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Updated: June 26, 2025
She had reared a family; had laid some of them down to sleep in the old cemetery; had struggled through poverty, sickness, and sorrow she and Ephraim together always together. He brought her to no stately home that day so long ago, that she put her hand in his, and he had no stocks or bonds or broad acres, yet Mrs. Kensett had for forty years counted herself a rich woman.
If I am ever so fortunate as to be able to visit Europe, and cultivate and improve my taste, I think I shall still be very proud of the names of Allston, West, Church, Bierstadt, Kensett and Gifford." She turned to quit the gallery, and Sir Roger said: "I leave to-morrow for Canada, and may possibly sail for England without returning to New York.
"'My name is Kensett, I said, 'Harold Kensett, of New York. "'Student? "'Er a little. "'Student of diamonds? "I smiled. 'Oh, I see you know who my great-aunt was, I said. "'I know her, he said. "'Ah perhaps you are unaware that my great-aunt is not now living. "'I know her, he repeated, obstinately. "I bowed. What a crank he was! "'What do you study?
Kensett looked forward to a change of her home with pleasure; she wanted to get into the country once more, and Martha, the second daughter, had married a farmer and lived in the country; it was a long distance from Hawthorn, and she had not visited her daughter since her marriage.
I wanted to see Kate's enjoyment of a scene that Kensett or Church should have made immortal long ago: a wide stretch of hill and valley, quivering with cornfields, rolled away in pasture lands, thick with sturdy woods, or dotted over with old apple-trees, whose dense leaves caught the slant sunshine, glowing on their tops, and deepening to a dark, velvety green below, and far, far away, on the broad blue sky, the lurid splendors of a thunder-cloud, capped with pearly summits, tower upon tower, sharply defined against the pure ether, while in its purple base forked lightnings sped to and fro, and revealed depths of waiting tempest that could not yet descend.
Kensett would have felt some risings of pride, as, leaning on the arm of her youngest son, she mounted the marble steps, and walked through the spacious halls and beautiful parlours of his home. But John's home was handsome, too; the carpets were soft and rich, the chairs luxurious, and curtained windows spread their drapery about them in soft fine folds. What of all that when hearts were frozen?
In contrast with the dark prison scene, how beautiful the canvas! Mr. Kensett had an irresistible way of calling trees and rocks and waters into his pictures. He only beckoned and they came. Once come, he pinioned them for ever. Why, that man could paint a breeze on the water, so it almost wet your face with the spray.
At first, he was a disciple of Kensett, with brown shadows and artificial high-lights, but study of nature soon cured these mannerisms, and he grew steadily in skill and power, until he succeeded in imparting to his pictures the deep, grave and sobering sentiment, which is the keynote of his work.
There were some men I was surprised to find there men whom I had seen in other places, in holy places, in consecrated places. We came out into the sunlight after that, and found ourselves very soon in the art-gallery at Twenty-third street. That was my second visit. Mr. Kensett, the great artist, recently died, and six hundred and fifty of his pictures are now on exhibition.
Never did maiden watch for lover's missive with more ardour; sometimes he wrote one day, sometimes another, but always once a week, and Mrs. Kensett kept a sharp look out for the postman; when the time drew near for him to come she made many journeys down the stairs to see if she could get a glimpse of him.
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