrs. Edmund Gosse
was the sister of the late Lady Alma Tadema. For Mr. Gosse Abbey
had recently designed a book-plate, and on the flyleaf of a presenta
tion copy of that critic 's edition of Sir Joshua Reynolds 's Discourses,
published this year, 1884, 1 find a poem in the editor's hand, of
which this is the final stanza:
"Ah! were my phrases art as fine
As Reynolds painted, you design,
Not weeds, but deathless flowers, were mine!"
Sir Luke Fildes , whose name is so often met with among the B ed-
ford Gardens company at this time, and who, in 1884, was forty,
has the liveliest memories of those nights. Abbey , he tells me, was
more consistently out for fun than any man he ever knew, and how
he contrived to produce so steady a supply of such exquisite work
was a marvel. It was also a marvel that an American should have
made old England his own as Abbey did, and have re-created it
with such gaiety and charm. Sir Luke Fildes was naturally inter
ested in the young invader from New York not only by reason of his
personal attraction, which was very noticeable, but because some
of Sir Luke's own early drawings for the Graphicwere among those
i38

MRS. HARDCASTLE AND HASTINGS.
HASTINGS : " EXTREMELY ELEGANT AND DEGAGEE, UPON MY WORD, MADAM."
1884.
" SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT II.
GOLDSMITH.

SIR LUKE FILDES
which Abbey (as we know) had seen and admired in New York, and
which helped him to his resolve to visit England. Conversations on
these drawings formed, indeech their first link. One of Sir Luke's
phrases remains in my mind. 'After extolling Abbey's genius as a
draughtsman , he went on to say that when the time came for him to
try paint he mastered its intricacies no one knew how. He had had
no training in the ordinary sense of the word, but, having to paint,
"he just painted ."J
To the Savile Club, where the letter of January 30th was written,
Abbey, Boughton and Caldecott had been elected at the same time.
In the reminiscent letter to Mr. Low written in 1908, from which
quotations have already been made, Abbey says, "The Savile Club
was the first club I joined . . . and I frequently used to see Bob [Ste
venson] there, and I remember Louis coming in once, quite uncon
cerned, in Mrs. S.'s sealskin tippet — a kind of cape thing that was
once the fashion, with high puffs on the shoulders." Abbey left the
Savile in 1 890 on becoming a member of the Reform.
On March 1 st Abbey moved into a new studio at 1 7B Eldon Road ,
and on April 3rd Alfred Parsons and he gave a dinner to Lawrence
Barrett, the American actor, and a fellow Kinsman, among those
present, in addition to such friends as we should expect, being Mr.
Sargent, Mr. Dobson, George du Maurier, Henry James, Linley
Sambourne, Sir John Robinson and Archibald Forbes of the Daily
News,MV.Q . Orchardson, and W.S . Gilbert. Not only was Lawrence
Barrett feasted, but a very charming composite gift was prepared
for him too. A copy of Mr. Dobson's Old World Idylls was "em
bellished." Abbey began it by drawing on one of the flyleaves;
Alfred Parsons supplied a floral decoration; Alma Tadema made a
portrait of Antinoe, the Greek girl, in whose honour a club hasbeen
founded in America; and Leighton, Millais, Caldecott, Sambourne,
du Maurier, and other artists also contributed. The book to-day
should be a very precious possession.
In May Alfred Parsons, Abbey, Boughton, Luke Fildes,Hunter
and Sambourne went to Paris to see the Salon. William Black'sbio-
graphy helps us a little further, for writing on June 1 st, 1 884, to his
139

A COACHING TOUR
friend Mr. Creras, he says, "To-morrow, Matthew Arnold, E.A.
Abbey and I start away on a coaching trip under the guidance of Mr.
Carnegie." He adds," I wish you were here to join a little dinner
party I am giving at which several Americans will be present — Bret
Harte, John Hay, Abbey, Clarence King, Carnegie, and so forth."
This is the coaching tour which Black described for Harper's in De
cember of the same year, 1885 , with a few drawings by Abbey. The
route was from London to Salisbury, with Winchester on the way.
In Black's description Abbey is referred to as a young American
artist conspicuous for his shyness, and much play is made with this
imaginary foible.
We know from a letter of Abbey 's to his father , dated January 1 8 ,
1 885 , that the article in Harper's was largely a hoax, "pure fiction"
he writes and adds, "any statement you see about me you may set
down as incorrect." Among the guests there described is an elder
ly scientific man famous for his writings on the molecular theory;
but no such person was on the coach. The actual party consisted of
the late Andrew Carnegie, a cousin of Mr. Carnegie's, his business
manager, Matthew Arnold, Mrs. Arnold and two daughters; aMiss
Coleman,of Pittsburgh, and aMissBailey, Abbey and Black. Black's
account says nothing of Matthew Arnold— probably by arrangement
with that fastidious gentleman— but Abbey used to tell how, at Win
chester , Arnold hop ed to find wallflowers growing in the wall where
he remembered them when he was a schoolboy there — and, to his
great j oy , found them .
In August Abbey was at Tewkesbury with Alfred Parsons; later
they met Charles Parsons of Harpers ' (who had at last come to Eng
land) at Oxford, and rowed him to Reading. The little river hohday
over, Abbey writes to his art editor, on August 30th, from London:
' ' I hope after all is said and done that the greatest discovery you have
made is that it isn't so very far away — all of this over here, after all!
When I first met Willie Winter after his visit to England (don't you
remember, when I went to see him about the Stratford article, be
fore I came here myself ?) he said to me then that the nine weeks he
had spent in England were the most delightful of his life, and that
140

MISS HARDCASTLE AND MARLOW.
MARLOW : " AND WHY NOT NOW, MY ANGEL i SUCH BEAUTY FIRES BEYOND THE POWERS
OF RESISTANCE— PSHAW ! THE FATHER HERE ! "

' SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT III.
GOLDSMITH.

as wst

OLD FRIENDS
his greatest pleasure there was when the evenings came, before the
lights were brought, when he could lean back in his chair and think
about it.
"As an unmarried vagabond I , of course, had to step aside many
times when I should have liked to be with you . For instance , I fre
quently make calls upon my bachelor friends at one or two in the
morning — and some of the most delightful walks I have ever had
in this dear old town have been with unfortunate gentlemen of my
acquaintance who have been dragged from their warm beds at un
godly hours and persuaded to take a turn in the moonlight along the
Chelsea Embankment (which I dare say you never saw) and to finish
with a cup of hot coffee at an early stall — by the rising sunlight 
"Still, I am not grumbling at the fates this summer. I have been
more than fortunate among my fellow-men in that my very dearest
relation on this earth has b een with me , and that two of the friends I
value most have renewed the bonds that cement us all together,
and that when thedark days comeinthewintertime, and you all in
America are sitting over your 'registers' and talking about it, I shall
have many a happy hour ' thinking it all over . ' [The reference is to
Mrs . Curtiss ,' ' Cousin Jo , " who had b een visiting England .] Cousin
Jo and I had a quiet time in Oxford after you left . We endured much
miserableweatherinthe few days we remained, and mooned about
College 'quads' and chapels. Sometimes we knew which ones, and
mostly we didn't."
With his beloved cousin Abbey then went off to Scotland; and
the rest of the year is unrecorded until a letter to Charles Parsons
on November 13th, protesting against the treatment of the draw
ings for Goldsmith's play in the Christmas number of Harper's.
Such a protest so illuminates Abbey 's desire for the best in all things
that some of it must b e quoted her e ." I have written several letters —
or beginnings at letters — since I saw the sheets of the Christmas
magazine — but I think I may safely write one now that will be dis
passionate and at the same time make understood my feeling in re
ference to the treatment of my work in that number. I have made
every sacrifice possible for a man to make in order that these Gold- 141

A REMONSTRANCE
smith drawings — as the last I may do — may be as perfect as such
drawings can be, and I must say that the way they have been treated
has been not only a surprise to me, but a blowwhich itwill take me
some time to get over  Does anybody (I don't really suppose any
body in the factory does think, you know — I am only supposing they
did) think it a right and reasonable thing to put five drawings on
two facing pages and so arrange them that the incidental ones are
more important than the important ones; to reproduce the elabo
rate and carefully worked ones on so small a scale that they cannot
be seen, and to translate the sketchy ones the size they are drawn?
Did a sense of the fitness of things never suggest to the ingenious
person who put these precious pages together that it would be well
to maintain a sense of proportion as to the size of the figures on a
page? I wonder if the firm of Harper and Brothers consider that the
sun rises and sets entirely for their individual benefit, and whether
it might not be possible one of these days so far as their magazine
is concerned, for those who have wasted their time and brains en
deavouring to make it agood one, to be tempted away from them?
Money is not everything in this world . Not that the money I receive
from H . & B . at this present time has anything whatever to do with
the fact that I am doing She Stoops to Conquer for their magazine.
I can make four or five times the money elsewhere, but I choose to
fulfil, and more than fulfil, my contract with them, and I expect —
I have a right from my position in the world as an artist to demand
— that they fulfil theirs . ' ' — By the time the drawings reached book-
form some of the defects of which Abbey complains were removed .
On December 8th Abbey returned to the charge, his particular
and very reasonable complaint being that having been consulted
as to the sizes of his drawings when reproduced, and having sup
plied a dummy, his views should have been respected. "So far as
my work is concerned that of the smallest charlatan is treated better.
My imitators, who copy whole designs of mine outright, are treated
better — thatis,placedbeforethepublictogreateradvantage. . . ."
At the close Abbey says ' ' The Holland book is out of print here, ' '
and asks for two American copies — the reference being to the recent
142

JUDITH SHAKESPEARE.
AN ILLUSTRATION TO WILLIAM BLACK'S NOVEL " JUDITH SHAKESPEARE."
1884.

SKETCHING RAMBLES IN HOLLAND
publication, on both sides of the Atlantic, of Sketching Rambles in
Holland, by George H. Boughton, A. R.A. , with illustrations by the
author and Edwin A. Abbey.
Thebook was dedicated by the older artist to the younger in these
terms : ' ' To Edwin A .Abbey , my fellow rambler and fellow sketcher ,
to whose delightful companionship may be set down any extra
washes of couleur de rose that may be discovered in these pages by
the cold,sad cynic whose good fortune it has never been to ramble
and sketch with such a perfect fellow-traveller, this writing is in
scribed." Abbey's share of the book, beyond helping to make its
preparation a pleasant task, was not great, nor does he figure much
in the letterpress; but a few of his drawings are very happy. It must
be remembered, however, that they belong to a period anterior by
some three or four years to that of publication and that those three
or four years had been a period of astonishing development.
Abbey was represented in Harper's for 1884 chiefly by the draw
ings ior Judith Shakespeare, which ran through the year. They were
not republished when Judith Shakespeare reached book form. In
February appeared the Upper Thames article to which reference
has already been made, facing a Judith Shakespeare frontispiece
dated Bidford, September, 1883, and thus linking it with the same
delectable stream; and in the December Christmas number She
Stoops to Conquer began with a wonderful instalment of drawings.
The first letter of 1885 was to his father, begun on January 18th
and finished on February 2nd . ' ' My rest at Christmas ' ' — which was ,
as usual, spent at Frome with Alfred Parsons — "did my eyes," he
says, "a great deal of good — and with the exception of a nervous
twitch they are about as usual. I 've had a lot of rather wearing work
since Christmas finishing enough of She Stoops to carry me through
until the early spring. My water-colour ["An Old Song"] — which
is for Clarence King — is going to occupy me pretty constantly for
the coming three months." A characteristic sentence occurs in this
same letter, which otherwise is not important: "Tell me how soon
you expect to be hard up; not after you are."
In March Alfred Parsons had a one-man show at the Fine Art
H3

SPRING IN LONDON
Society 's-" Shakespeare's River,"for whichAbbey designed a very
charming private- view card. On April 21st Abbey wrote to Charles
Parsons from theSavileClub:"WhyI should sitdown to writeto you
on one of the most beautiful mornings of the year, with the Green
Park bursting into bloom opposite this table , and all the gay world of
London slowly gliding by in their morning hour on the Row, with
all the windows open and the sulky fires quenched in their native
grates, and house painters on ladders and ropes and things doing ex
traordinary acrobatic feats outside the windows, is more than I can
tell . A blissful sense of peace and irresponsibility has stolen over me,
and I haven't got any money and I owe a good deal, and I fear I
have not been just in all my dealings — but last night my picture
finished itself, and,keerless-like, I 've telegraphed to my lady help to
do it up and send it to its destination in a four-wheeled cab . I dined
with Marcus Stone at the 'Arts,' and we went to the Minstrels and
saw Sweatnam, who fired me years ago with an ambition to be a
nigger minstrel, which ambition still holds me.
"Alfred is away in Ireland with Black, and Bedford Gardens is
more or less deserted. I casually sleep there (not always) and come
down in the morning to find one habitable room, the chairs and
tables in all the others meanwhile floating in soap and soda and hot
water. I come home at night to find the tray of drinkables and sand
wiches anywhere but where it usually lives — now in the back bed
room, and now on the back stairs, and now on a chair in the hall. I
don't know where it was last night, similar to the boy at breakfast
who was asked by his sister on a very cold morning whether the
water in his jug was frozen, and replied 'he didn't know.'
" It is so nice and warm and blossomy here now. Some angel many
years since prompted the layer out of B edf ord Gardens to plant pear
and almond trees in the back and front gardens of the houses, and
these last few days the whole street is a mass of blossom pink and
white, and the light, the blessed light, which had deserted us for
threemonths.hascomeback and discovered toussundry dirty spots
and inequalities of tone and bad values of which we had been bliss
fully ignorant before, and the happy men who have not sent to the
144

AN OLD SONG.
WATER-COLOUR.
Four feet by two feet four inches.
1885.

FIRST DRAWING IN ACADEMY
Academy , and who are privileged members of a body whose private
view is next Saturday — I mean the members of the Water Colour
Societies — have had their pictures back and have been working like
beavers to get them right — one of which I am whom. I am very
dubious about my picture this year. It has passed through many
stages — Marcus Stone spent nearly all day on Sunday with me and
helped me amazingly. He has an extraordinary faculty of putting
himself in your place and seeing things from your point of view, and
he seemed to like it. It is a picture of an old man and woman listening
to 'An Old Song,' which is being sung to them by a tall girl who is
accompanying herself on a harp . The best thing in it is the tea-tray
on a table at the left (o .p . side) . I should smile if them china things
ain't everlastingly painted — I wish I'd had it photographed. The
frame looked very well in the show — in the centre at the end of the
firstroom — with' Abbey 'chalked on the wall disclosed inthecentre.
You will hear all about it anon. If it isn't a go I must do better next
whack. I will immediately turn my attention to black and white.
Not to-day — I don't intend to do one dam thing to-day.*
"A lot of bachelor people are dining with Fildes to-night. It is
the fashion for people to leave town at Eastertime, and many bereft
husbands lurk about their clubs and frequent obscure places of
amusement. Stone and du Maurier and Perugini and Hunter are
to be at Fildes'."
In this year, 1885, Abbey sent his first contribution to the Royal
Academy, that he might have an admission card to the varnishing
function — No. 1617 "A Milkmaid," the drawing by which Mr.
Dobson had been inspired. He did not exhibit there again until
1890. The high spirits which are evident in the letter to Charles Par
sons continued, and Abbey devoted some of them to the prepara
tion of a Dutch tableau for a costume ball given by the Royal Insti
tute of Painters in Water Colours on May 19th, for the benefit of the
* On receiving "An Old Song" again, after exhibition, Abbey wiped out the figure of
the singer and repainted it from a professional model. This water-colour now belongs
to Mrs. Holmes Spicer, Manchester Square, London.
L H5

A DUTCH TABLEAU
Schools, and we learn from the notes of Alfred Parsons that among
the tableaux arranged by the various members Abbey's was con
sidered the best and most original.
Among the letters of this year is one from Randolph Caldecott,
dated June 30th, a facsimile of which is given. As a result of the
allurements held out, Abbey and Alfred Parsons went down to
Frensham on August 8th. Mr. Parsons writes: "Abbey had a deep
affection for Caldecott, whose simplicity and charm were very
sympathetic to him, and the visit always remained in our memo
ries as it was the last time we saw him."

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CHAPTER XVII
BROADWAY IN WORCESTERSHIRE
F. D. Millet — Henry James on Broadway — Henry James and Abbey — John S.
Sargent — Henry James in 1885 — Randolph Caldecott — Artist versus Editor
IT was in the summer of 1885 that Abbey first visited Broadway,
where he was to spend some time each year until the autumn of
1889; where, at the Lygon Arms, he found a background or so for
She Stoops to Conquer; where he first seriously attacked the pro-
blemsof oil painting; and where he met his future wife. Atfirst he
lodged at Farnham House, facing the little green; later he moved to
Russell House, the first house on the right as one enters the village
from the west or from the station, now a large rambling place, with
gardens and meadows, but then much smaller; and there was no
station then.
Abbey shared Russell House with the late Frank Davis Millet,
who, in 1 885 , was thirty-nine, and had been married for six years ,
his wifebeing Miss Elizabeth Greely Morrill, of Boston, Massachu
setts . Millet was now settling down to paint in earnest, after a varied
career as a drummer in the Civil War (in the 60th Mass . Volunteers) ;
as assistant contract surgeon in the 6th Army of the Potomac; as
correspondent for the Daily News in the Russo-Turkish war; as a
painter, translator, traveller, and a contributor of stories and draw
ings to the American magazines . His untimely death , shortly after
he had been appointed director of the American Academy in Rome,
occurred in 19 12 , in the sinking of the Titanic.
There is a charm about Broadway which is not to be explained
by words. It is proud to be the largest village in England, but a
better source of pride is its serenity, its beauty, both natural and
architectural, its fastidiousness. Other villages have been built;
but Broadway seems to have grown. The grey stone houses have
sprung from the soil, not less than the fruit trees, chiefly apple
anoVplum, which surround it and in the spring weave a gossamer of
blossoms all about it. Almost every house has some comeliness of
H7

HENRY JAMES
its own. Most are old and a few very old, and where modern addi
tions have been made they have been made lovingly . These comely
houses, like a border of herbaceous masonry , line either side of the
road — a broad way indeed — for quite or nearly a mile of the turn
pike from London to Worcester, the main street descending from
the Cotswolds to the plain, which in a short time merges with the
Vale of Evesham.
In a paper on Abbey, Alfred Parsons, and others oi Harper's il
lustrators, printed in the magazine some time after the period we
have now reached , but based upon earlier knowledge , Henry James
began by extolling the fascination of Broadway; and his article, Ab
bey remarked in a letter at the time, "did not much help the privacy
of the place." "A very old English village [wrote the novelist] lying
among its meadows and hedges, in the very heart of the country, in
a hollow of the green hills in Worcestershire, is responsible directly
and indirectly for some of the most beautiful work in black-and-
white with which I may concern myself here — that is, for much of
the work of Mr. Abbey and Mr . Alfred Parsons. I do not mean to
say that Broadway has told these gentlemen all they know(the name
from which the American reader has to brush away an incongruous
association, may as well be written first as last), for Mr. Parsons, in
particular, who knows everything that can be known about English
fields and flo wers , would have good reason to insist that the measure
of his large landscape art is a large experience . I wou Id only suggest
that if one loves Broadway and is familiar with it, and if a part of
that predilection is that one has seen Mr. Abbev and Mr. Parsons
at work there, the pleasant confusion takes place of itself; one's af
fection for the wide, long, grass-bordered vista of brownish grey
cottages, thatched, latticed, mottled, mended, ivied, immemorial,
grows with the sense of its having ministered to other minds and
transferred itself to other recipients; just as the beauty of many a bit
in many a drawing of the artists I have mentioned is enhanced by
the sense, or at any rate by the desire, of recognition. Broadway and
much of the land about it are, in short, the perfection of the old
English rural tradition, and if they do not underlie all the combina-
148

" LIKE MY LORD PATELEY."
1885.
1 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT II.
GOLDSMITH.

BROADWAY TO-DAY
tions by which (in their pictorial accompaniments to rediscovered
ballads, their vignettes to story or sonnet) these particular talents
touch us almost to tears, we feel at least that they would have suf
ficed: they cover the scale. . . .
"In such places as Broadway, and it is part of the charm of them
to American eyes, the sky looks down on almost as many things as
the ceiling, and things are thejoy of the illustrator. Furnished apart
ments are useful to the artist, but a furnished country is even more
so. A ripe midland English region is a museum of accessories and
specimens, and is sure, under any circumstances, to contain the
article wanted. This is the great recommendation of Broadway:
everything in it is convertible . Even the passing visitor finds himself
becoming so; the place has so much character that it rubs off on him,
and if in an old garden — an old garden with old gates and old walls
and old summer-houses — he lies down on the old grass (on a vene
rable rug, no doubt), it is ten to one but he will be converted. The
httle oblong sheaves of blank paper with elastic straps are fluttering
all over the place. There is portraiture in the air and composition
in the very accidents. Everything is a subject or an effect, a 'bit' or a
good thing. ... It is delicious [Henry James adds in his own twink
ling way] to be at Broadway and not to have to draw."
To-day ( 1 9 1 9) the village is altered . There is now a railway station
on the branch linebetween Honeybourne and Cheltenham; but the
trains are little motor things that devise or communicate no evil.
New houses may be seen, one of them belonging to Alfred Parsons,
built in a field which he bought from Frank Millet, in order to be
permanently his neighbour, only a short time before the Titanic dis
aster. Mr.Parsons's house, which stands in a lovely garden, every
flower in which has received personal attention from his hands, is
indigenous and is rapidly merging into the landscape. Of one or two
of the other new buildings one cannot say the same; but taken as a
whole Broadway may be said to have keptitself very pureinthethirty
years that have intervened since Abbey was there. In addition to
Alfred Parsons, another of his early friends, Mary Anderson, has
made it her home. 149

"CARNATION, LILY, LILY, ROSE"
"Abbey [Henry James wrote, and he was thinking in particular
of the drawings for Herrick, She Stoops to Conquer, and Old Songs]
1 spurns the literal and yet superabounds in the characteristic, and
if he makes the strange familiar, he makes the familiar just strange
enough to be distinguished. Everything is so human, so humorous,
and so caught in the act, so buttoned and petticoated and gartered,
that it might be round the corner; and so it is; but the corner is the
corner of another world.] . . . From the first and always that other
world and that qualifying medium , in which I have said that the hu
man spectacle goes on, for Mr. Abbey have been a county of old
England which is not to be found in any geography, though it bor
ders , as I have hinted , on the Worcestershire Broadway . Few artistic
phenomena are more curious than the congenital acquaintance of
this perverse young Philadelphian with that mysterious locality . It
is there that he finds them all — the nooks, the corners, the people,
the clothes.the arboursandgardensand tea-houses, thequeercourts
of old inns, the sun-warmed angles of old parapets."
There is a slight exaggeration here, of course, for, as we know,
Lechlade and Bidford-on-Avon contributed probably a larger
share; but Broadway's place in Abbey's topography is important.
A letter to Charles Parsons on September 28th tells something
of this first sojourn in the Worcestershire earthly paradise. "We
are all busy as bees at Broadway. We've been quite a large colony.
Gosse has been here for a month, and Sargent has been painting
a great big picture in the garden of Barnard's two little girls in white
lighting Chinese lanterns hung about among rose trees and lilies . It
is seven feet by five, and as the effect only lasts about twenty min
utes a day — just after sunset — the picture does not get on very fast.
[This was the lovely "Carnation, Lily, Lily , Rose," nowin the Tate
Gallery.] Millet is painting two interiors, Barnard is doing various
sketches, and I've been painting a little water-colour of a corner of
a very draughty church, and doing the everlasting She Stoops up.
There are three models down from town, all eating their heads off
to-day. We have lots of music — Sargent plays, and Miss Gertrude
Griswold sings to us like an angel. We've had casual visits from An-
150

J. S. SARGENT
toinette Sterling and Henry Daniel, of Oxford. F. Anstey Guthrie
is coming this week to stay with us awhile, and later on Austin
Dobson. Can't you look in? Sargent and I paddled down from Ox
ford to Windsor and sawyour cross-eyed young lady at Wallingford ,
who asked where the dear old gentleman with the glasses was. I
imprinted a more or less chaste caress for you — on her alabaster
brow." Mr. Anstey Guthrie's memories of this visit to Broadway
comprise a model named Stewart, who claimed descent from the
second Charles and had remarkably beautiful hands, then sitting to
Abbey for She Stoops to Conquer . " I always , ' ' says the author of Vice
Versa,in a letter to me, "remember Abbey's quiet, dry humour, his
rich drawl and racy American idioms." The Rev. Henry Daniel,
who died in 1 9 1 9 , was the Provost of Worcester College , the owner
of the Daniel Press .
" Sargent [the letter continues] nearly killed himself at Pang-
bourne Weir. He dived off the same and struck a spike with, his
head, cutting a big gash in the top. It has healed wonderfully well,
but it was a nasty rap. It was here that he saw the effect of the
Chinese lanterns hung among the trees and the bed of lilies. . . .
After his head was bound up he knocked it a second time and re
opened the wound . ' ' Abbey was alarmed and took him to Broadway
to look after him; and this was the painter's introduction to that
place. PI ere, since it is Mr. Sargent's first appearance on the scene,
it should be said that the American artist, who is now chiefly known
for his portraits, although his true love is mural decoration, was, in
1885 , only twenty-nine, being four years younger than Abbey .After
having lived and studied abroad, exhibiting in the Salon, when he
was a pupil of Carolus-Duran, as early as 1879, ne naa^ settled in
England and was now on the threshold of one of the most brilliant
careers in the history of art.
Writing to Reinhart in November from Farnham House,Abbey
describes the daily life at Broadway in much the same terms as to
Charles Parsons, but amplifies it here and there. Thus: "I've been
daubing away with no light to sp eak of, taking long walks in the mud .
But to-day [November 12th] it is beautiful. The hills are covered 151

HENRY JAMES
with snow, and the whole colony, children and all, pranced over
them in the sunlight this morning. We have music until the house
won't stand it. Sargent is going elaborately through Wagner's tri
logy, recitatives and all; there are moments when it doesn't seem as
if it could be meant for music, but I dare say it is. I've been paint
ing a head. Sargent does it better than I do and quicker, but then
he's younger.
"Why," Abbey asks Reinhart in this November letter," couldn't
you come here for awhile next summer? The country about is lovely
and the houses are really fine architecturally — not 'cottagey' but
with well-cut stone windows and doors." But the project, although
it was seriously considered by the Reinharts, did not fructify.
Another guest this summer, Abbey tells Reinhart, was Henry
James, and since so much has already been quoted from his urbane
and mellow pen let a word be said of him at that time, especially as
an intimacy was now beginning between him and Abbey which was
to grow into a friendship that became stronger as the years pro
ceeded. In 1885 Henry James was forty-two, by nine years Abbey's
senior, and was already well-known as a novelist , a critic, and a most
subtle and penetrating discerner of the souls of cities. He was at
work at that time on his stories The Bostonians and Princess Casa-
massima, living in De Vere Mansions, Kensington (Rve was not yet
discovered), and, as he ever did, delighting his countrv friends with
visits all too rare and brief. From time to time as this book proceeds
we shall find letters to Abbey from Henry James .
A letter from Abbey to Charles Parsons, about this time, has this:
"Aman nam edCopeWhitelour wants an electro of my Fingal's Cave
cut, to publish by the side of Turner's drawing of the same subject,
in order to show how very bad the latter is ! ! For heaven's sake, if he
applies to headquarters, sit on him — I wouldn't be made a fool of
like this for anything. . . . Caldecott," he adds, "will be in N.Y. by
the same steamer that brings this. He is vervill — be good to him."
Abbey also commended Caldecott to the care of his cousin, Mrs.
Curtiss;butthehopeof recovery was aforlornone, and theartistdied
inFloridain 1 886, justbefore his fortieth birthday. With him passed
152

RANDOLPH CALDECOTT
away one of the mostkindly and most charming of English draughts
men, who not only was a master of the pencil but a sweetener of life
and the adored friend of the nursery.

CHAPTER XVIII
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER
1886 Aged 33-34
AbbeyinNewYork—ALondonWelcome— J.R.Osgood— Howard Pyle— An Artist's
Education — First Sight of Fairford — C.S. Reinhart — Henry James on Abbey —
Austin Dobson's Prologue to She Stoops to Conquer — The Goldsmith Drawings
THE year 1886 yields but few materials to the biographer.
In the early months Abbey was at Bedford Gardens work
ing on the water-colour "Stony Ground," and upon the
"March Past," which he sent to the Institute's Exhibi
tion. "Stony Ground"ihe took in the early spring to New York,
where he spent much time conferring with the Harpers as to future
arrangements, the incentive being the following letter from Mr.
Alden, an epoch-making document in Abbey's career. The date
is February 18th, 1886 : "We have long had in view some drawings
from you illustrating characters and situations in Shakespeare^s
Comedies. The thought first took shape when I saw your drawing
oTAutolycus. I would like to have your name go down to posterity
associated with Shakespeare! You would select your motifs at plea
sure. No text would be needed beyond a simple legend, to accom
pany the drawings; but in time you would have enough to illustrate
a sumptuous edition of the Comedies. You would not be bound
to take one play at a time and confine yourself to it until it might
become tiresome. How do you like the idea? The interest in Shake
speare is universal, and the final result of the scheme would pro
bably prove more remunerative than of any other you could put
your pencil to." Since it was from this suggestion that Abbey's
Shakespeare drawings came into being we cannot be too grateful to
Mr. Alden — but it is too soon to speak of this. Enough to say now
that the tree of which the seed was thus planted was growing for the
next twenty and more years J
We get a glimpse of Abbey on this visit to New York in the des<-
cription of a Tile Club dinner, as given in The Book of the Tile Club,
*54

MRS. HARDCASTLE, MISS NEVILLE AND TONY LUMPKIN.
MISS NEVILLE : " PRAY. AUNT, LET ME READ IT. NOBODY CAN READ A CRAMP HAND BETTER
THAN I " (TWITCHING THE LETTER FROM HER).
1885.
" SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT IV.
GOLDSMITH.

"THE CHESTNUT" RETURNS
by "Edward Strahan" (Earl Shinn) . He tells us that one evening
the Tilers having gathered for dinner, Cadmium, an expert at a
beefsteak , was bending above the tenderloin which was broiling on
the gridiron over the glowing coals of the wood fire in the back
room, while Polyphemus dropped in lumps of butter and certain
mysteries. A brass kettle was singing on the anthracite fire in the
front room. Mallard ducks were preparing in the kitchen. A silver
chafing dish, in place upon the table, was ready to heat the oysters
into a delicious brew, and, while thus concentrated, "they were
somehow (says Shinn) suddenly aware that a new arrival had come
among them. It was the Chestnut just popping in from a distance
of three thousand miles to share their dinner. To betray any sur
prise, to extend any emphatic welcome to a comrade, simply because
he was from abroad , was not in the hu mour of the Tile Club . One of
their memberswasthenin India, another in Spain, and Polyphemus
was expecting a brother from Hayti.
" 'Fellows,' said the Chestnut, 'I just came to tell you that I have
had a real Cavalier saddle made by a saddler in Norfolk Street, just
off the Strand. Hogskin, wooden pommels, stirrups like those in
Vandyck's Charles I. Modelled after one of Prince Rupert's. Cost
like the dickens , but I am so much in his debt already that I scarcely
noticed the fellow's bill.'
"To say [the writer continues] that the Chestnut was a favourite
with the Club would be to put it unfairly. There were a score of
favourites — that being the number of the possible membership. A
new arrival was not to be spoiled with mollycoddle or petting, but
was to be used for what he could teach. The studio property he had
just described was admired speculatively as a possible good, and
those who expected to want to borrow it made him describe the
saddle accurately, with sketches in burnt match executed on the
tablecloth. Then thememberfromEngland was exhaustively cross-
examined. News from du Maurier and Burne-Jones and Alma Ta
dema and Sargent were demanded and given with such graphic
painter 's minuteness that the listeners could fairly scent the varnish
in the ateliers of those distant craftsmen. The Chestnut had come
155

HOWARD PYLE
over for a few days, in an almost accidental way, just to decide on
the binding and title-page of his illustrated Beowulf. This done, he
was to happen back again fortuitously. He was wanted for a grand
phaeton tour among the Cumberland Lakes ; in this projected ex-
cu rsion he would knock knees with the father of the Princessof Thule,
the fath er of the Scholar Gypsy , and the book-keeper of a successful
firm nick-named Triumphant Plutocracy. . . ."
The American visit was quickly over, and on May 7th a supper
party met at 54 Bedford Gardens to welcome the wanderer back,
thehostbeing Alfred Parsons and the guests AlmaTadema.Marcus
Stone, Luke Fildes, Boughton, Keene, Sambourne, J. L. Toole,
Colin Hunter, William Black, R. W. Macbeth, Andrew Lang, and
Henry James. One other guest was James R. Osgood, destined to
be one of Abbey's best friends, who had just come to London, to
45 Albemarle Street, as a publisher on his own account, in partner
ship with the late Clarence Macllvaine, and to represent Harpers'
in England.
A letter from the American artist, the late Howard Pyle, of which
the following is an extract, reached Abbey soon after his return to
England : "What j oily times you must have in your English life , with
the right fellows you meet at your club and elsewhere ! I wonder
whether two lives could be more different than yours and mine: the
one full of go, novelty and change; the other humdrum, mossy, and
— no, I will not say dull or stagnant, for it suits me to perfection.
Yes, it suits me so perfectly that I doubt whether I shall ever cross
the ocean to see those things which seem so beautiful and dream
like in my imagination, and which if I saw might break the bubble
of fancy and leave nothing behind but bitter soap-suds. I have al
ways had the most intense longing to see some of those jolly bits
which you are always throwing out as sops to us less fortunate mor
tals — by the bye, do you see them, or do you only carry motives of
them around in your ' nut ,' the same as I do the old German castles ? ' '
It m ay be noted that Py le's career and that of Abbey coincided very
nearly in point of time, Abbey having been born on April ist, 1852,
Pyle on March 5th, 1853, Abbey dving on August ist, 191 1, Pyle on
156

MISS HARDCASTLE AND MARLOW.
ENTER HARDCASTLE AND SIR CHARLES FROM BEHIND.
SIR CHARLES : " HERE, BEHIND THIS SCREEN."
Nineteen inches by thirteen inches.

" SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT V.
GOLDSMITH.

MISS HARDCASTLE, MARLOW, SIR CHARLES AND HARDCASTLE.
SIR CHARLES : " I CAN HOLD IT NO LONGER. CHARLES, CHARLES, HOW HAST THOU DECEIVED ME.
IS THIS YOUR INDIFFERENCE, YOUR UNINTERESTING CONVERSATION ! "
Seventeen and a half inches by twelve and a half inches.
1885.
" SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT V.
GOLDSMITH.

THE IMPORTANCE OF TRAVEL
November 9th in the same year; while both made reputations as
illustrators for Harper's Magazine. To Pyle's letter Abbey wrote
a reply, which, however, he never sent. As it is among his papers
and has so much good sense in it, revealing so much of its writer's
sane outlook and purposefulness, a few passages may be quoted:
"If, as you say , you wax miserly of your time, don't waste any more
of it trying to imagine what has already been imagined. Your Ger
man and Dutch castles are much less picturesque than they really
are. One month in Nuremberg, Ghent, Middelburg, or any other
North German Hanseatic town would open your eyes wider to the
possibilities of your ability than twenty years' toiling through the
translations of them other eyes have given you. You can't invent
any more curious architecture of the period than exists in these old
places. If you could you would be the greatest architect living to
day. The first fortnight I spent in England not a dozen miles from
this spot [the letter was written at Broadway] made me wish back all
the English drawings I had evermade^ The country is as different
from America as chalk is from cheese .When you sit down to do your
work here, if it be of a certain period — anywhere after 1550 — you
unconsciously remember all that you have seen of architecture or
dress of this particular time_JThis little village, of perhaps five hun
dred people, has, I dare say, only half a dozen houses built within
the century, and they are built on the old lines handed down by
their fathers. The casements in every house are leaded ones. Here
are one or two drawings. I can't get it all in in a sketch these days.
Our dear old Charles Keene manages to somehow — and Menzel.
This latter is a perfect miracle of industry, drawing and sketching
everything even now in his seventy-first year. . . .
" I am convinced that I am right about your coming over here.
Do you really think a man is the worse for being surrounded by
beautiful things? You can't possibly believe that his imagination
is stimulated by ugly, or worse, commonplace things. You would
save ten years in a month's travel over on this side. ... I suppose
I remember at least a hundred things that I shall not be aware of
until they are severally wanted." 157

A COTSWOLD JOURNEY
In June Abbey and Alfred Parsons, with Frank Millet, went over
to Paris for the Salon, and there they found Reinhart and seem to
have been very merry with him; and soon after their return Millet,
Henry James, and Abbey took a little drive of exploration, of which
this is an account, in a letter to Charles Parsons: "Frank and I have
just come back from a long drive across country to Fairford, near
the Thames, and a most enjoyable trip it was. Henry James, who
has been staying with us for a few days, went along. We drove about
seventy miles altogether, and on the second day went through the
most primitive part of England I ever saw. We only saw a railway
once in all this distance. There are some wonderfully beautiful
things in the valley of the Coin. Few Americans have any notion, I
fancy , of the great wealth of mediaeval architecture there is scattered
about in theremotevillages of England . We passed through eighteen
villages and small towns yesterday — nearly every one with an old
church of more or less interest. There is at Burford a magnificent
great abbey church full of splendid bits of Norman and early per
pendicular work. At Stow-on-the-Wold we had the good fortune
to happen on a wedding, which afforded us great delight. Some day
you must come back to us and take one of these trips. These Cots-
wold Hills would brace you up, you may be sure." — The excursion
to Fairford was more momentous than Abbey knew, for in 1890,
after much search, it was at Fairford that he and Mrs. Abbey found
the home which they were to occupy for many years and where he
was to do his most important work.
A letter to Reinhart on October 2nd, 1886, tells more of Russell
House at this time, and lends point to Mr. Dobson's recollection of
it as " as jolly as a boys ' school . ' ' — "As the evenings begin to length
en and time hangs a little before bedtime, I begin to have stirrings
within me that prompt me to think a little of what is going on else
where than within these walls. What, for instance, have you been
about all these months, in fact since the night you so effectually
curled us all up in the Cafe Americain ? I dare say you are back
again in Paree at work. We have so stunning a place here to do it
in that we are not dreaming of any urban labours as yet. Sargent
158

" SALLY IN OUR ALLEY."
" Of all the days that's in the week
I dearly love but one day,
And that's the day that comes betwixt
A Saturday and Monday ;
For then I'm drest in all my best
To walk abroad with Sally :
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley." H. CAREY.
1S86.
" OLD SONGS."

i-m

" SALLY IN OUR ALLEY."
" My master carries me to church.
And often am I blamed
Because I leave him in the lurch
As soon as text is named ;
I leave the church in sermon-time
And slink away to Sally :
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley." H. CAREY.
1886.
'¦¦ OLD SONGS."

" SALLY IN OUR ALLEY."
' When Christmas comes about again,
Oh, then I shall have money ;
I'll hoard it up and box it all,
I'll give it to my honey :
I would it were ten thousand pound,
I'd give it all to Sally :
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley." H. CAREY.
1886.
" OLD SONGS."

WORK AND PLAY
indeed is thinking of town. I believe he has a sitting beginning on
the 15th. He has almost finished his large picture of the children
lighting lanterns hung among flowers — and has not b egun anything
else of importance this summer. We grew a great bed of poppies
on purpose to paint, but it was too many for us, much the most in
tricate and puzzling affair I ever saw. I funked it entirely and gloated
over the ineffectual struggles of Sargent, Millet, Alfred and B lash-
field. The last [E.W. Blashfield, the American artist] has been stay
ing attheinnmost of thesummer — avery nice companionable chap,
with a most puzzling service — at tennis, I mean. I wish you could
come over and see us for a time. We have lots of room, and I am
sure you would find the place practicable. If you must work, there
are four rooms we use as studios. One, the barn, is really fine —
seventy feet long and wide in proportion. We have had it nicely
floored and great glass doors put in, and now there is in process of
construction an immense chimney which ought to warm it; and we
are in negotiation with various dealers in antiquities for a chimney-
piece for it.
"I haven't painted much, but have done several songs for H.B.
[Harper Brothers] in black-and-white. I've several water-colours
begun, but none of them near even the middle stage. I intend going
on again pretty soon unless I succumb to the many alluring invita
tions to visit about, which at this time of year are rather numerous.
We have really had a gay summer, pretending to work and some
times working (for there are numberless places with easels in them
to hide away in — if you really do want to work) until four, and then
tennis until dinner time, and after dinner dancing and music and
various cheering games in the studio — but mostly dancing . ' '
January and February saw the completion of the drawings for
She Stoops to Conquer, which had been running irregularly through
i7arper'ssinceDecember,i884. With the numberfor August, 1886,
the publication of the series was finished, and in the December
number the "Old Songs" made a brave beginning with "Sally in
our Alley . ' ' Although Goldsmith 's play was not issued in book form
until the following year, this is an excellent place to say something J59

HENRY JAMES
of it, especially as here, at the end of 1886, the first serious examina
tion of Abbey's genius which had been printed may most fittingly
bequoted. The writer was Henry James. The article, from which
an extract has already been made in Chapter III . , appeared in Har
per's Weekly in December, 1886. We will begin with some general
conclusions. Thus: "Impeccable as he isindrawing,he likes awhole
face, with reason, and likes awhole figure; the latter not to the ex
clusion of clothes, in which he delights, but as the clothes of our
great-grandfathers helped it tobe seen. No one has ever understood
breeches and stockings better thanhe,orthe human leg, that delight
of the draughtsman as the costume of the last century permitted it
to be known. The petticoat and bodice of the same period have as
little mystery for him, and his women and girls have altogether the
poetry of a by-gone manner and fashion. They are not modern
heroines, with modern nerves and accomplishments, but figures of
remembered song and story, calling up visions of spinet andharpsi-
chord that have lost their music to-day, high- walled gardens that
have ceased to bloom, flowered stuffs that are faded, locks of hair
that are lost, love-letters that are pale. By which I don't mean that
they are vague and spectral, for Mr .Abbey has in the highest degree
the art of imparting life. . . .
' ' His drawing is the drawing of direct , immediate , solicitous study
of the particular case, without tricks or affectations or any sort of
cheap subterfuge, and nothing can exceed the charm of its delicacy,
accuracy and elegance, its variety and freedom, and clear, frank
solution of difficulties . If for the artist it is the foundation of every
joy to know exactly what he wants(as I hold it is indeed), Mr. Abbey
is, to all appearance, to be constantly congratulated. . . .
"If thewriter speaks whenhe writes, and the draughtsman speaks
when he draws, Mr. Abbey, in expressing himself with his pencil,
certainly speaks pure English. He reminds us to a certain extent
of Meissonier, especially the Meissonier of the illustrations to that
charming little volume of the Contes Remois, and the comparison is
highly to his advantage in the matter of freedom, variety , ability to
represent movem ent (Meissonier 's figures are stock-still) , and facial
160

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER
expression — above all, in the handling of the female personage, so
rarely attempted by the French artist. But he differs from the latter
signally in the fact that, though he shares his sympathy as to period
and costume, his people areof another race and tradition,and move
in a world locally altogether different. Mr. Abbey is still young, he
is full of ideas and intentions , and the work he has done may , in view
of his time of life , of his opportunities , and the singular completeness
of his talent,be regarded really as a kind of foretaste and prelude. It
can hardly fail that he will do better things still, when everything is
so favourable . Life itself is his subj ect , and that is always at his door .
The only obstacle, therefore, that can be imagined in Mr. Abbey's
future career is a possible embarrassment as to what to choose. He
has hitherto chosen so well , however , that this obstacle will probably
not be insuperable."
When, some time later, She Stoops to Conquer was published in a
handsome folio, it had an introduction in couplets by Mr. Dobson,
and decorations by Alf redParsons, and was altogether a sumptuous,
delectable work — "monumental," as Mr. Pennellcallsit. Mr. Dob
son's verses are well known, but a few lines will indicate how happy
a chance had brought this poet and this illustrator together as allies
in the reconstruction of Goldsmith's day:
"Look, look, — there is Wilkes! You may tell by the squint;
But he grows every day more and more like the print
(Ah ! Hogarth could draw !); and behind, at the back,
Hugh Kelly, who looks all the blacker in black.
That is Cumberland next, and the prim-looking person
In the corner, I fancy, is Ossian Macpherson.
And, rolling and blinking, here, too, with the rest,
Comes sturdy old Johnson, dressed out in his best;
How he shakes his old noddle! I'd wager a crown,
Whatever the law is, he's laying it down !
Beside him is Reynolds, — who's deaf; and the hale,
Fresh, farmer-like fellow, I take it, is Thrale.
There is Burke,withGeorgeSteevens. And somewhere, no doubt,
Is the author, too nervous just now to come out;
m 161

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER
He's a queer little fellow, grave-featured, pock-pitten,
Tho' they say, in his cups, he's as gay as a kitten."
The drawings from She Stoops to Conquer are too well estab
lished among black-and-white masterpieces for their praise to be
elaborated now; and some of them are to be found and studied in
the present volume. But the eulogy of the artist from the golden
pen of Henry James, in the article of which other portions have
already been given (the occasion being the completion of the illus
trations in the magazine), demands quotation: "No work in black-
and-white in our time has been more truly artistic and certainly no
success more unqualified. The artist has given us a complete evoca
tion of a social state to its smallest details, and done it with an un
surpassable lightness of touch . The problem was in itself delightful
— the accidents and incidents (granted a situation de com/die) of an
old , rambling , wainscotted , out-of-the-way English country house ,
in the age of Goldsmith. Here Mr. Abbey is in his element — given
up equally to unerring observation and still more infallible divina
tion. The whole place, and the figures that come and go in it, live
again, with their individual look, their peculiarities, their special
signs and oddities . Thespirit of thedramatisthas passed completely
into the artist 's sense , but the spirit of thehistorianhas done so almost
as much. Tony Lumpkin is, as we say nowadays, a document, and
Miss Hardcastle embodies the results of research. Delightful are the
humour and quaintness and grace of all this, delightful the variety
and the richness of personal characterisation, and delightful, above
all, the drawing. It is impossible to represent with such vividness
unless, to begin with, one sees ; and it is impossible to see unless one
wants to very much, or unless, in other words, one has a great love.
"Mr. Abbey has evidently the tenderest affection for just the old
house and the old things, the old faces and voices, the whole irrevo
cable human scene which the genial hand of Goldsmith has passed
over to him, and there is no inquiry about them that he is not in
a position to answer. He is intimate with the buttons of coats and
the buckles of shoes; he knows not only exactly what his people
wore, but exactly how they wore it , and how they felt when they had
162

TONY : " TONY LUMPKIN IS HIS OWN MAN AGAIN."
1886.
" SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT V.
GOLDSMITH.

'

MRS. HARDCASTLE, MISS NEVILLE, TONY AND HASTINGS.
TONY :" DON'T MIND HER. LET HER CRY. IT'S THE COMFORT OF HER HEART. I HAVE SEEN
HER AND SISTER CRY OVER A BOOK FOR AN HOUR TOGETHER, AND THEY SAID THEY
LIKED THE BOOK THE BETTER THE MORE IT MADE THEM CRY."
Fifteen inches by eleven and a half inches.
1885.
" SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," ACT II.
GOLDSMITH.

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER
it on. He has sat on the old chairs and sofas, and rubbed against the
old wainscot, and leaned over the old banisters. He knows every
mended place in Tony Lumpkin's stockings, and exactly how that
ingenuous youth leaned back on the spinet, with his thick, familiar
thumb out, when he presented his inimitable countenance, with a
grin,toMr. Hastings, after hehad sethis fondmother a-whimpering.
(There is nothing in the whole series, by the way, better indicated
than the exquisitely simple, half-bumpkin, half -vulgar expression
of Tony's countenance and smile in this scene, unless it be the
charming, arch, yet modest, face of Miss Hardcastle, lighted by the
candle she carries, as, still holding the door by which she comes in,
she is challenged by young Marlow to relieve his bewilderment as
to where he really is and what she really is.) ^ In short, if we have all
seen She Stoops to Conquer acted, Mr. Abbey has had the better for
tune of seeing it off the stage; and it is noticeable how happily he has
steered clear of the danger of making his people theatrical types —
meremasqueraders and wearersof propertiesjThisis especially the
case with hiswomen, who had not a hintof the conventionalpaintand
patches , simpering with their hands in the pockets of aprons , but are
taken from the same originals from which Goldsmith took them . ' '
That article was pubhshed on December 4th , and thus prepared
the way for the exhibition of the original drawings held at the
Grolier Club inNew Yorkfrom December 16th to December22nd,
which was the first opportunity that the public, even in so limited a
way, had of studying Abbey's work at first hand .
The following undated letter from Henry James may be inserted
here, since it touches again upon She Stoops to Conquer, although it
belongs to a later year:
«,«¦ . November 12th.
My dear Abbey,
"Three or four days ago arrived the good Natorp bearing won
drous gifts (from you) in his hands — offerings of splendid, indeed
almost incredible, beauty. You do things more handsomely than
anyone I know — and it isonly because I have had the printer's devil
at my heels these last days that I have delayed so many hours to tell
you so. The books are beautiful and honourable exceedingly, the
163

J. G. WHITTIER
sentiment which prompted the bestowal of them is exactly the same
quality , and my gratitude and appreciation are altogether to match.
They are the sort of thing that one will cherish and exhibit for ever
— it is really very nice of you . What a fine thing is the Goldsmith —
it makes one, as an American, hold up one's head much higher. I
envy you having a hand in such occurrences. It is really a noble
book. I am very glad to see the Herrick — it is very interesting for
one studying the 'evolution' of your genius; and if (as I understood
you once) many of the drawings were done before you visited these
realms, it is a striking proof of that mystic vision — you would have
invented old England if it hadn't existed. But who could have
invented you? — in the same case. Fortunately you exist — though
not so much in London as one would like. Aren't you coming back
soon for the happy time as this is to me ? Your two books make me
ashamed of that wretched, vague, little article I wrote about you a
year ago; and yet, bad as it is, the mania for publicity is the curse of
our vulgar age. Herrick or Goldsmith wouldn't have done it — and
that is why I love you — that you transport one so perfectly to unin-
teroceaning times — that is, they had no interviewers.
"Ever your very faithful, "Henry James."
Among the Narrative and Legendary Poems of J . G . Whittier is a
sequence of four sonnets, written in 1886, under the title "Banished
from Massachusetts," with these words at the head: "On a painting
by E .A .Abbey . The General Court of Massachusetts enacted , Octo
ber 19th, 1658, that 'any person or persons of the cursed sect of
Quakers' should, on conviction of the same, be banished onpainof
death, from the jurisdiction of the commonwealth." Search has not
yet revealed the pictorial source of the poet's inspiration; but the
probability is that what Whittier saw and remembered was not a
painting but a black-and-white drawing.

164

WITH JOCKEY TO THE FAIR.
' Soon did they meet a joyful throng
Their gay companions, blithe and young,
Each joins the dance, each joins the song
To hail the happy pair."
Fourteen inches by ten and a quarter inches.
1887.
" OLD SONGS."

CHAPTER XIX
THE COMMISSION FOR THE COMEDIES AND
PUBLICATION OF OLD SONGS
1887-1888 Aged 34-36
The Sketching Club — Fred Barnard — Responsibilities of an Illustrator of Shake
speare — Theories of Illustration — Authors and their Illustrators — Sir Walter
Besant — Charles Keene — Preparations for Shakespeare — An Italian Journey —
A New Studio — A First London Exhibition — Old Songs — John Hay — George du
Maurier
LETTERS are again very scarce in 1 887 . The first, from 54
Bedford Gardens to Charles Parsons, on February 2nd, tells
us of the Sketching Club. "It has begun, "Abbey says, "its
weekly dinners, and I am seeing more than I did of the in
teriors of studios. We dine at each other's houses in succession.
LastMondayatHunter'stherewerePettieandHoll, Macbeth, Mac
Whirter, Gregory , Tom Graham , Murray and Alfred and I— and we
hauled Hunter's work all to pieces , of course . It is very good , how
ever: the usual Tarbert shore with girls shrimping, etc. We sketch a
given subject after dinner in the good old style . This club , however,
has a right to an old style, as it was started in Edinburgh nearly fifty
years ago . ' ' — The Club consisted , in 1 887 , of I cannot say how many
members, but the most enthusiastic and regular were Abbey him
self, Colin Hunter, R.W.Macbeth, C. E. Johnson, P. R. Morris, H.
Cameron, E. J. Gregory, John Burr, C. E. Holloway, Frank Holl,
T.Graham, J. Pettie,W.Q.Orchardson,H. Harper, Cecil Lawson,
Alfred Parsons and J . Mac Whirter . Alfred Parsons has some of the
Sketching Club's drawings made on a night when the subject was
"Our Daily Bread." Abbey drew four cobblers at work on a bench;
Pettie and Gregory were more literal and introduced the staff of life
itself. For MacWhirter, by the way , Abbey designed in 1 887 a pri
vate-view card for an exhibition at the Fine Art Society's — "The
Land of Burns and Scott. ' " ' If , " MacWhirter wrote , when remind
ing Abbey of his promise to do him this friendly service , " by a stroke 165

LINLEY SAMBOURNE
of extra genius you could introduce a Scotch thistle into the design,
so much the better." The stroke of extra genius was forthcoming.
And here let me mention the menu card for the "Kinsmen" which
Abbey made, also in 1 887 , in collaboration with Linley Sambourne.
One would hardly hav e expected two such different styles— the fluid
and the solid, as one might say — to amalgamate; but they do. Abbey
was pleased with the result. Writing to Reinhart, he said, paraphras
ing a slang expressive phrase of the day — "to take the biscuit" —
"Sambourne and I have done a combination menu card which re
moves the macaroon . ' ' The letter of February 2nd also says: ' ' I wish
you'd send Barnard something to do. He is a proud cuss, and will
neither go to publishers and ask for work nor suggest any ideas for
any, and his wife and children are too charming to be left badly off.
Can't you start some of those London characters? I suggested that
he do a 'Punch and Judy' show in Oxford Street as a page on spec."
A possible result of this appeal was the article by F. Anstey in the
magazine for April, 1888, on"Humoursof aMinor Theatre, "with
Barnard's drawings.
Abbey's letter next turns to questions of The Quiet Life and Old
Songs, on which Alfred Parsons and he were engaged, and, referring
to the "Leather Bottel," mentions a correspondence on that song
with the late Rev. J. W. Ebsworth, who was President of the Ballad
Society and a clerk in Holy Orders of rather notable eccentricity.
He was an admirer of Abbey, says the letter, "of the deepest dye.
I 'd send the poem he has written to me but for my blushes."
What Abbey then hesitated to do I may adventure now . Ebsworth
had written as follows concerning some recent drawings: "I had
been , this evening ,again looking through your Harper 's illustrations
of She Stoops to Conquer and liking them ever more and more. But
I think your 'At Last,' and the entire series of 'Sally in our Alley,'
from the introduction of the heroine on the doorstep (which Ran
dolph Caldecott would have loved) to the glimpse of happiness in
the final banqueting scene, to be absolutely perfect." Having gone
so far in prose, the reverend gentleman dropped into verse. I quote
one stanza:
166

MISS HARDCASTLE'S SONG.
" AH ME I WHEN SHALL I MARRY ME ? "
Ten and a half inches by six and three-quarter inches.
1885.
' SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER," BETWEEN ACT S III AND IV.
GOLDSMITH.

J. W. EBSWORTH
"The world had grown sordid and shabby,
But there came from across the big main
One to cheer the worn hearts, Edwin Abbey,
Who fills life with enjoyment again.
His the fancy, brisk, varied, and loving,
His the pencil, with lightness and grace,
To bring back what Old Time was removing —
Pluck the veil from Joy's long-hidden face."
"I want, "Abbey continued,"thepageofthenewseries[T/jeQM>f
Life and Old Songs] to have the open , delicate look that the song and
drawing of ' Oh me ! when shall I marry me? ' have in the She Stoops
book. 'The Wish' has that look." The artist did not always get his
way (artists, when editors are in question, notoriously do not); but
these letters area sufficient testimony to Abbey's controlling desire
to have everything as it should be. A further passage bears upon
thoroughness of another kind, for, referring to "A Love Song," by
Wither, for Old Songs, which Mr. Charles Parsons had thought
somewhat recondite for the magazine, he says: "It is to be found in
Ritson and in a very little and very rare book (where it first appeared)
entitled 'A D escription of Love , ' with certain epigrams , elegies , and
sonnets, London, 1620. Of course it is in Russell Smith's edition of
Wither." The letter, from which so many quotations have been made,
was written on Februarx2nd, 1887. Abbey's next, also to Charles
Parsons, and from Broad way 7 dated September 1st, in the same
year, is of great importance, because it first tells of his serious in
tention to take up Mr. Alden's suggestion of the previous year and
illustrate the comediesof Shakespeare. ' 'Alfred 's illnesshas kept me
from doing many things I otherwise should hav e done . I have been
waiting about for his recovery (which now, I am glad to say, is im
minent), but in the meantime I have done very little to justify my
artistic existence. We had plans for work this summer in which he
was so much mixed up that I could not go on without him . We were
to have finished the 'Quiet Life' series . . . and then we were to have
set about the 'Walton' in earnest. Now these must both go over, and
167

BOOKS OF A DREAM
talking it all over with him the other day, the 'Walton' offers more
and more difficulties in the text. I can't see how it is to be cut, ex
purgated, or Bowdlerised without serious detriment to the inno
cence of the w hole work , and I am pretty well discouraged about it .
I have done two or three drawings for it already , and sketched three
or four more, but I am half disposed to give it all up , at least for the
present." As a matter of fact the project had to be abandoned. The
Compleat Angler , illustrated byEdwinA. Abbey and Alfred Parsons,
thus takes its place among "the books which might have been," be
side (to name only one or two on those delectable phantom shelves)
R.L. Stevenson 's,GreatNorthRoad,aromanceoihi^\waymen,ano\
the memoirs of the Duke of Wellington and Wilham Hazlitt from
the same hand.
We come now to the Shakespeare project ; and particular at
tention is due to the letter for revelation of the clarity of Abbey's
mind with regard to his work and his duty as an illustrator, and of
the businesshke sense of him. "I have been thinking [he says] a
great deal of the Shakespeare Comedies scheme, which at the be
ginning seemed to me utterly out of the question. So many people
have suggested Shakespeare to me, that familiarity with the idea
has , I dare say , shorn it of some of its terrors , although at the present
I haven't the means to carry it out. . .There are fourteen Comedies,
and I dare say you will not want more than five drawings to each one;
and the research required would be rather a formidable affair, but I
don't particularly mind that. Many of the difficulties with which
I had to contend in She Stoops would not present themselves. I
should like to know particularly whether it would pay me to under-
takethis. (We are so very mercenary.) In the case of the Comedies
the scenes of which are laid in Verona, Venice, Padua, Tuscany , etc.,
I should like to go to these places , which I have never seen , and work
up some studies there. Thiswouldbe an expense. No greater, how
ever, than the expenses attending my visit to that confounded Den
mark, which profited me nothing.
"I don'tbelieve inundertaking more than an averageof fivedraw-
ings to each Comedy — some might have six and some four — but if
168

" SWEET NELLY. MY HEART'S DELIGHT ! "
Twenty inches by fourteen inches.
1887.
"OLD SONGS."
One of three drawings with the same title, two published in the book of " Old Songs " and
one published privately.

i\'

K\:

V,A

/ j

<<y

THE SHAKESPEARE COMMISSION
there were more, the same difficulties that beset me in She Stoops
— that of keeping the same faces and figures repeated accurately —
would arise again. But, at any rate, I should like to have your views,
and the views of the House, as to some plan of publication. The
labour attending the preparationof these drawingswould , of course ,
be considerable, and I am naturally anxious to know if the profits —
the possible or probable profits — would justify me in undertaking
the work. (The more I learn, the more I see, and, naturally , the more
fastidious I am as to the work I put forth. My library has increased
to agreatlyembarrassingextentsincel began toget together material
for my 'Herrick,' but even now I should feel justified in spending a
considerable sum upon works of reference before beginning these
drawings."} "And
' ' If you still think the work is to be undertaken ,please let me know
definitely how much I would receive in money for the drawings. I
should not hke to charge any expenses to the House — I mean in case
I went abroad — and for the books and costumes, etc., but I should
naturally be put to expenses of this sort, and I 'want to know, don't
you know,' whether I could afford to do the book. I have been in
terrupted a good deal since I began this, and I dare say there is a deal
of repetition in it, but the facts are here."
Thus far Abbey wrote on September i st. He did not, however,
send the letter then, but added to it in London: "September 12th.
— Am I never to get at this? I have been so busy with other things
since Thursday last(when I came up to see someof the last rehearsals
and the first performance of the Winter's Tale) that I've had no
moment to myself . I have profited much by this Winter's Tale ex
perience, and  r
"October2nd. — (It's^oZtobefinished this time). (I don'tremem-
ber 'and' what, but, at any rate, my mind has been much occupied
with these Comedies, and I am becoming convinced that I might
do them as well as most people, if not better .3 . . Some of the plays
would bevery easy to get up, but some of them would be expensive.
As You Like It, for instance, would cost me for clothes quite £60,
169

THE SHAKESPEARE COMMISSION
and most of the others (with the exception of the classic ones) more,
or less. I have just laid out nearly £40 in books on costumes and
architecture, so that that expense is over. Please let me know what
you think, and what the House thinks of it all."
The House thought sufficiently well of it all to complete thecon-
tract, which was for an average of seven pages for each of the four
teen Comedies, or one hundred and thirty-two drawings in all, at
1 25 dollars per page, the drawings to be the property of the Messrs.
Harpers. We may think, therefore, of Abbey henceforth for several
years as rarely out of the company of our greatest poet, at whose
birthplace he had first become acquainted with English life; and
never without one or other of the plays in his pocket. AU these little
volumes have been preserved — the Rev. John Hunter's edition,
published by Messrs. Longmans — and each is copiously marked,
and in many of them are scribbhngs of drawing. Abbey's library
editions of Shakespeare yield similar testimony to devout study.
The long letter quoted above is peculiarly interesting in showing
us with what earnestness Abbey came to his tasks. Among a variety
of unfinished and very rough notes from his pen which have been
preserved are to be found, under the date 1894, further remarks on
the theory of illustration that may with propriety be interpolated
here. Charles Dudley Warner, taking advantage of the opening of
du Maurier 's7n76y, with drawings by theauthor,inHarper's Maga
zine, had written a little essay on illustrators, with some of which
Abbey disagreed so heartily that he began to frame a reply. From
this reply, which was neither completed nor sent, much relevant
matter may be quoted .V' It is only natural [Abbey wrote] for an au
thor to suppose or assume that the article illustrated is, as a rule,
better than the illustrations. Of course, there are two opinions as to
this. One would hesitate to say that Walker's illustrations to Philip
were better than the story, but I am not sure that a temperate mind,
able to judge of both, would not admit that it was an open question.
C ertainly M illais ' pictu res to Orley Farm are better , artistically , than
the novel, and the five hundred illustrations of the life of Frederick
the Great, by Adolph Menzel, give the happv possessor of the col-
170,

" HARVEST HOME."
: Come, Roger and Nell ;
Come, Simkin and Bell ;
Each lad with his lass hither come,
With singing and dancing.
In pleasure advancing
To celebrate harvest-home.
'Tis Ceres bids play
And keep holiday
To celebrate harvest-home."
1887.
" OLD SONGS."

ETHICS OF ILLUSTRATION
lection a far clearer idea of the subject than the turgid and unneces
sary text of Francis Kugler, by which they are accompanied. . . .
"Take the case again of the historical picture! If the right man
(always supposing that the editor is sufficiently familiar with the
work of contemporary artists to know which particular one knows
best the particular historical period called for. I admit that this is
difficult, for the editor, who, not having studied the period him
self, other than in a literary way, cannot be expected to know the
historical periods of furniture or clothing by their 'shapes,' but I
am not pretending that the ideal pictorial editor exists . I am merely
pointing out what might exist) — if the right man is found, one who
knows, say, the period of the middle of the seventeenth century, in
Holland, for instance, he would have to work upon , possibly, a sub
ject like this:
The officer, entering suddenly, discovered the family quietly seated at their midday meal.
" Nothing is said of the uniform of the officer — of the fact that
the matron of the family has her hair smoothly drawn back and
done into a small knob at the back of her head, which is covered by
a small round cap like a black muffin ring, having two three-corner
tabs coming down over her ears, the whole covered by another cap
of white lace, stiffened and turned back in front, in the form of a
half moon, to show her bare forehead, and tied at the back with a
drawing string; that her black dress is cut low upon the shoulder,
with wide short sleeves coming below the elbow, with narrow plaits
at the top and bottom , a full , white undersleeve gathered into a small
wristband showing beneath it, etc., etc. — (the artistmust also know
just exactly what is implied by 'etc., etc.') — that she wears a full
round skirt, pulled up and pinned front and back, so that the folds
fall in a point behind and before, showing a petticoat of perhaps
satin, or some figured stuff (he must know the pattern), with two
rows of braid close round the bottom, and two up the front, low
shoes with box toes coming out beyond the thick clumped sole, the
outer sole of which has one thick piece of leather following the shape
of the sole and covering the front of the heel as well as the bottom of
it. She has a double collar on, wide open atthe neck, both upper and
171

ETHICS OF ILLUSTRATION
lower collar being sewn into a broad, stiff band. She has an apron
(describe apron), earrings, and a bag at her side with bunch of keys
(the kind of keys), etc., etc.
"The artist must know what that officer wore and how he wore
it, the shape of each little detail of it; what the father of the family
wore; whether he would be likely to wear his hat at meals; if so
whether he was sufficiently high in station to wear a big hat or a
conical hat, with a narrow rim ; whether these would be felt hats or
hats covered with beaver cloth or fur. He must know the shape of
every article of furniture in the room. If they are an old-fashioned
family he must allow for that and make the furniture of an earlier
date. He must know that the rafters of the room would show, that
it would be a high-ceiled room. He must know what their midday
meal consisted of and the shapes of the things they ate and drank
out of.
"He must know forty other things besides, that he hadn't allowed
for when he sat down to make the drawing, and he must frequently
get many of these things made up, if he can't borrow anything. If
he doesn't take all these pains, or happen to have taken them, or
crammed himself with this particular knowledge , he has the assur
ance that the first time he goes into his club, after the drawing has
appeared , a man will say to him ,' That birdcage in your drawing this
month won't do. You got that so-and-so, and it is one made fifty
years later for such a man, etc. , etc. ' This may happen to be the one
item of knowledge this particular man has to boast of, but if an il
lustrator has any pride in his work — and I am not troubhng myself
about the hangers-on who have not — he is exceedingly ashamed of
his birdcage. . . .
"I do not believe that authors, as a rule, see very clearly their
characters — that is, pictorially . I had to make a couple of drawings
once for a story, and, as the story was rather nebulous, I called upon
the authoress, hoping thus to get some inkling as to the appearance
of the characters, but she had no clear idea in her head as to what
they looked like, or would have been likely to wear, or anything at
all about them that was of service to me. I supposed she would say,
172

; SUNBURNED FOLK THAT STAND AT GAZE."

' THE QUIET LIFE."

QUINCE.
" An upright man, who studied Greek,
And liked to see his friends around him.
Asylums, hospitals and schools
He used to swear were made to cozen ;
All who subscribed to them were fools —
And he subscribed to half a dozen." W. M. PRAED.
1887.
" THE QUIET LIFE."

;l ; 'I!

1

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1 1i.

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------ ^"^
i|L
j
SIR WALTER BESANT
of course, when I showed her one drawing, that they were ' not
like that,' but I was disappointed even there. She even went the
length of saying that she should think that must have been very-
much like them.
"Fildes told me once that he had great difficulty in persuading
Dickens that it would be impossible to make a drawing of John
Jasper in Edwin Drood climbing a narrow winding stair in the pitch
dark with a black scarf in his hand ; and it has f r equ ently happ ened to
me , and I am sure to other illustrators , to find that authors have some
arbitrary and absolutely impracticable idea that they wish carried
out in a drawing .IL1
A letter from th e late Walter B esant ,* the novelist and historian of
London,dated September 1 1 , 1887, throws further light onAbbey's
desire for such thoroughness as he here describes. The question
answered arose out of his work upon She Stoops to Conquer:
"I havelooked into the tea question, and I find that between 1730
and 1770 a great change came over the country. You will find in one
of the little tracts that I send with this the story of a pound of tea
sent into the country about the former date. But at the latter date
I find by the Spiritual Quixote, 1774, tea taken all over the country,
for breakfast as well as in the evening, except, no doubt, in very
out-of-the-way places. Some ladies took sage tea— made with sage,
balm, rue, mint, and penny royal — delicious ! The working man had
onion posset or a basin of pot liquor , a bacon bone, and ' soft' cheese .
They also loved a tankard of strong ale when they could get it.
"I am now sure that Oliver Goldsmith meant Olivia to have tea."
There came to Abbey, soon after, a letter from a somewhat un
productive correspondent, Charles Keene.
"239 King's Road, Chelsea,
"Dear Abbey, "October 5th. [1887]
"Your and Millet's kind invitation is most tempting, but I 've just
had my holiday! — such a long one for me that I'm still astonished
* Mention of Besant recalls the circumstance that Abbey was an original member of the
Rabelais Club, of which the novelist was the founder, with Mr. Walter Hemes Pollock
and Professor E. H. Palmer.
173

CHARLES KEENE
and feel sort o' guilty about it! I came back on Saturday last. Most
of the time I was in Argyllshire near Oban (saw Black . . .) , a land of
storm (bucketing rain) and mists and floods, but in fairish weather
of a beauty that more than compensates. I was staying with A. Ste
venson (Arts Club) — I should like to introduce you to him — in a
costly sort of house perched on a rock jutting into a seal-infested
loch, trees down to water edge. Loch twenty miles long, scarred
mountains all round . Went to the Gathering at Oban. Kilted chief
tains, bagpiping ' Wild and high.' I left this paradise about a week
ago and after a few days with a friend in 'canny Newcassel,' here I
am. . .What antiquities about where you are? Any graves to grub up?
— I 'm dead on flint implements . I have not bagged much this year
in my northern tour. A friend who wanted me to go to Suffolk with
him picked up two beauties in a ploughed field that I know well
down there. He gave them to me, so we're still on good terms! Did
you say you had not been hard at work? Nor I ! If I come I '11 walk
over. How many hours from Evesham station?
"Yours ever, "Charles S. Keene."
Writing to Reinhart in November Abbey indicates that theShake-
spearework was becoming absorbing: " I am about beginning along
series of drawings — some 150 — to illustrate Shakespeare's Come
dies, and have accrued to myself books and things galore on the
'Middle Ages.' How the dickens do the Erench get up such ex
pensive books? Who buys them? I have expended nearly £100 in
books alone since I've been studying this thing — eighteen expen
sive volumes of Viollet-le-Duc, besides Racinet,Lacroix, and Bel
gian things no end. I am making agood many dresses here in Eng
land, and am getting those iron castings of arms and so on from
Berlin, but I find that with fourteen Comedies to mount, ruin will
overtake me before I begin a single drawing. (Most of the theatres
here have mounted Shakespeare's plays in the Elizabethan fashion.
Not a single play is laid by the author in that period , and only one—
' The Merry Wives ' (King Henry VI 1 1 .)— is laid in EnglandTThere
J74

" HERE'S TO THE MAIDEN OF BASHFUL FIFTEEN."
" Let the toast pass
Drink to the lass ;
I warrant she'll prove
An excuse for the glass."
1888.
" OLD SONGS."

^S^y/,,

COSTLY ACCESSORIES
must be some costume place in Paris , where Melingue and Paul Lau-
tgns get their things from , where there is a stock of Renaissance stuff.
Do you know of one or two? The furniture I shall have knocked up
by the property man at the Lyceum. He is a very clever chap, and
the cost is trifling — papier mache and deal , but there isn't much fur
niture needed — they hadn't much before 1450 . The dukes ceased to
be reigning personages about then. If you can tell me that there is a
shop where the dresses can be seen I'll run over and see them- about
Christmas time .^3
The last letter of 1887 is to Charles Parsons, from Broadway, on
December 1st. After confessing to an idle autumn, and asking Par
sons to see two pictures by Frank Millet that had just gone over to
New York, with a view to using an engraving of one or both in the
Magazine or Weekly , (Abbey said: " I began painting with great vig
our this summer, but was obliged to desist through lack of cash. . .
I am getting very excited about it [the' ' Shakespeare"] and am study
ing up the dresses and architecture, and trust really to send you
serjuiusthings . I shudder at the money I 've spent on books and so on .
That sort oi hook seems to be disgustingly expensive. Offersof help,
however, are coming in from all quarters — some of my 'managerial'
friends having made very kind offers of assistance. . . I want to get
enough cash saved by the first of March to get me down into Italy
for a couple of months . I wish you could come over and go too  "J
Alfred Parsons 's notes tell us that in 1 887 Abbey divided his time
between London — the major part of it — and Broadway, and paid
several short visits to Frome, where Mr. Parsons, who was in poor
health, spent some months. In September they visited the Jubilee
Exhibition of pictures at Manchester, and then returned together to
Broadway, to remain there until just before Christmas , working all
the while on The Quiet Life and Old Songs, which in the meantime
were running in the magazine . Abbey also had in the March number
a frontispiece consisting of an engraving of his monochrome draw
ing "The Day of Rest."
When the year 1888 dawned Abbey was at Broadway , but on Jan
uary 22nd, having The Merchant of Venice drawings much in mind ,

A VENETIAN INTERLUDE
he hurried off to Venice. Although back in town on St.Valentine's
Day, he had been able to make a number of sketches for Venetian
backgrounds, to spend a day in Verona, and to be long enough in
Munich to take notes in the Museum and to buy a variety of swords;
while he was able , in Paris , to see Reinhart and do someth ing to cheer
him out of a fit of the blues.
On returning to London he set about finding a studio of his own,
deciding at last upon one at 5 6 B edf ord Gardens , next door to Alfred
Parsons, at No. 54. Some reconstruction was, however, necessary,
for the lower portion had been used as a workshop and the studio
over it was approached by an outside stair from the garden. Abbey
added the glass-house and costume room which enclosed the stair
case; he enlarged the studio window and made a little writing room,
the walls of which were covered with red striped satin damask; and
he cut a doorway into No . 54 , so that he could live there while work
ing at 56. Meanwhile during Mr. Sargent's absence in America,
he made use of his studio aj 33 Tite Street. Writing to Reinhart on
March 10th, Abbey says:r'I have been living the quietest sort of
r life since I came back here — perforce, for my work on these Shake
speare things requires more concentration and careful considera
tion than anything I have ever tried before. The Merchant of Venice
is gradually assuming shape, and will be better than I dared to hope
when I began. I am working in J . S . S . 's studio and have raked over
most of his old Venetian studies, some of which will be most useful
for backgrounds. . . .'^j
There are no other letters for 1888 between February and No
vember, but Alfred Parsons 's notes tell us that Abbey visited him
at Frome in April, and that they shared a farm at Shiplake in July
for Henley regatta. In June the two friends had a joint exhibition
— Abbey's first in England — at the Fine Art Society's, showing
the drawings for She Stoops to Conquer, and, by Mr. Parsons, those
for Wordsworth's sonnets. From Mr.Pennell's notice in the Star
a sentence may be quoted. Of Abbey he said: "There is certain
ly no one else living to-day in England who could produce such a
set of drawings. ... To art collectors — if any real one exists — they
should be a prize. . . ."
176

EXEUNT SALARINO AND SOLANIO.
Twenty and a half inches by twelve and a half inches.
1888.
" THE MERCHANT OF VENICE," ACT I, SCENE I.

© Harper & Brothers.

THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO, PORTIA AND NERISSA
PRINCE OF MOROCCO : " MISLIKE ME NOT FOR MY COMPLEXION."
Nineteen and a half inches by twelve and a half inches.
1888.
" THE MERCHANT OF VENICE," ACT II, SCENE I.

BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO AND NERISSA.
PORTIA : " AWAY THEN ; I'M LOCK'D IN ONE OF THEM."
Nineteen and a half inches by twelve and a half inches.
\ 1888.
" THE MERCHANT OF VENICE," ACT III, SCENE II.

;WT5V' ''7V> 7 ]7/7 ' ii
7'yyyfH'^ <7yf./

m£t

A ^OS-J

© Harper & Brothers.

JESSICA AND LORENZO.
JESSICA : " NAY, BUT ASK MY OPINION, TOO, OF THAT."
LORENZC : " I WILL ANON ; FIRST, LET US GO TO DINNER."
Eleven inches by nine and a half inches.
1888.
" THE MERCHANT OF VENICE," ACT III., SCENE V.

m

*,*,"* V

by-nght- SrCarvct* &c 93-i-oa.

A KENSINGTON HOUSEHOLDER
The Ship lake holiday endedin calamity ,f or Abb ey hadpreviously
contracted some rheumatic trouble which made a visit to Homburg
necessary, whither he went with Mr. Harold Roller, the friend to
whose camera we owe the very interesting and lively photograph of
the artist at work reproduced in this book. Another visitor to Hom
burg at the time — Mr. (now Sir) John Hare — succeeded in interest
ing Abbey in his forthcoming production of the English version of
Sardou's play, La Tosca, sufficiently to induce him to 4esign_the
costumes for it. We have seen Abbey drawing Sothern and other
performers in old English comedy in New York, and helping Miss
Anderson in A Winter's Tale; but this was to be his first serious
theatrical task, and he was, as we shall see, to throw himself into it
with all his energy.
A letter from Abbey to Charles Parsons on November 3 rd , 1 888 ,
reports progress. "My trip to Homburg, I am sorry to say, did me
good . I hated the place so , that I hoped it wouldn't, but I fear it did .
Since my return I have been taking up the last thread of(the 'Mer
chant of F.,and Osgood has now the first instalment of a series of
drawings, begun in pain and sorrow and continued through many
vicissitudes . Whatever other faults they may have , they will not err
on the score of presenting as careful pictures as I have been able to
make, of life in Venice at the end of the fifteenth century. I have
spared no pains nor expense to secure at least archaeological correct
ness. . . ."*]
' ' I ,of course , chose this particular time — when I was spending my
last penny, and all the prospective pennies I could count on, on
books of reference and articles of costume — to be very ill, and , of all
things, to build [that is, add to] a small house in Kensington. ... I
have had to adapt two storeys. In the lower one I have put up a very
fine old panelled room of 1650 (the date is carved on the chimney
piece). There are four old Flemish windows with shutters orna
mented with steel hinges and locks , etc . , and in the L there are stairs
* These drawings were not published in the magazine until April, 1890. The first of
the illustrations to the " Comedies " to be published were those to The Merry Wives of
Windsor, in December, 1889.
N 177

BROADWAY EVENINGS
leading up into a glass-house, through which one goes to the studio
proper. There is a little room off , which is to be hung in red damask.
The studio is in blue stuff— a sort of jute material. Mybig window is
very good. ... I hope I shall find the place interesting to work in
— as interesting as Broadway, which is remarkably full of floating
particles of what is called 'working impulse.' It looks interesting
now, at any rate.
" 'Falgtaff- is down here now; I enclose his head. I regret to say
that his costume (which has figured at Oxford at a week's perform
ance by the Oxford University Dramatic Club) I find a httle too dull
and uncharacteristic , so I am just now having another one made, of
that cloth known as 'dagges.' I think the Broadway tailor (who is
also tax-collector and clerk of the vestry) regards me as one insane.
'Falstaff '(whoseusual name isDunn,an old modelwho foughtinthe
Indian Mutiny, and who has since been super and dresser at Drury
Lane) is sitting in the kitchen at this moment entertaining the cook
and other servants— judging by the screams of laughter borne hither
upon the dank November air.
"I dare say that to write or speak of evenings in this big studio,
with its tapestries and carpets, and overgrown fireplace, its shining
pewter pots and brass pots and pans , and its nightly songs of Schu
mann and Rubinstein and Grieg and Lassen by Nettie Huxley and
Lily Millet, is to seem to ideahse the life that exists here; which is not
by any means all rose leaves and lavender, but is always interesting
and interested . I find I can do elaborate architectural backgrounds
much better under these influences than I can sitting alone with a
glass of whisky and water for my only companion, at 54 Bedford
Gardens . These girls can always lend a hand , and Nettie Huxley sits
for drapery admirably . Mrs. Barnard and Anna Tadema and Lucia
Fairchild are all useful in various ways. I find thev can cut things out
betterthan I can  "
The Old Songs, having finished in the magazine, came out in
volumef orm in the late autumn of 1 888 . The poems had been chosen
with much taste from out-of-the-way as well as familiar sources,
ranging from Spenser's "Perigot" and Cuddy's "Roundelay" to
178

FALSTAFF AND MISTRESS QUICKLY.
MISTRESS QUICKLY •- " MARRY, THIS IS THE SHORT AND THE LONG OF IT.'
Seventeen and a half inches by eleven and a half inches.
18S9.
" THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR," ACT II, SCENE II.

- © sa^,

JOHN HAY
"Kitty of Coleraine." Of the drawings to "Sally in our Alley" Mil
lais, in a speech when distributing the prizes at the Sheffield School
of Art, said that "he regarded them as the most beautiful illustra
tions he had seen since the days of Fred Walker ' ' ; and writing from
Washington on January 2 1 st , 1 889 , John Hay says :' ' Your Old Songs
are lovely . They have b een my salvation this Christmas . I have given
them to everybody. The Chinese Ambassador dotes on them."
Hay's admiration for Abbey 's work was, it should be said, constant.
Writing in October, 1888, he had remarked: "My house is unfur
nished till I get those drawings of yours . Of course you have forgot
ten what they are, so I jog your memory. [Six drawings are then
named, two being from The Quiet Life.] You can't think how much
they are needed on my wall. In fact, to quote the ingenious Mr.
Pears, 'I won't behappy till I get them!' If the Shakespeares are for
Mammonyou must savemeone ortwoof them. We passed this sum
mer in the Rocky Mountains, in and about Manitou in Colorado. I
never lived so near heaven before — some 1 o ,000 feet above sea level .
As my doctors had warned me against any great altitude I thought I
would try Pike's Peak( 14,000) , so we all went up there in a wagon the
day before we started for home, and I remain as before, like Theo
dore Winthrop 's Frenchman, with a good heartand a bad stomach . ' '
The record of the year 1 888 may be brought to a close with one or
two notes from George du Maurier, written thereabouts to Abbey
in his capacity as a London adviser to Harper's on matters both
artistic and literary. Du Maurier had been asked to provide a satiri
cal social scene for Harper's Magazine each month and Abbey was
acting in a way as his editor. Here is one note:
"New Grove House,
' ' Hampstead Heath ,
"DearAbbey "November 22nd, 1888.
"I send you on next page a little 'pome 'translated from the French
ofSully-Prudhomme. Would same, with illustration, suit Harper
to be printed, pome on one side, picture on the other? If so let your
little Du know. „Yours eve^ Q DV Maurier." 179

GEORGE DU MAURIER
A Dream.
"Ah! si vous saviez comme onpleure
De vivre seul et sans foyers . ..."
— SULLY-PRUDHOMME.
If you but knew what tears, alas!
One weeps for kinship unbestowed,
In pity you would sometimes pass
My poor abode.
If you but knew what balm, for all
Sad souls, is in an angel's glance,
Your eyes would on my window fall
As tho' by chance.
If you but knew the heart's delight
To feel its fellow heart is by,
You'd linger, as a sister might,
These gates anigh.
If you but knew how love can yearn
For one sweet voice and presence dear,
Who knows but you might simply turn
And enter here !
Another note, with a charming drawing:

*4t<^*V

GEORGE DU MAURIER
"Dear Abbey,
"Will above, with nice landscape, do for a Harper? Also: Jolly
garden, jolly, pretty girls round jolly father, who has just taken
beautiful house with garden so as to get young eligibles up to play
lawn-tennis. To him girls: 'We are all determined never to marry
now we've got this beautiful house and garden!' "Yours ever,
"G. du Maurier.
"Tip me a line, dear boy."

CHAPTER XX
A NEW FRIEND AND THE QUIET LIFE
1889 Aged 36-37
Miss Mead — Introspective Letters — Art and Nationality — Aspirations and
Attempts — Solitary Work and London Recreations — Departure for New York —
The Quiet Life — Austin Dobson
ONCE again we are advancing a little too quickly, for an
event occurred in May, 1888, which was to have a pro
found influence upon Abbey's life. The Millets spent
the winter of 1 887-1 888 in America, and when they re
turned to Broadway in May, 1888 , brought with them Miss Mead,
of New York, who was to become an inmate of Russell House, and,
with the exception of a few weeks in London in the summer, and
visits to Mr. and Mrs. G. F. Watts and other friends, was to lodge
there pretty constantly until the end of January, 1 889 , and later was
to become Mrs. Abbey.
Miss Mead was born at Torquay, in Devonshire, of American
parentage, both parents being of purely Enghsh descent. Her fa
ther's people had settled in America in 1640, and her family still
holds a remnant of the property, situated thirty miles from New
York, in Greenwich, Connecticut, which, according to the town
records, was in its possession in 1660. She was one of nine children,
the only girl who survived babyhood, and growing up in a house
hold of boys, she kept pace with them in their studies and vied with
them in all their games. She was a capital horse-woman, an expert
swimmer, and good at all sports .|Her ancestors on both sides were
graduates of Yale University; her brothers were Yale meri^ On the
margin of a pamphlet (" Little Journeys," by E. Hubbard), to be
dealt with later, Abbey has written, " Miss Mead was of the third
[should be second] generation of her family who went to Miss
Green's school in New York, then at No. 1 Fifth Avenue, and after
wards she was graduated at Vassar College and took there a post
graduate course. After travelling extensively in Europe, she studied
182

MISS MEAD
the Romance languages and literature in Germany and France,
heard Zarncke lecture at the University of Leipsic and Gaston de
Paris at the Sorbonne in Paris . She also worked with Prof essorPoore
for a year at his laboratory in the School of Mines in New York.
Not because it was in any way necessary, but because she desired
to prove that she could earn her own living, she taught for two years
in the Roxbury [Boston] Latin School for boys" — the only woman
in the school.
Abbey had known of Miss Mead as far back as 1884, in connec
tion with the exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New
York, of a collection of paintings by Watts, which she had been in
strumental in bringing to America, but they did not meet until May
27th, 1888, whenheandthelateComynsCarrcametoRussellHouse
for the week end. Nor did it then occur to either that destiny had
brought them together in no idle way.
Abbey was not at Broadway again in 1888 until the middle of
September, but from that time until Miss Mead's departure, at the
end of January, they saw each other daily, and, having many in
terests in common, soon became good comrades, and gradually ex
plored together all the hills and valleys about Broadway — particu
larly the hills. Indeed, one memorable walk remained a legend in
the neighbourhood for many a day. They had started to climb Bre-
don Hill, to see the view, but by the time they had come to its foot
the clouds had crept halfway down, completely hiding the top, and
so they walked onuntil they came to Tewkesbury , fifteen miles from
Russell House. Before me lies a letter dated "Broadway, Decem
ber ist, 1888," written by Fred Barnard to his daughter "Polly":
"Yesterday it pelted with rain all day long — bitterly cold — slop,
slush, and sticky, slippery mud. Mr. Abbey and Miss Mead chose
the opportunity to walk all the way to Tewkesbury and back — fif
teen miles each way . They came back a short cut through a ploughed
field a mile in length. However they turned up at about nine as jolly
as sandboys."
This was the beginning of a friendship — rare and perfect— be
tween these two, a friendship which lasted as long as Abbey lived,
183

DEATH OF MRS. KIPLE
growing in mutual dependence, in confidence and in strength to the
end, and which led, two years after their first meeting, to their mar
riage , on April 22nd , 1 890 .
In light upon Abbey's activities, thoughts, and projects in 1889
we are peculiarly rich by reason of the preservation of the letters
which he wrote to Miss Mead between her departure for America in
January, 1889, and his own visit to that country in April, and again
during his sojourn in England between his return and the second
visit to New York at the end of the year. It was not unjil her depar
ture in January that he began to realise to what an extent he had been
stimulated by her society; and how keenly he felt the deprivation of
this stimulus is to be gathered from the letters which he wrote to her
almost daily from that time. From the less intimate portions of this
correspondence Mrs. Abbey has permitted passages to be quoted.
But first let me refer to a letter to Charles Parsons on February 1 st,
sympathising with him on the death of his son Frank: ' ' I was very
sad at hearing of poor Frank's death . He was a good boy, very lova
ble, and, I thought, clever too. I hear little from America now, save
trouble and disaster of various kinds . My dear old grandmother died
notmany weeks ago, aged eighty-nine. I amgladl remember herin
the days before her age and infirmities had weakened her intellect.
She was very good to me when I was a little chap. My grandfather,
her husband, still lives; he is nearly ninety. They had been married
sixty-six years . ' '—This was Jane Kiple (nee Clancy) , mother of Mrs.
Abbey, and wife of Jacob Kiple, who died later in the same year.
Charles Parsons had just taken a momentous step . One of Abbey 's
first letters to Miss Mead tells of it: " I am much upset by news from
Harpers'. That dear old Parsons has sent in his resignation as head
of the Art Department. . . . I am writing a letter now to express my
regret and sorrow that one of my old friends — and best friends —
should be severing the tie that has bound us for so many years. I
cannot forget the happy pride I feltwhenhewroteto myfather nine
teen years ago , in answer to a letter enclosing some sketches of mine,
'What the young man needs is opportunity,' and he very shortly
after gave me an opportunity , and has given me other opportunities
184

CHARLES PARSONS
ever since. I owe him debts of gratitude I cannot easily repay."
From Charles Parsons 's reply to Abbey I quote a few cordial lines:
"We shall find a simple home in the country, and I hope to amuse
myself in sketching and painting . The thought to me is inspiring , to
be free, after twenty-six years of hard work, with health and a capa
city to see and enjoy a simple life, and you, my dear friends [Alfred
Parsons was included] , must not forget me in my new career. I shall
look for a more intimate knowledge of what you are doing , and hope
that we shall be drawn still closer together."
Here are further passages from the letters toMissMead :" January
22nd, 1889. — . ... I really feel the ambition I used to have long ago
coming back to me. I owe that to you, with many other things I can
not speak of.
"January 26th. — . . .1 have been up to town  TheLordMayor's
dinnerwas agreatsight. [TheLordMayor'sfarewellbanquettoMr.
Phelps, the retiring American Minister.] I sat near Frederic Harri
son and Sargent, . . . Leighton [afterwards Lord Leighton] harped
on the tiresome old string about the efforts of men still seeking to ex
press themselves in forms which do not yet bear the stamp of their
national characteristics.. . . I cannot understand a man so clever as
L. is, taking this narrow view of art, not recognising the fact that
(artists who can do so will always gravitate towards what seems to
them the artistic field in which they will be best able to do justice to ,
or display , their ability. I cannot think the quality of this ability is a
matter of nationality . On the contrary , in many cases , what are con
sidered national characteristics are in artists wholly wanting. The
German mind, for instance, is supposed to be capable of an infinitely
greater amount of patient research than the French mind. In the
artists of Germany this quality seems to be absolutely lacking, if we
except Liebl, while in France Gerome and Meissonier, Bastien Le
page and Dagnan and many others, have been wonders of patience.
I don't know that this proves anything at all, however. An artist is
an artist, no matter where he may have been born, and in these days
of easy international communication it is reasonable to suppose that
artists will be less and less distinctively national . We can only guess
185

DAILY CONFIDENCES
what Jan Steen and Terburgh and Van der Meer [of Delft] would
have left us to look at if they could have easily travelled out of their
own land. 7).
"January 28th. —  I have begun a little picture of 'Ophelia' —
I '11 make a sketch of it for you.v I cannot help having a guilty feeling
whenever I am painting, as though I were wasting time and energy
that ought to be applied to my legitimate profession. T\. . I have
another scheme — an old, old, subject of mine — one I used to make
sketches of years ago — of Mrs. Bracegirdle or some other Jacobean
or Carolean actress (What was Pepys's friend's name — Knipp?),
dancing in boy's clothes (not too boyish; just boyish enough), on a
stage , with gallants of the time lolling in the wings, in great periwigs,
and so on , lighted by footlights . It is odd how long it takes me to get
a subject all rounded off in my brain. That ' Old Song' I had in hand
foryears. So also 'Stony Ground,' Carnegie's picture. . . ." The
Bracegirdle theme, unhappily, was never brought to fruition.
Of an art student — "I don'tthinkshehasthestudenthabit. Sheis
as clever as she can be up to a certain point, but it seems to me she
lacks the sensitiveness necessary to a student of any art dealing in
degree with human feelings.
"I don't believe an unsensitive person knows when he is in the
wrong. . . .
"I haven't said how much I miss you. ... I found a poor little
mistaken primrose yesterday. Here it is.
"January 29th.— . . . . fAll alone to-day, and working at a Merry
Wives drawing. . . . Ford anxious to see what is in thebuckbasket.
It is nearly finished, I am pleased to state, and has more action in it
than any of the others have, . . . And after work I walked up the vil
lage and off over Chadwick's land . . . and saw the afterglow. ... It
was very beautiful this evening after a rainy day , the sky all pink and
hazy and the village with its quiet cloud of blue smoke beneath me,
and the street wet, glistening, and everything quite silent, until a
boy came whistling through the hedge down below and made a
white spectre of himself in his white fustian, with his uneasy 'fami
liar' of a collie all across my foreground. . . .

© lUi-p.f * UruUrait

FALSTAFF, PISTOL, BARDOLPH, NYM, ROBIN.
FALSTAFF : " BARDOLPH, FOLLOW HIM ; A TAPSTER IS A GOOD TRADE.'
Eighteen and a half inches by eleven and a half inches.
1889.
" THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR," ACT I, SCENE in.

RUSKIN
"January 31st. — . ... I had a long day's work yesterday. How
curious this work is ! Sometimes one feels one could work with both
hands, if they were both available, and then again one hand seems
too many. . . . You must read Waldstein's article on Ruskin in the
last Harper. It is very good. I don't believe Ruskinjvill be thought
even that much of after his death . I think him an overrated , windy
person, with no knowledge of the subject he chooses to write most
of, but a wonderful power of phrase making, and a most enviable
directness of style. His matter, which, after all, is the main thing,
seems to me pernicious and misleading to the last degree. . . .
"February 4th. — . . . For myself I am always sillier than I am for
other people . Standing in the auditorium , I feel myself much clearer
about the actions and general conduct of other people, and I dare
say that no profound er nor more pitiless critic of the actions of his
fellow men ever existed than I am 
"February 6th. — . . .What an extraordinary fillip or burst of intel
ligence one sometimes has, when everything seems to be apparent
in a clear, clean way, suddenly. If one could only 'hang on,' if dark
ness didn't inevitably follow a flash of lightning, I, for one, should
profit greatly. ... I know I go on dully for weeks and sometimes
monthswithnomore sensitiveness than a toad or a stone, and then in
the middle of a sentence in a book, or perhaps looking up at a sky , or
at a woman in a box at a play — it has come when I 've been fumbhng
for a tennis ball in a hedge or in a field of high grasses — suddenly —
a great flash of great possibilities, a flash that shows me wonderful
great big things, and I feel I must set my teeth, and do, do things.
This quiet here to-day has been very big, somehow. It has lacked
any small elements. (I have worked at Pistol and Bardolph and Sir
Hugh Evans with real pleasure, Reeling them stepping stones to
other thingsj)I have worked on my Windsor architecture, but [he
had been reading Romola] I have seen the Florence of Michael An-
gelo and of Leonardo, and I long to get at the frame of mind that
made them work. . . . When I think of the wasted precious years I
have lost , that growing time of my young mind , and of the few days
that seem to be left me in this busy world , I begin to long for a con-
187

AMBITIONS
vent, where everything sordid and little and worrying and entan
gling is walled out, and where I might have a great empty place to
work in , with a dark cloudy , misty wing , where , as the twilight came
on, I might see the images I long to re-create. . . .
"February 12th. — . . fl have been wondering whether it isn't my
great fault to try to make things better than they really are — I mean
in my work and all. I try to do brilliant young gallants from poor old
Leme [his model and factotum] and dashing young damsels from
very frowsy people very often, but I don't know whether that is de
generating or not , whether , if I set down the plain vulgarity of what I
see, ratherthan try to see my pretty people through what is before me,
it would be an evidence of strength. I don't know : I am just thinking
it with a perd. . . I am not so irretrievably in debt as you might be led
to think; but I do long to be free and not to owe anything at all. . . .
Osgood and Black came down with me on Saturday and stopped
over until yesterday. ... It snowed all Saturday night and all day
Sunday and most of Sunday night,and everything has still that dead
sound — or, rather, lack of sound. ... A model came down to-day.
She is very tall and graceful. . . . I keep thinking of an old early Vic
torian Song, 'Taking Tea in the Arbor.' I shall draw it all day to
morrow , I know . She brought down from Linton [J .D .] a very good
dress for 'Mariana' [for a Shakespeare illustration] and Barthehas
sent down a nun's dress, white and black. ... I have lots of archi
tectural material for AILsWill. ... I don't hke the_rjlay . Bertram
doesn 't get his deserts at all , but his particular species of sin is usually
dealt with rather leniently by the bard. Angelo's Mariana should
really be a hideous old hag who drinks or takes snuff or some
thing ... f
"I remember once your saying you always read people's biogra
phies, and rather resenting it at the time, for no reason whatever,
and thinking it over afterwards with the intention of saying some
thing about it, but I don't think I ever did say anything aboutit, and
now, during dinner, I have been reading a very interesting article
about Walter Scott, in the February Scribner, Wonderful to be so
busy ! It makes me think something must be wrong with me some-
188

BIOGRAPHY
where and I wonder what it is . . . but here is the root of my re
sentment about your remark about biographies. I remember being
particularly fired, when quite a boy, by Tom Taylor's edition (I
don't know whether there ever was any other) of Benjamin Robert
Haydon's Autobiography. His struggles and aspirations and bitter
nesses, his pain at the slights put upon him, were very real and very
tragic to me. [Here he refers to his disappointment already men
tioned, on seeing Haydon's demonstration of the correctness of his
drawing in his picture of "Curtius Leaping into the Gulf."] I felt
that all my sympathy for his woes and his slights, my awe of the
man who despised Wilkie for his subjects of the boys and the garden
engine, were thrown away. . . Still, I had a good time while I was
reading the book, and I oughtn't to forget that. . . .
' ' I know my pen runs away with me , but you make me do what I
have not been in the habit of doing — go down into myself. I know
it is all very egotistical  I really did try hard to do my best when I
was only encouraged to do somebody else's best ; that I did really
do, and have stuck to it, the thing in my art that seemed to me to be
rightand true,and I may say without false modesty ,or anything else,
thatfl have raised the level of my particular art in my own country,
and have had a good many followers, of one sort and another:/ Do
you think I ought not to be encouraged by this ! I don't very often
think of it. The followers have not followed the thing in my work
that I have really cared most for; like most imitators they have imi
tated the weaknesses . But I feel a strength at the back of it and I see
things that may be done — that never have been done. To go back
to poor old/Ruskin, who says (under the instruction of the P.R.B.) —
I can't remember the text — something about the representation of
events not as they might be supposed poetically to have happened,
but as they really might have happened. That is what I 'd like to do.
It was done by Millais in the early days  Did you ever see the
'Ophelia-' or the' ValeofRest'? (two nuns digging a grave, this latter)
—a very wonderful picture. I'd like to carry that on. I'd like to carry
it farther than poor Bastien did in his 'Joan of Arc,' but I 'm afraid
it's not for me. This is enough of this !~] 189

"MARIANA"
"February 17th. —  I seem to be paying debts all the time 
I don't feel that I am quite an idiot, but certainly these money things
are bothering 
"The long walk I had on Friday, over Buckland Hill, and round
by the top of Laverton , on to Snowshill , and round and down by the
tower, in the most brilliant, beautiful moonlight, was not lonely, for
my thoughts weregreat company. Iwonderif you have ever thought
so hard thatyou've had to run to keep up ? Ideas and things come in
such an unruly mob sometimes, I have fifty at once, and it wears me
out to think I can't do it all. I awoke yesterday morning full of a
picture of 'Mariana,' and I laboured away at it all the while I was
dressing and having my coffee, and was obliged to put it aside for
pen-and-ink backgrounds when I got down into the studio . . .
"I had a full, hard day's work to-day, and have finished a lot of
drawings — (Leme is to take them up to town to-morrow, and is to
bring down some things for me) — and the sunset was so very beau
tiful that I walked off towards it, up through the coppice and out to
the left through a paddock where they have been pollarding the trees
and which I found full of primroses. ... I saw a beautiful sky for
my dawn picture of 'Corinna' ... all steely, whitey blue, with pink
streaky clouds across it 
"February 1 8th. — — I got up earlier than is my wont, and came
down, and did a whole-length large drawing of Leme as 'Slender,'
which I hoped rather was not going to be good, but it wasn't so bad
— a little too idiotic perhaps. At any rate, it seemed good enough to
warrant my painting all the afternoon . So I b egan the 'Mariana' and
somehow (I must begetting very conceited) it didn't turn out badly
either — so far. [Here follows sketch.] Would you have a miniature
in her hand? Would you have the boy blind? Would vou have aprie-
dieu under the triptych? I wonder if I '11 ever finish all these things?
I do want to, so very much. I was dead done up at tea time, and
went out to walk and turned round to the left toward Buckland, and
trudged away, wondering if spring had really come, the air was so
full of songs of birds and that curious unripe smell that early spring
brings with it. . . .
190

SLENDER TO MISTRESS ANNE PAGE.
SLENDER : " WHY DO YOUR DOGS BARK SO ? "
Sixteen and a half inches by eight and a half inches.
1889.
" THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR," ACT I, SCENE I.

wim w 1

© Harper & Brothers.

LONDON DIVERSIONS
"February 25th, 54 Bedford Gardens. — . . . I went to the Gallery
Club and saw some splendid pictures and talked a bit with Jimmy
Whistler. It was an orchestra night and the celebrated amateur Or
chestral Society did the music, which was good  They played a
beautiful thing of Bach's — a sort of fuguey thing that went on and
on, ambling in a gentle, soothing way, that I could have heard for
hours and hours. . . .
"March 3rd. —  It has been a long week, and I have been about
agood deal  at Sargent's two or three times. . . . I went one after
noon to Mrs. Harry White's. . . . [Henry] James was there and had
been at the Parnell trial . It was the eventful day when the wretched
Pigott failed to turn up , and he described it all very well 
"March 5th. —  I want to do my' Mariana. T see her differently
— a little — now, in the back of a dim room , with the boy and harp in
the foreground 
"March nth. — . . . The Jamesons are great old friends of mine.
Theirs was the house I liked to go to most when I first came here. I
used to meet Edmund Gurney there and Albert Moore and Mere
dith, and Jameson used to have lots of Wagner music, but they have
gone away to live now at Torquay 
"March 12th. — . . . I dined with the [Seymour] Trowers, a beau
tiful dinner and a beautiful house. The Jamesons again and Mrs.
Arthur Murch. . . She is an artist, and old Costa, the landscape
painter, has been stopping with her. John [Sargent] was there, and
we all argued about things and interested ourselves very much. . . .
"March 14th. — . . . That bit of Dekker keeps running in my head
as I go walking about this great stony town . I walk keeping time to
its rhythm. 'O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace!'
"Saturday, 16th— . . . I did my first really good day's work yes
terday. It was a trivial little thing of a girl trimming some rose trees
in a churchyard, and a carter, leading a horse, looking at her over the
wall. It is Bretferton churchyard and the houses across the green for
191

ALBERT MOORE
background. [FrologuetoTheQuietLife.] I tackled 'Mariana 'water-
colour again for about the sixth time. I can't get her.\\Vhy, your
friend asks , do I not do my own ideas? I don't know that I have any,
really mine. Has anyone? One must be always open to suggestion,
and must keep one's temperament so sensitive that I feel it would be
especially difficult for me to be original. I suddenly see things some
times before I try to put them down, and sometimes they come in
scraps, like the girl in the graveyard. I didn't dream of making it a
graveyard when I b egan it . I don 't know now whether it means any
thing, or even why it seemed a good thing to do. I don't understand
the working ofthe human mind at all. I/ee/it. I can feel for people
I like and care for, and even for my own folk whom I have imagined ,
but I don't in the least know why . I could not in the least go on with
the pattern and folds of their dresses if I had not succeeded a httle in
suggesting their personality first. And then sometimes when they
become vulgar in drawing under my eye — more and more — I hate
them altogether, and can't go on at all. /Tj
"My room begins to look more homely . . . and Leme brought up
a lot of my old friends that I know. The walls are still pretty bare, but
'Mariana' looks well against them, so I shall not hang many things
up yet. I am having little black frames made for about twenty ofthe
Diirers, and I have hanging up a large photograph ofthe Holbein at
the Hague, the beautiful lady with thewhite things around her head,
and a curious head by Botticelli from the Louvre, and two Diirer
photos. ... I walked off a fit of the blues last night. I met Albert
Moore and went homeward with him. He remains the pure artist
always— always trying for the best and sticking to his principles -his
artistic principles. ... I liked talking to him. He is one of the few
artists like John [Sargent] and a few others , who feels what you mean
and also makes you feel what he means. . . .
"Tuesday, March 19th. —  On Sunday Horry Harper turned
up and we went round to Leighton's about four  He has such
beautiful things about him. I wonder if they don't clog his brain?
I wonder if so many very fine things in the vicinity of what one is
doing arenot detrimental to theworking of one's own imagination. I
192

MRS. PERUGINI
ambeginning to think that a bald barn is the best place to see visions
in, not a luxurious museum filled with precious scraps that com
mand one's attention and insist upon being respected. One's own
poor little ideas seem so insignificant and so little worth the doing.
Monday I had a charming call from Mrs. Perugini (Kate Dickens).
Do you know her ? She is the cleverest of them all. I dined early at
the club and went with Marcus Stone to the R.A. to see the Muy-
bridge things  Really a delightful exhibition. They were thrown
up by a magic lantern to a great size. Made me long to do the nude. I
don't know why, but the men's figures were all so much better than
the women's 
"Last evening I had a regular go in at La Tosca and really feel
that I have accomplished something. To-day I tried ' Angelo' — this
morning in the lower room [oak panelled]. The effect was splendid.
This is a rough sketch of his dress , but I could not see well to do him
withapen. It was too dark, and the white paper made things dazzly
in that darkplace. Yesterday I tried to do Isabella 'shead,but I could
not get it right. . . It is very lonely here now without Alfred  He
went away in good spirits  I wish they had not sent ' The Love
Song ' to the Paris Exposition. Why not ' Kitty of Coleraine' and
'Barbara Allen'? ... I must write to Hay and tell him he can't have
his 'Harvest Home' drawings yet 
"March 25th. — . . . I have noticed that when men — city men —
begin buying they usually buy landscapes first of all. And I dare say
they are right. I should do so. A room furnished with landscapes is
a big room to live in. ... I had a dear little chap sitting to me for
Falstaff's page, and I did so well this morning that I felt justified in
trying to paint most of the afternoon. So he has been sitting for the \
singing boy in 'Mariana.' I shall bring this over with me. I want you
to see it. I tried to do it all in a blue room, but it was too much blue
I thought. However I may try it blue again. Yesterday I worked on
the Duke in Measure for Measure — did the pattern onhis robe, most
fidgeting work. Joe [Comyns Carr] came in about then and walked
withme as far as du Maurier 's. Istopped at du Maurier's untilnearly
seven. Nice people, and a happy family. I asked them to dine with
0 J93

THE DU MAURIERS
me here next Saturday — du M . , Mrs. du M . , and Sylvia [afterwards
Mrs. Arthur Llewelyn Davies]. . . Henry James is coming too. . . .
"March 28th. — . . . I went down to supper at the Lyceum in
honourof John's portrait. It did look stunning there. I sat between
Ellen Terry and Mrs. Beerbohm Tree. She is a remarkable woman
— Miss Terry — so remarkably well-informed and read."
On April 6th, five days after reaching the age of thirty-seven, Ab
bey sailed for America in the Servia, intent — professionally — upon
the p ersonal sup erintendence of The Quiet Life series as a book. This
is, to my mind, one of the most beautiful and satisfying works that
the hand of man has devised. The poems chosen by Abbey for il
lustration by himself and Alfred Parsons were Andrew Marvell's
"Garden," Cowley's"Wish,"Praed's"Quince"and"The Vicar,"
Pope's " Ode to Solitude," three anonymous stanzas entitled "The
Married Man," and Randolph's invocation "To Master Anthony
Stafford." A third associate — Mr. Dobson — supplied a Prologue
and an Epilogue. The Prologue ran thus:
"Even as one in city pent,
Dazed with the stir and din of town,
Drums on the pane in discontent,
And sees the dreary rain come down,
Yet, through the dimmed and dripping glass,
Beholds, in fancy, visions pass,
Of spring that breaks with all her leaves,
Of birds that build in thatch and eaves,
Of woodlands where the throstle calls,
Of girls that gather cowshp balls,
Of kine that low and lambs that cry,
Of wains that jolt and rumble by, "
Of brooks that sing by brambly ways,
Of sunburned folk that stand at gaze,
Of all the dreams with which men cheat
The stony sermons of the street,
So, in its hour, the artist brain
194

THE OUIET LIFE
Weary of human ills and woes,
Weary of passion and of pain,
And vaguely craving for repose,
Deserts awhile the stage of strife
To draw the even, ordered life,
The easeful days, the dreamless nights,
The homely round of plain delights,
The calm, the unambitioned mind,
Which all men seek, and few men find."
The illustrations for The Quiet Life should go far to persuade the
reader that it is no exaggeration to call it one of the perfect things.
The quintessence of the most delicate spirit of English serenity is
in it.

CHAPTER XXI
BEGINNING OF THE "COMEDIES"
1889 (concluded) Aged 37
A Fortnight in New York — Further Letters to Miss Mead — Studies from Nature
—The " May-Day Morning "—The " Minstrel " Motif— Colarossi, the Model
— A Visit to Mr. Sargent at Fladbury — The Costumes for La Tosca
IN New York Abbey saw the Harpers, saw his Cousin Jo, saw
members of his family and "lots of the fellows," but, most of all,
Miss Mead ; and when, after his very brief visit — a fortnight only
— he sailed again for England , it was agreed , although Miss Mead
had given no promise, that the correspondence should continue, let
the outcome be what it would . Accordingly, after his departure on
May ist, on the Germanic, Abbey wrote to her almost daily letters
until his arrival in New York at the very beginning of the next year
( 1 890) , when an engagement immediately followed .
His companions on the voyage were Osgood and his old and tried
friends the Laffans, who, discussing seriously his determination to
pajntmoijj used every possible argument to encourage him to do so.
On May 10th he arrived again at Bedford Gardens with a mind set
upon his new medium, but there was much to be done before he
could abandon himself to it. Not that he ever did wholly abandon
himself to oilpainting, for even after thecompletion of TheDeserted
P'7//a§reandthe"Tragedies"of Shakespeare, which were notfinished
until 1909, he drew in pen and ink from time to time, and made one
or two important pen drawings in the last year of his life.
In the first letter from London, on May 1 1 th , 1 8 89 , to Miss Mead,
he says, "I dined at home last night, and went off afterwards to see
Hare at the new theatre. . . . La Tosca will not be wanted till Sep
tember. You don't know how relieved I was. I didn't know I had
been so anxious  1 have been painting away like a good one to
day, or rather like a bad one, for I have rubbed "out all I did, nearly.
Still itwill be nicer to paint on again."
Abbey had never been quite happy in his new studio in Bedford
Gardens; was always restless there and could not seem to settle to
196

THE JONGLEUR MOTIF
work; but on May 1 5th he writes, "The room isn't nearly so beastly
now I've got the Diirers all up. . . and they brighten the place im
mensely . . .but I'm going away — I hope to-morrow — to Broadway.
I really have painted pretty well to-day— a pinky sky and a town wall.
It was a suddelTsubject I thought of — a strolling minstrel being
turned out of a mediaeval town. He is a sort of Gringoirish Barnaby
Rudge kind of a Blondel-like person, and has a brown loaf under his
arm, a mandolin at his back, and a careless smile — rather a vacant
one — if I can do it. I send a little sketch. There are a lady and a monk
and donkey and a couple of men at arms watching him going away.
Perhaps the monk will be trudging into the town minding his own
affairs. I thought this little subject perhaps a better one to tackle than
an important one. ' ' — This particular canvas was never finished , but
the subject allured him for the rest of his life, as is shown by the
multitude of sketches he made for it. Two paintings on the subject
-often referred to in the letters as the "Jongleur "—he did, however ,
finish: one a water-colour ,"The Vagabond," painted about the year
1894 — a minstrel dressed in red, strolling out from the gate of an
old walled town, and playing on his mandolin as he trudged along
through the snow; and the other, an oil painting, "The Bridge," ex
hibited at the R.A. in the year 1 898 , and bought by Lord Carlisle for
the Art Gallery at Capetown.
In the same letter, referring to his life in Philadelphia, before he
left home, Abbey says, " I wasn't interested in anything at all until I
began to read for myself . . . and then the hours and hours I spent in
the library in Philadelphia, poring over the pictures in the Cornhill
—Walker's and du Maurier's — and the pictures in Punch and in all
the English periodicals ! I wonder what would have happened had
my father known I was not at the Academy as he expected me to be,
digging away at the antique. I wonder what would have become of
me if I had grown up as John [Sargent] did — in Florence and Italy
and France — with beautiful things — pictures and statues and things
—always about. I often wonder that  "
Established again at Broadway , Abbey set to work at once to make
studies of apple trees before their blossoms should lose their fresh- 197

A NEW MEDIUM
ness, which were needed for what was to be his first Academy paint
ing "May-Day Morning/'nowtakingshapein his mind as"Corinna
Going a-Maying, "which he had already treated in pen and ink In his"
Herrick. He had gone down on the 21st, where for a time he was
to be alone, except for the housekeeper and his faithful henchman
Leme,astheMilletswereremaininginNewYorkafewweekslonger.On the 22nd he writes: ' 'All this day I have been hard at work at the
tree by the greenhouse — the apple tree that is to be seen over the
wall in the 'Corinna, 'for the blossoms are dropping fast and in a few
days they will be gone . I got at it first in oil and couldn 't seem to draw
it accurately enough — then I took a dig at it with crayon on grey
paper, and then I took a bigger piece of grey paper and went at it
with crayon and water colour, and then, at seven in the evening,
I wired in at it again in oil, for it had the pinky hght behind it that
I want. But it is a frightfully difficult thing to do. I was at it all
day, from ten o'clock, without any interval save fifteen minutes for
luncheon, and about half an hour when I sketched some other blos
soms on the road, over the wall. . ." Again, on the 23rd:". . . I took
my traps down through the long grass into Burrough's orchard,
where I sat all the morning, up by the little mill dam, and dug away
at a tree , much fresher than ours , with few or no blossoms off at all. "
And on the 24th: "... After luncheon yesterday I made a study of
another little delicate tree and should havefinished it to-day if it had
not come on wet and showery. ' ' — All very interesting records of the
determination of the artist neither to evade difficulties nor to be
beaten by them. "May 26th. — . . . On Friday before dinner I took a
walk up to the top of the hill , and in through Chadwick 's gate , under
the beeches, which are the most exquisite green. There are some
beautiful old thorns I don't remember seeing before, just where the
path begins at the bottom of the old road. One will do capitally for
the one 'with seats beneath the shade,' when I come to do The De
serted Village. . . I think really, perhaps, one day I'll be a painter.
28th. — To-day Claudio in the cell. I may not be able to do him,
but I have hopes. This will be the first black and white I shall have
touched since my return. I can't help rather longing to let it go.
198

STAGE COSTUMES
' ' I must ask you what you think of the photos [of himself] ? I am
sending one to Munich . . . very self-sufficient, and very glassy as to
the eye and very determined as to the j aw and very superior as to the
nose. It has altogether the aspect of one born to be a ruler of men. I
never realised before how very crooked my nose is. ..."
Eager to get on with Measure for Measure, the next Comedy he
was to concentrate upon, Abbey had ordered certain costumes from
Barthe, to be made from his own designs; and Irving had offered to
lend him for the same purp ose his " choice of the Faust things " at the
Lyceum .1 During his whole career it was very rarely that he used , or
could use, theatrical costumes except when made from his own de
signs or from the designs of an artist really learned in some particular
period. He found them, as a rule, either badly cut or incorrect, too
often made to agree with what the performers thought to be "be
coming." In this matter his experience was that the costumes for
men were usually even less satisfactory than the others, the actor's
vanity being greater than the actress's P)
On May 3 ist he writes from the Beefsteak Club:". . .I'vejustbeen
to the Lyceum, and Loveday, Irving and two fat women hauled out
all the Faust things. There are 500 dresses in all. ..."
Referring to his regret that the old masters had not given us more
of the life of their own day and less of so called "imaginative" art :
"... I am writing against myself now, but I dare say they couldn't
help what they did any more than I can. ' ' And from Broadway a little
later: "... I don't want you to imagine for an instant that what I do —
what I have grown into doing in art — is what I really think the right
thing — I mean the right thing of all things . It came about in curious
ways, as I have told you. I dare say if I had had John's experience I
might have been single and unencumbered, as he is , but I have been
so entangled and half-wedded to what must be more or less a con
scious and, therefore, not quite, quite spontaneous variety of work,
tha{l. never know whether I do really see what I see or not; I mean,
looking at an old window— suddenly— instantly , if it is suggestive at
all, I don't see that window as it is,at all, but as it might have been,
with the people whom it was made for and the people who made it
199

AN ARTIST ON ARTISTS
looking through it at each other. Everything old I see that way. A
matter of habit, of course, but I lose all the pleasure a modern should
have in the real aspect of real things, under the light. I suppose we
can't be quite all alike. . .. The imaginative work that appeals to me
most is of a quaint and innocent sort , far removed from the tremend
ous and grandiose. The 'Joan of Arc' of Bastien is the greatest im
aginative work of these sophisticated times. Well, I could, I dare say,
talk all night about the others — the others of old days that appeal to
me. First of all , there is Fra Angelico , who is least of all men who ever
lived of the earth earthyTT should think; and then the other dear,
quaint, innocent Italians, and by-and-by, the development of the
elegance that was begun by Botticelli and most of all Crivelh. . . .
Both Botticelli and Crivelli were the last word , especially the former,
before the art that is called 'imaginative' became dreary and bour
geois and dull. . . .! - i'K i*7"; ¦ '°
"June i st. —  1 have been working ever since a little after nine
on Measure for Measure. The Duke telling him 'he has ever loved
the hfe removed . ' The monk is cautiously standing across the door
way. I am trying it in oil— black and white. I think it will be better
practice than doing it in pen or evenblack chalk, or water colour 
Sixo'clock — I've had afull day's work. I nearly finished the monk.
... Itisvery exciting, thispainting. One's success is such a constant
surprise , and one keeps doing little things quite accidentally that one
has noticed and marvelled at in the technique of other men. I hope
I'll get there some day. . . . Now, curiously, I don't want anybody
about while I am at work. I used to long for people to be about, but
lately I don't . . . and it spoils servants [to sit as models]. Leme is
unique, but he is a bit spoiled. . . . Sunday. ... I am full of what I
want to say to you about painting . . . but it must wait. Go and see
the little masterpiece of Van der Meer of Delft in the Metropolitan
Museum [in New York]. ... No pose, no striving nor straining.
Just 'seeing beautifully 'an ugly thing  "
Writing to Charles Parsons to thank him for the photograph of his
" dear old head ," Abb ey say s :" I have grown to respect your opinion
as my wisdom increased . Perhaps we have grown together, but you
200

THE DUKE AND FRIAR THOMAS.
OIL.
DUKE j " MY HOLY SIR, NONE BETTER KNOWS THAN YOU .
HOW I HAVE EVER LOVED THE LIFE REMOVED."
Sixteen and a half inches by twelve and a half inches.
i88g.
" MEASURE FOR MEASURE," ACT I, SCENE IV.

6ep%rufh£ 7FQ*fes-lt,&rQS

CHARLES PARSONS
have not been so busy getting yourself into shape as I have. ... I
may as well tell you, now that you are no longer in an official capa
city, that I have been mostly painting since I returned. I have been
making studies of apple-blossom over a wall for the ' Corinna Going
a-Maying.' It is a daybreak picture and the sun gets up these days
much too early. It comes easier with practice, of course."
To this letter Charles Parsons replied, in July, from his summer
lodging at Westport Point, Massachusetts, where he was "literally
in dreamland . . . nothing to do but eat, sleep . . . the old life behind
me." "You know," he says, " very well, without my writing, how
much affection and pride I have in you personally and how much
I appreciate your art and sympathise with your aspirations for the
full expression of the great talent God has given you. I hope and be
lieve that your future work will show that I am not mistaken : and
here let me urge you to devote a part of your time to painting . It does
seem a great pity that you should not put some of your knowledge
into colour, either oil or water. You can, if you only will. I shall
look,17 he concludes, "for your letters and all of what you are doing
with eager interest. Don't let the intervals be long between. "
"June 7th [to Miss Mead] . — . . . I am just going to paint, either in
black and white or in colour, until I can get at something that I can
express myself with — forget!"
On June 9th, to Miss Mead: "... I think I must do things with all
my might. I think that is so. This morning I picked up Symonds's
Renaissance in Italy — the painting volume — and I was so very in
terested in it that I hated to put it down. . . . He is so much better
than Ruskin. He doesn't preach, doesn't tell you this is superla
tively right and that absolutely , despicably bad . What he says of Fra
Angelico is very good and very interesting. Dear me! what a curious
thing art is. . . There are so many phases, so widely differing, and
each good and right in its way ... If I had grown up artistically inde
pendent — not depending upon what I produced for my living — I
think I should have developed differently. I think I was on a pretty
good path, so far as my perception went, when I first went to Har
pers'. If I hadbeeninParisorLondonallthoseimpressionableyears, 201

PROGRESS WITH OIL
I dare say I should have arrived at some perhaps more individual
result, maybe sooner, too. . . ."
On June 2 ist — ". . .To-day I have been working on Angelo and
Isabella — Isabella principally.) It is brown and black and white, and
I am getting more and more easy with the oil every day. It takes
longer than the pen in some ways . AU the drapery and the heads and
hands, and all that sortof thing, take much longer, but the architec
ture and that doesn 't take nearly so long, and the values ofthe colours
of the things are much truer, of course!; She is in white serge, and
the value of her head in the linen coif, and of the white dress against
the white wall, I think I have got pretty well. At any rate it looks
serious. He will be dark, and only his wicked eyes are to show over
his hand. I think it will be one of the best. I have tried to keep him
unforced and quiet. His clenched hand and the expression of his
face I am trying to make tell the story."
"Mariana of the Moated Grange," also in Measure for Measure,
was giving constant trouble. Writing on June 25th Abbey says: "I
don'tknowhowmany Marianas I havedone — I meanbegun — butas
yet she don't get right. I have begun pen ones, and crayon ones, and
water-colours and several oil ones, and now I have begun another
in brown and white. The boy is fairish, but I cannot get Mariana
straight. I 'm getting sick of her, but she must come. They are in two
lights — the light coming over the hanging and a hght from in front.
She is very dark, away back in the corner." — The letter contained a
sketch ofthe composition. Abbey continued to be possessed by this
subject for many months, for not only did he make a Shakespeare
illustration for the magazine but a water-colour — one of the most
important of his works in that medium, which, finished at the end
of 1 890, was bought by the late Henry M arquand and is now in the
possession of Mr. James Stillman, New York.
"June 29th. — - . . I had been in Worcester all the afternoon, and
we went over the Cathedral, which has had almost every interesting
thing removed by Gilbert Scott-that destroyer of history . The nave
door was open and all down the aisle as we walked we could look over
west — over the Severn — across the fields into the open country. I
202

ANGELO AND ISABELLA.
OIL.
Twenty-four and a half inches by sixteen and a half inches.
1889.
" MEASURE FOR MEASURE," ACT II, SCENE IV.

CLAUDIO AND ISABELLA.
CLAUDIO : " SWEET SISTER, LET ME LIVE."
Fifteen and three-quarter inches by twelve and a quarter inches.
1889.
" MEASURE FOR MEASURE," ACT III, SCENE I.

THE DESERTED VILLAGE
can'tunderstand why that western door should have given the place
an air of reality — of genuineness — but it did. . . . In the morning I
began the last of the Measure for Measure series — Isabella kneeling
to the Duke, who raises her up. I hope it will go well. It begins well,
which is ominous  " As a matter of fact Abbey thought this draw
ing one ofthe best ofthe series.
June 30th , after a reference to money matters :"... If I have wanted
a chair or a table or a costume — for a drawing — often the entire sum
I get for the drawing will not pay for — has not paid for — the outlay,
but I have never hesitated on that account. These stockbrokers and
business menwhodie having done nothing all their lives save buying
and selling and coming home in the evening to their homes and their
families, I do feel sorry for. I think often how very curious it must be
to have leisure. I never seem to have any. I am always worrying out
these little black and white squares in my head, and when I 'm not,
my eyes are always busy. I am for ever and ever arranging and re
arranging." July9th, referring to a visitor in the afternoon:". . . Shehadnever
heard of Schumann's songs. Didn't know he wrote songs. When
people tell me that sort of thing, I always look at them more closely
— perhaps I may nothave looked atthem at all before. I usually dis
cover something curious in their heads or faces , which gives them an
incomplete air. I am not a physiognomist. . . . I have to fudge at a
face until I get the expression I want. I suppose a dose of 'Bell's An
atomy of Expression,' taken at a tender age, cured me of any desire
to draw after a receipt  I like to do my own observing  "
Wednesday, 1 oth. — ' ' ... In the evening yesterday I read The De
serted Village aloud to Mrs .Barnard , and'I think I have just the things
for it. Itwillbeeasy,andIcanbegettingreadyfor another play while
I am doing it , and all the dresses and costumes are here and the places
and all." . . . TheDeserted Village drawings, as it happened, were to
be one of Abbey's disappointments. Not only were there delays and
postponements with regard to the commission and publication, but
the reproductions were unsatisfactory; and this was the more re
grettable because he never did more beautiful or sympathetic work.
203

A RIVER HOLIDAY
Mr. and Mrs. Millet, after returning from America in June, had
gone for a visit to Paris. On July 20th Abbey writes:". . . Theyall
come back this evening and perhaps are bringing ' old Ved ' with
them. Do you know Vedder ? I forget. He is a real genius, a queer,
original chap, full of out-of-the-way knowledge and with the most
original ideas. ..." Of another artist he wrote in the same letter:
"Having lived for so many years the best of a small circle of inferior
men, through lack of appreciation and through being surrounded by
people who did not in the least know what he was driving at, he has
not had strength enough to rise above things. I don't think there
can be a more debilitating thing than an inferior audience. ' '
Workwas varied by a little amusement. One evening in July Abbey
was inLondonto see Verdi's Otello at Covent Garden; onanother he
entertained Mr. Harry Harper, du Maurier, Black and Osgood; the
next he dined at the Reform with James Payn and T.B. Aldrich.
Later in the month he was j oined by Mr . Thomas Manson, on a little
rowing holiday , which he thus described to Miss Mead: "July 27th.
— The George, Walhngford. . . . Yesterday Manson and I started
early from Salter's Wharf (Oxford) down the river in a half-out-
rigged dingey. . . I pulled about fifteen miles. Manson's hands were
sore and he couldn't pull much. I didn't mind. ... I sketched the
barmaid and landlord and landlady last night. . . .You'd be amused
at the brisk life in these little inns . They are as clean as clean, and
you are made one of the family at once. There was quite a gathering
in the yard yesterday evening, shelling peas when we came. The
family and the landlord's daughter's young man and two young
boating chaps in Oxford colours. . . .""July 30th. — . . . .We pulled
from Caversham down through Shiplake and Wargrave and Henley
and Medmenham and Bisham and Marlow and Cookham — it was
very beautiful — and finished up at Maidenhead by pulling the boat
out of water and over the rollers instead of putting it through the
lock. . . . I suppose there are people who cannot understand the de
light of feeling all their muscles working strongly and intelligently.
... I do not think there is anything like pulling a well-built boat, if
y ou ar ewe\\, and. Yam amazingly we\\. . . .
204

E. A. ABBEY.
AGE THIRTY-SEVEN.
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN THE STUDIO AT BROADWAY, IN 1889, BY HIS FRIEND, HAROLD ROLLER.
Now first published.

"SWEET NELLIE"
"July 31st. — . . . We saw the little houseboat the Daniels have —
Henry Daniel of Worcester College, Oxford. . . . He is certainly a
very interesting man, ofthe kind I used to see a good deal of when I
used to go to the Savile. There they were in a little houseboat [The
Moorhen] — he and Mrs. Daniel and his little girls, Rachel and Ruth.
Did I ever show you The Garland of Rachel? Daniel has a private
press and prints little things — opuscules is the word, I believe — and
when Rachel was born, Daniel got his friends, Lang, Lewis Carroll,
Dobson, Gosse, Mary Robinson, Humphry Ward, Robert Bridges,
Locker, Sir Richard Harrington , and others , each to write her a little
welcoming into the world sort of poem  "
"August7th. — . . . I must go away to-day and be busy for a while
with that blessed Tosca . Leme has departed , and I miss him greatly ,
but he became quite unreasonably independent. I wonder whom I
shall have in his place. I had got so used to him that he understood
just what I wanted, and I always dread a new model. ... I did a
figurefromthenewgirlonSaturday. . .Itisfor The Deserted Village,
and is part of the group under the thorn tree. . . . 'The hawthorn
bush with seats beneath the shade.' She is a graceful girl and very
suggestive." — This drawing (upon which Abbey is seen at work in
thefine photograph whichMr. Harold Roller made of him about this
time in the studio of Russell House) was the only one, except the
"Village Master," ever published of all those done in this year of
1889, tne others being thrown aside as not wholly to his mind. Nor
was this one published as a part of The Deserted Village , either in the
magazine or thebook. Abbey deeming thefigure too delicate and too
refined for a village maiden. Later he made another drawing of the
samesubjectto replace it, andpubhshedthefirstoneprivately, some
years after,under the title"SweetNellie,myHeart'sDelight,"from
aplatethefullsizeofthedrawing,madeforhimbyDujardinofParis. The next letter is dated August 10th, and was written at Purley
Hall, Reading, where Abbey was the guest of Mr., now Sir, John
Hare. "We have talked Tosca until I am sick of her. Hare certainly
reads it remarkably well, and is full of enthusiasm. I have got the
dresses pretty well settled if I can only settle on the stuffs . We started 205

CRICKET AND MUSIC
out immediately after breakfast, yesterday, with fishing things— and
I hate to fish — and sat in a punt nearly all day by Mapledurham weir.
It rained pitchforks all day. Hare got some big jack — five. I didn't
get but one little one. This is a beautiful old place. It is late seven
teenth century. There are panelled rooms and stone mullions and
escutcheons . The dining room has a great coat of arms in the ceiling
— white plaster. There is a formal old garden with a curious sundial
held up by a kneeling figure, and there are smooth lawns with great
trees, stretching away to the top of the wooded hills about. ..."
For some time Abbey 's letters have had references to his tentative
efforts to acquire the theory and practice of cricket, which later he
was to love so well. To vary work a few minutes' hard throwing and
catching a ball had already become a custom with him; but latterly
he had been batting too, and now he was on the eve of his first match,
the sides being the Russell House XI. against an XI. brought to
gether by Sir George Colthurst,at Norton Hall, Michelton, the resi
dence of his sister, Mrs. Bruce. The match was played on August
1 6th in very wet weather, and Russell House was badly beaten. Of
Abbey's maiden effort no record has been preserved. Cricket, he
tells Miss Mead, " is a much more skilful game — the batting part
— than baseball, and I don't know how to hold the bat right yet."
For an artist whose livelihood depended upon his right hand he was
curiously reckless in the field , throwing incredibly hard himself and
catching balls thrown by others with their utmost force. This very
summer he put a finger out of joint , and damaged himself not a little ;
but hewasnotto be deterred. "No game's really agame," he wrote,
"unless it's a little dangerous."
"August 21st. — . . . Haines [the vet] had his old musical friends
[at the studio] — a little , b ent old man with a 'cello , an old farmer and
his son from Buckland with clarionettes, and Haines with a fiddle,
and their old, long, narrow music books. They played the oldest-
fashioned things , and it was more like Hardy than anything you ever
saw in your hfe. Then the old man piped up in his quavering voice
and sang and accompanied himself onthefiddle. 'There bain 'tmany
instruments but I knows the notes on 'em,' says he. He is the clerk
206

THE VILLAGE MASTER.
' THE VILLAGE MASTER TAUGHT HIS LITTLE SCHOOL.
FULL WELL THEY LAUGHED WITH COUNTERFEITED GLEE
AT ALL HIS JOKES, FOR MANY A JOKE HAD HE."
Seven and a half inches by five and three-quarter inches.
1889
" THE DESERTED VILLAGE." GOLDSMITH.

VARIOUS SENTENTLE
of the Saintsbury church, and is to play there next Sunday. . . Just
think how interesting it will be to know them and to know their side
of it. ..."
In this month Abbey engaged a new model who was to work for
him from time to time for many years— the famous Angelo Colarossi ,
the Italian, who died quite recently, and in his time had posed for
Carpeaux, the French sculptor, and for Gerome, and was now much
in Leighton 's service. He was, for example, the athlete with the py
thon in the P.RA.'s famous group of statuary. Colarossi was the
brother of the head of the art school in Paris, and his fine figure oc
curs again and again in Abbey's drawings. Both in and out of the
studio he conducted himself in such a way that he not only raised
the status of the model, but came to be respected and beloved both
by artists and by his fellow models.
"August 3 ist. — . . . We are all for cricket now. The three Rollers
are here — W.E . , the one who took the team of English gentlemen to
America, and Trevor and Harold — and I am afraid we are going to
be altogether too fine on Monday when we play Sir George Colt-
hurst's eleven again. . . September3rd. — . . .Yesterday the eventful
cricket match came off , and it was a great day , and we b eat them by an
innings and twenty runs." This return match was played in a field
adjoining the grounds of Russell House, where the village cricket
was played and where the annual sports were held.
' 'And here is a letter from dear Cousin Jo . She was so good to me
and brought out all that was best in those growing years of mine,
when I spent all my evenings with her and used to practise making
' Herrick ' lettering in the library with them all at the old home in
Brooklyn. . . .
" Menzel will be a great man for all time to come.
" I can't think what a man [an artist] wants with a medal he has to
ask for. [Referring to medals inParis 1889 International Exhibition.]
I dare say when one meets a man who has written clever books, and
he seems a dull person, it is often that he has been the mouthpiece
of his better half  " This was some years before Sir James Barrie
wrote What Every Woman Knows. 207

AT FLADBURY
"September 4th. — . . .Why can 'twealwaysbeamiableand yield
ing ? I wonder if this time of year isn't always a little worn. We have
been as green and fresh as we can be, and when the leaves begin to get
tired of it, and to curl up and allow themselves to drop off, maybe we
do too, unless we are careful. We all 'do fade as a leaf,' I dare say —
"September 7th, Birmingham [where Mr. Hare was acting]. —
I have come over with the Tosca things, having completed all the
sketches for the principals, and hope to-day to get rid of most of it.
Such a worrying thing as it has been. . . We went to see the 'Profli
gate,' and after it had supper with Hare and Robertson."
"September 10th. — . . . I am not a delicate, artistic plant, sensi
tive, and not to be rudely handled. The more tired out I am the
clearer my head seems to get and the more sensitive my hand. That
day at Birmingham, with Hare and Forbes Robertson, when we
worked out the Tosca from b eginning to end with no lunch , was most
inspiriting, and I had a curious mental excitement after it that I
don't get here. It is doing things that excites me, with active and ap
preciative minds about. . . ."
Mr. Sargent, his mother, and sisters had taken Fladbury Rectory
for three months — a very beautiful terraced house above the Avon,
about seven miles from Broadway. Alfred Parsons was also staying
there, and M . Helleu, the dry-point portrait etcher, also well known
as a painter, Miss Violet Paget ("Vernon Lee"), Miss Flora Priest
ley, and other guests, and Abbey went over for a few days in Sep
tember. The next letter describes his visit:
"September 19th. — . . . Early on Tuesday I drove over to Flad
bury, taking my belongings, and in the afternoon I began the back
ground of my picture the 'Callers' [later named the "Visitors"],
and have progressed well with it. . . . It is only two people come to
make a call and sitting in front of the old red-brick house, with roses
growing over it, and a maid in pink calico taking in their cards. It
has no intellectual quality whatever in its conception  I got tired
of everything I was doing , and this rests me . I have worked hard both
the afternoons and in the mornings. I have been making sketches in
Cropthorne Church . One I shall use for The Deserted Village. It is
208

AT FLADBURY
a beautiful old place , with grey carved pews — old pews , Gothic ones
—and there are two good monuments. I shall do, I think, a little
water-colour of a girl sitting in church  The colour is charming
... an old pale stone tomb , with two [full-length recumb ent figures ,
their] heads on pillows and several of the sons (they seem to havehad
eighteen children) straggling around the corner, for whom there is
not room in front. The wall behind her [the girl] is whitewashed,
and the p ew is of grey wood — green out of the window . Cropthorne
is full of beautiful bits, and it is nice to go to — to see. [The water-
colour here describ ed was never finished . Even in its immature state
it is charming.] . . . . Alfred was at Sargent's until yesterday. He is
going back to Aix next month, and after that will come to America
withme. Poor boy! He is plucky and patient. We are a queer lot, I
should think, and moody and irrational at times, but I like us  I
don't believe in your critical, learned amateurs. . . . I don't think
they ought to express decided opinions about things until they have
earned a right to have them."
[Added in London] . " I am sitting in the b eautiful big library ofthe
Reform , and it is growing late in the dull autumn day . 1 1 is drizzling
outside, and the big chestnut trees out of the window in Carlton
Gardens are dripping. The room is big and shadowy, the gilded
bindings on the bookshelves gleamf aintly in the dusk,and the gilded
flutings of the green columns shine dimly all down the long, dim
places. A few old gentlemen are dozing over their books, and one
or two others are writing away like mad: the scratching of quills and
the rumbling of wheels away off somewhere are th e only sounds 
"September 22nd,Fladbury Rectory ,Pershore. — I wonder if this
willbecheerful writing. I am sitting in a big window in my bedroom
here, looking across the terrace, across the ripply river with the rain
pattering upon it, across some wide water meadows with rows of
little willows, and at the farther side brush fires, with the smoke
blowing low across the landscape, and, behind, Wood Norton, and
over all soft grey clouds . There are a lot of girls in the drawing-room
—one is singing 'Kathleen Mavourneen' — which doesn't make
things more lively. Little Miss Playfair is here too, and plays the
p 209

J. S. SARGENT
piano remarkably well (they are singing 'Auld Robin Gray' now
— my goodness) . I am rather pleased with what I have done here,
although it isn't quite done, and it looks unlike what other people
do, I think  Here, John thinks just of nothing at all else [but his
painting] and is always trying and trying and working at something.
. . . He is absolutely sincere and earnest. He is coming to America
with Alfred and me, and we must find a place somewhere in which
to work. ... I hope to finish this thing here either to-day or to
morrow  I keep longing lately, because I haven't seenmany peo
ple, I suppose, for some sympathetic conversation, and herewith
John I am all right, because we differ enough to argue interestedly,
and not enough to disagree absolutely .And also I like, for a change,
the other thing, too — boys like the Rollers — good chaps — who five
out of doors , and know ho w to do other things  I am b eginning to
think I do notp ay as much attention to the young chaps as I ought to
do — as the older ones used to pay to me long ago. . . .
"Tuesday, 24th. — . . . Last night we — John and I — talked about
what we ought to do until away on in the smaU hours — talked and
talked — and I am always refreshed by him. . . . He may paint a nude
inNew York, if he can find any good figure, and tliinks I ought to do
the same — that it would widen me out to paint — rather over life size
— a large, pale, fattish, nude woman with no particular drawing in
her. I never painted from the nude at all — think of that! . . .
"September 28th, Russell House. — . . . I worked yesterday at
Fladbury until it was time to drive over, and just at dinner time the
Whites [Stanford White , the architect , of the firm of Mc Kim, Mead
and White] came, and I have been showing them the village ever
since, andam goingup onthe2-37 train in order to beatthe Lyceum
to-night — Irving's first night 
" October 5th, Bedford Gardens. — . . . I have been absolutely
driven to death this week, night and day. . . . Hare has suddenly—
not quite suddenly , but suddenly enough to make it extremely awk
ward for me — put the whole production — by which is meant the
arrangement of colour and all the dresses — nearly 150 — upon my
shoulders, and as I don't feel particularly well — I am livery, I should
210

CROWDED HOURS
think, from the lack of exercise at Fladbury — I feel the weight of the
undertaking. ... I hate the expense of being here — one is let in for
all sorts of things, and can't help it. My studio is littered with rolls
and samples of silks and velvets and satins , and I spend hours match
ing them together and trying combinations, which is not at all what
I thought of when I told Hare I shouldn't mind doing the dresses,
etc. I've had the furniture and effects of light and all the rest. Hare
was with me all day yesterday. . . I had had a model' ordered, 'to sit
for a couple of figures in The Comedy of Errors, so I had to draw all
the evening and went to sleep in a chair about eleven. . . .
"Saturday. — I am still at these blessed clothes, and, thank good
ness , I've nearly done  I can 't seem to work well here . Ever since
this place began to assume proportions, things have become com
plicated, and I long to be away from it so soon as I get inside the
door  I worked again all last evening at The Comedy of Errors
after spending the day with costumiers . I want to get on with those
water-colours. They are in such an interesting stage, and I am sure
that one will be good, if I can only get it done before all the flowers
go  I am very much afraid that Alfred won't be able to comeover
with me. His throat has troubled him greatly this autumn so far, and
Semon says he must go directly to Aix and stop there until he is well
on the mend  I wanted very much to have him with me this win
ter  I only catch glimpses of him. . . .
"October 9th, Bedford Gardens. — . . . I went down to Broadway
and spent Sunday, getting all the women together — sixteen. I chose
all the stuffs and things and made drawings for each individual. I
wish I could do things a little less conscientiously. ... I wanted to
walk on Sunday, but had not the time — I came up on Monday and
worked all the evening again . . . and yesterday took the last draw
ings to Hare, and picked over the 'extra' people who are to wear
them. They only wanted thirty-five and I should think there must
have been five hundred applicants. I spent the afternoon hunting
over military uniforms, and nearly all to-day I have been bossing
cuts of coats and things. ... I shall hope to see it well over this
week and the shoes and wigs, too  My goodness me ! I'm tired
211

SHAKESPEARE AGAIN
of being tired, and wish I could get about and play football or some
thing. . . .
"October 12th, Bedford Gardens. — . . .1 have acquired a rather
rare disease known as 'shingles,' which keeps me awake o' nights
and wears me down nervously and makes me tired all over. . . .
In the midst of all this are these everlasting frocks and wigs and
coats and hats and boots for the Tosca. . . .
"October 16th. — . . . I am so very weak that I can scarcely sit up
all day, but I go about and get through with my work in a sense 
To-day I finished the pattern to go round the Tosca frocks — alter
nating lyres and girls holding a laurel wreath — two girls flying at a
lyre across the 'chest.' . . .
"Octoberigth. — . . .Yesterday I went down to that theatre in the
morning and saw all my background people dressed in my sketches.
It was quite curious to see them all dressed in my colours . . . and then
I stayed and heard the music for the first act. . . Sometimes any music
is resting and maybethatiswhy I sat, as one sees so many idlers doing
abroad in the churches, and soared away into space for a while 
"October 22nd, Broadway. — . . . I am so much better that I just
drop a line to relieve you  Dobson is down, and he is very nice.
He knows such a lot of things that interest me  I wish I hadn't to
go up to look after those frocks any more, but I must. . . .
"October 26th, Russell House.—. . . I am getting on so very well
with my work. I think you will think some of it the best I've done.
I 've nearly finished three of The Comedy of Errors and mean to finish
the lot before I go over. . . .
"October 30th. — . . . I have put the sky in of 'Corinna' . . .
"November 2nd. — . . . I've written all this without saying at first
what I have on my mind to tell you , for fear it would seem conceited .
'Corinna' is really getting quite good, and she is much admired by
the audience here. . . . 'Corinna V head is finished. ... I wrote to
John Hay to tell him how very remarkable I thought the November
instalment of the Lincoln. I wish I had written it !" The Life of
Lincoln , by John G . Nicolay and John Hay , was then running serially
in the Century magazine.
212

ADRIANA, LUCIANA, ANTIPHOLUS EROTES, DROMIO OF SYRACUSE.
ADRIANA : " AY, AY, ANTIPHOLUS, LOOK STRANGE AND FROWN."
Eighteen inches by eleven and a half inches.
1889.
" THE COMEDY OF ERRORS," ACT II, SCENE II.

A DRESS REHEARSAL
"November 6th,Bedford Gardens. — . . .I've had a wretched cold,
which kept me in bed nearly all day yesterday, making me late for
an appointment with Mrs. Nettleship , where I had to see the Court
ladies' dresses tried on. I found the place filled with them, and it
was quite odd seeing all one's sketches carried out — life-size. There
were a dozen or so, and there was the wig-maker and the stage mana
ger and the dressers and a mob altogether. I 'braced up' and went
at it, and really I think the result will be extremely pretty  Then
I went to the other costumier and saw most of the men — wretched
stuff, so bad that I was in despair. I decided finally to take the things
away from him — with Hare's consent — and put them elsewhere,
and I had lent them my old original things to copy , too . . . Then some
hours later I went to the theatre and saw all the people dressed whom
Barthe had to look after; some of them remarkably good ; a lot of pea
sants he had taken the trouble to send to Italy to get original dresses
for ; and, after two hours of this, home to bed. And, to-day, down
to the costumiers we had the row with, saw a lot of the things tried
on, and, after more row, took most of them away from him — much
to his disgust, to put it mildly — and then to Nathan, who does the
officers and soldiers, and who has undertaken to do all the rest in a
very short time, and then down to the theatre and saw the first act
set . . .and the whole act rehearsed afterwards. It is a tiring business
— very tiring  "
Duringthenext fortnight Abbey was chiefly at Broadway recover
ing from his illness and working against time. La Tosca was fixed
for November 28th, and on the 27th we find the artist writing at the
Reform Club : " Up half the night with these dress rehearsals, and
carrying on my work during the day — double day 's work nearly — for
I have a young chap putting together and elaborating architectural
details downstairs, who has to be looked after hourly , and yesterday
I thoughtmy brain would give way . Architectural manhard at work,
women rearranging dresses in another room , model sitting , and four
hoursoiinterviewerirornthePallMallGazette. I hardly know what
I said to the latter, and, under the circumstances, I didn't like to
turn him out. If I 'd only myself to consider these days I should have
213

"LA TOSCA" PRODUCED
turned him out, but I shouldn't like anything nasty republished in
the American papers. I'd not much dinner, and at 6.30 was at the
theatre, looking after the ' make up ' of all those people, and home,
after some bacon and eggs at the Beefsteak, at 2.30. I shall be out of
the wood to-morrow night, and you will be pleased to hear I shall
try to keep to my own trade hereafter. \\ can't half do things. They
must be well done — thoroughly done — or I don't care to have any-
thingtodo with them, iniactYcan't. .~3.As YouLikelt is all planned
out. . . I cabled to-day that I am coming on the, or aboutthe, 20th. . .
" November 30th, Bedford Gardens. — . . . I feel a sort of re
action after the nervous rush and strain of the Tosca production.
The play was a great success, and Hare's dismal forebodings were
unfulfilled. I worked very hard to get every detail as perfect as I
could, and it has been an experience, and I am glad I've had it and
that it is over at last. I think everybody admired what I did — and it
did look well." — Abbey's opinion is snared by the critics generaUy.
Sir John Hare, writing to me about it, says: "I venture to think that,
thanks to Abbey 's genius, no finer stage picture of the revolutionary
period was ever presented. Working with him was a privilege and a
delight." "December 4th. — . . . I am just finishing The Comedy of Errors
and am beginning As You Like It. I went the other night to see the
wrestling at the Aquarium with Harold and Trevor Roller, and got
some good tips for the first drawing, and I shall surely finish this
before I go . I have told Osgood to engage my passage by the Fulda
for the 26th, from Southampton. . . . It is nice to have Alfred back.
He came on Sunday, looking so thin and pale, but he is cheerful and
very kind and thoughtful for me, and I am correspondingly grate
ful. . . . 'Corinna' has arrived from Broadway. . . . Alfred is very
pleased with her. . . .
"December 17th. — . . . It is the big, underlying, strong, and deep
impulses of thoughtful folk that are worth consideration  I began
so heedlessly and unconsciously my artistic career that I can only
see now that the thing that has been of the greatest interest to me all
these years is the personal, sympathetic quality of my little people.
214

IN THE FOREST OF ARDEN.
ROSALIND : " O JUPITER, Ht)W WEARY ARE MY SPIRITS 1 "
CLOWN : " I CARE NOT FOR MY SPIRITS, IF MY LEGS WERE NOT WEARY."
CELIA : " I PRAY YOU, BEAR WITH ME ; I CANNOT GO NO FURTHER."
Twenty-one inches by fourteen inches

" AS YOU LIKE IT," ACT II, SCENE IV.

ZL_A JLJLlL  7

MANY PROJECTS
(Tknow that unless, within five minutes after beginning to make a
drawing, the little soul within doesn't begin to make itself manifest
upon the paper, my interest flags and generally ceases altogether,
until the little eyes begin to twinkle or the little lips to smile. . . .--,
"December 19th. — . . . Ideas crowd themselves in my head, and I
shall never live to do all I have thought of, of late. I don't mean ill-
considered work. I could never do anything — put anything out
— that was not done seriously — and my best. I've had visions of
'Dimmesdale' [in The Scarlet Letter] looking at himself alone in his
chamber, with the lighted candles either side of his face; and visions
of 'Fiammetta' and the gay Florentines [in The Decameron] sitting
about in a b eautif ul old garden , chatting , and looking charming ; and
visions of The Good-Natured Man' and of my ' Blondel' gentleman
in red, who is to be left behind — perhaps. But I don't suppose it is
creation. There never was but one creator,and one is harassed with
doubts about him. Most things that have been achieved — created
— have been the outcome of some previous succession of circum
stances. IsupposeI'm visionary, but I'm paying off my debts. . . .
Is this the last line I shall send you from here? . . . Three models
to-day and my young architect."
Itmay be said here that, for the best of reasons , the debts were not
wholly paid off until 1 895 , but after that year insolvency became an
unknown factor in Abbey's life.

CHAPTER XXII
MARRIAGE 1890 Aged 38
Abbey Again in New York — Friendly Feastings — A Dinner to Charles Parsons —
The Wedding
WHEN the eventful year 1890 dawned it found Ab
bey on the Atlantic, approaching New York. He
had sailed from Southampton in the ss. Fulda on
December 26th, and, after a very stormy passage,
landed on January 4th. To his consternation he found Miss Mead
laid up with pneumonia, which had followed an attack of influenza,
that scourge, from which the country had been immune for many
years, having suddenly reappeared. The crisis, however, was past,
and she was soon on the road to recovery. Their engagement fol
lowed and was at once announced.
Abbey's purpose being to remain in New York until his marriage,
he took a studio — a large, lofty room in the building of The Judge
Publishing Co., at the north-west corner of 16th Street and 5th
Avenue. Into this studio Stanford White put, from among his vari
ous stored collections, old tapestries, chairs and tables, easels and aU
that was necessary to make the bare room a convenient and pleasant
place to work in, and this was the beginning of the welcome the artist
received from old friends and fellow workers, from his publishers,
and from various artistic bodies in New York, Philadelphia, and
Boston. There was much feasting, but there was also much hard work.
He pushed on vigorously with "Corinna" and finished it in time
to send it, under its new title "May-Day Morning," to London
for the spring exhibition of the Royal Academy. That he should
have turned to oils and mastered them so swiftly caused much ex
citement among his artist friends in New York. Not the least of these
was his beloved old art editor, Charles Parsons, who was heard one
day to exclaim, with pride in his voice, "What strides he has already
216

MAY DAY MORNING.
OIL.
Five feet nine and a half inches by three feet two and a half inches.
1890— 1894.
iVhen "A May Day Morning " was exhibited at the Royal Academy, in 1890, the background
vas a road. In 1894 the painter substituted a background from his garden at Fairford, be-
jinning his work at sunrise for the early-morning effect

A BUSY VISIT
made in this new medium! His first efforts seemed almost like the
painting of a man who had never learned to draw." This was Ab
bey's first exhibit at the Royal Academy, with the single exception
of the pen-and-ink drawing of the "Milkmaid" in 1885 . As, how
ever, engravers alone among black-and-white artists were recog
nised as eligible for membership in this body, he refused to exhibit
in that medium again, thus making his protest against the exclusion
of this important branch of art. Later on, when, after exhibiting one
more oil painting ("Fiammetta's Song,"in 1894), he became him
self an Associate Member of the R.A., he exhibited pen-and-ink
drawings whenever possible, never ceasing to press the claims of
this branch of his art, and in the last year of his life was full of hope
that he was to see the claim recognised in the immediate future.
He finished, also in New York, his water-colour, "The Visitors,"
begun at Fladbury, and sent it to the spring exhibition of the Ameri
can Water Colour Society, where it was sold at the private view to
Mr. F. Havemeyer . He also finished the drawings for As You Like
It, published in the magazine in December of this year, and, from
timeto time, took up again his water- colour" Mariana in the Moated
Grange , ' ' and made a drawing for a story by H .C . Bunner — ' ' Crazy
Wife's Ship" — which, however, was not published in the magazine
until December, 1892.
WhUe inNew York he had been the guest of Mr. and Mrs.Thomas
Manson, at 325 Madison Avenue, and before he returned to Eng
land he painted in oil, as a memento of his visit, a decorative panel
for an overmantel in Mrs . Manson 's drawing-room . He painted also
in oil a large decoration for an hotel in New York, "The Amster
dam," on the corner of 32nd Street and Broadway. This commis
sion came through the architect of the building, Stanford White.
Abbey choseas his subject" A Game of Bowls on the Bowling Green
at the Battery onNew York Bay during theEarly Days of the Dutch
Settlement," and completed it in about three weeks, with the assist
ance of Mr. Charles Mente.
There was no longer any Tile Club to welcome Abbey, because
that genial fraternity was no more ; but many of the Tilers were
217

FEASTS OF HONOUR
now members of the Salmagundi Club , which entertained its mem
ber (Abbey was made an honorary member in 1884) with proper
ceremony. The gathering, which was on January 17th in the club
building ati2i 5thAvenue,was not only cordial but high spirited,
and in honour of the return of the native a burlesque exhibition of
modern art had been prepared, the travestied painters including
Jean Francois Millet and J. M.W.Turner, while a concert, chiefly
humorous, was presented. Among the entertainers, for example,
wasMr.E.W.Kemble,theiUustratorof Uncle Remus, impersonating
a monkey on a barrel organ. In the same month, on January 23rd, a
banquet was given in honour of Abbey at the Union League Club by
Messrs. Harper and Brothers, represented by Mr. J.Henry Harper,
and on the back of Abbey's menu card are the following names: F.
Hopkinson Smith, Charles Parsons, Frederick Mead (Abbey's fa
ther-in-law) , Lawrence Hutton , Jack de Thulstrup , John Foord , R.
M.Hunt,C.D.Weldon,C.Graham,W.H.Patten,H.W.McVickar,
W. H. Harper, Frederick Remington, J. D. Jarrold Keiley, H. M.
Alden, Lafcadio Hearn, W . D .Howells , F . D .MiUet, J . Henry Har
per, EdwinA. Abbey, A. B.Frost, J. Alden Weir, Thomas L.Man-
son, Jr., W.M.Chase, Charles W. Truslow, Charles FairchUd, Stan
ford White, H.R.Harper, F.B .Schell (Charles Parsons 's successor
in the Art Department), and W.A.Rogers.
On March 8th there was a reception to Abbey and John Sargent at
the Art Club in Philadelphia, after which Abbey insisted that there
was not a man in Philadelphia with whom he had not shaken hands
on that evening, and that he had a new idea of its immense popula
tion. OnMarch25thhewas charmingly entertained by the boys and
girls of "The Art Students' League," and on April 1 5th a dinner was
given to Charles Parsons, which was organised by Abbey , De Thul
strup, W.T.Smedley, and W.A.Rogers. Abbey presided, with his
old art editor on his right and George Wm. Curtis on his left, and
during the evening a portfolio was presented to the guest of honour,
containing drawings and tributes by his old associates . Abbey 'smenu
card is thus endorsed : Charles Parsons, Edwin A. Abbey, George
William Curtis, F.D.Millet, R.Swain Gifford, Frederick Dielman,
218

THE WANDERING MINSTREL.
WATER-COLOUR.
1890-1891.

FAREWELL TO CHARLES PARSONS
•Harry Fenn, W.Hamilton Gibson, R.R.Sinclair, Jos. Thorne Har
per, W.A.Rogers, John W.Alexander, Frederick Remington, W.
Poinsette Snyder, J .A.S .Symington, Charles Mente , Allen C . Red
wood, Benjamin Day, C. R. Parsons, A.B. Frost, Charles Dudley
Warner, J.Henry Harper, A.B.Stavey,H.M.Alden, J.O.Davidson,
W.H.Patten, "for old times," H.A.Ogden, W.T.Smedley, John
Harper, and Fred B. Schell. These names comprise much of what
was most vital in American black-and-white art at that time. We
shall meet Charles Parsons again in the course of this, narrative , but
it may be mentioned here that he lived for another twenty years,
dying in 191 o at the advanced age of eighty-nine.
Whilebeing similarly feted in Boston, Abbey stayed two dayswith
Mr. and Mrs. Charles Fairchild, and there met Mr. and Mrs. Mont
gomery Sears. After Abbey's return from Boston to New York, in
a note to Miss Mead, he writes : "Sears came to-day and said he'd
like to have the girl singing under the tree — the sketch I made on
Sunday — 2,000 dols  I hope itwill be worth that. He wants it in
September. I hope he'll get it." This was the water-colour "The
Wandering Minstrel," finished in London early in 1891 .
In March a very successful exhibition of drawings for Old Songs,
The Quiet Life, and Wordsworth's Sonnets, by Abbey and Alfred
Parsons , was held at Reichard 's Gallery ,226 Fifth Avenue ; and later
the exhibition was repeated (of those not sold in New York) in Phila
delphia. A letter from John Hay indicates with happy precision the artist's
other and dominating interest at this time. The date is February
12th, 1890 : "As the newspapers have now trumpeted your happi
ness to the universe, I suppose I may be permitted to say how glad
Mrs. Hay and I are at the good news  I was much disappointed
in not finding you in New York. I sought you at your own lair in
5th Avenue, and searched for you in vain at the monthly meeting of
the Century. But the ways of an engaged man are past finding out,
and I have no doubt you were infinitely better employed on both
occasions. . . .Will you visit Washington before you sail? It is highly
recommended for voyages de noces." 219

THE WEDDING
The wedding was celebrated at the house of Miss Mead's parents,
No. i West 56th Street, on April 22nd, when Mr. Sargent was one of
the ushers. It was a momentous day indeed in Abbey's life, for it
provided him with the loyalest friend and most constant stimulus
and inspirer that a man can ever have had.
Abbey was reticent concerning his deeper emotions, but a pam-
phlet(to be dealtwith fully later on), the author of which had never
seen him, his home, or any member of his family, entitled "Little
Journeys to the Homes of Eminent Artists," evoked from him an
expression of feeling which , though it belongs to 1 902 , 1 should like
to quote here. Concerning a statement there printed, to the effect
that Mrs. Abbey's only thought was to minister to her household,
Abbey wrote to his old friend Laffan: "As you know — all of you— I
owe so much of whatever I have achieved to her who has been to me
such a faithful ally and comrade, and without whose steady encou
ragement, help and inspiration I never in this world could have
reached whatever I have reached , that a remark like this is little less
than insulting. She has kept so much in the background that I feel
positively ashamed that those she knew before I took her should
think that through me she had become a mere hausfrau." And on
the margin of the pamphlet itself, Abbey wrote in 191 o, after over
twenty years of married happiness , more strongly stiU^I wiU say in
conclusion that it was entirely owing to the encouragement of my
wife that I began to paint seriously at all, and that her high intel
lectual equipment ancTher sympathetic companionship and re
sourceful assistance have carried my work far beyond what it must
havebeen withoutthese inestimable aids. A painter's finished work
is given to the world, and the public generaUy may see it, but very
few can know whence his greatest inspirations and his highest as
pirations have been drawn. In saying this I am doing but scant
justice to one who has been my daily and hourly companion and
counsellor and friend these twenty years . " 1

220

CHAPTER XXIII
AN ACKNOWLEDGED MASTER
Taking Stock — Henry James on Abbey — The Paris Exhibition — AjFrench Critic
— Meissonier and Edmond de Goncourt — Pennell's Pen Drawing and Pen
Draughtsmanship — The Masters of Modern Illustration — Menzel and Abbey —
Beginning of the " Comedies "
AT the time of his marriageEdwin Austin Abbey was just
thirty-eight years of age, and before him were twenty-
one years of unceasing activity and steady advance in
his art— a span which was to see him achieve the highest
distinction, both in the country of his birth and the country of his
residence, as a painter of historical pictures and imaginative mural
decorations. Since the preceding year had brought to him official Continental
recognition through his drawings at the great Paris Exhibition, and
had launched him as an illustrator of Shakespeare (the first of the
"Comedies" had just been published in Harper's Magazine, in De
cember, 1889), and had witnessed his early efforts to master the
mystery of oil painting , this becomes a fitting point— while he pauses
between the old medium and the new — to take note of the illustra
tor's position as a black-and-white draughtsman which he had made
for himself.
In an earher chapter, in the account of Broadway , has been quoted
Henry James's appreciation on that serene Worcestershire haven.
The article from which the extracts are taken was printed in Har
per's Magazine for June of this year, 1889, under the title " Our
Artists in Europe" — "our" meaning not America's artists but the
magazine's; for, in addition to Millet, Abbey (with the crayon por
trait by Mr. Sargent which is reproduced in this biography) , Bough
ton and Reinhart, George du Maurier and Alfred Parsons were in
cluded. Of Abbey as an artist Henry James wrote with the warmest
admiration, and with all his sensitive scientific precision. I quote a
221

HENRY JAMES
little: "There is no paucity about Mr. Abbey as a virtuoso in black-
and-white , and if one thing more than another sets the seal upon the
quality of his work, it is the rare abundance in which it is produced.
It is not a frequent thing to find combinations infinite as well as ex
quisite. Mr . Abbey has so many ideas, and the gates of composition
have been opened so wide to him that we cultivate his company with
a mixture of confidence and excitement. . . . The beautiful art and
taste, the admirable execution, strike the hour with the same note;
but the figure, the scene, is ever a fresh conception. Never was ripe
skill less mechanical, and never was the faculty of perpetual evoca
tion less addicted to prudent economies. Mr. Abbey never saves
for the next picture, yet the next picture will be as expansive as the
last 
' ' I may as well frankly declare that I have such a taste for Mr. Ab-
| bey's work that I cannot affect a judicial tone about it. Criticism is
\ appreciation or it is nothing. . . . It is important to translate as ade-
quately-as possible the positive side of Mr. Abbey's activity. None
to-day is more charming, and none helps us more to take the large,
joyous, observant, various view of the business of art. He has en
larged the idea of illustration, and he plays with it in a hundred
spontaneous, ingenious ways. (Truth and poetry' is the motto that
is legibly stamped upon his pencil-case, for if he has on the one side
a singular sense of the familiar, sahent, importunate facts of life, on
the other, they reproduce themselves in his mind in a dehghtfuUy
qualifying medium^ It is that medium that the fond observer must
especially envy MnAbbey, and that a literary observer will envy
him most of all — A charming story-teller indeed he would be who
should write as Mr. Abbey draws. . . . It is true that what the verbal
artist would like to do would b e to find out the secret of the pictorial,
to drink at the same fountain. Mr. Abbey is essentially one of those
who would tell us if he could , and conduct us to the magic spring;but
here he is, in the nature of the case , helpless , for the happy ambiente,
as the Italians call it, in which his creations move is exactly the thing,
as I take it , that he can least give an account of. It is a matter of genius
and imagination . ' '-When one reads such a tribute as this , conscious
222

THE PARIS EXHIBITION
of all its underlying friendliness , Stevenson 's phrase , in his rhyming
letter, "Henry James, the prince of men," rings through the cham
bers ofthe brain.*
Sixteen ofthe drawings for Old Songs formed part of the Ameri
can exhibit in the great Paris Exhibition of thisyear, 1889. An article
on America's contribution, in Harper's for September, by Theo
dore Child , ends with a reference to the Abbey drawings, of which
this is the concluding sentence: "This century has produced four
incomparable draughtsmen with the pen: their names are Meisso
nier, Menzel, Vierge and Abbey."
ForhisworkshownatthegreatexhibitionAbbey was, as hasbeen
said, awarded the first-class medal. A French critic, M.Andre Sag-
lio, commenting at the time upon the drawings for the Old Songs,
in which he found an "incroyable finesse," described their creator
as"unhommepetit,vigoureux, al'ceilvif, ala conversation enjouee
etpleinede saillies. "Meissonier, according to Mr. Theodore Child,
after seeing Abbey's drawings, expressed the opinion that a spe
cial Medaille d'Honneur should be created to comprise black-and-
white, in order rightly to recognise the work of "a little man" (as he
expressed it) ' ' walking up and down in America who is the king of us
aU"; whUe among Abbey's other French admirers was Edmond de
Goncourt, who bought a copy of She Stoops to Conquer, and greatly
prized it. It was of de Goncourt, who spent a fortune on acquiring
beautiful things, and of Abbey that a Frenchman said: "De Gon
court has collected theeighteenth century; Abbey has recreatedit."
In Mr. Joseph Pennell's monograph, Pen Drawing and Pen
Draughtsmanship, which appeared later in 1889, with a drawing
from She Stoops to Conquer as frontispiece, Abbey holds a high
place. After stating that it is the duty of every illustrator and every
one who cares for illustrations to own the Herrick, She Stoops to
Conquer and Old Songs, the author adds that as awhole Old Songs is
infinitely Abbey's finest work to date. Since the criticisms are based
* It should be mentioned that the article on Broadway and Harper's artists in Europe,
together with that on Abbey in Harper's Weekly, in 1886, from which quotations have
earlier been made, were collected, with a few others, by Henry James, in a little volume
called Picture and Text, in 1893.
223

JOSEPH PENNELL
upon the body of Abbey's work already before us, I quote further
from this first serious attempt in England to give pen-drawing its
due. "While the superficial qualities of Abbey 's work [Mr. PenneU
wrote] can be imitated by anyone, his rendering of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries, which he has reconstructed so wonder
fully, will never be approached on the lines he is following. His
present position as an illustrator has been attained and maintained
simply by treating illustration, as it should be treated , as seriously as
j any other branch of art. He is remarkable not so much for academic
correctness — as is Menzel, for example — but rather for his truth,
, thebeautyof his line and his power of expression. NoiUustratorhas
realised more beautiful women or finer swaggering gallants, and no
one has placed them in more appropriate surroundings. He makes
the figures real for us because all the backgrounds and accessories
are taken directly from nature. "~)
Before the book was passed for press the Paris Exhibition of 1 889
was opened, and Mr. PenneU had an opportunity to see the drawings
collected together there. Having done so, he added this footnote :
' 'After a rather careful examination of the drawings and engravings
in the Paris Exhibition of this year (1889) I cannot help being con
scious of the fact that I have not given Abbey the place which he
really deserves . Menzel is the founder of modern iUustxation ; For-
tuny, Rico, and Vierge have been its most powerful apostles, and
among the cleverest men their influence will never grow less. But
while Menzel 's methods are obsolete, and Vierge's style can only be
attempted by the most brilliant, anyone can see that a new school is
arising, and this is the school of Abbey , who has at the present mo
ment followers in every illustrating country in the world, men who
are seeking to carry out his method of brilliant drawing carefully and
seriously executed . . . American pen drawing, this exhibition con
clusively proves, is the best, and American process reproduction
is the most sympathetic, and American printing the most careful,
and it is this harmonious co-operation which has enabled Abbey to
become not only, as I have written, the greatest English-speaking
illustrator, but the greatest living illustrator."
224

ABBEY AND MENZEL
Elsewhere speaking of Menzel, whom Abbey also held in thehigh-
est reverence, Mr. PenneU wrote : "Personally I prefer the delicate
refinement of Abbey in this sort of work to the brute strength of
Menzel. Bothmen can draw details; but Abbey seems to love them;
Menzel, though he never slights or draws them badly, apparently
hates to be obliged to do them."*
It was after the publication both of Henry James's article and
Mr. Pennell's book that the drawings for the first of the illustrated
ComeolifiSjoiShakespeare appeared in the magazine — those for The
Merry Wives of Windsor — where it is at once recognised by all good
judges that Abbey's genius had advanced still further.
There have been countless illustrations of Shakespeare, but none
have approached the debonair charm of those which were now be
ginning to enchant the readersoTHarper 's , and which would, one
likes to fancy and believe, have given pleasure to the dramatist him
self. Surely his gracious, courtly and whimsical world was never so
translated into delicate life !
The series, it is interesting to note, was heralded by an article by
William Winter in Harper's Bazaar. There was symmetry in the
choice of the writer of the appreciation, since it was for the imme
diate purpose of illustrating an essay by Mr. Winter on Stratford-
on-Avon that, as we know, Abbey had come to England in 1 878 : so
that now, eleven years later, after a period in which he had made be
wildering strides and had come to his own, and when he was about
to publish realisations of the creations of Stratford-on-Avon 's poet,
an article from the same hand was curiously appropriate.
The essays which accompanied Abbey's drawings in the maga
zine were by Andrew Lang , who worked , however, for the most part
quite independently , and expressed no views as to his collaborator's
share bey ond , in the notes to The Merchant of Venice , calling it ' ' dar
ing" and now and then remarking that the illustrator's idea of a cha
racter was not shared by him. Lang also rather deprecated efforts at
* When Mr. Pennell's book went into a second edition in 1894, Abbey's drawing for
She Stoops to Conquer was relegated to the second place, and a new drawing by him,
made for The Deserted Village (" Every pang that folly pays to pride,") which is included
in the present work, had the position of honour, but the reproduction was disappointing.
R 225

HISTORICAL ACCURACY
historical precision, since Shakespeare himself was so careless — a
sentiment that can havebeen littleto Abbey's taste. His friend John
Hay understood him better. "It is bad enough," he wrote, apropos
of Abbey's labours in the interests of historical veracity, "to write
history — but, after all , when your fact eludes you , you [the historian]
can smear it over and nobody knows any better. But you [the artist]
can't dodge the facts in your picture; you have got to be right or
wrong; and to a fellow who has a prejudice for being right — as you
have — it must be the divil's own job to tackle Shake. But you don't
fail; and you are too mature to acquire the habit of failure now."
One more tribute . Let this chapter be brought to anjend by a pas
sage written by Abbey's old friend, Hopkinson Smith, himself an
artist and "The Owl" of the Tile Club, summingup Abbey 'sgifts as
an illustrator. It occurs in an article written for Scribner' s Magazine
a few years later , to which we shall return . £1 Abbey , ' ' wrote Hopkinr
son^Smith, "in his art really has done what Wagner has done in
music, Tennyson and the poets in verse. He has taken the old, re
touched it, and made it new, giving us something infinitely better
than the thing he found. An author's noblest work, his truest ideal,
may indeed be always safely trusted in his hands^ Dr. Holmes once
said to an artist who illustrated one of his poems, I am so glad. I was
afraid you would spoil it. " I am so glad ' wxmld have been the verdict
of Goldsmith and of all the old English balladists whose men and
women Abbey 's touch has glorified . ' '

CHAPTER XXIV
THE BOSTON LIBRARY COMMISSION
1890 Aged 38
Another Critical Year — The Boston Public Library — Charles Follen McKim —
St. Gaudens — Abbey Becomes a Mural Painter — First Ideas for a Frieze — The
Quest of the Holy Grail— A Twelve Years' Task
WE have seen how critical a period Abbey had been
passing through in the last twelve months; and
now other influences were converging upon him
destined still more drastically to rearrange his life.
There was at that time in course of construction inBostonanew
building for thePublic Library . The architect-in-chief was Abbey 's
old friend, the late Charles Follen McKim, who, born in 1847, was
then forty-two and a member of the famous firm of which Stan
ford White arid William Rutherford Mead were the other partners.
This structure, which is considered to be one of the most satisfy
ing of modern American civic edifices, was to be beautiful and dis
tinguished both within and without, and already St. Gaudens had
been commissioned to design and execute for it various groups of
statuary. To the plastic artists were now to be added E.A.Abbey and
J.S. Sargent, and later Puvis de Chavannes.
Various stories have b een told as to who it was that was gifted with
sufficient insight to detect in the black-and-white drawings of Ab
bey the germ of great mural decoration, but to those competent to
judge — to such architects as White and McKim (who were artists as
well as architects) and to St. Gaudens— this required no remarka-
bleperspicacity,for Abbey hadlong been recognised by them all as
a master of design. St. Gaudens, at any rate, must have his share of
the honour. It was while Miss Mead, not long before her marriage,
was sitting to him for a portrait in bas relief, which was to be the
sculptor's wedding present to Abbey, that the architects and trus
tees were in conclave on the subj ect , and naturally the trend of these
consultations was mentioned. One day during one of the long talks
227

AUGUSTUS ST. GAUDENS
that enlivened the sittings St. Gaudens spoke of the desire of Mc
Kim and White and of himself that Abbey should take a hand in the
Boston decorations, but added they had very little hope, as Abbey
had his living to make andthetaskmustnecessarily bevery arduous
and protracted, and also — a more serious matter — underpaid, since
the money voted for the building had already been exceeded by a
vast sum, and too little was left for "the carving and the gilding."
That is to say, if Abbey undertook this work, which must cost him
immense labour (and this the sequel proved to be the case) , it would
mean the giving up of the greater part of his income for a number of
years — no small consideration when one remembers that he now
had a new home to establish and maintain.
Miss Mead, however, replied that, in spite of that, she believed
some such big task was the very thing that Abbey would like to un
dertake, and, in her opinion, should undertake ,(that he had recently
said to her that since he had finished his ' ' Corinna ' ' he would like to
experiment mnrejargf lyfjrhat he would really welcome the chance
to see what he could do . On leaving the studio St . Gaudens reported
this conversation to McKim and White, and the result was that the
matter was discussed by all parties concerned and more or less set
tled — subject, of course, to the consent of the library trustees.
The following characteristic note to Abbey from St. Gaudens
bears upon the great scheme:
"Darling, "McKim, White, Sargent, thee and I dine at the Players Wed
nesday night this week at 7 .30, D .V. , so help me G . But, be Jasus,
McKim don't want any other fellow round, although I tried to [get]
the whole crew together as we had agreed. The photos will be on
hand. If you can't come, let me know right away. The Medallion*
looks like hell. I thought I had done a good thing, but it makes me
sick! St.G."
* This medallion portrait of Miss Mead underwent changes. Originally it was about
three feet square, depicting a figure gathering blossoms from an apple tree, after one of
Abbey's own designs and by way of compliment to him. But St. Gaudens was dissatis
fied, and finally cut it down to its present size, showing only the head and shoulders.
228

MEDALLION PORTRAIT OF MARY GERTRUDE MEAD, MODELLED BY AUGUSTUS
SAINT GAUDENS EARLY IN 1890 AS A WEDDING GIFT TO EDWIN A. ABBEY.

C. F. McKIM
The following letter from McKim makes further arrangements :
"Mydear Abbey, "May 12111,1890.
"Herter is at work on a model of the Shakespeare room, which
will be sent to you to-morrow afternoon . I have not been able to get
in to see you, but will try to do so to-morrow.
"Abbott writes from Boston expressing the pleasure of the trus
tees in anticipation of your visit, and says that they have got various
nice people to meet you and Sargent and St. Gaudens. Altogether
things look well for the great enterprise . Abbott is in hearty accord
with the movement. Iwillshowyouhisletterwhenlcome. As the
dinner has been ordered nothing must happen by any chance to our
party. They are confidently expecting Sargent to come with us. It
would undoubtedly be a black eye to the proceedings if any part of
the New York contingent should fail in the face of their prepara
tions. "I am sorry that I could not get the model to you to-day, but it
was impossible. As it is it will be a very rough affair, but perhaps
sufficiently truthful in proportion to answer your purpose.
"I will not write St. Gaudens if you will send a messenger to him
apprising him of what I have written. "In haste, yours, "C.F.McKim."
One day in May, when the spring was at its very best, the expe
dition to Boston duly came off. The apple orchards with their huge
trees were in bloom, and through miles and miles of these vast gar
dens the train passed on its way. That there might be a greater
chance for talk and festivity, and in honour of Mrs. Abbey, who
was invited too, McKim had hired a private car — which in America
is a large affair, seating fifty to sixty passengers. Mr. Sargent was
also ofthe party. Arrived in Boston, they trooped off to see a base-
baU match , and in the evening the men met at the fateful dinner with
the trustees, the president of whom was Mr. Samuel A.B .Abbott.
Considering how vastly different had b een Abb ey 's previous work;
considering his age, when most men are no longer very susceptible 229

THE BOSTON COMMISSION
to new ideas and new media; and considering that he had produced
only two oil paintings in his life— the "May-Day Morning" and the
New Amsterdam hotel decoration — we must not withhold from the
trustees a very warm admiration for their wilhngness to acquiesce
in what it is impossible to describe in any other way than as an ex
periment. That Mr. Sargent, who had long been known as a great
painter, should be invited was natural enough; but the choice of a
beginner in paint,as Abbey was, was astrokeof inspired daring. All
honour to them.
When Abbey came away from Boston, to sail for England, he car
ried with him a commission, more or less definite, to provide the
Delivery Room of the Library with a frieze 180 feet long by 8 feet
high, to consist of a series of appropriate designs — the theme to be
his own choice — for which the sum of 15,000 doUars (or, roughly,
three thousand English pounds) was to be paid.
Such a task had, of course, to be spread over a number of years,
and, though it is to anticipate rather hberaUy, it may be well here
to explain on what lines Abbey decided to work, reaching his final
scheme only, of course, by gradual stages. Two letters, written by
him on board the Trave in May, tell the story and outhne his first
thoughts. This is to his brother: "My big commission was only
finally secured when I wired to you. I hadn'tdecided that we should
go until then. We had taken our passage, but should have given it
up if I had not heard definitely that afternoon. This commission is
the decoration ofthe distributing room ofthe Boston Public Library
—a room 40 by 60 feet and 2 1 feet high — or somewhere in that neigh
bourhood. Therearetobenobook-shelveson the walls, andlam to
paint large panels with subjects taken either altogether from Shake
speare, or, one each, from some typical writer of the various coun
tries of Europe. Sargent is to do another room — a special library —
and I may do a special library also. La Farge is doing another. [No
thing was done by La Farge.] There isn't an awful lot of money in
this — there never is in these things — but I hope what I receive will
enable me to keep out of debt . This is quite strictly private at present.
Sargent and I went over with McKim and St. Gaudens— who is
230

THE FIRST IDEA
1 doingtwolargegroups forthefrontof thebuilding — and dined with
the trustees and moneyed men of Boston and orated to them of our
ideas, and were very finely received indeed. I want now to see the
Vatican Library and the church at Perugia, Orcagna's frescoes at
Orvieto, and some things at Florence before I begin, and I shall
spend the summer getting together my ideas and finishing up what
I can of Shakespeare's Comedies."
Abbey's other letter, written on board ship to McKim, outlines
the artist's first idea of thetheme."Asto subject, the great difficulty
of generalising the literature ofthe civilised world is really stagger
ing. What I proposed to Abbott was this — eight panels with subjects
divided up something like this:
England — something from either Shakespeare, Chaucer
France — ,, ,, ,, The Song of Roland, Rabelais,
Moliere, Froissart
Spain — ,, ,, ,, Don Quixote, The Chronicle of
the Cid
Germany — ,, ,, ,, Some Rhine legend, Goethe
Scandinavia — ,, ,, ,, A saga of some sort
Italy — ,, ,, ,, Dante, Boccaccio
Greece — ,, ., „ Homer
U.S.A. — „ ,, ,, Hawthorne
Of course this is very vague. I dare say any selection I made would
come in for any amount of criticism. As to adhering to the ori
ginal idea of doing a room altogether of Shakespearean subjects,
I have a sneaking hope that I may still do the little room upstairs
—the special library — as we had originally planned.
' ' I wonder how John [Sargent] is getting on , and whether you have
built him a beautiful model yet. I went into his studio a day or two
before I sailed and saw stacks of sketches of nude people — saints, I
dare say, most of them, although from my cursory observations of
them they seemed a bit earthy . You will surely get a great thing from
him. He can do anything, and don't know himself what he can do.
He is latent with all manner of possibilities, and the Boston people 231

J. S. SARGENT
need not be afraid that he will be eccentric or impressionistic, or
anything that is not perfectly serious and non-experimental when
it comes to work of this kind. I don't want a model myself; a careful
and exact plan will do for me . If I want a model , I can get one knocked
together over here . " Abbey 's first scheme was thought of only to be
rej ected . Continuing his search and pondering earnestly the legend
of the Holy -Grail, he realised its perfect adaptability. Moreover,
the subject being common to all literatures and all countries, it
had peculiar fitness as a symbol for a library where all learning was
stored. Abbey, as weknow, never feared hard work,and, with Mrs. Abbey
to help him in the amassing of authorities, he read every variant of
the legend until, a master of all, he was so saturated with it as to be
able to fuse the versions and create a new one of his own, capable of
being divided dramatically into the requisite number of panels.
In the end the story was told in fifteen scenes, the period decided
upon being the twelfth century . In the first scene — and in this sum
mary use has been made of the catalogue of the exhibition of the
second part of the series , in the GuildhaU in 1 90 1 , which was a com
posite work of Henry James and Mrs . Abbey — in the first scene the
child Galahad, the descendant, by his mother, of Joseph of Arima-
thea, is visited , among the nuns who bring him up , by a dove bearing
a golden censer and an angel carrying the Grail, the presence of
which operates as sustenance to the infant. From the hands of the
holy women, in the legend, the predestined boy passes into those of
the subtle Gurnemanz, who instructs him in the knowledge of the
things of theworld and the duties and functions ofthe ideal knight.
The next panel shows Galahad at the end of his vigil. Clothed in
red, he is girt for going forth by Sir Launcelot, who fastens on one of
his spurs, and Sir Bors, who attaches the other.
In the next panel we see the Arthurian Round Tab le and the curi
ous fable of the Seat Perilous, the seat "perilous for good or UI," in
which no man has yet sat with safety , not even the fashioner himself,
but into which, standing vacant while it awaits only a blameless oc
cupant, the young Sir Galahad, knighted by Arthur, has sworn a
232

KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE.
GALAHAD IS LED BY JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA TO THE SEAT PERILOUS.
Twenty-four feet by eight feet.
A PANEL OF THE HOLY GRAIL FRIEZE IN THE BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY.
1891-1893.
FOLLOWED BY A CHARCOAL STUDY FOR THE PANEL.
1892.

THE KNIGHTS OF KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE RECEIVING THE BISHOP'S
BENEDICTION BEFORE THEIR DEPARTURE ON THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.
A PANEL OF THE HOLY GRAIL FRIEZE IN THE BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY.
Twenty-two feet by eight feet.
1892-1894.

THE HOLY GRAIL
vow to be worthy to take his place. In the painting he comes to do so.
The Companions ofthe Order are seated in Arthur 's Hall , and every
chair save one is filled. Suddenly the doors and windows close of
themselves, the place becomes suffused with light, and Sir Galahad,
rqbedin-redr, is led in by an old man clothed in white, Joseph of Ari-
mathea, who, according to one of the most artless features of the
romance, has subsisted for centuries by the possession of the su
preme relic.
The knights are next seen about to go forth on their search for the
Holy Grail, now formally instituted by King Arthur. They have
heard Mass and are receiving the episcopal benediction, Sir Gala
had at their head.
Amfortas, the Fisher King,King of theGrail,havingbeen wound
ed several centuries before for taking up arms in the cause of unlaw
ful love, lies under a spell, with all the inmates of the Castle of the
Grail, where the fifth scene is laid . They are (the description of this
panel isfromthepen of Henry James) spiritually dead, andalthough
theGrail oftenappears in theirvery midst, they cannotsee it. From
this strange perpetuation of ineffectual life they can none of them,
women or men, priests or soldiers or courtiers, be liberated by death
until the blameless knight shall at last arrive. Itwill not be suffi
cient, however, that he simply penetrates into the castle: to the
operation of the remedy is attached that condition which recurs so
often in primitive romance, the asking of a question on which every
thing depends. In the painting Sir Galahad has reached his goal, but
at the very goal his single slight taint of imperfection, begotten of
the too worldly teaching of Gurnemanz, defeats his beneficent ac
tion. Before him passes the procession of the Grail, moving between
the great fires and the trance-smitten king, and gazing at it he tries
to arrive, in his mind, at an interpretation of what it means. He sees
the bearer of the Grail, the damsel with the Golden Dish (the pro
totype of whom was Herodias bearing the head of John the Baptist
on a charger), the two knights with the Seven-branch Candlestick,
and the knight holding aloft the Bleeding Spear. The duty resting
upon him is to ask what these things denote, but, with the presump- 233

THE HOLY GRAIL
tion of one who supposes himself to have imbibed all knowledge, he
forbears, considering that he is competent to guess . But he pays for
his silence, inasmuch as it forfeits for him the glory of redeeming
from this paralysis of centuries the old monarch and his hollow- eyed
Court , forever dying and never dead , whom he leaves folded in their
dreadful doom.
The next painting depicts the morning after Galahad 's visit to the
Castle of the Grail. Having ridden forth, he meets three damsels,
the first, the Loathly Damsel, riding upon a pale mule with agolden
bridle . This lady , once beautiful inform and features , is now , though
noble still in form , hideous in feature , and in her arms is the head of
a dead king encircled with a golden crown . The second lady is riding
in themanner of an esquire; the third is onher feet, dressed asastrip-
ling , and in her hand is ascourge with which she drives the two riders .
These damsels are under the spellof the Grail Castle. Amagic power
is used , against her will , by the Loathly Damsel to tempt and destroy
knights and kings. She, with her two companions, must continue to
wander, doing deeds of wickedness, until the sinless Virgin Knight
shall come to the Grail Castle and ask concerning the wonders he
sees there. They now assail Sir Galahad with reproaches, cursing
him for having failed on the previous day to ask the Question which
not only would have delivered them and the inmates of the Castle
but would have restored peace and plenty to the land. The earth
must now remain barren and Sir Galahad wander forth again, fol
lowed by the curses of the peasantry, while war rages throughout
the land. He must encounter many adventures, suffer many sor
rows, and many years must pass before he returns once more to the
Castle of the Grail , where , having through all ordeals remained sin
less, he will finally ask the Question and redeem the sin-stricken
land. In the seventh panel Galahad is seen at the gate of the "Castle of
the Maidens, "fighting with the seven "Knights of Darkness" (the
seven "Deadly Sins"), who have imprisoned a great company of
maidens ("The Virtues") in order to keep them from all contact
with man . Galahad 's mission being to overcome Sin and redeem the
234

STUDY OF A JESTER, IN AN UNUSED PANEL OF THE HOLY GRAIL FRIEZE.
1892.

THE HOLY GRAIL
world by setting free the Virtues, he fights the seven Knights and
overcomes them.
In the eighth panel Sir Galahad having passed the outer gate of
the Castle, encounters a Monk, who blesses him and delivers up to
him the keys of the Castle.
In the ninth his entry into the Castle is shown. The imprisoned
maidens, who have long been expecting him, for it had been pro
phesied that the perfect knight would come to deliver them, wel
come him with shy delight, putting out their hands to be kissed.
There ends the first of Galahad 's missions . In the next panel we
see him leaving Blanchefleur, his wife and earthly love, on their
wedding morn: perforce, because a vision had shown him that only
by a Virgin Knight could the Quest be achieved. Spiritually he and
his wife — the"White Flower"of perfect womanhood — are one.
Having passed through many adventures , Sir Galahad returns in
the eleventh panel to the Castle of the Grail. The procession of the
Grail having once more passed before him, and, grown wise by
knowledge and suffering, he has asked the Question and thereby
healed Amfortas, cleansed him from his sin, and allowed the old
Kingtodie. In thepaintingweseetheKingdyingin Galahad 'sarms
and the Angel bearing away the Grail from the Castle.
Having now accomplished his great task , Galahad is guided by the
spirit of the Grail towards the goal which shall crown his labours —
the achievement of the Grail. He is directed towards the sea, to
Solomon's ship , which shall bear him to Sarras , there to be crowned
king, and there the Grail itself will finally appear to him. In the
twelfth panel we see him, on a white charger, passing from the land ,
where peace and plenty once more reign, followed by the blessings
ofthe people.
The thirteenth panel depicts Galahad in the ship . Sir Bors and Sir
Percival accompany him, for, although, having sinned once, they
can never see the Grail themselves , yet having persevered faithfully
in the Quest, they have acquired the right to accompany Sir Galahad
and witness his achievement . Resting upon a cushion in the stern of
the ship are three spindles made from the " Tree of Life ' '—one snow- 235

THE HOLY GRAIL
white, one green, one blood-red. When Eve was driven from the
Garden of Eden she carried with her the branch she had plucked
from the "Tree of Life," and, having planted it, the branch grewto
be a tree, with branches and leaves white, in token that Eve was a
virgin when she planted it . When Cain was begotten the tree turned
green, and afterwards, when Cain slew Abel, the tree turned red.
The Grail, borne by an angel, guides the ship .
The fourteenth panel shows us the walls of the city of Sarras; the
fifteenth, and last, the city itself, of which Sir Galahad is now king,
upon a hill in which he has made a Sacred Place and built a Golden
Tree. Morning and evening he repairs thither, and from day to day
he beautifies the Tree, and, finally, now that it is complete, Joseph
of Arimathea (with a company of Angels) appears with the Grail. As
Sir Galahad gazes upon it , crown , sceptre , and earthly robe fall from
him — he no longer needs them . He utters thanks to God for having
let him see that which tongue may not describe, nor heart think.
Having now beheld that which is the source of aU life and knowledge
and power, his spirit can no longer remain in the narrow confines of
his body. The Grail itself is borne heavenward and is never again
seen on this earth.
It would be interesting to know how many of the thousands of
persons who have visited the Boston Library to see the finished pic
tures have given a thought to the labour which had to precede the
actual painting. We think of an artist as one who dips his brush into
the colour and continues to do so until the canvas is covered. That
certainly underestimates the seriousness at any rate of the conscien
tious historical painter; and this book will have been mishandled if
by the end of it a new conception of the arduousness of his toil is
not established. But in the Holy Grail decorations Abbey had to be
more than an historical painter: he had to be a poet, too.
There for the present we will leave them. From time to time we
shall find references in the artist's letters to the progress of his work;
but even when we do not, we ought to bear in mind that this task
was in steady progress until 1902. During all that timeAbbeycanbe
visualised as making his studies, painting, painting out, repainting,
236

A TWELVE YEARS' TASK
always conscious that the b etter is the enemy of the good ; travelling
for backgrounds; searching old shops for accessories; while in con
stant preparation, under his eye, were the necessary costumes for
the model to wear.

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zy

CHAPTER XXV
ITALIAN TRAVEL AND AN ENGLISH HOME
1890-1891 Aged 38-39
First Academy Picture — Wanderings in England — Fairford and Lechlade — The
Deserted Village — Morgan Hall — Charles Keene — Italian Travel — Domenico
Morelli — Amalfi and Ravello — Raphael's " Jurisprudence " — An Artist's Ideal —
Settlement at Morgan Hall— Mrs. Mead— J. S. Sargent— C. F. McKim— The
Largest Studio in England
THE Abbeys reached London on June 4th, 1890, and in
due course found their way to the Royal Academy , where
the " May-Day Morning " (previously caUed " Corinna
Going a-Maying") was proving itself a very popular pic
ture. Not only did it attract the public, but one famous painter,
at any rate, found it to his mind. "Millais," wrote Mr. J .P. Beadle to
the artist, "was jawing nineteen to the dozen the other day to me in
favour of your picture . It evidently took his eye more than anything
else." It had been Abbey's intention to go at once to Italy, but this plan
wasmodified and the journey didnotbegin until the end of January,
1 89 1 , for on second thoughts he considered it wiser to finish as far as
possible the English subjects he had on hand, and so leave his mind
freewhile abroad for The Tempest,The Two Gentlemen ofVeronaand
other plays set in Italy , and, above all, for undivided attention to the
decorative works ofthe Old Masters. Deciding, therefore, to begin
instantly upon the water-colour , ' ' The Wandering Minstrel, ' ' com
missioned by Montgomery Sears, Abbey and Mrs. Abbey started
upon a search for a background. They went first to Sonning, on the
Thames , to consider again the yard of the old inn there; but , this f aU-
ing,theyexploredforseveraldays,sometimesdrivingandsometimes
walking, Berkshire and Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire,until they
came to a rest at the Bull Inn at Fairford, a suave grey Gloucester
shire village, famous for the stained-glass windows in its beautiful
church. 238

THE VILLAGE PREACHER.
" BESIDE THE BED WHERE PARTING LIFE WAS LAID."
Fourteen and a half inches by ten and a half inches.
1890.
" THE DESERTED VILLAGE." GOLDSMITH.

" BUT THE LONG POMP, THE MIDNIGHT MASQUERADE."
Eighteen inches by eleven and a half inches.
1890.
" THE DESERTED VILLAGE." GOLDSMITH.

I>ffp^ft^ht tyCaspcr &£&¦

" THERE THE PALE ARTIST PLIES THE SICKLY TRADE."
Eleven inches by ten inches.

" THE DESERTED VILLAGE." GOLDSMITH.

MORGAN HALL
As it happened, Fairford was a momentous halting place, for on
the following morning the landlord of the "Bull" mentioned an
empty house which was well worth looking over, and led his guests
to what was destined to be their home for twenty years and the
scene of Abbey 's principal labours — Morgan Hall, a serene, sunny
house with walled gardens and old trees about it, and in front of the
east windows a spacious meadow, eminently fitted (save for a few
isolated trees) to be a cricket ground . Pleasant even then, although
neglected and bare of creepers on the walls, its good fortune was to
become one of the most hospitable of homes, acquiring, as the new
tenants had time to impress themselves upon it, a blend of comfort
and distinction of which they held the secret. But that was not yet.
After a couple of days at Fairford , the Abbeys (still homeless )went
on to Lechlade , three miles away , where they took lodgings at Bridge
House, and here Abbey found in the yard the background he had
been in search of, and at once b egan an oil study , the water-colour to
be painted in London.
Here, in Lechlade, and in all the country about, was also plenty
of material for The Deserted Village, and as the oil study could be
worked upon only towards sunset, the model, Colarossi, was sent
for, and the following drawings were completed: "How often have
I loitered o'er thy green," "When every rood of ground maintain 'd
its man," "His house was known to all the vagrant train," "Beside
the bed where parting life was laid," "His looks adorned the vener-
able place," "A man severe he was and stern to view," "Whilewords
of learned length and thundering sound , " " As some fair female , un
adorned and plain," "Thou foundst me poor at first and keepst me

so."

While at Bridge House, where their landlady was Mrs. Bowley,
who years before had been Abbey's landlady at the Lechlade
"Swan," they saw a good deal of the William Morrises, meeting
them sometimes at Kelmscott, and sometimes, after rowing down
the river, at Buscot Rectory at tea, in the lovely garden there, with
theRectorand hiswife,Mr.andMrs. Birchall, in whose hall Abbey
had painted, in earlier days, the background for his water-colour 239

WINTER WORK IN LONDON
"TheWidower."AndonedayMr.andMrs.MorrisandMissMorristook the Birchalls and the Abbeys on a delightful excursion up the
lovely Coin valley to Chedworth to see the Roman Villa.
Another companion during the Lechlade sojourn was Alfred Par
sons, who, while on a visit to the Abbeys, went over to see Morgan
Hall , and gave it his ben ediction .Other nouses were , as it happened ,
to be seen and considered before the final decision to take this one
was made, but in the end it conquered.
Returning to London, Abbey settled down to work in his own stu
dio at 56 Bedford Gardens, his principal tasks being"The Wander
ing Minstrel," the water-colour "Mariana in the Moated Grange,"
and on foggy days the drawings iorThe Deserted Village. He finished
at that time "Around my fire an evening group to draw," "But the
long p omp , the midnight Masq uerade , ' ' and "No surly p orter stands
in guilty state," the beautiful iron gate in which was drawn from
one of the entrance gates to Holland House. He also, owing to the
darkness of this winter, began and, before going abroad, finished
the nine drawings for Much Ado About Nothing — pen and ink being
unaffected by privation of natural hght. Furthermore, he drew at
this time the figure of Ferdinand from The Tempest, "Where should
thisMusic be? "(the drawing which he showed toMoreUi inNaples),
but the background was done later in Amalfi .
Meanwhile in a little room on the floor below the studio under the
glass-house, Mrs. Abbey superintended the making of costumes,
some f or themen and worn eninMuch Ado , and several for thefigures
in the Holy Grail frieze, tentative sketches for which were already in
being,and these costumes were the nucleus of what in timebecame
an immense collection, the greater part made at home by sewing
women under Mrs. Abbey 's guidance.
For recreation at this time there were the various collections in the
South Kensington Museum, among which they spent most of their
spare late afternoons and evening hours, often to be joined later, in
the grill room , by Henry James, who was then living close by , in De
Vere Gardens, and was a frequent companion. There was also the
excitement of negotiating for Morgan Hall, of which we hear some-
240

DON PEDRO, BENEDICK, CLAUDIO, LEONATO.
BALTHAZAR : " SIGH NO MORE LADIES, SIGH NO MORE,
MEN WERE DECEIVERS EVER."
Twenty-one and a half inches by fourteen inches.
1890.
" MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING," ACT II, SCENE III.

DOGBERRY AND HIS CQMPARTNER WITH THE WATCH.
DOGBERRY : " ARE YOU GOOD MEN AND TRUE ? "
Twenty-one and a half inches by fourteen and a half inches.
" MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING," ACT III, SCENE III.
1890.
A drawing made for the "Comedies," but not hitherto published ¦

CHARLES KEENE'S DEATH
thingdefiniteinaletter in January, 1 891 , from Abbey to Hopkinson
Smith , written from an ' ' absolutely permanent address , the Reform
Club." Inthisletterthenewhomeisdescribed. "Agood-sized old-
fashioned house — with a park and fine old trees (twenty acres) and
two large gardens. Morgan Hall, Fairford, Gloucestershire, is what
you will see painted on the sign, and the oftener you come, and the
longeryou stay when you do come, the better. This is a quiet, peace
ful place when you get into business with lawyers .Three months we
have been rowing over a lease. To be sure, one of the trustees was
thrown by a horse and killed , and the agent shot himself during the
negotiations, but these were comparatively slight hitches and now
everything seems all right  I didn't intend writing such an amus
ing letter when I started it; never mind, I won't do it soon again."
This letter, begun on January 4th, 1 89 1 , goes on to say that "Old
Charles Keene is very ill — not expected to live. He is a great man, all
unappreciated . ' ' Adding to it on January 8th Abbey says : " I saw the
news of dear old Charles's death just after I had written the above."
Keene died on January 4th, aged sixty-seven.
Early in 1891 " The Wandering Minstrel " was finished and de
spatched to its destination in Boston, and "Mariana in the Moated
Grange" was also finished and sent off to New York for the Spring
Exhibition of the American Water-Colour Society, but unfortu
nately it arrived too late. Abbey refers to his disappointment, in
a second letter to Hopkinson Smith, and adds: "I'll write to a few
millionaires (if there are any left) to run down to Franklin his three-
cornered square, and take a look at it (by the way, what a terrible
thing for a scientific man like Franklin to have a three-cornered
square named for him!). Then after these millionaires have gazed
their wicked fill on to the water-colour I'll have it sent back here —
in order that my long-neglected ' Institute' may have a chance at it . "
But Mr. Henry Marquand, the collector, intervened and bought the
picture, which remained in America, and is there still.
Finally , towards the end of January , 1 89 1 ,having started his buil
ders on the necessary work in the house at Fairford and on the build
ing of the big studio, the exact measurements of which were 64 feet
s 241

AN ITALIAN JOURNEY
by 40 feet by 25 feet, Abbey and Mrs. Abbey began their journey to
Italy, stopping a couple of days at Basle to see the collection of fjolr
bein drawings and the Industrial Museum , and a few days in Genoa
foFthFpictures and palaces. Here Abbey made studies of gardens,
of fountains, staircases, little known and weather-beaten statues,
and so forth, for future use in the Shakespeare drawings, in many
a background of which these bits reappear. Then on to Florence and
Rome, but it was not until the return journey that they had more
than a glimpse of these two great places , so anxious were they to get
to the South to meet the spring, thinking to follow it northward later
on. In Florence , however, time was made for a first sight of the gal
leries and of Benozzo Gozzoli's wall paintings in the chapel of the
Riccardi Palace.
In Rome Abbey saw his old friend Ehhu Vedder, known to the
English public chiefly by his illustrated edition of Fitz Gerald's
Omar Khayyam. Vedder was then at 68 Capo le Casa, "as," he says
in a note to Abbey , "any hack driver knows. I should be very sorry
not to see you , " and he adds , in a note of welcome , " I missed seeing
B ill Laffan last winter , and others , and think it hard th at I can never
see any of the dear old set, and want to see what you're like when
married." Passing on to Naples, Abbey presented Alma Tadema's letter of
introduction to Domenico lyToreUT, who, having carried out much
mural painting in Italian churches, not only showed a lively and
sympathetic interest in the projected work of the younger painter,
but told him as far as possible of his own methods and processes.
Morelli, who himself had done beautiful work in black-and-white,
greatly admired the pen-and-ink drawing of Ferdinand, which Ab
bey showed him, and although he was getting to be an old man, and
his wife was ill , he arranged a number of meetings during their short
stay in Naples, and afterwards, until he died a few years later, always
kept in touch with his young fellow artist.
Writing to Alma Tadema from Naples, on February 15th, 1891,
Abbey says: "We have this moment come from a charming visit to
Morelli. Heshowed us, of course, many delightful and extraordinary
242

FERDINAND AND ARIEL.
FERDINAND : "WHERE SHOULD THIS MUSIC BE ? I' TH' AIR OR TH' EARTH V
Seventeen and three-quarter inches by eleven and a half inches.
1890-1891.
"THE TEMPEST," ACT I SCENE II.

— i

© Harper & Bruthera.

i

DOMENICO MORELLI
things — among them a beautiful water-colour, of which I dare say
you may have seen a study , for the subj ect is evidently one he has had
in his mind for some time: three angels alighted in a flowery place
somewhere under a clear delicate yellow sky. . . .
"We are in rude health, and it seems so long since we left Lon
don that I am gladly ceasing to remember how we toil there, like
gnomes in the earth, and am only living in a present state of bright
weather. Ithasbeen cloudy, tobesure,and last night there was a fall
of nice , clean , white snow , and the wind roars ab out this height upon
which we are perched , and from our window [in the Hotel Bristol]
weseethewholeexpanseofthebayruffledwithwhite-cappedwaves. Still we know there must be warm weather here sometimes, or the
people would not be so weU prepared to enjoy it. The occupation
of hair-combing in streets and public places (an occupation which
seems to take the place here of fox-hunting and partridge-shoot
ing in ruder and more northern climes) is carried on with more or
less discomfort in a high wind. The flea-catchers wander about the
streets, their occupation gone for the present;but we are confidently
assured that happier days are in store for us all , and that over the hills
at Amalfi and Ravello the sun shines brightly all day long, and one
may bask in the sun there undisturb ed by wTind and dust — which we
shall do after next Wednesday. I think we have enjoyed Genoa as
much as Naples, and I hope we can go back there. We scampered
through Rome . TheCarnival was in possession , and we merely drove
and wandered about,
"We are oppressed by the grandeur of our apartment, which is
gorgeous in the extreme. To be sure we have no place to put our
things away, nor to hang things up, and our washing arrangements
are of a sketchy character; but the furniture of our sitting room is gilt
and scrolly,and we have several large mirrors and many lustered
arrangements for holding candles (at a franc per candle), and then
there is the view, which is the most expensive thing one can have in
these Italian hotels. ... As we sit at table d'hdte behind our half-
gallon demijohn of Chianti , our thoughts turn sadly back to the hap
py friends we have left behind — in aland where the churches and
243

DEATH OF "COUSIN JO"
galleries are properly warmed and where no pretence is made about
a sun which is warranted to shine — and don't."
From Tadema's reply I take some sentences: "I suppose you do
nottravelwith your books? It would be so nice if you could give one
to Morelli . He appreciates that sort of thing so much , and I know he
will appreciate your art as much as anyone. You know his drawings
in p en and ink ? H e has done such b eauties . We have two of them .
Has not he a fine head? He must be getting old.
"Don't forget to go to La Cava and Paestum. Those ruined tem
ples are full of suggestions for backgrounds. . . . The drive back
through Salerno and Vietri is beautiful — you will enjoy it. Please,
when you do , think of us . Those carriages with three horses and a
fellow hanging on behind are quite fine. When you pass a cornfield
beginning to get green, point it out to the veturino and say 'Maca
roni .' They like that sort of thing . ' '
In Naples much time was spent inks wonderful Museum, and, as
always in Abbey's journeys, all the curiosity shops were minutely
explored. A day was spent atPompeii, and Capodimonte and afew
other gardens were visited for the views and always with the hope of
good Shakespearian settings, but Abbey's happiness was suddenly
dashed by the news of the death of Mrs . Henry Curtiss , the ' ' Cousin
Jo" with whom so many of his early New York memories were asso
ciated and whom he had always very deeply loved .
Having no further spirit for Naples , he left and went on by train to
Vietri , from thence driving the several miles alongthe coast to Amalfi.
Here he made studies of caves, of rock formations, of huge cactuses
and fig trees , many of which can be seen in the drawings for The Tem
pest; studies of blossoming trees — almond and peach, oleander and
orange and olive ; and several studies of lemongroves , one of whichhe
used in A Winter's Tale for the pen-drawing of "Perdita and Flori-
zel," while others served useful purposes for many years to come.
The Abbeys stayed at the Hotel Capuccini , which was once a mo
nastery, in the middle of architecture and gardens and scenery
almost embarrassingly rich: "Material enough," Abbey tells Mr.
Spielmann,"to last me for years." Ina letter to Hopkinson Smith a
244

THE BANQUET.
SOLEMN AND STRANGE MUSIC, WITH PROSPERO AT THE TOP, INVISIBLE. ENTER SEVERAL
STRANGE SHAPES, BRINGING IN A BANQUET.
Twenty-one and a half inches by fourteen and a half inches.
1891.
" THE TEMPEST," ACT III, SCENE III.

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ALONZO AND GONZALO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, ADRIAN AND FRANCISCO.
PROSPERO (in his magic robes) : " THERE STAND,
FOR YOU ARE SPELL-STOPP'D."
Twenty-one inches by fourteen and a half inches.
1891.
"THE TEMPEST," ACT V. SCENE I.

RAVELLO
fuller description is found: "Peach blossoms relieved against pale
evening skies and white-washed walls engage my attention — at pre
sent. A lovelier place than this is — ain't. O n the hills above, Ravello,
a perfectly beautiful, old, out-of-the-way place, is a mine whence I
expect to dig enough to last me through a couple of years of work 
I am sitting in the organ loft of an old chapel (the landlord is saying
his prayers in front of me) in which is a lovely old bird's-egg blueor-
gan, of which I have been doing a careful study , with a view to ulti
mate white nuns singing Vespers, candles on the altar below, seen
through the lattice in the front. How's that? I wonder if you have
been here? It is an old monastery on the side of a cliff over the sea.
We sleep in cells and eat in an old refectory , with a crucifix in the ceil
ing. . . . The landlord is not (as suggested above) eternally thinking
out plans for screwing another franc out of you, and Cookies don't
penetrate this far into the country . ' '
At Ravello, where the Abbeys remained for several weeks, their
rooms opened upon a pergola, of which Abbey made a study to be
afterwards used for his picture "O Mistress Mine, where are you
roaming? "now in the Walker Art GaTleryinLivefpool.Healsomade
many studies of patterns of Byzantine mosaics in a little used Byzan
tine Church in the square and studies of vine-covered pergolas, the
whole hillside forming a series of gardens , flights of stone steps lead
ing from one down to another. And here for regular companions
every evening were such interesting fellow guests as the late Sir
Charles Newton, Keeper of theGreek and RomanAntiquities in the
British Museum and the discoverer of the Mausoleum at Halicar-
nassus; the late Strahan Davidson, Master of Balliol, busy at that
time upon his book on Cicero; his brother, Mr. Edward Strahan,
and Mrs. Strahan . The Hotel Palumbo was small-only large enough
to hold the above number of guests. Tourists came from Amalfi and
elsewhere for lunch every day , but every evening the dinner was like
a private party, and after dinner Mrs. Strahan played delightfully
Beethoven and other music on the very piano which Wagner had
used while occupying these rooms years before when he had there
composed Tannhiiuser. 245

RAPHAEL'S "JURISPRUDENCE"
Abbey returned to England by way of Rome, Siena and Florence,
with all too short a stay in each place. In Rome much time was spent
in the Vatican, and after delay and difficulty he succeeded in seeing
the Pinturicchio wall paintings in the Appartamenta Borgia, which,
at that time, was not open to the public. To see these was one ofthe
principal obj ects of his visit to Rome . Beautiful and decorative as he
thought them-and his admiration for them only increased with time
-there was another painting in the Vatican , ' ' The Juri^njdence^of
..^Rapjhael, which was to him then, and remainecfever after, the most
perfect, the most noble and beautiful, the most satisfying of any
decorative painting he had ever seen or was to see; a composition
which, in his opinion, fulfilled every requirement of such a work
and could, therefore, never be surpassed. He sawthis again in 1898,
and later on said that he must have a photograph of it hanging where
he could see it every day.
Inthenumber of Scribner'sMagazineiorMay ,igiy , the late Ken-
yon Cox, in his article on "The Golden Age of Painting, "writes as
follows of "The Jurisprudence" and of the painting next it in the
Vatican, " The School of Athens," and his words are so nearly the
words that Abbey used in speaking of "The Jurisprudence" that
they may be quoted here. (^They are unapproachable examples of
what composition may accomplish, noble and gracious in their or
dering, perfect in their balance, endlessly lovely in their interweav
ing of line, fitting their spaces with sovereign mastery and ease. "3
Returning to London the Abbeys settled at once — on AprU 18th
— in their new home in Gloucestershire, and four days later their
first visitor arrived — Mrs. Mead , Mrs. Abbey's mother, who, in the
care of her son, the late Frederick Mead, came from New York for a
six months' stay, and to their great satisfaction remained for three
years and a quarter, when her son came again to take her home. Old
lady that she was — then in her sixty-ninth y ear— ]\ Irs . Mead was en
dowed with the gift of eternal youth . Distinguished and beautiful in
appearance, and gay, humorous, and kind in manner, she made a
place for herself not only at Morgan Hall, but in the hearts of all
those with whom she came in contact . Devoted to her new and only
246

THE KING, HELENA, BERTRAM, LAFEU, PAROLLES, AND SEVERAL LORDS.
KING : " WHY, THEN, YOUNG BERTRAM, TAKE HER; SHE'S THY WIFE."
BERTRAM : " MY WIFE, MY LIEGE ? I SHALL BESEECH YOUR HIGHNESS
IN SUCH A BUSINESS, GIVE ME LEAVE TO USE
THE HELP OF MINE OWN EYES."
KING : " KNOW'ST THOU NOT, BERTRAM,
WHAT SHE HAS DONE FOR ME r "
Eighteen and three-quarter inches by fourteen and a half inches.
1891.
" ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL," ACT II, SCENE III.

THE DUKE AND VALENTINE.
THE DUKE : " BE GONE, I WILL NOT HEAR THY VAIN EXCUSE."
Seventeen and a half inches by seventeen inches.
1891.
"TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA," ACT III, SCENE I.

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UNDER SILVIA'S WINDOW.
PROTEUS, THURIO, AND MUSICIANS, HOST AND JULIA DRESSED AS A BOY.
THURIO : " WHO IS SILVIA f WHAT IS SHE
THAT ALL OUR SWAINS COMMEND HER ? "
Twenty-two inches by seventeen and a quarter inches.
1891.
" TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA," ACT IV, SCENE II.

MT 7 . J^'l

&

" AND EVERY PANG THAT FOLLY PAYS TO PRIDE."
Thirteen and a half inches by twelve and a half inches.
1891.
" THE DESERTED VILLAGE." GOLDSMITH.
This picture shows a corner of the drawing room of Morgan HaU.

SETTLEMENT AT FAIRFORD
son-in-law, she became devoted also to Mr. Sargent and he to her.
He was shortly to settle at Morgan Hall, where he was to paint his
Boston work in the great studio,and during the next few years these
four people made a happy and contented household, the days filled
with the hardest of hard work and the evenings rendered delightful
by music, contributed chiefly by Mr. Sargent.
Thestudiowasnotatfirstreadyforoccupation,butthisdidnotpre-
ventAbbey from setting to work on the Shakespeare. Love's Labour's
Lorf, whichlargely required out-of-doorbackgrounds, and The Tem
pest were the first plays to be done. Both were completed in 1891 .
ThefirstdrawingmadeatMorganHallwas"Mirandainthedoorway ofhercell,withFerdinandkneeling"(ActIII.,Scenei).Mrs.Abbeyposed for Miranda, as she did for all the female figures in seven of the
eight plays that were done at Fairford (except for the Countess of
Rousillon, when Mrs. Mead posed with her daughter), none of the
female models whom Abbey wanted being at that time available.
As soon as the studio was sufficiently advanced a man came down
— an Italian — who had posed for the men in Much Ado About Noth
ing, and in the autumn came Colarossi to pose for Mr. Sargent, and
old Demarco, who had a very beautiful head, was there for Abbey,
but later when Mr. Sargent needed a younger model Abbey took on
Colarossi; and in due course, to sit for A Midsummer Night's Dream
and the thirty or forty angels in the "Arthur's Round Table," came
Miss Nellie Brown , and there soon ceased to b e any difficulty in per
suading models, male or female, to come so far.
All's Well that Ends Well and Twelfth Night were begun and fin
ished in 1 89 1 . A Winter's Tale and Two Gentlemen of Verona were
also begun, and some of the drawings finished in 1891 , and Abbey
began this year a large mediaeval water-colour, ' ' The Priest and the
Great Lady , ' 'which b ade fair to b e the most important water-colour
he had done. As soon as the studio was readyfor work he setup three
canvases for the HolyjGrailftieg.e, and after making many studies
in charcoal and oiTfjegan to lay in the designs . The canvas was very
heavy , well primed and painted on the back with red lead. He used
oil colours and painted them in with wax and turpentine. 247

C. F. McKIM
Abbey was commissioned also in this year to make a colour design
for the Children 's Window in St . Peter's Church , Morristown, New
Jersey. Save for a fortnight's visit to Paris to see the Salon and Paris mu
seums, and a couple of days at Amiens, he remained very steadily
at Morgan Hall for the next year. Mr. Sargent paid several short
visits, once with McKim; and early in November he remained to
take up his work in the studio , and became a regular inmate of Mor
gan Hall, his practice being to go to London each season for por
traits, and then abroad and return in the autumn.
A note from McKim to Mrs . Abbey in the summer of 1 89 1 shows
that cricket had already b egun ,and .although yet only in a small way ,
sufficiently to make at any rate one convert. "The world [McKim
began, after his first experience of Gloucestershire's beautiful vil
lages] would be (to my mind) a good deal poorer if Enghsh trees
and parish churches had been left out! . . . As for the cricket, my
shoulders and shins still remind me that I was born in the reign of
Louis Philippe, and not twenty-five years ago. It must have beena
pathetic sight to the Heavenly Host above, when all at once, on the
very way to the steamer in Liverpool, I was seen to stop at a certain
shop window and immediately after to plunge in and then radiantly
out with a cricket bat — a 'guaranteed driver' — victim to the same
old delusion in regard to a new future, free from cigars and wine
and late hours ! However, according to the old adage, I have still
one year of grace, for it goes 'A man to forty-five may make new
habits; after that — he has hard work to steer his old ones.' "
To Abbey 's interest in cricket we come later. Enough to say here
that he played whenever he had the chance and saw a good match as
often as possible.
Among other visitors to Morgan Hall during the first year was Al
fred Parsons , of course , who came every year except when away from
England, his brother and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Parsons;
Antoinette Sterling and her husband, John MacKinlay; Mr. and
Mrs. J. Henry Harper, and John Pettie,R.A. Among neighbouring
callers should be mentioned the William Morrises.
248

THE DUKE AND MUSICIANS.
DUKE : " IF MUSIC BE THE FOOD OF LOVE, PLAY ON."
Sixteen and a half inches by eleven inches.
1891.
'TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL," ACT I, SCENE I.

«i

OLIVIA, THE CLOWN AND MALVOLIO.
MALVOLIO : " I MARVEL YOUR LADYSHIP TAKES DELIGHT IN SUCH A BARREN RASCAL."
Twenty-one and a half inches by seventeen inches.
1891.
" TWELFTH NIGHT," ACT I, SCENE V.

MARIA, CLOWN, SIR TOBY BELCH AND SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
Twenty-one and a half inches by seventeen inches
1891.
" TWELFTH NIGHT," ACT II, SCENE III.

THE DUKE, VIOLA AND CLOWN.
CLOWN SINGS :
Come away, come away, Death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid ;
Fly away, fly away, breath ;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white stuck all with yew,
O prepare it !
My part of death no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strown ;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown :
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there.
Twenty- two inches by seventeen and a quarter inches.
1891.
" TWELFTH NIGHT," ACT II, SCENE IV.

© Harper £ Brothers

THE GREAT STUDIO
Although not written until some years later, afirst-hand descrip
tion of the great Morgan Hall studio — the largest in England for a
painter, at that time and perhaps still — from the pen of Mr.M.H.
Spielmann, may be inserted here, when the Boston work of the two
friends is in the full tide of progress. The article appeared in the
Magazine of Art. ' ' It is[saidMr . Spielmann] a workshop , not a show-
place, but none the less picturesque for that — a place where great
thoughts may be carried out on afitting scale, and where many a lofty-
conception is in the course of concretion. Enormous easels, a dozen
or more, laden with vast canvases in every stage of completion oc
cupy but a fraction of the space ; tapestries hang from heavy frames ,
not for decoration but for use, and carved oak doors and panels rest
against the walls; studies and casts of curious architectural features
and sculptures; arms and armour, lay figures and figurines; stacks
of canvases, unused , half-used , and used, for sketches from Nature,
orideal compositions, orpictures'ontheway';chests of drawers full
of specimens of superbly designed materials -velvets, brocades, and
silks of various periods and special manufacture— with newfabrics
of particular colour or design, mere bits , many of them , but sufficient
to reveal the texture, or their secrets of light and shade; old chairs,
musical instruments and ' prop erties ' of various kinds — all things , in
this vast apartment, as accessories for the designer's craft and no
thing more.
"On stands and in drawers, sketch-books and albums of studies
are classified as to subject, arranged in groups according to the pic
tures for which they were produced. Trestlefuls of elaborate studies
and half-finished drawings stand around; photographs are pinned
about of pictures of the period with which the artist may for the mo
ment be dealing — with a view to maintaining in his own mind the
spirit rather than the art-standard of the time; a library crowded
with the finest folios and books of art and archaeological reference
stands ready, with a writing table close by, littered in orderly con
fusion, to remind the painter of the daily communication of the out
side world. There is a built-up scene ofthe next great picture, de
vised for better realisation of proposed composition, with all the
249

AMERICA IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE
crowd of figures and dressed-up figurines: for thus the painter ex
periments with arrangements and with effects of light and shade.
Not too much importance is attached to such artifices; for not long
since a great model of a colonnade of extraordinary elaboration
was constructed, with a view to determine the question of shadows
thrown by the pillars when a light was introduced, and forthwith
discarded on its failure to reveal with truth the sought for effects.
But thoroughness and laborious conscientiousness are main quali
ties of Mr. Abbey's temperament: he seems to aim at that sort of
truth of effect — the only sort — that can convince the spectator; and
he neglects no means, whatever the cost in effort or expense, to se
cure the end which is his only aim. . . .
"Regarded from this point of view the remaining feature of the
studio takes peculiar significance. I refer to the amazing wardrobe
— an interior building constructed at one end ofthe studio. Here,
hung in due order, classified with such care , love , and pride as an en
tomologist might display in the arrangement of his specimens, is the
vast collection of garments of allperiodsandstyleswhichMr .Abbey
has coUected or had devised , and to which additions are continuous
ly being made . Here they hang, on right hand and on left, in dimin
ishing perspective, until one might almost imagine one's self in the
'property shop' of some great theatre. Costumes original and spe
cial (men's and women's), hats and cloaks, boots and shoes and ac
cessories—all but the furs and arms , which for greater care are stored
elsewh ere. ^Yet they are not by any means regarded by the painter in
the light of theatrical 'properties' . . . they serve, as they ought, to
give assistance as to cut, fall, character, hght and shade, and com
position of line — that is to say, as suggestions for invention and not
model for imitation. In short, Mr. Abbey, as the practical architect
of his pictures , does not despise anxious consideration and prepara
tion ofthe scaffolding.'7^
Such was the room , then , in which ,ini89i,inthe heart of Glou
cestershire, two American artists embarked upon their task of beau
tifying and ennobling a New England city.
After Abbey's death, before the lease expired, Mrs. Abbey had
250

THE KING OF NAVARRE, THE PRINCESS OF FRANCE, AND THEIR ATTENDANTS.
KING : " FAIR PRINCESS, WELCOME TO THE COURT OF NAVARRE."
Twenty and a half inches by fourteen and a half inches.
1891.
" LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST." ACT II, SCENE I.

ARMADO AND MOTH.
ARMADO : " WHAT WILT THOU PROVE f "
MOTH : " A MAN, IF I LIVE ; AND THIS BY, IN AND WITHOUT,
UPON THE INSTANT."
Seventeen inches by twelve inches.
1891
" LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST," ACT III, SCENE I.

DULL, SIR NATHANIEL, HOLOFERNES.
Eighteen inches by seventeen inches.
1891.
"LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST," ACT IV, SCENE II.

AMERICA IN GLOUCESTERSHIRE
the studios taken down, and the spot where they had stood reverted
again to the kitchen garden .
In 1 890-1 89 1 Harper's printed six of the Comedies, selections
from which are given here. Theplayswere The Merchant of Venice,
As You Like It, The Comedy of Errors, Much Ado About Nothing,
Measure for Measure, and The Tempest.

CHAPTER XXVI
WORK AND TRAVEL
1 892-1 893 Aged 39-41
Advice lo Art Students — Progress With the Boston Frieze and Shakespeare —
American Historical Projects — Alma Tadema — St. Gaudens — The Bayreuth
Festival — The Lure of Rothenburg — A Stained-glass Window — John Pettie —
A Feat of Painting — Venice — Carpaccio — A Boccaccio Room — Gondoliers at
Chicago — Midsummer Night's Dream and end of the Comedies — Henry James
IF the letters that have come to light are few in this year and for
several years after it is largely because Abbey 's hand was now con
tinuously busy upon the Shakespeare Comedies and his thoughts
occupied chiefly with the Boston paintings, and Mrs. Abbey, to
spare him, had taken on the burden ofthe general correspondence.
But that he, himself, wrote to his friends is evident from the many
replies, acknowledging his own, notably from Henry James, Alfred
Parsons,and J. S. Sargent, none of whom preserved Abbey's letters.
Early in 1892 the following epistle of exceUent counsel was ad
dressed by Abbey to ayoung compatriot with artistic ambitions who
had been commended to him, and who after a visit to Fairford had
passed on to Paris. "The great trouble," he wrote, "with the vast
majority of our artists at home is that they cease to be students too
soon. They spend a couple of years — even three or four years — in
Paris, or some other place where students congregate, and, bored
by the drudgery of the serious atelier and seeing certain easy-going
pictures attracting a certain amount of attention and having also a
certain amount of merit, they throw over the opportunity (which,
mind you, never comes again) to make themselves as perfect as they
may be with the aid of all the facilities a far-seeing body of eminent
artists have, during many years, accumulated for their benefit, and
dash into paint with a confidence bred entirely of ignorance and
intolerance of the training that they, at that ill-informed and blind
p eriod of their lives , do not see the need of.
" Go to the Louvre constantly (on Sunday mornings you will have
the place to yourself, or nearly so) . Look at the designs and drawings
252

PETRUCHIO AND KATHARINA.
PETRUCHIO : " BUT FOR MY BONNY KATE, SHE MUST WITH ME."
Twenty-one inches by fifteen inches.
1892.
"THE TAMING OF THE SHREW," ACT III, SCENE II.

© Harptr & Urothere.

PETRUCHIO TO LUCENTIO.
PETRUCHIO : " 'TWAS I WON THE WAGER."
Twenty inches by twelve inches.
1892.
" THE TAMING OF THE SHREW," ACT V, SCENE II.

ABBEY'S SKETCH-BOOKS
by the great masters and reflect that they thought it necessary to take
all that pains before they began their painting, and that they did not
rely upon genius or talent to carry them through. Remember that
you are pretty bhnd at present . I don't remember ever b ef ore having
seen an art student of your age absolutely without a sketch-book.
You should be sketching always, always. Drawanything. Draw the
dishes on the table while you are waiting for your breakfast . Draw
the people in the station while you are waiting for your train. Look
at everything. It is aU part of your world. You are going to be one of
a profession to which everything on this earth means something.
Keep every faculty you have been blessed with wide awake. The
older you get the more full your life will be getting . ' '
The sketch-books which Abbey himself filled, all of which are
preserved, and with which I have spent delightful hours, are proof
that he practised what he preached . But probably of no artist of any
time can it more truly be said that he was always learning — always
preparing to be ready to begin.
The tendency of so many young artists to disp ense with drudgery
was much on Abbey's mind, and there are other references to it in
his letters . Among various unfinished fragments of corr esp ondence
are the following remarks to the late Charles Eliot Norton. ' ' In the
first place I am convinced that it should be impressed upon this
amiable legion, that is to say, the unprepared and usually insuffi
ciently endowed students sent by the charitably disposed to study
art abroad, that for a long time the aesthetic part of art instruction
should be held in abeyance, that the science of the profession, or
calling, should be acquired as patiently and as thoroughly as possi
ble. When I say as possible, I do not mean to place any limit of time
or means . This science is taught in many continental schools and at
the Royal Academy; perhaps in its highest form, aside from these
aesthetic questions , at the 'Ecole des B eaux Arts '-and after the hand
has learned to obey the eye, then the aesthetic part of the education
should begin— years of it, not months. . . . The majority return to
their native land full of the latest fad in pictures; and I speak now of
America — in the absence, as a rule, of the inspiration derived from
253

AMERICAN STUDENTS IN PARIS
the environment of great works of art, they feed for the balance of
their days upon a fashion which may have become obsolete on this
side of the ocean almost before they have set up their American
studios." A letter to Charles Parsons early in 1 892 developed the same argu
ment ." S ometimes , ' ' Abb ey writes from Fairford , ' ' sitting out alone
in the quiet greenery I have desperate designs for reforming all sorts
of artistic affairs at home [that is, in America] , which I dare say get
reformed all the same in time without my help or my indignation. I
think of the dozens and dozens of innocent youths who sit in the
schools there — all sure that if they could get to Paris for a year all
would be well. And some of them do get to Paris — often with the
assistance of some mistaken philanthropist — and go to swell the
horde of bhnd kittens who nose and fumble and grope at that very
milkless breast — dying their artistic death a httle sooner than they
would at home may be, but dying just the same. A few determined
ones survive,butitisnotalwaysthedeterminedsoul that is the most
sensitive. The Schools of the Beaux Arts are well worth while, and
it is my daily loss that I have not gone through the experience they
would have afforded me — and the thoughtful Frenchman who is
cared for there, and afterwards at that wonderful ViUa Medici in
Rome, has himself to blame if his country is not the better for her
careofhim. But with our boys it is very different. Theyseldomget
admitted to the Beaux Arts nowadays, and are forced to fall back
upon claptrap schools — where they breathe foul air and fouler ideas
and opinions — their one ambition being to get a picture into the
Salon and to get a medal afterwards. I feel sure that the days of he
terogeneous exhibitions of pictures are numbered. 'Art' no longer
means solely the production of a square of canvas — or a group in
stone — and perhaps in the whirl of 'Reform'which is raising the roof
ofthe little box on the corner of 23rd Street [Abbey refers to the Na
tional Academy] it may occur to some member of that institution . . .
which I believe has something to say as to the desirability of electing
as its members those proficient in the 'Arts of Design.' I don't re
member to have ever seen there, for instance, an architectural draw-
254

MORGAN HALL, FAIRFORD, GLOUCESTERSHIRE.
i. THE EAST FRONT.
2. THE WEST FRONT.

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J. R. OSGOOD
ing or a group of sculpture or a decorative notion of any serious sort.
I dare say it will all come some of these days . ' ' — It was not a little in
the hope of being practically of service that early in 1895 Abbey
threw himself with such vigour into the establishment of theAmeri-
can Academy in Rome.
In the spring of 1892 Abbey lost a dear friend by the death of
lames Osgood. Writing to Charles Parsons in June he says: "Poor
dear old Jimmy's death was a great blow to me. I am glad I lived to
know him intimately. A gentle generous soul with the heart of a
child,whose chief est pleasure was in seeing his friends happy about
him. We had a simple funeral without ostentation or parade — and
if his spirit was anywhere about, it must have seen that friendship is
not an empty word.
' ' I wish , ' 'the letter continues ,' ' you could have come to see us here
at Fairford. To Gertrude and me it is a complete little place. The
house is large and roomy , and is surrounded by a little park of twenty
odd acres with large trees in groups, and a wooded walk all the way
round it. Just now the whole place is heavy with the scent of syringa
blossoms, and by and by we are hoping that our carefully tended and
heavily planted flower garden will make the place gay. We made
four long beds 6 feet wide and nearly 80 feet long in a lawn that we
didn't use at the side of the house. . . . Across the stable yard (all
round the wall of it are trained old-fashioned roses Just now making
a grand show,) is the studio, which I hear is the largest one there is.
It doesn't look very large with our big canvases in it, and sometimes
one is rather at a loss where to put anything. My Boston work is
getting on rapidly now, and I hope very shortly to have one wall
finished. My frieze is 8 feet high and 192 feet long. The side walls
are63 ft., divided into compartments representing scenes in the life
of Galahad (or Parsifal) and the Quest of the Holy Grail. . . .
(^My idea is to treat the frieze not precisely in what is known as
decorative fashion but to represent a series of paintings, in which
the action takes place in a sort of procession (for lack of a better
word) in the foreground . ] The background is there all the same but
I try to keep it without incidental interest^ Galahad's figure, inscar- 255

AN ARTIST'S SPADE-WORK
let, is the brilliant recurring note, all the way round the room. The
foreground figures are 6 feet high, but will look less. Pi have been
surprised to find how easy it is to work on so large a scale. After one
gets accustomed to the difference of focus, it is quite as simple as
working on a small scale. Of course, I have made drawings and
studies innumerable! Drawings for all the hands, drawings for all
the figures, which are enlarged and put together after — often not
used at all,or only a littlecofner. Architectural drawings and draw
ings of life-sized chestnut trees, and now I have to wrestle with a
life-sized horsed There are many angels, and these have beenagreat
difficulty. I have a number of small lay figures — these are dressed
in carefully cut dresses of thin white (old) cambric handkerchiefs,
white pigeon wings, dried and stiffened in the right position and
tacked to them; and drapery is stiffened with thick starch and ar
ranged in folds. Some of them are good and some not so good, but
this is the best plan I have found. Better than arranging the drap
ery on little modelled figures, because I can change the action.
"Shakespeare is nearing completion (at least the Comedies are)
and next month will see them all off, I trust. I have taken particular
pains with these last — some ofthe drawings are perhaps needlessly
elaborate — but I dare say they will not give that impression when
the great leveller (the process man) has passed his magic hand over
them. " I was fired a few months ago to do a Columbus, kneehng in
armour in the bright sun on white sand, a monk beside him read
ing Mass, and the flag of Spain floating behind, the sky full of red
flamingoes, boats drawn up on the distant beach. I got as far as
making a big drawing in black-and-white on brown paper — and let
it go. [Later on Abbey returned to this and finished it.] I have other
things sketched out — the Salamanca Council, etc., — but I only have
one pair of hands at present." — The Salamanca picture was never
painted, butit will beremembered that one of Abbey's illustrations
for Scribner' s Popular History of the United States depicted the
very scene upon which he was now again pondering. He kept his
thoughts about him all the time.
256

HERMIONE, LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, LORDS AND OTHERS.
LEONTES : " AWAY WITH HER TO PRISON."
Twenty-two and a half inches by seventeen inches.
1892.
" A WINTER'S TALE," ACT II, SCENE I

THE ORACLE PROFANED.
LEONTES : " APOLLO'S ANGRY; AND THE HEAVENS THEMSELVES
DO STRIKE AT MY INJUSTICE."
Twenty-eight and a half inches by twenty-three and a half inches.
1892.
" A WINTER'S TALE," ACT III, SCENE II.

AN OLD SHEPHERD (PERDITA'S FOSTER FATHER) AND HIS SON.
SHEPHERD : " AND BID US WELCOME TO YOUR SHEEP-SHEARING."
Fifteen inches by twelve inches.
1892.
" A WINTER'S TALE," ACT IV, SCENE III.

AT THE SHEEP SHEARING.
AUTOLYCUS SINGING ;
Lawn as white as driven snow ;
Cyprus black as e'er was crow ;
Gloves as sweet as damask roses ;
Masks for faces and for noses ;
Bugle-bracelet, necklace-amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber ;
Golden quoifs and stomachers
For my lads to give their dears ;
Pins and poking-sticks of steel,
What maids lack from head to heel :
Come, buy of me, come ; come buy, come buy ;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry ;
Come, buy of me, come ; come buy, come buy."
"A WINTER'S TALE," ACT IV, SCENE III.
Eighteen inches by thirteen inches.
1892.
" The thought [of Shakespearean drawings] first took shape when I saw your drawing of
Autolycus." Letter from Henry Alden to E. A. Abbey, February 18, 1886. See page 154.
For this drawing of Autolycus, done in 1879, see Harper's Magazine, June, 1881.

itfflll

rJ7

INSPIRING VISITORS
In May of this y ear , 1 892 , Alma Tadema and his wife came for the
first time to Morgan Hall — the first of many visits. Tadema was
always a very welcome guest, for he had the rare faculty, possessed
also by Mr. Sargent, by Pettie, and by Stanford White, of immedi
ately perceiving what an artist was driving at, and could discuss it
from the artist's point of view even when that differed from his own;
so that Abbey was always encouraged and stimulated . Nor was this
feeling one-sided, for the artists visiting this great studio, where
such vast conceptions were in progress, were wont to return to their
own easels with renewed enthusiasms.
At that time (May, 1 892) Mr. Sargent was working at the east end
ofthe studio , and Abbey at the west end — the north side being occu
pied by the three great lights. With Tadema in the studio, tremen
dous discussions went on at both ends^JLarge pieces of paper , huge
rolls of which Abbey always kept onhand, would be outlined and cut
to fit a certain figure already painted on the canvas, to which the
paper would be pinned so that it exactly covered this figure in order
that other figures might be painted on the paper directly over it and
the new effect observed. Experiment would in this way follow ex
periment. The new figurewould be roughly painted in, then re-
m oved to give place to a second , or even a third; a change in the back
ground or the floor would b e tested ; a different colour would b e tried
here and there. In short, every aspect of the work both in esse and in
posse would b e talked over with the greatest eagerness . Later, when
the place had again settled down to the quiet life, the artist would re
move all the paper and, coming with a keener eye and clearer vision
to the original work which had b een left untouched, would attack the
canvas afresh and on a future day out of the chaos would emerge
something far more to his mind than before} But very, very rare is
the artist who, like Tadema, can thus put himself en rapport with
the work of another artist whose work and methods are so wholly
different from his own.
It was in the same month of May that Professor Ray Lankester
wrote from Oxford suggesting a visit one day to Morgan Hall, add
ing, "York Powell proposes to make the excursion with me"; and in
T ' 257

SAMUEL ABBOTT
due course they came. York Powell, afterwards Regius Professor of
Modern History at Oxford, had heard that Abbey was setting his
Holy Grail frieze in the Celtic period and using Celtic ornament,
and as he was one of the few men who had any deep knowledge of
Celtic ornament, Abbey was glad ofthe opportunity to show him the
use he had made of it and to discuss it with him.
The American guests at Morgan Hall that summer included Mrs.
Jack Gardner, who owns the famous private picture gallery in Bos-
ton,Mr.CharlesDanaGibsonandC.F.McKim,whocamewithMr. Samuel Abbott, the President of theBoard of Trustees of the Boston
Public Library, to see how the decorations were proceeding. They
were delighted with what they saw, and their enthusiasm knew no
bounds, as is seen from the letter which the architect wrote to Mrs.
Abbey on his return to London: "At one o'clock this morning after
our fourteenth reference to Fairford and its delightful hospitality,
Abbott sat writing [to be shown to the trustees] and I reading from
your manuscript aloud to him, about the "Quest " which had taken
us there, and through which we had been so amply repaid. The
more I think about it all, the more I like to, and the more confi
dent I grow of the verdict when the 'Abbey Room,' as it is hence
forth to be called , is finally completed  And Sargent (in another
way) what an undertaking, and what an achievement, his splendid
' machine ' painted with the ' blood of empty stomachs ' is ! ... I
thought I knew something about struggling tUl I reached Fairford,
but the attitude of these two men towards their work has been a
revelation to me."
Another American guest who was hoped for at Morgan HaU but
couldnotcome was St.Gaudens, whom Ifindwriting(onJune30th)
a letter to Mrs . Abbey , in which he says , " I have always felt that that
boy of yours 'didn't know how much he could do,' as he once said
of Sargent. May the Boston work lead to other and greater things!"
Referring to the invitation to Fairford , he continues : " If I were not
the prize sick man on the ocean you would have seen me long ago,
but seamanship isn't my distinguishing characteristic, so I have to
content myself with the letters and photos that I get from the other
258

A GERMAN TOWN
side. They are very pleasant, but not so pleasant as to see my friends
mpropria persona . ' '
At the end of July the Abbeys, accompanied by Mrs. Mead, than
whom there never was a better traveller, started for the Continent,
their objective being Bayreuth and Parsifal. Beginning with Paris,
they went by way of Cologne to see, in particular, the Primitives of
the Cologne School, and from there direct to Rothenburg on the
Tauber. Here, in an early Gothic Franciscan Church — not often
used for service — was a b eautiful carved pillar and tomb of Diedrich
von Berlichingen (who died 1484) and his wife — both life-sized fig
ures in high relief; the man in armour, the wife in a costume (in
cluding the peculiar head-dress) almost identical with the costume
Abbey had usedfor thegreat lady in the water-colour he had recently
begun,"The Priest and the Great Lady." Such was the similarity
that the artist decided to send for the water-colour, and make the
church with the carved pillar the setting for it, on his return from the
Wagner festival.
They were at the performance of Parsifal at Bay reuth on August
8th, with Vandyke as Parsifal, Kaschmann as Amfortas, and Frau-
leinMalten as Kundry, and afterwards they heard Tristanund Isolde,
which was already familiar to them .
Having by this time practically settled the sequence of subjects for
his frieze, nothing that he saw at Bayreuth caused Abbey to change
or modify his scheme . After B ay reuth they started for B erlin , taking
Nuremberg and Dresden on the way. It was at Nuremberg and
Rothenburg that his oil-painting "Margaret and Faust" began to
assume shape; but this picture was never finished.
On returning to Rothenburg , Abb ey found his water-colour await
ing him, andat once set toworkuponit,anduponanumberof studies
of this most enchanting and unmodernised of towns. In particular
he was attracted by an unused upper room in the old patrician's
house next the church, where the aged lady to whom it belonged
made the artist very welcome, permitted Mrs. Abbey to try experi
ments with curtains, and deplored to them the fact that those who
were to come after her were vandals. The house,built on the town
259

ROTHENBURG
waU, and commanding a wide view ofthe Tauber valley , was famous
for its panelled lower rooms with their Rembrandtish effects, but
thewhiteroomofthechamberabove,withitsoldportraits,itsbird's- egg blue doors and arched ceUing supported by white columns, ap
pealed so much to Abbey that he made several oil studies of it, one
of which was used in his oil painting "Pot Pourri," finished for the
late Mr. William Vivian, of Queen's Gate, London, in 1899, and ex
hibited at the Royal Academy in 1 903 . Another view of it appeared
inhis water-colour "An Attention," painted at the end of 1894, and
exhibited at the American Water-Colour Society in the spring of
1895 , and at the Royal Water-Colour Society in the spring of 1896.
ItwasAbbey'sintentionto return to Rothenburgandpaint enough
there to form an exhibition of Rothenburg studies ; and with this end
in mind he called on the Burgomaster and arranged to have imme
diate news of anything happening to the old lady who owned the
house of his choice (who was then over eighty) , so that he might have
the opportunity of making more studies in it before it was demo
lished or modernised. In due course the letter arrived announcing
her death, but coming at a time when the artist was involved with
other tasks, he could not carry out his pleasant purpose.
From Rothenburg they returned to Cologne, taking time there to
see the old pictures of the Cologne School, then on to Brussels to see
the pictures there , and thence to Antwerp . While at Antwerp , Ab
bey was much interested in seeing the wall paintings of Baron Leys,
and spent a morning with them in the Hotel de ViUe, but with this
exception — and this was the only time he was ever in Antwerp — he
never saw any work by Leys. This should dispel once and for aUthe
idea which seems to have taken root in certain minds that he was a
follower of Leys and under his influence.
On returningtoFairford ,Abbey plunged into his Boston work and
the Comedies, finishing in this year The Two Gentlemen of Verona,
A Winter's Tale, The Taming of the Shrew. A Midsummer Night's
Dream he also began in 1 892 , and finished at least one drawing that
year. He also completed the design (reproduced in glass by Tiffany)
for the "Children's Window," in St. Peter's Church, Morristown.
260

JOHN PETTIE
This he did in water-colour, the full size ofthe lights, and chose for
his subject"Rise,Peter,kill and eat";but he transformed intodoves
the beasts of the earth,the creeping things and fowls of the air , which
Peter, in his trance, saw descending to him in the sheet let down to
earth. The Boston painting on which Abbey was principally engaged
after his return fromGermany was the largecanvas of King Arthur's
Round Table, where Galahad is led inby Joseph of Arimathea to sit
in the Seat Perilous; and it was upon this (which he hoped to have
ready to send to theColumbiaExhibition inChicago in the nexty ear)
that he was vigorously at work when John Pettie and his wife came
for a visit in November. The painting in immediate progress was
that of Arthur's Hall, with the King on his throne and the Knights
at the Round Table. On the steps of the throne was at that time a
single figure, a boy, the King's cupbearer. Pettie, who had seen the
painting a year before and was much impressed by the advance that
had been made, suggested that a second figure on the steps near the
boy would increase the interest of that spot and would balance bet
ter. Abbey no sooner heard the suggestion than he appreciated its
force. He posed his model, Colarossi, seized his brush and instantly
roughed in the j ester precisely in the attitude in which he nowstands,
and was satisfied that the picture was the stronger and richer for it.
Pettie was not only gratified to have his proposition so readily adop
ted, but was astonished by the mastery of the painter's swift, sure
hand. Further evidence of Abbey'surgency and decisiveness was, how
ever, yet to come,for "Now," said he, "the jester must have a cos
tume," and straightway he pencilled a design suitable for a Royal
Fool ofthe period, and this was handed to the sewing woman to be
made."We'UgototheChurchtoseethestainedglass,"hesaid,"andwhen wecome back the costumewillbeready."Evenashesaid, not
only was it ready but Colarossi was dressed in it, and prepared to
pose. Taking his brushes, Abbey painted the jester on the steps,
there and then , while the audience seated b ehind him watched every
touch with breathless interest. They grew more and more excited as
261

A. TOUR DEFORCE
the figure took lifeunder the painter's strokes, but Abbey remained
calm,althoughoverflowingwithhumorouscommentwhichkeptthe
company in constant laughter. He did not stop until the jester was
done. Save for a detail or so, and the mystical owl added later to the
back of his garment, he was finished at the sitting. Pettie 's admira
tion was divided between the concentrated power and speed of the
artist, the efficiency ofthe establishment, and the dramatic interest
of the contrasted expressions ofthe two figures: the half-frightened
look on the face ofthe Fool and the wondering curiosity on the face
of the boy.
And so we leave 1 892 .
The year 1893 was similarly apportioned to work in the country
and travel abroad ; but in Abb ey 's case there was no antithesis, travel
being with him always — and particularly at this time — work also.
B efore recording his wanderings let me say that a charming remind
er that he was not forgotten by his American friends came to him
from Mr. Charles Fairchild in May, in the shape of a signed menu
card of alunch at the Union League Club inNewYork on April27th,
headed by the nameof "E.A. Abbey (God bless him!)"and beneath
it the autographs of many old associates, headed by St. Gaudens.
This year's travels were to Venice, where Abbey wished to study
the Venetian painters with reference to his own decorative work.
Beginning with Paris, where they were joined by the Alma Tade-
masand their two daughters, and where they saw the Walter Gays
and the Whistlers, the Abbeys moved on to Verona and thenVenice,
staying first in an apartment in the Palazzo Dario on the Grand
Canal, and then at the Grand Hotel opposite. Besides the oil study
of the room in the Church of San Giorgio degli Schiavone, decor
ated by Carpaccio, from the varying sizes in the scenes of which
Abbey found a precedent for varying the sizes of the scenes in his
Holy Grail frieze, he made at this time a number of oil studies of
cypress trees (for use in "Fiammetta's Song") at the Armenian
Monastery, San Lazzaro, where a magnificent avenue of old cy
presses then existed but has since been ruthlessly cut down. A num
ber of studies were also made in the beautiful garden ofthe Curtis 's
262

THE MARRIAGE MORNING OF THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA.
THESEUS : " WITH POMP, WITH TRIUMPH, AND WITH REVELLING."
Thirty-three and a half inches by nineteen inches.
1893-1894.
" A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM," ACT I, SCENE I.

PYRAMUS WITH THE ASS'S HEAD.

BOTTOM : " WHY DO THEY RUN AWAY f "
Sixteen and a half inches by ten inches.
1893.
" A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM," ACT III, SCENE L

•WIS

wwm-

-v

^

CARPACCIO
on the Giudecca, and often an hour was spent in their garden house
at tea, followed by a walk through acres of the famous garden be
longing to the Edens . But the weather beginning to be intensely hot
it became necessary to start northward. After a couple of days at
Padua to see especially the Giottos in the Chapel of the Madonna
dell' Arena, and a few days at Verona in the Giusti Gardens, they
returned to Fairford.
InVenice,AbbeytoldMr.Spielmann,inaletterwrittensomefew
years later, for the first time he ' 'seriously studied the proportions of
the painted decorations to the architectural surrounding — in rooms
similar to the one I had in hand. Tintoretto's and Paul Veronese's
work appeared to me to be as archaic as I could ever hope to be — and
they seemed eminently decorative. I made a careful colour study of
the Carpaccio Chapel, and went day after day to the Accademia to
see the 'Vision of St. Mark,' and it was the influence, I think I may
say, of the latter, and of the Scuola San Rocco decoration, that
started me well on the work . I made the studies that s ummer (1893)
for ' Fiammetta's Song, ' and tried to give the atmosphere of Carpac
cio and Mansuetti — which seemed to me to be an interesting and
appropriate thing to try to do, but I abandoned the idea entirely in
thelarger work and was happier in itthan I had beenbefore. I think
I may say that the scale is as right as can be — and inasmuch as this was
entirely a matter of measurement and calculation, I take particular
pride in it. . . . Of course, I hadn't seen the room until I took the
canvases over, and my own inexperience had to do with whatever of
shortcoming is apparent in this work. I think, too, that a painter
should make his decoration suit the room — and not vice versa."
Later Abbey found himself wishing that he had acted differently .
Writing in 1898 to the same correspondent, he said: "When I saw
again the decorations of Pinturicchio and the stanzas of Raphael
and the SaUe del Cambio of Perugia, I couldn't help wishing that I
could have gone on with that tradition instead of having learned so
much of what later men had done. Burne-Jones found this possible ,
and with infinite labour, after a long time, got people to believe in
his No-man's land, with its Leonardo basaltic rocks and its Botti- 263

THE DECORATIVE MASTERS
celli seas — and his far-away subjects were the better for it. I wish I
could have done a fifteenth century ' Grail , ' but it was not in me . The
'Grail' I beheld was four hundred years earlier — and unless I could
have taken up mosaic there was no particular style suggested by the
legend — so, as I admired the science of Tintoretto and the handling
of later sixteenth-century painters — not to mention later ones still
— I got that into the work — and there it is. . . ."
One other project which grew from visits to Carpaccio 's little
Chapel and Abbey's studies for "Fiammetta's Song," but which
unhappily came to naught, may be mentioned. We find the idea
— and a very charming one it is — adumbrated in a letter to McKim
three years later, in 1896. "When," Abbey writes, "I made the de
sign of 'FiamrjaettaB.iiigingT also made several sketches for other
subjects in a similar vein — intending that the series should eventu
ally form a frieze for an apartment modelled in its proportions, etc.,
upon the lines of the small Chapel of San Giorgio Schiavone in
Venice. \The subjects were all suggested by certain passages in the
Decameron of Boccaccio , without being precisely iUustrations of the
textTpThe personages who are supposed to narrate the tales, sing the
songs, etc. — therein given — had retired to a certain viUa near Flo
rence to escape the dangers and to forget the horrors of the plague
— and ' there to delight ourselves , ' as Pampinea says ,' as bestwe may,
yet without transgressing in any act the limits of reason.' So they
banqueted beneath the trees, they bathed, they danced and sang,
and each vied with the others in efforts to entertain and amuse. It is
this condition of things-£-the thoughtless life of cultivated people
within beautiful surroundings — which seemed to me to adapt itself
particularly to decorative purposes. It has been my intention to give
an impression of a number of handsome personages, before a back
ground of calm dignified landscape — a grave landscape, low and
rich in tone as one sometimes sees it in certain tapestries or in the
pictures of Giorgione.} . .
"In the otjier panels of the series I intend that a continuation of
the same landscape shall form the background. One of these sub
jects (abandoning the frieze idea) would be higher in proportion
264

A BOCCACCIO SEOJJENCE
than the other two, say 10 feet by 6 feet, or larger if the space at my
disposal admits of it, and as I have roughly sketched it represents the
sideofavillawithaflightofstepsleadingdowntoapavedterraceand
'all the ladies and the gentlemen likewise being skilful both in sing
ing and dancing and playing on instruments artificially, the Queen
(has) commanded that divers instruments should be brought, and
as she gave charge Fione takes a lute, and Fiammettaavioldigamba
and begin to play an excellent dance. Whereupon the Queen with
the rest of the ladies and the other two gentlemen, having sent their
attending servants to dinner, pace forth a dance very majestically. '
"The other subject is a banquet. In an open pavilion a table is
spread 'with delicate white napery . The glasses looking like silver, '
etc., etc. The company feast at one side of the table, having for a
background a trellis-screen overgrown with roses, such as one sees
in Italian gardens, farther back the row of cypresses and the crystal
dishes. The viands covered with embroidered veils. A fountain
plays before the table, etc .
" It is , of course , difficult to describ e the picture one has woZpainted
— but I have tried, rather lamely, I confess, to give an idea of the
notion animating the series. The colour, as I said before, is to be
serious and rather sombre — as one sees it in certain Flemish tapes
tries of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries" — a room thus
decorated would be one of the most attractive that can be imagined .
Abbey was not destined to carry out his urbane and debonair pro
ject, but the"Fiammetta" in Mr. Taylor's house, which McKim
designed, has two companions from his brush where something of
his purpose may be discerned.
At the Columbian Exhibition, or World's Fair, at Chicago, for
whose Art Department Abbey had acted as Chairman of a special
Commission in England, and for which he was successful in obtain
ing a number of representative works, although he failed to induce
the authorities at Glasgow to relinquish Whistler's portrait of Car-
lyle, he was represented not only by the Round Table but by his
"Mariana" water-colour, lent by Mr. Marquand, and by fourteen
of his Shakespeare drawings, lent by Messrs. Harper. Mr.B . Stuart
u 265

THE EXILED GONDOLIERS
Chambers, who was in charge of Messrs. Harpers' exhibits, wrote
an interesting letter on the effect of these drawings on sightseers.
"Every day [he said] and every hour in the day I have the pleasant
duty of showing them to great numbers of visitors of all sorts and
conditions, most all of whom greatly enjoy and appreciate them, es
pecially that large class of people who never before have had the
opportunity of seeing the original drawings done for illustration,
particularly yours . To the maj ority Anne Page is rather the favourite
or prize of the collection; but last week some gondoliers came in
(there are a lot of them over here, with gondolas, as features of the
Fair) , to whom I showed your Shylock in St . Mark's . They stood be
fore it for a long time and with that delight which only Italians can
express . I wish you might have heard their animated talk, have seen
their smiles and gesticulations. I don't know whether it awakened
or relieved a sense of home-sickness ; one of them has since returned
for a second look, and with a comrade who did not come the first
time." One of Abbey's letters of 1893 which has been preserved is to
Charles Parsons, written at the Reform Club on October 16th. A
little may be quoted. "There is one very sure thing, which is this —
that those with whom one 's early working and life is associated whose
good opinion one has early learned to seek for and to esteem, are the
heart of one's audienceall one's life long. Idoubt, my dear oldfriend,
if I ever do what seems to my eye a respectable bit of work without
wondering whether you will approve of it when it comes under your
eye. I don't say that I shouldn'tbe human enough or perhaps 'small'
enough to resent it if you should disapprove, but I should be sure of
your honesty and clear artistic insight, and no salve I might apply in
the way of telling myself that you were a 'landscape painter,' or
whatever, would take away the sting of your disapprobation.
"I have been within the last two hours skimming through all the
illustrated periodicals with which this place is over-bountifuUy
supplied — for I seldom come to town nowadays, and then only for a
day or two — and it really seems as though the decadence of illustra
tion had set in. All the toilsome work one has gone through, and all
266

EDWIN AUSTIN ABBEY.
AGE FORTY-ONE.
DRAWN BY GEORGE FREDERICK WATTS, R.A.
This charcoal drawing, a wedding gift to Mrs. Abbey, although done in October, 1,893, was not
signed until sent home in June, 1 895 . Mr. Watts had hoped to make a second drawing, but the
time never came.

"THE LAST COMEDY DRAWING"
*the indifference and ignorance and niggardliness one has lived over
seem to have been very nearly thrown away. . . . I write this, too,
after a weary day indeed— in fact, I don't know that I, as a fidgety
man , ever felt more done up— for I have b een sitting for my portrait
to Mr. Watts— from 9 until 3 .30 with a half-hour's intermission for
luncheon— and I cannot express by that what it means to have b een
talking all this while with one of the very great thinkers of our time—
and to have listened to what I know is the expression ofthe very
noblest artistic thoughts of this age. Thathis hand is not always able
to carry out his thought doesn't detract from the greatness of the
thought, but he has a right to take to himself the credit ofthe results
of that which his thought and enthusiasm have inspired in other
people also, and we should put that to his credit in the summary
of his life work."
The letter continues : ' ' My Comedies are finished , and it is laugh
able as I think of it — the regret with which I hang over the very last
drawing. I have it here and am working in Alfred Gilbert's studio
at it." But this last drawing, "The Marriage Morning of Theseus
and Hippolyta, 'with pomp , with triumph and with revelling '" (the
quotation given by Abbey for the title) which was in pen-and-ink,
although finished soon after, was finally discarded. Abbey was not
satisfied with it, and later on he made a second drawing, in wash,
finished in 1 894, and this , the actually last drawing for the Comedies
(absurdly entitled in the published book, of which Abbey saw no
proofs," Enter Theseus") was also one ofthe best. So ended a task
begun in 1888.
Another passage in the letter tells something of the progress of
Mr. Sargent's Boston commission. "It will, "saysAbbey," certainly
make a stir, and his noble idea is being carried out regardless of all
personal considerations. His embodiment of the oppression and
'abominations of the Philistines' is original and extraordinary, and
youwillseeit,Idaresay,withinafewmonths,foritisnearlyfinished." As to his own Boston progress, Abbey says : "My Boston work
thickens and elaborates itself, and the mechanical and technical
difficulties are being overcome and forgotten. I am sure the quality 267

HENRY JAMES' TELEGRAM
of the work is improving  I dare say the bit I sent to Chicago will
need overhauling when it gets back here, but I expected that, and
although I have seen no criticism of it, for or against, I know what
there 's there as well as anyone . " By the end of this year all the panels
for the first half of the frieze were well under way — and some of the
panels for the second half were already set up . Ofthe first half were :
(i) the child Galahad nourished by the Holy Grail, 6 feet by 8 feet;
(2) the Knighting of Galahad by his father Sir Launcelot, after his
all-night vigil in the Church, 1 1 feet by 8 feet; (3) Arthur's Round
Table, 24feetby 8 feet ;(4)the Departure of theKnights ontheQuest,
17 feet by 8 feet; and on the short wall, over the door, occupying the
whole of the wall (5) Galahad at the Grail Castle, this last 33 ft. by 8
feet. Also "Fiammetta's Song" was now making progress, and Ab
bey made designs for many another subject that w as running in his
head. Duringi893thethreeplaysinHarper'swereTwelfthNight, Love's
Labour's Lost and The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Writing of thePrin-
cess's pavilion drawing, in Love's Labour's Lost, a critic in one of
the papers said , ' 'Perhaps his greatest triumph (in that series) is the
charm he gives by the arrangement and repetition of that peculiar
mediaeval head-dress, which in other hands has often seemed both
stiff and ungainly."
Among the friends who visited Morgan Hall in 1 893 were Alfred
Parsons, the Tademas , the H enschels , Mr . and Mrs . McLure HamU-
ton, William Laffan, Mr. and Mrs. Stanford White, Mr. and Mrs.
Francis Korbay , and Mr. and Mrs. Walter Gay. Another guest was
Henry James, in connection with whom let the records of the year
be brought to a close by a literary curiosity. Henry James and tele
graphy do not naturally suggest themselves as associates, but here
is a telegram to Abbey from the great master of leisurely and suffi
cient verbosity:
"Will alight precipitately at 5.38 from the deliberate 1 .50."
END OF VOLUME ONE

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