[232] judges felt that it was the production of an artist who was something more than a patient and skilful reproducer of existing forms, and that it was imbued with a creative genius which revealed a power of progress and an element of growth, asking recognition and encouragement. The strong impression made by this statue produced its natural result: many commissions were sent to him, and some of them for works of an ideal character, —such as gave him the sphere and opportunity he had long desired. The days of sharp struggle were over, and his patient expectation began to reap its reward. He had no longer occasion to struggle against depression and despondency; he had fought the fight, and won the crown. Work, and congenial work, too, came to hint in reasonable measure,—not enough to absorb and exhaust all his energies, but sufficient to give him uninterrupted occupation, and to make his future sure. He had a large studio fitted up in the Piazza Barberini; and his active industry soon filled it with a collection of expressive and original works.
Crawford came to this country in the autumn of 1844, and during this visit married Miss Louisa Ward,—one of ‘the Three Graces of Bond Street,’—whom he had previously met at Rome. Sumner rejoiced in the happiness which this domestic event brought to his friend, as well as in the professional success which he had at length won. Later,—in the early part of 1845,—he bespoke Judge Story's influence for Crawford, who visited the National Capital seeking from the Government a commission for an equestrian statue of Washington. The artist did not succeed in his errand, but his conception was yet to be realized in that noble group at Richmond,—the most inspiring memorial of Revolutionary patriotism which American art has created.
Crawford wrote to George Sumner, in 1844:—
I am looking forward, my dear George, with an intensity of pleasure to meeting your truly glorious brother Charles. After my own family, there is no person in the United States whose friendship I have placed nearer my heart; and Charles has certainly proved how true a man can be to all those sympathies which make this world a pleasant place to live in. I scarce know what-short of a look into Paradise-could induce me to give up the pleasure of looking again into Charles's face, and feeling the earnest pressure of his hand on mine.
Sumner followed Crawford to the end with unfailing interest, and with a warmth of friendship which never abated; but the artist, although tenderly grateful to one who had served him so well, had now, with fame and fortune achieved, little need of his good offices. The visitor who passes through the halls of the Art Museum of Boston cannot fail to observe the ‘Orpheus,’
