Vinnie Ream - printed for private distribution only; and to preserve a few souvenirs of artist life from 1865 to 1878 (1908) (14596192457)

Identifier: vinniereamprinte00hoxi (find matches)

Title: Vinnie Ream : printed for private distribution only; and to preserve a few souvenirs of artist life from 1865 to 1878

Year: 1908 (1900s)

Authors: Hoxie, R. L. (Richard Leveridge), 1844-1930

Subjects: Ream, Vinnie, 1847-1914 Sculptors

Publisher: (Washington, D.C.) : (Press of Gibson Bros.)

Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection

Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

Text Appearing Before Image:

and that the higher has a right to utilize freelythe time and strength of the lesser, without being called to account for doing so. She herselfwas abjectly modest towards the artists she looked up to. Other people might all wait, comeagain, go away without a reply. Rather small of stature, strong and healthy—she had never been ill, never taken medicine—with white teeth and red cheeks, quick in everything, when several people were present she spokeonly little and absently, was cold, deliberate and composed as a man of strong character; but atthe same time she was unsuspecting and generous, and in spite of her restlessness and her ambitiousindustry, ingratiatingly coquettish towards anyone whose affection she wished to win. It wasamusing to watch the manner in which she despatched the dutifully sighing Italians who scarcelycrossed the threshold of her studio before they declared themselves. She replied to them witha superabundance of sound sense and dismissed them with a jest. 10 (;

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(Eariimal Autmtrlli UtmitP Seam. S»r.. IS Tililuii^leJi from life. f • I I VVOJ One day that I went to fetch her to the Casino Borghese, I found her dissolved in tears. Oneof the two beautiful doves who flew about the house and perched on her shoulders, and whichshe had brought with her from Washington, had disappeared in the night. At first I thoughtthat her distress was half jest, but nothing could have been more real; she was beside herself withgrief. I realized that if philologians have disputed as to how far Catullus poem of the girlsgrief over the dead sparrow were jest or earnest, it was because they had never seen a girl weepover a bird. Catullus, perhaps, makes fun a little of the grief, but the grief itself, in his poem,too, is serious enough. In the lovely gardens of the Villa Borghese, Vinnie Reams melancholy frame of mind wasdispersed, and we sat for a long time by one of the handsome fountains and talked, among otherthings, of our pleasure in bemg together, which plea

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1908

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