A resolute girl of her peculiar taste

I was doing research at the Archives of American Art yesterday and found a great description of Harriet Hosmer's studio and house just before she moved to Rome. I was in a book called Three Holes in the Chimney.


“Miss Hosmer had determined to go to the old country and complete here studies, and to come home occasionally, which she did as long as her father lived, so a short time before she left her native town she opened her house and studio to the public, which was a very happy thought. Her father’s house had a long hall passing through the centre; on the left hand side was the doctor’s office, then the staircase, then a large room which she had fitted up as a museum. Here she told us were articles which she had collected herself, and pointing to a nest with eggs in it, she said: “ I got this in Concord, Mass.; it was on the highest tree for miles around; this was at the top, and I got it at sunrise, too.” She had ducks, fowls of every description in our climate, insects, curious twigs and branches, grasses, ferns, in fact everything a resolute girl of her peculiar taste and with such a venturesome spirit might collect. It was a very warm day, and as she handed us a big palm-leaf fan, said: ‘We will go out into the studio and get cool.’ Her father had given her a small, square building to fix up especially for her use, quite a little way from the house among the trees; here she could use her great hammer and tools with which she worked unmolested. We stepped into the room or shop, as it looked to be, as on the bench were the large hammers and different tools. ‘And no, ladies,’ she said, ‘I will show you what I have been about the last few months,’ and stepping up to something which was in the centre of the room, she took hold of a dark cloth and lifted it off, an thus unveiled to our astonished gaze one of the most beautiful sights I ever saw, in marble, certainly the best. On a rough pedestal, which she had fixed herself, was placed a beautiful state which she had made out of a rough slab of marble—a life-sex bust which she called the ‘Goddess of Sleep.” Around the head was a wreath of poppies, most beautifully wrought, so delicate once could see between each leaf, bud and stem. As Miss Hosmer stood with one hand on the handle of a large hammer which lay on the bench, I ventured to ask her how she could possibly use such heavy tools. She said: ‘Only a knack of the trade, that’s all.’ Her working suit hung up near the door, and pieces of marble and dust from her work lay around, as if she had just finished working. She shook hands with us all as we left, and I have never seen her since. She walked along with us as far as the front entrence of her father’s house, and invited us to come again. Miss Hosmer wore a small figured brown and white lawn dress, made with yoke and belt, plain skirt; she carried a small gold watch and chain, and now when you read about Miss Hosmer in Rome you will feel more interested,” said Mrs. Clark.