A Summer with Birds, Bees and Blossoms - Part II

INTRODUCTION 

Last month, we introduced a delightful paper, A Summer with Birds, Bees and Blossoms, which Frances Glessner prepared for a presentation at The Fortnightly of Chicago in November 1903. Recording the idyllic summers spent at her beloved summer estate, The Rocks, in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, she focused on her keen observations of the endless varieties of birds which called the estate home (the topic of Part I), and her many years of caring for her bee colonies (the topic of this article).

Frances Glessner began keeping bees at The Rocks in May 1895 as noted by this entry in her journal:
“Friday, Mr. Goodrich brought out my bees – two colonies. They were set up in the summer house in front of the house. We watched him open the hives. He showed us all through the hives and clipped the queen’s wings.” 

The record of her endless labors caring for the hives fill many pages of the journal over the next fifteen years. Also tucked into the journal are countless letters from friends and family who were the grateful recipients of the treasured jars of honey. By the summer of 1909, it was determined that the physical exertion in maintaining the hives was becoming too much for her to handle. Dr. James B. Paige from the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, upon her invitation, came to inspect the hives and accepted them for the school. (Beekeeping is still taught there).

A SUMMER WITH BIRDS, BEES AND BLOSSOMS

The following excerpts are taken directly from Frances Glessner’s paper.

Many, many hours of daylight are spent in the little bee house on the gentle slope of our home hill near where the rainbow rested. This bee house was built for me by a dear friend, a friend who had a poet’s soul if not a poet’s song. Carved on the beams by his own hands are sentiments which belong with the place and its uses.

“As bees fly hame wi’ lades of treasure,
The minutes wing their way wi’ pleasure.”
(Robert Burns) 

“Tis sweet to be awakened by the lark, or lulled by falling waters,
Sweet the hum of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds,
The lisp of children, and their earliest words.”
(Lord Byron) 

And again towards the east –

“But, look! The morning sun in russet mantle clad
Walks o’er the dew of yon high eastern hill.”
(Shakespeare, Hamlet) 

And last –

“To business that we love we rise betimes and go to it with delight.”
(Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra) 

Many, many times have I been asked whatever put the honeybee in my bonnet.

One of my very earliest recollections is of Aunt Betsy’s garden. Dear old Aunt Betsy and her dear old garden, with paths to get about in, and all of the rest of it roses, and tulips and daffodils, and altheas, and gooseberry and currant bushes, and a long grape arbor, and peach trees and lilac bushes . . . There were no weeds, but there was a glorious tangle.

Off in one corner was a row of white beehives. Under the grape arbor stood a huge bee palace. The bees were the greatest fascination to me, and when Aunt Betsy* took me into the inner cupboard of a closet in one corner of the sitting-room, where was kept not only the best white and gold china, but also her whole precious store of white and gold honey, and allowed me to cut off all I wanted for my supper, I then and there inwardly vowed “when I grow up I will keep bees.”

My opportunity for cultivating the science of apiculture did not come until nine years ago. I had no notion of how to go about it, but consulted the book-store – the place one generally goes for information. There I found there were bee journals published, and books about bees to be had, and incidentally learned that there were beekeepers’ conventions, and dealers in beekeepers’ supplies, and other sources from which one could get more or less correct information. I subscribed for four bee journals, bought two big bee books, and during that first winter read everything on the subject I could lay my hands on. Later on I joined an association of beekeepers.

I bought two fine colonies from a beekeeper in Vermont, who came over with them himself, shipping the bees by express, the hives carefully closed up so the bees could not escape, the bee man traveling on the same train with them in order to look after them at stations where they were they were transferred. When the old man said good-bye and left me the real owner of two colonies of Italian bees, I felt quite overwhelmed with doubt and responsibility; for reading a theoretical book by the cosy fire in one’s library is a very different proposition from the practical manipulation of a seething, boiling mass of bees.

Was it Pliny the elder who said long ages ago before it became a Dutch proverb, “He who would gather honey must brave the sting of bees.” Am I often stung? Many, many, many times, but there is this comfort – the sting is acutely painful, but one gets inoculated with the poison, so after frequent stinging, beyond the first hour’s pain, there is no swelling nor irritation, and then bee stings are said to be a cure for rheumatism.

Nectar has a raw, rank taste, generally of the flavor and odor of the blossom from which it is gathered. Formic acid is added to this raw product by the bees before it is stored in the cells; it is then evaporated by the fanning of the wings of that portion of the colony whose duty it is to ventilate the hive. After the honey is evaporated and the cells filled to the brim, they are then sealed up or capped over with wax. Wax is a secretion from the bee itself, a little tallow-like flake which exudes from the segments of the abdomen.

Bees do not make honey, they simply carry it in from the blossoms. Not all plants are honey plants. Many of the best and richest blossoms are small and insignificant. In the region of the White Hills, there are about forty varieties of plants which produce honey. Each kind of honey has its own distinct flavor if the plant producing it is in sufficient quantity for the bees to work upon that plant alone, such as raspberry, clover, linden, buckwheat. When no great honey yielder is in bloom, the bees will carry nectar from all available blossoms, giving a very agreeable mixture. We grow a large bed of borage and another of mignonette for the exclusive use of the bees, the mignonette giving a most marked flavor of the flower from which it is gathered. Goldenrod honey is as yellow as the flower itself, and very strong in flavor and sweetness.

Bees fly in a radius of about two miles from their own home. Many times have I jumped from the buckboard when driving and examined the bees on the blossoms by the roadside to find they were members of my own family. My bees are the only Italians in the neighborhood, so we know them by their color, and I think know them by their hum.

A worker bee in its whole life will carry in one-thirtieth of an ounce of honey – that is, it is the life work of thirty bees to carry in one ounce of honey – that of all the foods in the world this is the most poetic, delicious, and natural, a pound of honey has never realized its value in money. The gathering of a one-pound section would wear out the lives of five hundred bees. Bradford Torrey asked me last season if I had any commercial return from my honey. I told him that I gave it to my friends. “Oh, then you have!”

Working with and manipulating bees has been made possible by the invention and use of a smoker. Smoke from old dry wood burning in this is puffed in at the entrance of the hive, alarming and subduing the bees, so that they may be handled with comparative comfort. A veil of black net is worn over the hat and face to protect one from stings.

I said in my haste all men are cowards about working among bees, but that isn’t quite so. They are by no means brave. It is the duty of some special workman to keep an eye on my bees during June and July to watch for swarms while I am forced to be away. Let any commotion arise among the hives, the man usually rushes to the house, with his eyes fairly bulging out of his head, tells me as quickly as possible that the bees are swarming, and then he seems to melt into the earth. While I rarely need the services of a man in doing any of the work, it is amusing to a degree to see them take to their heels and run like kill deer if any of my bees so much as makes a tour of investigation about their heads. A man who faces a bear with delight will turn pale with terror at the thought of a bee sting.

There is very much labor connected with an apiary, and constant confinement in daylight. My best honey record for one season was a fraction over one thousand pounds from six colonies. Seven hundred and seven of these were sections of comb honey; the balance was extracted honey. By this, I mean that honey which had been stored in brood frames was uncapped on both sides with a sharp knife, the frames then placed in a large barrel-shaped extractor, which held three frames at one time, the wire baskets containing the frames were turned rapidly, and the honey thrown from the cells by centrifugal force, and then drawn off below into glass jars.

In September, each one of my little families is carefully weighed. Those which do not tip the beam at fifty pounds or more, are fed with sugar-syrup or honey until the weight is sufficient to ensure them abundant food during the long winter. When settled for the winter they cluster in an oval mass, one bee over-lapping another, the food being passed from one to the other. They are not dormant in the winter but are quiescent.

Tell me when you taste your tea biscuit this afternoon, spread with nectar stored by my New Hampshire pets, and which has in it a touch of wild rose, flowering grape, red raspberry, a dash of mignonette, and all the rest gathered from luscious heads of white clover, did not these patient little workers find for you and me the pots of gold which were hidden where the rainbow rested on the hillside one smiling and tearful day in June twenty years ago.

PRESENTATION AND RECEPTION

Frances Glessner completed her paper by the time she returned to Chicago from The Rocks in October. Postcards were sent out to members of The Fortnightly announcing the program. Soon after, she became seriously ill, so much so that she was unable to deliver her paper.

Nathalie Sieboth Kennedy (above), the reader for the Monday Morning Reading Class (and later president of The Fortnightly), was asked to deliver the paper, and the program proceeded as planned in The Fortnightly rooms at the Fine Arts Building (below).

The paper was well received by the members, as recorded in the numerous letters Frances Glessner received afterwards. From these we learn that she also provided an observation hive, enclosed in a glass case. Her cook, Mattie Williamson, prepared her award-winning biscuits which were enjoyed with honey from The Rocks. Members of the Reading Class provided yellow chrysanthemums which were arranged around the observation hive; following the talk they were sent to Frances Glessner along with sincere wishes for a speedy recovery.

A few quotes from the letters speak not only to the quality of the paper prepared, but also of the high esteem in which Frances Glessner was held by her many friends.

“I must tell you, though I am sure you know it without words of mine, how the rare, delicate beauty of your paper satisfied and charmed me. It was so unusual, so simple and natural, so exquisite, that I can not express the joy it gave me. It gave everyone the same pleasure. I never saw the Fortnightly so full of a sweet genuine delight. Every word rang so true, called up such pure beauty, revealed such lore of nature, and brought us all to the natural world, as a ramble in the very haunts that you described might bring us.”
(Kate P. Merrill)

“How did you write of your own experience and out of your own full heart and still keep yourself in the background so completely and throw into the foreground the little creatures you so dearly love so that we who listened felt that we were partakers with you in their joys and sorrows?”
(Louise T. Goldsmith) 

“I feel very humble for not having known all the things you could do. I knew you were angel-good, as the Germans say, to all your world (as well as that of the other half) about you and that there are many, many of us to whom you make life much pleasanter and happier by your thoughtfulness. But I didn’t know that you could put words together to make really true literature as much as Olive Thomas Miller or John Burroughs or any of the rest of them.”
(Emma G. Shorey) 

CONCLUSION

During her ongoing illness, Frances Glessner reworked the paper into a book which she presented to her five grandchildren. The dedication reads:

“To my five grandchildren, whose prattling tongues and toddling feet are now bringing the same joy and sunshine into my summer home as did their mother and father, my own girl and boy, at their age a generation ago, this little book is lovingly dedicated.”

The original paper was delivered again many years later, at some point after World War I, as indicated by an addendum to the paper:

“You know about the ‘proof of the pudding.’ Well, we did not have many puddings in war times, but there never was any restrictions on the use of honey. My work in the apiary taught me that honey is a delicious and practical sweet for making puddings and ice creams, and in any kind of cooking.”

The bee house returned to its original use as a “summer house” after the hives were taken away in 1909. In 1937, the year after John Glessner died, his daughter-in-law Alice had a large in-ground pool constructed next to the bee house, which was converted into a pool house. In 2003, several Glessner descendants funded the restoration of the bee house, and it remains today as one of the most beautiful structures at The Rocks.

The bee house, and the manuscripts for both the Fortnightly paper and the book version prepared for the Glessner grandchildren. serve as tangible links to this important chapter in Frances Glessner’s life.

Wouldn’t she be pleased to learn how popular beekeeping is today?

Arnold Arboretum

Exactly 125 years ago this week, Frances Glessner noted in her journal a trip to the Arnold Arboretum in the Forest Hills section of Boston, while traveling from her summer estate in New Hampshire back to Chicago.  Of the visit on October 13, 1890, she wrote:

“Yesterday morning (Isaac) Scott called early and took Lettie and me to see the Arnold Arboretum.  We went by train to Forest Hills and walked over the Arboretum.  It was most interesting and delightful.  The roads are all beautifully laid in this suburb with a nice side walk, beautiful winding roads, great trees and green grass.”

Arnold Arboretum was established in 1872 when the executors of the estate of whaling merchant James Arnold donated a portion of his estate to Harvard College for the establishment and support of an arboretum.  Charles Sprague Sargent (1841-1927) was appointed the first director the following year and served for 54 years, creating an institution that became a model for other cities across the United States and the world.  

Sargent was responsible for the 1,000 year lease whereby Harvard retained ownership of the land, but the arboretum became part of the Boston park system known as the “Emerald Necklace,” a seven-mile-long network of parks and parkways laid out by Frederick Law Olmsted between 1878 and 1892.  The design of the arboretum itself was a result of Sargent working closely with Olmsted, who laid out the general plan of paths and roads, and the groupings of plants. 

The arboretum covers 281 acres and includes nearly 15,000 accessioned plants, as well as an herbarium collection of more than 1.3 million specimens and an important research library containing in excess of 40,000 volumes.   Two years after Frances Glessner’s visit, the administration building was designed by Alexander Wadsworth Longfellow, Jr. of the firm of Longfellow, Alden and Harlow.  Longfellow was working in the office of H. H. Richardson at the time the Glessner house was designed, and was later a guest of the Glessners in their Prairie Avenue home. 

Forest Hills is a part of the Jamaica Plain neighborhood of Boston, noted for its hilly terrain and wooded areas.  The area south of Walk Hill Street in particular is characterized by curving tree-lined streets laid out in irregular patterns, the result of the gradual transformation of the area from country estates to a “streetcar suburb.”  Forest Hills is surrounded by the three final “links” of the Emerald Necklace – Arnold Arboretum, Arborway, and Franklin Park.  In addition, it is home to the sprawling 275 acre Forest Hills Cemetery, considered one of the finest 19^th century rural cemeteries in the country. 

A section of Forest Hills, known as the Woodbourne Historic District, was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1999 and features a plan laid out in part by Frederick Law Olmsted, Jr., who would have been attending Harvard as a classmate of George Glessner at the time Frances Glessner visited the area in 1890. 

For more information on the arboretum, visit http://www.arboretum.harvard.edu/.  

Fannie Bloomfield Zeisler

Glessner parlor, photo by James Caulfield

On Sunday October 4, 2015, George Radosavljevic, a member of the faculty at the DePaul University School of Music, will perform a recital on the Glessners’ 1887 Steinway grand piano.  Featuring works by Beethoven, Liszt, Chopin, Rachmaninoff, and Prokofiev, the performance is reminiscent of the many musical entertainments hosted by the Glessners.  In this week’s article, we will look at a musical given by Frances Glessner in 1890, at which the great pianist Fannie Bloomfield Zeisler was the performer.

FANNIE BLOOMFIELD ZEISLER

Fannie Blumenfeld was born in Bielitz, Austria (now part of Poland) in 1863 to Jewish parents.  When she was four years old, her family emigrated to the United States, and in 1870 they relocated to Chicago, where her father opened a dry-goods store.  She began her piano studies at that time and in February 1875, at the age of 11, gave her first public performance.  Three years later she travelled to Vienna with her mother to study under Theodore Leschetizky; she remained there for five years.

In 1883 she returned to Chicago by which time she had changed her name to Bloomfield.    She gave her first full concert in Chicago in 1884 and made her debut in New York the following year, the same year that she married attorney Sigmund Zeisler.  (Also a native of Beilitz, he earned his law degree at Northwestern University.  In 1886-1887, he served as the associate counsel for the defense of the Haymarket anarchists.)

Fannie Bloomfield Zeisler was one of the featured solo artists at the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893, receiving praise for her performances.  She then toured German cities, her first European tour, earning the reputation as a first-rank pianist.  Of her abilities, the Britannica Online Encyclopedia says, “Acknowledged as one of the foremost concert pianists in the world, she combined flawless technique with a fiery and powerful expressiveness that enabled her to render the classical and Romantic masterworks with entire authority.”

She made several additional tours through Europe and made annual tours of the United States, performing each season with Theodore Thomas and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.  Together they championed the German repertoire.

She gave her final performance in Chicago in 1925.  Her program included Beethoven’s Andante favori which she had played at her first public performance 50 years earlier, as well as concertos by Chopin and Schumann.  She died in Chicago on August 20, 1927.

A biography, entitled Fannie Bloomfield Zeisler: The Life and Times of a Piano Virtuoso, written by Beth Abelson Macleod, was published by the University of Illinois Press in July 2015. 

THE PERFORMANCE

In late November 1890, Frances Glessner wrote to Fannie Bloomfield Zeisler asking her to give a recital in her Prairie Avenue home.  She received the following reply, dated December 4^th:

Mrs. John J. Glessner,

Dear Madam:

I received your kind letter and turned it over to my manager, who will write you about dates and terms.

I am not in the habit of accepting such engagements, but I do so at rare intervals and should be pleased to play in your home, as I know you to be one of the few really musical patronesses of my art in Chicago.

Yours sincerely,

Fannie Bloomfield Zeisler

The musical was set for Friday December 19, 1890.  Frances Glessner sent invitations to 103 ladies, of which 75 attended.  As Glessner noted in her journal:

Fanny Bloomfield Zeisler played most splendidly – I never heard better playing.  She said she was inspired by the audience – they were most appreciative – she played a half hour then took a short rest, then played another half hour, then we had our breakfast – it was all prepared in the house and was delicious.

Unfortunately Frances Glessner did not record the program but she did note the breakfast menu:

Chicken broth – eggs a la crème – breasts of partridge – potatoes mashed with cream and browned – jelly – brown and white bread – rolls, olives, pickles – hen – risotto – frozen oranges – sand tarts – coffee and tea

Tables seating six were set up throughout the first floor and were presided over by Mrs. Carpenter, Mrs. O. R. Keith, Mrs. Edson Keith, Mrs. A. A. Sprague, Mrs. Otho Sprague, Mrs. Charles Hutchinson, Mrs. Dudley, Mrs. Potter, Mrs. William Armour, Mrs. George Armour, Miss Lunt, and Mrs. Stone.  The ladies “all were beautifully dressed, wore no hats – and, helped me to make everything go smoothly.”  Fannie Bloomfield Zeisler sat to Frances Glessner’s right at the main table.  The flowers were live violets, a large dish on the main table, and a pot on each of the smaller tables, wrapped in green crinkled paper and tied with violet ribbons.

Drawing by Harold R. Heaton, 1896

LATER YEARS

Fannie Bloomfield Zeisler became a good friend and was a frequent guest in the Glessners’ home, and, of course, the Glessners attended her many performances with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.  In February 1896 she presented Frances Glessner with a signed drawing done by Harold R. Heaton, cartoonist for the Chicago Daily Tribune.  Frances Glessner hung the picture on the wall along with other photos and drawings depicting many of the musicians she welcomed into her home through the years.

A Benvenuto Cellini dinner

A favorite photograph of Frances Glessner hangs in her former conservatory, now the Beidler Room at the museum.  The image, the only known photograph of Frances in her conservatory, shows her surrounded by her plants and dressed in an elaborate gown – a costume worn to a Benvenuto Cellini themed dinner party given by her and her husband on March 1, 1892. 

Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1571) is generally regarded as one of the most important Mannerist artists.  Born in Florence, he became a well known sculptor and goldsmith, and is largely remembered today for his autobiography which accurately captures the spirit of the Renaissance and makes Cellini the best known figure of his time.

Cellini had numerous run-ins with the law, and frequently found himself fleeing to neighboring cities after brawls and even murder.  His considerable skill as an artisan won him favor with many including Pope Clement VII, Francis I, and members of the Medici family, who granted him pardons and helped him avoid prison on several occasions. 

The exact inspiration for the Glessners’ Cellini dinner is unknown.  Hector Berlioz composed an opera entitled Benvenuto Cellini, but it had not been performed in Chicago by this time.  The Boston Symphony Orchestra performed the overture from the opera in a concert at the Central Music Hall on May 7, 1891; the Glessners did attend this performance.   It appears from Frances Glessner’s journal entry, however, that she may have recently read Cellini’s autobiography as the dinner was based on an “artistic dinner” that Cellini had given, no doubt recounted in his autobiography. 

The Glessner dinner was quite elaborate, as described in the journal:

“Tuesday we gave a dinner after an artistic dinner given many years ago by Benvenuto Cellini.  We had a table nineteen feet long and three feet wide.  The gentlemen sat on one side and ladies on the other.  Candelabra were at each end with red candles and red shades.  No one sat at the ends.  John sat on end of the gentlemen side and I at the opposite end of the ladies side.  We had a background behind the ladies of red velvet which was put up by Fields upholstery man.

“The flowers were all red and white roses – all low, so that the talk was across the table and in groups of four.

“Mrs. Caton, Mr. and Mrs. Watson Blair, Mr. & Mrs. Henrotin, Mr. & Mrs. Albert Sprague, Col. & Mrs. Stevenson, Mr. & Miss Fearn, Miss Keep, Mr. Fay, Judge & Mrs. Gresham, Mr. Coolidge were the guests.  Mrs. Gresham failed me at the last minute and Fanny had to take her place.  I had four men to serve the dinner, and Fanny Biggs to cook it.”

The journal entry reveals several interesting pieces of information.  For one, it is clear that the regular dining room table, an oval table six feet wide, was not used for the dinner, so a special table was made.  There were a total of 18 at the table, including the Glessners – the exact number of chairs that Charles Coolidge, one of the guests, had designed as part of the dining room furniture for the Prairie Avenue house.  The Glessners’ daughter Fanny sat in for Mrs. Gresham.  Fanny was not yet 14, and her inclusion indicates the maturity she had attained by this time.

Four men served the dinner.  The Glessners typically employed a butler and two footmen, indicating that an “extra” man was hired for the evening.  The meal was prepared by the Glessners’ cook, Fanny Biggs, who prepared the following menu:

• Oysters
• Anchovy crutes Parisienne
• Clear soup Royale, puree of cauliflower and croutons
• Cutlets of salmon, hollandaise sauce, cucumbers, and potatoes
• Boudine of chicken and macaroni; saddle of mutton with cherry sauce, potato croquettes and spinach
• Mushrooms au gratin
• Fromage a la Cowper with crackers
• Pine apple ice cream, cake, and coffee

The journal entry and menu certainly convey that this was a special dinner party, one that the Glessners and their guests no doubt remembered for years to come.  Fortunately for us, their son George captured the image of his mother dressed for the party, so that today visitors can continue to learn about the artistic manner in which the Glessners entertained their guests.

Violinist Joseph Joachim

Frances Glessner made the following notation in her journal for February 10, 1886, while travelling in Boston, “We bought an etching of Joachim – Watt’s painting.”  The reference is to an etching of the imminent 19^th century Hungarian violinist, Joseph Joachim, based on a painting by the English painter George Frederic Watts.  It occupied a place of honor near the piano in the Glessners’ parlor, and still hangs in the same location to this day.

Northeast corner of the Glessner parlor, circa 1890;

the Joachim etching hangs to the left of the door at top

The piece was referenced in an article written about the Glessners’ new home which appeared in the Chicago Times on April 5, 1888.  The article referred to the piece as “a superb etching of Watt’s ‘Joachim,’ the celebrated violinist, the original of which is owned by C. L. Hutchinson.”  The Glessners’ love of music is well known, so it is not surprising that they would have had this picture of the great violinist in their home, but perhaps it was also displayed to serve as an inspiration to their son George, who was actively pursuing the violin at the time.  The same Times article goes on to say, “The chef-d’oeuvre of the room, however, is a genuine Cremona violin, given to a great uncle of Mr. Glessner by a member of Marquise de Lafayette’s staff.  The instrument was repaired in 1710 and still retains its delicate tone, being used constantly by Master Glessner.”

JOSEPH JOACHIM

Joseph Joachim was born in 1831 in the town of Kittsee (now in the Burgenland region of Austria) to parents of Hungarian Jewish origin.   By the age of eight he was studying at the Vienna Conservatory and a few years later became a protégé of Felix Mendelssohn.  One month before his 13^th birthday, he performed Beethoven’s Violin Concerto with the London Philharmonic, Mendelssohn conducting.  His performance was praised, firmly establishing his reputation in London and beyond.  Returning to Europe, he performed with the Gewandhaus Orchestra and then served as concertmaster to Franz Liszt for several years.  In 1853 he met the 20-year-old Johannes Brahms, and highly impressed by his abilities, introduced him to his friends Robert and Clara Schumann.  Brahms, Joachim, and Clara Schumann remained life-long friends following Robert Schumann’s death in 1856 and Joachim and Clara Schumann frequently performed together.

In 1869, he formed the Joachim String Quartet, which quickly earned the reputation as Europe’s finest.   He continued to concertize extensively, and many of the leading composers of the day including Brahms, Dvorak, Bruch, and Schumann wrote pieces specifically for him.  Joachim also composed extensively, although few of his pieces are performed today.  In the last few years of his life, he made several recordings, being one of the first prominent violinists to do so.  He died in Berlin in 1907. 

George Frederic Watts, self portrait, 1864

GEORGE FREDERIC WATTS

The etching hanging in the Glessner parlor is based on an oil painting by the English painter George Frederic Watts entitled “A Lamplight Study: Herr Joachim.”  Watts was born in 1817 (on the birthday of George Frederic Handel after whom he was named).  He showed artistic talent at any early age, exhibiting at the Royal Academy by the time he was 20.  In time, he became one of the most popular English painters within the Symbolist movement.  By the 1860s, his work was showing the influence of Dante Gabriel Rossetti in terms of subject and color.  It was during this period that he painted the portrait of Joachim. 

Watts was a close friend of Henry Thoby Prinsep, an English official of the Indian Civil Service, an historian of India, and a significant figure of the cultural circles of London.  Watts had arranged for Prinsep to lease the “Little Holland House,” the dower house of Holland House in Kensington, and he lived there with the Prinsep family for more than 20 years.  As noted in the biography of Watts by Jon Ernest Phythian, published in 1906, it was here that the Joachim portrait was painted in 1868:

“Music must not be forgotten; for it gave us one of Watt’s masterpieces.  The portrait . . . of Dr. Joachim, a lamplight study made at Little Holland House, while the great master was actually playing the violin, is the very soul of music: the face is thinking and feeling it; the fingers that lightly hold the bow, and those that touch the strings, are expressing it.”

"A Lamplight Study: Herr Joachim"

Collection of the Art Institute of Chicago

Near the end of his life, Watts built a home in Surrey in addition to the Watts Gallery – the first (and now only) purpose-built gallery in Britain dedicated to a single artist.  It opened in April 1904 less than three months before his death, and today contains over 250 oil paintings, 800 drawings and watercolors, 130 prints, 200 sculptures, and 240 pieces of pottery as well as other materials relating to Watts’ life.

Paul-Adolphe Rajon, self portrait, 1884

PAUL-ADOLPHE RAJON

The etching was created from the Watt’s painting by the French painter and printmaker Paul-Adolph Rajon (1843-1888).  Rajon began his career as a photographer and studied at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris.  He then focused on etching, creating new works and copying the Old Masters.  He became well known throughout Europe due to his acquaintance with the New York-based dealer Frederick Keppel (who was the primary source for the Glessners’ etchings, although the Joachim piece was not purchased through his gallery).

Charles L. Hutchinson

CHARLES L. HUTCHINSON

The 1888 Times article noted that the original Watt’s painting was owned by Charles L. Hutchinson, who was one of the Glessners’ closest friends, and a resident of Prairie Avenue.  A leading Chicago businessman and philanthropist, he is best remembered today for his extraordinary work building up the Art Institute of Chicago as its president, serving from 1882 until his death in 1924.  Two paintings by Watts – “A Lamplight Study: Herr Joachim” (1868) and “Time, Death, and Judgment” (1866) were part of a collection of paintings bequeathed by Hutchinson to the Art Institute; the latter is currently displayed in Gallery 223. 

Today, the etching of Joachim remains one of the most significant pieces in the Glessner collection, both for its subject matter and for the artists and collectors who form its rich story. 

Blind Tom and "The Battle of Manassas"

The museum is fortunate to possess a large collection of piano music belonging to Frances Glessner.  She was an accomplished pianist by an early age, continued to actively play throughout her lifetime, and especially enjoyed four hand arrangements which she played with her friends.  Many of the pieces bear the name “Frances Macbeth” on the covers, indicating that they were acquired prior to her marriage in 1870.  This week, in commemoration of the 150^th anniversary of the end of the Civil War on April 9, 1865, we will look at the story behind one of these pieces of music entitled “The Battle of Manassas,” composed by Blind Tom.

THE BATTLE OF MANASSAS

The First Battle of Bull Run, popularly known as First Manassas by the Confederates, was fought on July 21, 1861 near Manassas, Virginia, not far from Washington, D.C.  It was the first major battle of the Civil War, engaging approximately 18,000 troops on both the Union and Confederate sides.  As it was the first significant battle, the troops had received little training.  In the end, the Confederate forces were victorious, and the Union troops hastily retreated toward Washington, D.C.  But it was a sobering moment for both sides, who were shocked by the large numbers of casualties and the realization that the war would not be quickly won.  An interesting side note is that during the battle, troops serving under the Confederate Brigadier General Thomas J. Jackson were noted for standing their ground, earning the general the now famous nickname of “Stonewall Jackson.” 

BLIND TOM

Blind Tom Wiggins was an extraordinary musician and during the mid- to late-19^th century was one of the greatest musical sensations of his age.  He was born into slavery in 1848 in Georgia, and being blind at birth, was considered worthless by his master.  Were it not for the fact that soon after, his entire family was sold to another plantation, the story could have ended there.  After the family was purchased by General James Bethune, Tom began to exhibit interesting behavior, mimicking the sounds he would hear around him from a crowing rooster to the sound of rain on the roof.  By the time he was four, he was sneaking into the music room of General Bethune’s home to play the piano.  The general realized the musical gifts of the young boy and moved him into the main house to nurture his talent.  He began performing publicly by the age of six.

One of his amazing abilities was to repeat compositions exactly, after hearing them just one time.  By the end of his career, it was estimated that he could play nearly 7,000 pieces from memory.  Being a blind slave in the 1850s South, Blind Tom was promoted in freak shows rather than great concert halls.  His promoter called him “a gorgon with angel’s wings,” a reference to Tom’s transformation from an awkward twitching young boy once he started to play the piano.  His fame spread and he was invited to play for President James Buchanan, becoming the first African-American musician to officially perform in the White House.   

BLIND TOM WRITES “THE BATTLE OF MANASSAS”

As the Civil War began to rage, the sounds of war fascinating Blind Tom – from the drum and fife to the boom of the cannons.  Recreating these sounds on the piano, he wrote what would become his most famous composition, The Battle of Manassas, published in 1862 when he was just fourteen years old.  Incorporating bits and pieces of several well known melodies used by both the Confederate and Union troops, the song, with its ingenious improvisations, accurately depicted each part of the battle from the approaching troops through the heat of battle and the victory and retreat.  Audiences were mesmerized by the music, and throughout the remainder of his career, Blind Tom would play the piece at every performance.

Final page of The Battle of Manassas

LATER YEARS

Following the Civil War, Blind Tom spent many years on the road performing all across the United States, Canada, and Europe.  One of his most amazing feats involved playing one piece with his right hand, a second entirely different piece (in a different key) with his left hand, while singing a third piece (in yet another key), all of them perfectly performed.  After amazing his audiences, he would do it again, this time with his back to the piano!  Mark Twain had the opportunity to ride a train from Galena to Chicago with Blind Tom once, later writing how Tom accurately repeated the sounds of the train during the entire journey. 

During these years, Blind Tom was exploited by his promoters and guardians, and eventually became known as the “Last American Slave.”  In his mid-twenties, he was judged to be insane, and his earnings (estimated at several million dollars today) were given to General Bethune to support his own lifestyle.  After the General’s death in 1884, there was a battle for control of Tom’s earnings, with his daughter-in-law ultimately winning custody.  During the 1890s he no longer performed, many believing he had died in the Johnstown Flood of 1889.  But he did make a brief reappearance on the vaudeville stage in the early 1900s.

Blind Tom died from a stroke in 1908 and was buried in an unmarked grave in Brooklyn’s Evergreen Cemetery.  Today a plaque marks the burial place of this extraordinary genius.  In recent years, Blind Tom has been the subject of a comprehensive biography, The Ballad of Blind Tom, published by author Deirdre O’Connell in 2009, and a documentary by Andre T. Regan entitled The Last Legal Slave in America. 

For more information on Blind Tom and his music visit the website blindtom.org.  To hear a performance of “TheBattle of Manassas” click here.  

Frederik W. Sandberg

On February 16, we began a discussion of Frances Glessner’s training in making jewelry and silver, including information on her teachers Madeline Yale Wynne and Annibale Fogliata.  This week we shall look at her third and final teacher, Frederik W. Sandberg.

It appears that she engaged all three instructors within a short period of time.  Her first lesson with Wynne was in December 1904 and she was working under Fogliata less than a year later.  The earliest mention of her working with Sandberg is found in a journal entry dated February 5, 1905:

“Friday I had my silver lesson.  Then Mr. Sandberg came by appointment.  I had a very pleasant talk with him.  We finished the plate and cover for Mrs. Thomas Longfellow’s wine glass.  In the afternoon we went to the concert.”

The journal entry would indicate that her silver lesson was not given by Sandberg, but by Madeline Yale Wynne, as Sandberg clearly arrived after the lesson.   Together, Frances Glessner and Frederik Sandberg worked on the plate and cover for a wine glass, and their relationship was close enough by that time that they attended the afternoon orchestra concert together.

Exactly when Frances Glessner came to know Sandberg, a native of Sweden, is not documented, however a letter from Sandberg dated January 21, 1905 indicates that she had made purchases of his items from a recent exhibition at the Art Institute.  Writing from his home at 120 S. Grove Avenue in Oak Park, Sandberg said, in part:

“Dear Madame:

On the list of sales from my late exhibition at the Art Institute I take great pleasure in noting your name among my patrons and beg to thank you for your kind appreciation.

“I return to Paris in a few weeks and shall be happy to execute any orders for individual artistic designs in jewelry of gold and silver, precious enamels as well as all kinds of objets d’art in repousse, wrought and hammered silver of distinct artistic merit.  Special attention is given to the securing of rare and curious precious and semi-precious stones.

“I have a unique design for a coffee pot to be executed in hammered silver as well as a number of curious XV and XVI century spoon designs which I think you would find interesting.”

Just a month later, he wrote her a second letter:

“I keenly appreciate the delightful privilege of having made your acquaintance and assure you that nothing would give me more genuine satisfaction than to give you whatever assistance you may need to increase the interest in the work you have begun.  You will find this art full of attractive possibilities and with your discriminating taste and enthusiasm it will become more and more fascinating.”

It is entirely possible that Frances Glessner became acquainted with Sandberg several years earlier.  In February 1898, Sandberg delivered a lecture entitled “Art in Silver” at the Art Institute.  An article which appeared in the Chicago Tribune indicated that Sandberg had just returned from an extensive trip to Europe and “is an enthusiast and exponent of the process known as repousse in gold and silver.”  Although Frances Glessner was recovering from surgery at that time, it seems likely that she was at least aware of the lecture.

In January 1901, Sandberg gave a series of lectures, “L’Art Nouveau as Expressed in Industrial Arts at Paris in 1900” at the Art Institute.  Sandberg had served as a jury expert at the Exposition, and was commissioned to prepare the official report on art industries in silver and gold for the United States government.  The Chicago Tribune noted the following about the lecture series:

“L’Art Nouveau, in which great interest has been aroused by the Paris exposition, will be the subject of a special course of lectures by Frederik W. Sandberg.  Mrs. Potter Palmer’s expressed admiration of the new art, together with its appearance in the furniture and jewelry stores in Chicago, created a demand for some exposition of the art which will be answered by the course of six lectures.  Mr. Sandberg received high honors for his work in silver repousse, jewelry, and decoration at the Paris exposition.”

The first lecture, entitled “Modern Antiques” dealt with the topic of fraudulent antiques and how they were made.  Sandberg had stumbled across the thriving industry quite by accident while in Paris, and decided to make a study of it in order to educate Americans travelling to the continent, who were prime targets for the forgers.  He explained, in detail, how paste and beetles were used to make the surface of leather look old (as shown below), how silver hallmarks were transferred to new pieces, and how the grain of old wood was photographed and transferred to new pieces.  The “new antiques” were usually offered to tourists as rare opportunities to acquire valuable pieces from “embarrassed” families who were forced to sell off their cherished objects as a result of financial reverses.

Sandberg exhibited at the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis and spent several months in Paris in 1905 before returning to Chicago later that year.  In early December, he visited Frances Glessner, showing her a clasp he had made for her as well as pieces from his fall exhibition at the Art Institute, which included an elaborate chased bowl resting on the heads of three pelicans.

For reasons that remain unclear, it appears that Sandberg decided to abandon his work with metalwork in early 1906.  A journal entry by Frances Glessner dated March 18, 1906 noted:

“After luncheon Mr. Sandberg came.  He offered me his tools and I have bought them.  Mrs. Goldsmith and Miss Trimingham called and as Mr. Sandberg’s wife was an intimate friend of Mrs. Goldsmith’s, they had a very pleasant visit, especially enjoying our Galle glass of which Mr. Sandberg says we have a very fine collection.”

Later in March, Frances Glessner noted spending two full mornings with Sandberg, who instructed her on the use of his tools, after which he stayed for lunch.  He apparently had a considerable inventory of pieces for sale, as Frances Glessner noted purchasing pieces from him more than two years later.   In the last journal entry in which he is mentioned, dated November 29, 1908, she wrote:

Mr. Sandberg came to see me and brought some pieces of work, some of which I bought.  He told me his wife had fallen heir to part of an estate in New Haven upon which stands the Tontine Hotel.”

Frederik W. Sandberg pursued a career as a journalist until his death about 1920.