But, alas! here, too, come seasons of drought when
seeds of humility, virtue and love fail to sprout and those of
discord, strife and malice, like thorny cactus, crowd out the
rare blossoms.
No one visiting Washington should fail to see the Library of
Congress, which is the best example of exclusive American art.
"The interior of this wonderful building is the most inspiring
and marvelous combination of gold, silver, rare marbles and
mosaics on as gigantic a scale as is to be found in America.
Built primarily for congressmen, this great storehouse of
valuable books and works of art is used more freely by the
people than any other library in the world."
We shall never forget the lovely view we had from the Lee
mansion, that stands in the beautiful Arlington Cemetery. We
gazed out over the landscape, where the fields of golden grain
and green meadows stretched toward the city. The broad silvery
current of the Potomac flashed in the sunlight. Beyond lay the
city in its Sabbath stillness. The song of a blue bird, with its
softly warbled notes fell upon our ear, and the dreamy threnody
of a mourning dove made a soft accompaniment. We left this
charming spot and wandered slowly through this beautiful abode
of the Nation's heroic dead. At one place we paused before a
fuchsia-bordered plot of ground, where we read from a tablet:
"To the 4,713 unknown dead who slumber here," and opposite this
a coleus-lined space "dedicated to the 24,874 known dead," who
offered their lives, that the black stain of slavery might be
removed from the land. As we looked at the stretches of grass
and flowers which shone in their midst, at the myriads of leaves
upon the trees, the birds, the bees, and at the butterflies -
winged blossoms hovering over duller hued plants - we thought how
soon the tide of this joyous life around us would begin to ebb.
Soon the frost would dull the grass, tint the leaves with
rainbow hues and cause the flowers to fade. The birds would take
wing and leave the place for warmer climes. Then, after the
shroud of snow had been spread o'er the lifeless landscape, a
new and fairer spring would lift the pall of winter, and
glorious waves of warm life would cover the earth with beauty
again.
While in the city of Washington the traveler should see the
Corcoran Art Gallery. What a priceless treasure William Wilson
Corcoran left the American people when he deeded to the public
the Corcoran Gallery of Art to be used solely for the purposes
of encouraging American genius in the production and
preservation of works pertaining to the Fine Arts and kindred
subjects.
Over one-third of the artists represented in the Corcoran
gallery are American born and a look at the wonderful works of
art to be seen here will convince the most pessimistic person
that America has produced works that are worth while.
Among the many treasures of sculpture to be seen in this gallery
are Vela's "Last Days of Napoleon First," and Powers' "Greek
Slave," while among its canvases are Mueller's "Charlotte
Corday," Brooke's, "A Pastoral Visit," Von Thoren's "Lost Dogs,"
and Renouf's, "A Helping Hand."
Landscape art seems to be our "special province," and no wonder,
for what other country possesses such vast stretches of
prairies, magnificent rivers and lakes, unbounded primeval
forests and falls of such incomparable grandeur?
"We naturally turn to George Innes (1825-1894) as America's
foremost exponent of landscape art." Fortunate indeed is the
gallery to possess his "Sunset in the Woods." It is of interest
to note that it was not completed until many years after the
sketch was made. On July 23, 1891, Mr. Innes wrote of the
"Sunset in the Woods": "The material for my picture was taken
from a sketch made near Hastings, Westchester county, New York,
twenty years ago. This picture was commenced seven years ago,
but until last winter I had not obtained any idea commensurate
with the impression received on the spot. The idea is to
represent an effect of light in the woods towards sundown, but
to allow the imagination to predominate." Herein perhaps lay the
original power of the artist's genius; he had learned to labor
and to wait. Genius, without exceeding great labor, has never
accomplished much that shall last through time.
One feels when gazing on this exquisite poem of twilight, that
if only this one picture of the woods had been painted it were
better than to have produced a thousand inferior scenes. How
beautiful that glow on the "Venerable old tree trunk and the
opening beyond the great boulder." It is indeed a wonderful
creation filled with the mystery and silence of approaching
nightfall. As you gaze at the seemingly deepening gloom, you
feel the very spirit of the violet dusk. A wood thrush is
ringing her vesper bell softly. A marked stillness pervades the
atmosphere. A gray rabbit hops among the swaying foxglove and
fern tops; the plaintive note of the whippoorwill tells us night
will soon be here. One almost fears to look again, after turning
away, for a time, lest the last glow has faded and night is
there.
What marvelous beauty this poet of Nature has portrayed from the
common scenes of woods, meadow and stream, which so few really
see until an Innes shows us how divinely beautiful they are.
If you have never had the pleasure of gazing upon Niagara you
will want to pause long before Frederick E. Church's painting of
it, for he seems to have caught some of its fleeting beauties
and transferred them to canvas. This picture had a startling
effect upon Europeans when it was exhibited in Paris. When they
compared the falls of Switzerland to it, they gained a more
definite idea of the vast expanse of our natural wonders.
