Allston and His Unfinished Picture: Passages From the Journals of R. H. Dana

[WASHINGTON ALLSTON married (1830) a sister of the elder Dana; his first wife, Ann Channing, a sister of William Ellery Channing, having died in London in 1815. Connected with him by both marriages, the family relations between him and the Danas were naturally close, and the younger Richard often visited the artist’s studio. After one of these visits, on the 22d of April, 1843, he thus recorded his impressions : —]

Mr. Allston had been reading the Quarterly’s review of Dickens’ American Notes, and the Aberdeen Correspondence. He is less of a Republican than ever, and says that if things go on as they promise now, “ in eighty years there will not be a gentleman left in the country.” He says that the manners of gentility, its courtesies, deferences and graces are passing away from among us. Whether they pass away or no, he is a good specimen of them. Born of a distinguished family in Carolina, and educated into the feelings and habits of a gentleman, with a noble nature, a beautiful countenance and graceful person, what else could he be ?

No picture is more pleasing to my heart and fancy than to see Mr. Allston, seated at his parlor fire in the evening, after a day spent in his studio, his eyes resting meditatively upon the fire, his beautiful countenance marked with taste and thought, the smoke from his cigar going up in little clouds and mingling among the gray curls of his hair and then rising, to etherealize the whole, with the social glass of wine on the table which he has placed before his visitor. — the whole is painted in warm colors in my mind.

[About two o’clock on the morning of Sunday, July 9 of the same year, Dana was awakened by a loud ringing of the door-bell of the house in West Cedar Street. Boston, where he then lived, and in answer to his inquiry a man below informed him that he was needed at Cambridgeport immediately, — that Mr. Allston was dead.]

It went to my heart like a clap of thunder. For the first time in my life I was confused upon an alarm. I could hardly breathe. In time I was dressed and in the street. The night air was chilly, and the streets were as still as death. The man had been to call up Ned at Chestnut Street, and we waited for him. In a moment we heard the fall of footsteps, and Ned came up to us. We got into the chaise and rode out, with hardly a word spoken. Ned said. “ I left him at nine, sitting at his tea-table. Almost the last thing I heard him do was to ask a blessing at his table.”

We reached the house. I saw a light in his back parlor, where he. always sat, but none up-stairs. Where can he be ? Where did he die? We opened the door. Aunt Betsey met us in the entry. She said a few words. He was in the back room. I went to the door and just saw his body lying along the rug in front of the fire, and Aunt S. and Ned by his side. I could not, for my life, have gone up to the body. I went to the other end of the room and looked out of the window, I moved to the other window, but could not go up to it. Never did I force myself more than when I moved gradually and fearfully up to it. And there he lay. The men who were called in had placed him upon the rug in front of his fire-place. Excepting that his neckerchief had been removed, he was dressed as usual, his gray and white curls lay about his forehead and shoulders, and his sublime countenance with closed eyes was turned upward. His candles were burning upon the table ; by the side of them lay his spectacles ; the remnant of his last cigar was upon the corner of the mantel-piece where he always placed it, another untouched which he had taken out to use next lay near it ; a small plate as usual held the ashes of his cigar, and a few books, none of them, however, open, lay upon the table and mantel-piece. Mrs. Allston had been taken up-stairs. . . .

•July 10. The funeral services began at half past seven in the evening, being put late that we might have a veil of evening to keep the mourners from the common gaze. . . . The service at the house was performed by Aunt Martha’s [Mrs. Allston] clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Albro, while the church service was to be read at the tomb by Dr. Vinton of St. Paul’s Church, Boston, at which church Mr. Allston had been confirmed, and of which he had never ceased to be a member. . . . The procession passed by Mr. Albro’s church and the old Trowbridge house, in Mr. Allston’s road to church, and thence by the Brighton bridge street to the grave-yard. When we reached the ground it was about half past eight. There were a great many assembled in the yard about the tomb, and the sexton stood with his lantern. The moon was struggling through the clouds and making deep shadows from the grave-stones and monuments. The whole was a most impressive scene. The coffin was placed at the grave’s mouth, the mourners gathered about it, the men stood uncovered, and the solemn service of the church was read. The preacher’s voice, which is unusually good, sounded like a voice of promise from above, uttering words of hope and consolation. At the words “earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes,” some earth was dropped upon the coffin, and sounded fearfully and ominously to our ears. Yet the admirable church service seems to sanctify every portion of what attends the burial, even the throwing the earth upon the coffin. At the “ Amen,” the bearers raised the coffin and entered the tomb, and we left the yard. The moon was shining brightly when we reached home. . . .

July 11. A letter from Mr. Dexter saying that he did not hear of the death until after the funeral and expressing his regret. Sumner called with reference to a monument to Mr. Allston. Judge Story had been quite urgent about it. Judge S., Mr. Dexter, Hillard and Sumner are to control it. Colonel Perkins will head it. Brackett says he has made a very good east, and seems quite encouraged. Father and I called upon Uncle Edmund [T. Dana] with reference to the picture [ Belshazzar’s Feast].¹ We agreed to meet at the painting-room to-morrow at four P. M., with Mr. John Greenough to assist us.

July 12. At four P. M. we assembled to enter the painting-room and “ break the seal ” of the great picture. An awe had been upon my mind as though I were about to enter a sacred and mysterious place. I could hardly bring my mind to turn the key. We tried to prepare for the worst, so that nothing could disappoint us. But to enter this solemn place, so long and so lately filled with his presence and the home of his glorious thoughts and his painful emotions, the scene of his distresses when no human eye saw and few human spirits can comprehend! I turned the key and opened the outer door. We stood an instant in the porch; but Greenough, whose enthusiasm and interest far surpassed any awe be might feel, rushed in. There before us was spread out the great sheet of painted canvas, — but dimmed, almost obscured by dust and marks and lines of chalk. The eye ran across the picture for the main figures. Daniel stood erect. The queen was there. But where the king should have been, where Daniel’s eyes were fixed, was a shroud, a thickly painted coat, effectually blotting out the whole figure. We stood for some minutes in silence. “How could he have done it?” said Uncle E. “ He told me once he had finished the king and was satisfied with it.” " Oh, in some moment of darkness, he swept it all off.” Father looked at it and said, “ That is his shroud.” It was indeed a most solemn tragedy that this revealed. We felt that this had killed him. Over this he had worn out his enfeebled frame and his paralyzed spirit, until he had sunk under it. The agonies he had endured here no tongue can tell ! There in the left of the picture the large figures of three Chaldean soothsayers had been chalked over for alteration, the head of Daniel bail been chalked, and there were marks for alteration upon the face of the queen. Some of the pillars at the left of the picture had also chalk marks upon them. The steps upon which he painted were placed so as to bring him against the fares of the magicians, and by looking carefully we saw marks of fresh paint recently laid on upon the face of the magician nearest Daniel. There then had been his last work. To the latest moment he had labored upon this great work. He had almost died with his pencil upon it. Six hours before his death his pencil was on this picture. The right hand of Daniel was incomplete. He had told both me and my father that this hand was painted open; that Stuart, to whom lie had shown the picture, had told him to paint Daniel’s right band clenched, to express more intensity of feeling, and that he had altered it to please Stuart, or in deference to his judgment. But no sooner had he done so than he felt, what he had anticipated at the time, that it destroyed that idea. Daniel was not to be impassioned or intensely excited. His attitude was to be that of calm sublimity, and in contrast with the varieties of excitement portrayed about him. . . . The handwriting upon the wall was not finished.²

We found ourselves delicately situated. The picture had been partly paid for, and had been conveyed by a legal instrument to the subscribers. It was, perhaps, then, partly theirs ; or, at least, they had a contingent interest in it. We could not well proceed without reference to them. Yet, covered as the picture was with dirt and chalk marks, and with the king painted out, without cleaning, varnish, or frame, the proprietors, nor artists, would not understand or value the picture, and it would be vain and an injustice to Mr. Allston’s reputation to subject it to such a test. Would it not he wiser to call in one or two persons on whose judgment we could rely, and in whom the proprietors would also place confidence, and let them give their advice ? We thought it would. Having determined this point, we had no difficulty in deciding who those persons should be. Mr. Allston had always relied more upon the judgment and was more willing to trust his work and his relations to the public and to the proprietors of his pictures to the good taste and discretion of Mr. Warren Dutton and Mr. Franklin Dexter than to any other persons. We felt that in selecting them we should follow the wishes of the deceased better than by any other course. We agreed accordingly that they should be invited immediately to see the picture.

July 13. Called upon Mr. Dexter. He had a design for engraving all of Allston’s sketches and unfinished pictures in a volume, as outlines, to be called Allston’s Compositions. I told him of our determination to consult him and Mr. Dutton about the picture. He seemed much gratified, and agreed to meet us at the room at any time Mr. Dutton should say. . . . Going up the Street, I passed a tall, intellectual-looking man, with such a face and manner as one does not see every day. I thought it might be he, but passed on. I next met Mr. Dexter, with a green bag under his arm, at the corner of Summer Street. He proposed returning. I told him I had met such and such a man. “ Oh, that‘s he ! overhanging gray brows, and a stern expression, — looks like a dragon. That s the man.” We went back and found Mr. Dutton. After some conversation it. was agreed to meet at the room at four P. M. of the next day. Both the gentlemen showed a great interest in the subject and a very ready zeal.

July 14. Friday. Went out to the Port. Spied Uncle Edmund and Mr. Greenough going towards the room. There we found Mr. Dutton, waiting. Mr. Dexter soon arrived, and we went in together. By the use of a sponge with tepid water the picture had been brought out a great deal, and looked like quite another thing. After nearly two hours spent in its examination, we made efforts with spirits of turpentine to remove the shroud from the king. The spirits had a little effect upon the extremes, but none in the centre. It was then agreed among us all to make an attempt the next day with the proper materials and solvents, under the care of Mr. Greenough. Mr. Dexter being present. Mr. Dutton of one part of the picture said, “ I have seen nothing in Titian equal to that, for color.” And speaking of the group of females between Daniel and the soothsayers, he said, “ I have never seen a group equal to that except in Rubens’ Descent from the Cross ; and this is better than Rubens’ for drawing, and not inferior to it in color.” All agreed that that group was a wonderful composition and wonderfully colored. They said that for color it had not been surpassed by anything in art.

On going away Mr. Dexter said, " I can say that my expectations have been fully equaled.” “ Mine have been more than equaled,” said the enthusiastic Greenough. To this Dexter answered, “ It would be difficult for me to say that anything could have surpassed my expectation of this work.” Mr. Dexter having agreed to meet Mr. Greenough at the room the next morning at twelve, we separated.

July 15. Called upon Doggett, the picture - frame maker, to know if he had seen the picture. He told me that about fifteen years ago, when the picture was in Pearl Street, he called and measured it for its frame. That then the principal figures were finished. I questioned as to the dress of each. He said the king seemed to be finished, and was dressed in a cloth of gold. This corresponded exactly with John Greenough’s description. In the evening Ned came in and said they had been through many alternations of feelings at. the room. Greenough tried his solvent, and it had some effect, but seemed to bring out the glazing of the form beneath, and he was obliged to stop. Mr. Dexter, after considering it attentively for some time, sent for some spirits of wine, mixed them with turpentine and applied a little with his finger, carefully. This evidently produced some effect, but Mr. Dexter declined doing anything further, and suggested that the proprietors of the picture should be got together, and their authority should be obtained before any further experiments should be tried with the picture.

July 17. Another interview with Dexter. He is oppressed by the unfinished state of the picture and the confusion arising from the evident change of plan. Yet he says it is a great picture, that the figures have haunted him ever since, that he cannot get them from his mind, and that there is nothing in the art superior to some parts of this picture.

July 19. This afternoon, by agreement, Mr. Dexter and Mr. Dutton came out to see the sketches, which they had not seen before, and to look again at the picture, in order to form an opinion as to whether the paint can be removed from the king, and whether, if removed, the king will correspond with the rest of the picture as it now is. . . . We spent some time in the room. Dexter sees great signs of change in the light and point of sight which he fears will involve the perspective in confusion. He seems almost in despair. Dutton is more confident, and thinks that if the king can be brought out, the picture ought to be exhibited. They both feel most sensibly the power of the picture. Mr. Dutton said he had dreamed of it, and had it before him nearly all his waking hours.

July 25. Tuesday. Mr. Dexter shows a letter from S. F. B. Morse in which he consents to come and see the picture, at the request of Mr. D. and ourselves, and that he shall be here Wednesday or Thursday.

July 26. Morse says it is a grand work. It grows upon him. . . . Morse and Dexter and Uncle Edmund discussed the perspective very fully. There has been a change in the point of sight, and a partial change of design, the alterations necessarily consequent upon which have not been fully carried out. Therefore, there is an apparent confusion and evident want of completeness. Morse says that every line and every chalk mark must be preserved, in order to show’ the intentions of Allston. ... As to the king, Morse says that he saw the picture about two years ago, and that then the king’s head was finished and open. That the figure was painted over. Both he and Mr. D. say that the king must have been painted over, not from dissatisfaction with the conception, but in order to enlarge the figure, to do which had become necessary from altering the point of sight. He had begun to raise the Chaldeans in the extreme right, and would then have raised the king in the left. Tlie right hand of the king, lately painted but unfinished, is for the larger figure. It would not probably correspond with the figure under the embrorio. The queen’s figure, about the waist, is not finished. Daniel’s shoulder is incomplete. The Chaldeans are quite chaotic, and the style of the capitals of the front columns had been changed from the sketch and from that of back columns, in the rear of the hall. Morse agrees that he last painted on the head of that soothsayer who has his front face toward the spectator.

July 28. Set off this morning at seven o’clock in the Western cars, for Hartford and Wethersfield. ... At Springfield went to Warrener’s to dine. There found Mr. Ticknor and his wife and daughter and Mr. William Gardiner. Mr. Ticknor took me one side, and asked with great interest after the picture and Mr. Allston’s matters. He had been absent ever since the death. He had known, as a secret, from Allston, two years ago, that the king had been painted over, and he said Mr. Allston told him within a year (I think it was) that he had at last fixed upon his final design with which he was satisfied, and that he should never change it. Mr. Ticknor asked him if he might not alter his plan in some parts which would make labor for him; to which Mr. Allston replied that it was impossible. Told Mr. Ticknor that I should call upon him in Boston as soon as I returned.

[The strong impression which Allston’s individuality had made upon Dana did not diminish with the lapse of time. On the contrary, in 1852, nine years after the artist’s death, a house in Cambridgeport in which he had lived many years was destroyed by fire. The incident revived Dana’s reminiscences, and he thus referred to Allston in his diary: — ]

1852. August 20. During the three years and a half I was a student at Cambridge, after my return from sea, my Senior year and my two and one half years in the Law School, it was my habit to spend there one evening every week. I walked down about dusk, for his dinner hour was after dark : he had closed his painting-room after a day of exquisite or tormenting, lacerating or soothing labor ; the candles in their silver sticks were shining over his table covered with a pure white cloth, decked with a few dishes, his never failing decanter of Madeira, and after a warm salutation we sat down at table. His dress was a blue coat with gilt buttons, drab pantaloons, a rich brown or buff waistcoat, and a white cravat; while his hair, beautiful even in age with various tints of gray and waving curls, crowned the exquisite beauty of his regular but animated features. His day’s work, be it fortunate or unfortunate, is over. There is nothing more for him to do but to enjoy ease and pleasant society. The meal is protracted, and no claim of helping or being helped is permitted to interfere with anecdote or criticism.

When the dinner is removed, the glasses remain, and a small plate containing his evening cigar. When this was lighted and he had leaned back in his chair, and the wreathed smoke arose like a halo about his curling hair, so close to it in color and form and lightness that you hardly knew which was ascending into the air, — then the beauty and the dream of life seemed truly to have begun.

Take him for all in all, I ne’er shall look upon his like again ! The exquisite moral sense, the true spirituality, the kindness and courtesy of heart as well as of manner, the corresponding external elegance, the elevation above the world and the men and things of it. — where have these ever been so combined before? The wine of life is drawn.

Charles Francis Adams.