Wednesday, Aug 4, 1886 I had a rather sad letter from Mary Gifford last night in which she spoke of being despondent and half discouraged. I wrote her a letter before I went to bed, in which I tried at least to show my sympathy with her. As for me I am as unhappy as I can well be. I seem only to be a servant spending my time in menial pursuits and occupations. This morning at 5 oclock I was awake and looked out of my window. There was a beautiful effect of sky with a simple landscape. I thought I would go over to my studio and try a sketch of it, but there was an old wagon to mend and a thousand distracting things to attend to, so that when I did go I was in no mood to paint and as a consequence made a miserable failure. After dinner my father, Mary and I drove to Kingston crossing the bridge and going out on the road near the creek to near the turnpike gate on the Sawkill road. The landscape was fine and rich but it seemed to me I would never be able to paint it again so disturbed and unhappy do I feel. My father does not care to ride far now and soon tires. He does not show much interest in any thing but I think he is really disturbed by so large a family. This has been another cool charming day, just the weather for the Yellowstone trip I was obliged to decline. Saml. J. Tilden died this morning at his country place of Greystone near Yonkers. He was a man I never could have the least admiration for, and seemed to me the embodiment of selfishness and without human sympathies. Thursday,
Aug 5, 1886 Awoke early with a feeling of great depression and discouragement. I thought sadly of dear Gertrude to whom I used to tell my troubles and of what a blessing and solace her presence would be. When one awakes to some interesting [labor?] life is a blessing, but when the mind cannot pursue its objects by reason of anxieties, the days are sad and tedious. It has been cool and cloudy, threatening rain which came about 6 oclock. I spent the forenoon in Kingston getting the horses shod. Girards wife, Jamie Andrews, Marion and the children went to Leggs Mills on a pic nic. Andrews was not at home to tea but came in late. Friday,
Aug 6, 1886 I went over to my studio and painted a little on the head of Gertrude on which I am experimenting, but it gets worse instead of better. Wilmart sent me his bill which to my great relief was $150 less than I thought it was. My bill for studio rent came also. I am very anxious to know whether Pinchot will respond to my letter in time. I can't help a feeling that there will be some delay. I had a note from Kurtz saying my Autumn picture had not been returned from Detroit although the smaller one had; I therefore wrote to Hanna & Ives today regarding it, which is the third letter I have written them concerning it. Sara came home from Millets Point today. Saturday,
Aug 7, 1886 A week of August has gone. I find myself secretly glad the summer is passing, having a vague sense that there is to be satisfaction in the future or perhaps that the Autumn is coming when I will work with some result and some pleasure in my work. How I wish I were in some quiet place now with nothing to think of but my Art and studying from nature. I worked a while over at my studio but without much aim. I spent most of the afternoon in my room looking over some of dear Gertrudes things in her bureau drawers. It is sad work to see these things so intimately connected with her. I came across a little memorandum book which Sara found among my mothers things after her death, which Gertrude had evidently given to her. It ran back to 1866 and there were memoranda in her hand writing of many little events. I go back into the past when I look over these trifles which are precious and most sad to me because they belonged to her. Oh! I wonder often if she is conscious how I miss her and long for her.
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten