"The banking room, handsomely divided into various compartments, was twenty feet high, its ceiling embellished with moldings and tracery, 'ornaments of the 14th century.' Above the door to the money vault was carved the head of a dog (emblem of fidelity) in the act of guarding a pile of dollars, upon which the head rested. Four great windows with pointed arches rich with tracery lighted the room. " p 24
THE WORLD OF SAMUEL MEEKER, MERCHANT OF PHILADELPHIA, AND GILBERT STUART, AMERICAN PORTRAIT ARTIST
Saturday, April 24, 2010
A new, handsome young Banker!
"The banking room, handsomely divided into various compartments, was twenty feet high, its ceiling embellished with moldings and tracery, 'ornaments of the 14th century.' Above the door to the money vault was carved the head of a dog (emblem of fidelity) in the act of guarding a pile of dollars, upon which the head rested. Four great windows with pointed arches rich with tracery lighted the room. " p 24
Thursday, April 22, 2010
more on Rachel: "Count Germond ... raved all night about her beauty ..."
In the post previous to this, I briefly described Rachel and her sister Rebecca, both known as beauties in their time in the city of Philadelphia. Her husband, Solomon Moses, surely played an appropriate role in the wooing and winning of this beautiful young lady. While investigating this young couple, I came across a blog by Susan, who has studied the family from original documents. Original documentation stemming from the sitters of Stuart are outside of the realm of this blog (except for my Samuel Meeker & co.), but Susan has kindly granted permission to quote a bit from her most recent post. Hopefully more detail on Solomon and his wife Rachel will come to light in Susan's blog.
The following excerpt below is shown here with permission taken from the blog "Rebecca Gratz & 19th-Century America", click here to be taken to the full post on Rachel, and leisurely enjoy the story of this Philadelphian family and life in the CITY in much much more detail!
"Rachel was the youngest of the three Gratz sisters still at home at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and with her mass of red-gold hair and hazel eyes, she was considered the beauty of the family. Visiting in New York in 1800, she was seen at the theater by a Count Germond who raved all night about her beauty and spent the next two days wangling an introduction (the acquaintance went no further). Rebecca received compliments from those who had met her, but only Rachel caused flutters from across the room.
Unlike her older sisters Sarah and Rebecca who were "sensible" women, Rachel was under the rule of what the age called "sensibility," a term which would translate today to "emotions and affections." Her disposition served to enhance her physical beauty........... "
♥
Thursday, April 15, 2010
The Gratz beauties of Philadelphia and the Stuart portrait of their mother
from Rebecca Gratz & 19th-Century America: " 'In 1802 Miriam Gratz, Rebecca's mother, acceded to the requests of her children that she have her portrait painted. Rebecca went with her for her first sitting and wrote to her friend Maria Fenno about the experience. From a position "behind Stewart's chair" (that would be Gilbert Stuart she's talking about) she marveled "to see a countenance so dear to my heart appear on a board which but a few minutes before was a...piece of mahogany." She was struck by the resemblance and animation she saw in the work.
Miriam Gratz died suddenly in 1808, leaving her family in profound grief. Her husband Michael had suffered from depression for years, then sustained a stroke in 1800 from which he made a very partial recovery. He was as dependent on her as any of her children. Rebecca wrote to Maria in 1809: "We have indeed shut up our greatest treasure, the portrait of our beloved Mother, but we often visit it to weep over features too deeply graven on our hearts to require even the painter's skill to preserve. When first we were deprived of this best of parents I daily visited her picture, and felt that my only consolation was to gaze on it. But one day my father went into the room and was so overcome by looking at it, that we determined to sacrifice our wishes of having it constantly before us and close the room where it hangs.' "
from Lawrence Park:
Miriam, daughter of Joseph and Rosa (Bunn) Simon. She married in 1769 Michael Gratz (1740-1811), a Philadelphia merchant. Her daughter Rachel (1782-1823), Mrs. Solomon Moses, was painted by Stuart, and her husband and well-known daughter Rebecca were painted by Sully.
(I don't normally continue with the Park description of the portrait but do so here.)
Philadelphia, 1802. She is shown half-length, seated, three-quarters right, in a high, square-backed upholstered chair, studded with brass-headed nails, with her brown eyes directed to the spectator. A white lace ruffled cap with a white satin bow in front, gives only a glimpse of her hair. She wears a low-necked black dress, with a white muslin tucker, exposing the throat, and with loose sleeves reaching half-way between her elbows and wrists. About her neck is a short necklace. Her hands are brought together on her lap. In the background, a strip of light walnut panelled wall shows at the right, draped with a crimson curtain.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Gilbert Stuart Spring Fair
Gilbert Stuart Spring Fair !
April 25, 2010
1 - 4 p.m.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Random monthly pick: Solomon Moses 1774-1857; & ..."a cargo of beaux" !
Solomon Moses 1774-1857
A merchant in New York. In 1806 he married Rachel, daughter of Michael and Miriam (Simon) Gratz of Philadelphia.
Lawrence Park also indicates there was a bridal portrait of Rachel, wife of Solomon and says: “She was noted for her blond beauty. ...She brought up a large family of children, but her life, compared with that of her better-known sister Rebecca (1781-1869), was short and uneventful.” Then there is a brief description of the painting (shown above), and no more detail regarding the individual or portrait.
On a November evening in 1800, after a snowstorm, Rebecca's friend Maria Fenno in New York wrote that there was "no other noise but the jingling of sleighs" in the street outside her house.
Lovely as the sleigh bells were, Maria's words point up their reason for being: sleighs moved silently, the horses' hoofs muffled by the snow -- the bells alerted the unwary to their approach.
In January 1805 Eliza Fenno, Maria's little sister, recorded another evening made magical by sleigh bells. A friend of Eliza's had planned to give a dance at her house, but on the day of the event there was a heavy snowstorm, and by 8 p.m. no one had come. "We were in despair when the sound of sleigh bells coming down the lane made our hearts leap...." The sleigh brought "a cargo of beaux," and more sleighs soon followed. It was "a most delightful dance," Eliza wrote Rebecca, and the party did not break up until 3 a.m.
Another pleasure the sleigh afforded was to old people whose joints could no longer take the bouncing of carriages and wagons on the truly terrible roads which existed in most parts of the country in the early nineteenth century. A sleigh, however, could give them a smooth ride to those they could no longer visit at most times of the year -- and then whisk them home again before the snow melted.
Finally, there were sleighing parties similar to the one pictured in a detail from the painting above by John Lewis Krimmel. Here a sleigh full of merrymakers is probably making a tour of inns in the area where they can stop, warm up, drink, then go on to the next hostelry. As they are pictured here, the partiers are feeling no pain, probably noisy and a menace to other traffic. Sleighs, it seems, for all their charm, could be used recklessly.