IT was between the years 1866 and 1868 that the great crisis of young Gibson’s life occurred; and a series of influences and incidents befell, which were decisive in settling the great questions of his life-work and of the spirit in which he would undertake it. The latter of the two was the first to be decided. It was at this period of his life that the boy experienced one of those changes in disposition, which was like the awakening or the sudden unfolding of the real self, hitherto hidden under apparently opposite traits. While he was at the Gunnery, Gibson had troubled the soul of his teacher, as we have seen, because he had not, as Mr. Gunn put it, “learned to be spontaneously industrious.” But during the years immediately following, while he was yet at the Polytechnic, he “came to himself.” He had been an easy-going boy, rather indolent in habit, or at least deficient in the power of industrious, persevering application. But now he began to show a love of work, to love it for its own sake, to plan it, and to seek it of his own volition. He took a vigorous hold upon his studies at the Polytechnic. He found a new delight, as well But the time had come which was to put his earnestness and force to the test. His father’s death in 1868 had made it necessary that he should hasten to choose a career and begin his self-support. Few young men are “called” to any special work in life; fewer still “elect,” of their own free will, the thing There is nothing to record the inward struggle of those days, save the quick resolve which he made, and the abrupt turn in his purpose. In the course of his calls to solicit business he chanced upon an acquaintance who was a draughtsman, and found him engaged in drawing upon the block. Gibson watched him a while, and forgot his errand in the sight of this congenial work. As he told a friend, years afterward: “After looking on for a few moments, I decided that I could do such work as well as he. I learned where the blocks could be bought and went off immediately to invest in a quantity of the material. From that moment I abandoned everything else, and set to work at drawing.” This was in truth One hardly does justice to the boldness of the young man’s resolve until he remembers that Gibson was proposing to begin his career as an artist with nothing but his native genius as a warrant of success. He was wholly lacking in training, as later days would understand it. He had studied art in no school. He had received the teaching of no master-artist. All that he could do was what he had worked out for himself. It would seem almost audacious, even reckless, for a young man to rush into the field of illustration with no more preparation either to fit him to do intelligent work or to discover to himself whether he really possessed abilities which would make his venture worth while. Untaught and unpractised, save in the desultory way of a boy’s attempts to express his own ideas with the pencil, he made up his mind that he could and that he would do as good artistic work as anybody. The intrepidity of youth is either ridiculous or it is sublime. Perhaps we must let events decide which it is. In this case the years made Gibson’s daring spirit seem the truest courage. Yet one holds his breath as he thinks of this boy boldly walking into the offices of the Harper Brothers, with his drawings on wood, to offer them for sale. It is small wonder that they did not find acceptance in this exacting quarter. Gibson, armed with a letter of introduction to the Harpers, had gone to one of the firm, who turned him over to Charles Parsons, the head of the art department. It was arranged that he should have two weeks’ trial, to test his capacity. At the end of that time Mr. Parsons said to him, in substance, “I do not see that you will ever succeed in an artistic career. I advise you to drop it at once, and go into some other pursuit. I do not feel justified in recommending you to go on.” This judgment was as kindly in intention as it was candid in tone. It was the verdict of a cool-headed critic as well as an honest friend. It ought to have put an end to Gibson’s aspirations. It is the joy of all his friends to remember how he met this rebuff. He insisted that he should go on; he knew what he could do, and he meant to show other people. Nothing could deter, So Gibson turned from the doors which afterward opened to him so eagerly, and traveled on in search of appreciation and a market. He found both at the hands of John G. Shea, then of Frank Leslie’s house, who bought his drawings for “The Chimney Corner” and “The Boys’ and Girls’ Weekly.” “I began to pay my way,” said Gibson in a newspaper interview, “as soon as I met him. It was he who first suggested to me that I might furnish text with my drawings; and then I received double pay.” Soon after this he began to furnish botanical drawings for “The American Agriculturist.” His work was so acceptable that he was invited to take a desk in the offices of the publication, and he here became acquainted with J. C. Beard, Jr., with whom he had a life-long friendship. An opportunity occurring to furnish drawings for botanical articles in Appleton’s “EncyclopÆdia,” Gibson undertook the task; and when this led to a disagreement with the manager of the “Agriculturist,” he and Beard left the paper and took a room by themselves, in John Street. Here the orders began to come in, besides what they were doing for Leslie and Appleton, from various lithographers. The young men led a happy life, full of hard work, good fellowship, ambitious plans. Gibson was absorbed in his The days were full of hope and determination. He had no doubts about his ultimate success. He was a firm believer in himself. And he knew he had found the work he loved and into which he could throw his whole abounding life. It is a fine picture of a brave young fellow facing a difficult career with the buoyant hopes of youth and the confidence of a really strong nature. He was only nineteen when he wrote to the young girl to whom he had already given his heart: “This work perfectly fascinates me. It has always been my choice; it always will be. I shall never be happy if I have to abandon it. I look forward to it with delight and enthusiasm.... I do not allow myself to be too sanguine. I expect difficulties, trials, disappointments. I am willing to work, use all my energy, brave all manner of disappointments if in the end that future which we so often picture to one another can be realized.” Another letter, a few months later, tells the story of hard work and increasing care, in apology for delay in writing to his mother. It also introduces the matter of one of his largest commissions up to this time, and shows how certainly he was making his way: “Mother, I think of you just as much as ever, but I am so busy that when evening comes my natural dislike to letter writing is increased tenfold by fatigue. I wish I could give some correct idea of the amount of work that I do, and of how continually I am occupied. I am dreadfully busy, and last week and week before I worked at the office evening after evening until nearly eight, very seldom leaving before seven. You may perhaps form some idea when I tell you that I have got work on hand now (all in a hurry, as fast as I can do it) amounting to over $1,000.00 (one thousand dollars). It is all from Appleton & Co. and $840.00 of it is in one commission. It consists of twelve drawings on stone, each stone measuring nearly four feet by three, and weighing about four hundred pounds. I agreed to do the drawings on each stone for $70.00 which amounts as above. I have commenced and finished one stone satisfactorily, and commenced another to-day. It takes five men to bring the stone to my office and it is the largest size that can be used on a power press. A ‘tremendous job’ people call it, and don’t see ‘how on earth I manage to get at all these things.’ I believe I told you The sequel to that story is given in one of his frank, confidential letters to his mother, meant only for her eye, and therefore full of such a self-expression as he would have made to no one else. It answers still further the question as to how he came to get this particular commission in a way which reveals again his boldness and faith in undertaking new and untried work: “N. Y., Jan. 22, 1872. “My dear Mother: “I have stopped short in my work for the purpose of writing a few lines to you, as more time has already elapsed since you last heard from me than I had expected to allow. Everything goes on as smoothly as I could desire; of course there are ripples occasionally but they only tend to make the intervening success and prosperity more serene by contrast. “I still continue as busy as ever only more so. It was about these days that he made his first original work, a little composition now treasured and carefully preserved. He wrote about it to his mother: “Week before last I took to Mr. Bunce a little bit of sunset effect in the form of a sketch which I did in fifteen minutes, in India ink and white. Beard admired it ever so much, and just for fun I took it to Bunce as a sort of specimen of ‘original design.’ To my surprise he admired it so much that he gave me a block, and told me to put it on the wood by all means, for the ‘Journal.’ It is very simple in composition, being drawn in a circle with the foreground open. On the right is a hillside with a few tall trees; on the left another slope, more distant. The extreme distance is composed of a village with church-spire, trees, etc., standing out against a brilliant sunset sky which shows through the trees. In the extreme foreground is a traveler, or farmer, wending his way homeward; his figure is almost a silhouette and his shadow is cast upon the road. It is my first attempt at a design. My head is ‘chuck full of them,’ but I cannot get a chance to use them I am so busy.” Other letters covering this period are full of interest. They show the heart of the young fellow, his frank delight in his own success, and in the approval which his work begins to receive. He was much elated over the success of an engraving he made for the “Aldine”: “New York, Feb. 2, 1872. “Dear Mother: “I have just a few moments’ spare time which I will improve by writing a short letter or note to you. “Concerning my picture, all the artists of the establishment admired the effect and recognized the ‘excellent copy’ of Inness’ style and handling. They all seem to think that the picture is rather unnatural in its intensity but that the effect is wonderful. Well, it was yesterday that I brought it over. I had cut it out of the paper on which I drew it and pasted it neatly on a large piece of white stiff photograph board. Its “I begin it next week and as I cannot give Roberts’ time to it and will have to work evenings, will probably not finish it for two weeks or so.” In the fall of this year he had a commission from “Brooklyn, N. Y., Sept. 23/72. “My dear Mother: “I returned from my trip on Thursday, but did not wish to write you immediately as I hoped to be able to send you more encouraging news by waiting a day or so. Many were the disadvantages which I labored under during all the time while I was away, being almost sick constantly. Nevertheless I worked through it all, hard and faithfully, and the result is ‘a perfect success,’ far exceeding my greatest anticipations. It was a very important period in my business career, and I felt the necessity of working hard, and, truth to say, I was confident of success, but not to any such degree as that with which I have met. “My commission included Providence and Suburbs: Pawtucket; Providence Bay; Narragansett Bay; Rocky Point and Narragansett Pier, all of which I visited and sketched. During the first week I remained at the Central Hotel, Providence, where I had quite a pleasant room. It being the first time of my being “I came home with about twenty-two sketches. All here at the house thought them beautiful. Mr. Beard was perfectly surprised at their beauty and Mr. Bunce at Appleton’s pronounced them one of the ‘best lots of sketches he has yet had’ and complimented me on my ‘perfect success.’ He was very much pleased indeed, and admired them all, and gave vent to his admiration with loud praise; he called old and young Appleton and several other gentlemen to see them, all of whom pronounced them ‘very fine.’ will come along as fast as I want them; and will amount to about $400 worth of work. Besides this I have plenty of work from Filmer, in a hurry, another very large job from Appleton (on stone), stacks of work for Leslie and plenty else besides, scarcely knowing where to begin. My bill to D. App. & Co. for my trip was considerably over $100, which they paid without a word not even wishing an item. “It does seem rather strange to me that whatever I undertake to do, always ends in success, and in unexpected success. To be sure it is done by hard work and I do not see why any one cannot succeed who will put their shoulder to the wheel, be ambitious and full of resolution to surmount all difficulties. So far I have not made a failure, and one reason has been that I have not attempted a thing to which I did not feel equal. I am thankful that I do succeed, and I recognize, through all my experience in business, and in my efforts to advance, the ever present help and guidance of a good and kind Providence.” On the 29th of October, 1873, he was married to Miss Emma L. Blanchard of Brooklyn. The occasion was made the more interesting by the marriage of his sister Juliet, and the double service was performed by Mr. Beecher. In the following spring he made a sketching trip to Washington, D. C., making pictures for “Picturesque America.” He was now doing good work and receiving constant employment. He “Brooklyn, Apr. 19, 1874. “My Dear Mother: “I am only going to write you a few lines to-night (which by the way has generally been my expressed intention every time I have written) and for fear that I may possibly overstep that intention I have selected a larger sheet of paper than usual, and expect at least to confine the limits of my letter therein. “Mr. Bunce was very much pleased with my rendering of a difficult subject, and one which had worried him considerably. I took him the drawing yesterday, and received another commission from him, more work for the ‘Picturesque America.’ My drawings will already appear under three heads, viz.: ‘Providence and Suburbs,’ ‘Connecticut Shore,’ and ‘Washington and Mt. Vernon,’ and now there is still another to be added. I am to proceed immediately with Brooklyn and Prospect Park, and expect to begin my sketching to-morrow, of course being paid as I am usually, for my time. The series will not be very extensive, probably a combination or two with a few small separate pictures. I hope that this new work will not interfere with my intended visit with you during arbutus season. I will try and manage so as to bring my work up there for I hope to spend three In the fall of 1876 Gibson published through James Miller a book for boys, of which a fuller word will be said later in these pages. It bore the title, alluring to any boy, “The Complete American Trapper; or the Tricks of Trapping and Trap-Making.” It was republished by two other firms, and still has a market. These were the years of apprenticeship and study. The young man’s art class was his own studio. His course of study was determined by the business needs of those who employed him. His chief instructor was himself. The years went quickly by. A trip to the Adirondacks in 1875, another to Philadelphia to sketch the Centennial Exhibition of 1876 were the chief incidents of the next two years. The Philadelphia enterprise was under the patronage of Harper Brothers. For at last he had secured the approval he had coveted so much, and was able to win his way into the publications of this house on his own merits. From time to time he had shown his work to Mr. Parsons, who admitted his progress and acknowledged his growing promise. At last he received an order to illustrate an article in conjunction with his friend Beard. Other work followed, and he was a recognized contributor to the Harpers’ publications. But the work which probably made his “calling and election sure” was his masterly illustration of an But best and most conclusive of all the words of praise which this drawing elicited, were those of Mr. Charles Eliot Norton, in a personal letter to the young artist: “Cambridge, Nov. 8, 1878. “Dear Sir: I am much obliged to you for your note, for it gives me an opportunity which I have desired, to express to you my admiration of the skill and beauty of the design of the peacock’s feather, so excellently cut on wood by Mr. King. It is not merely subtle and refined execution which is shown in the piece, but a poetic feeling for the quality and charm of the feather itself and for its value in composition. Your feather ought to be as well known as Rembrandt’s shell or Hollar’s furs. For you and Mr. King in your joint work have succeeded in suggesting the splendor, the play, the concentration of color, the bewildering multiplicity of interlacing curves, the elastic spring and vitality of every fiber, and have “I am very desirous to see a proof of your feathers on soft India paper. If I can find some proper paper here I shall be tempted to send it to you. But paper suitable for such work is not easily found.” All this was said of the youth who six years before had been pronounced without even the promise of ability! Surely he had a right to be proud of his triumph. He had fairly won his spurs. Henceforth there was no doubt of his standing as one of the first of American illustrators. |