On the
inspiring life and the legacy of the woman herself.
On the
surface, Isabella
Stewart Gardner’s life would seem to exemplify an upper class experience of
Gilded Age America. Born into a wealthy New York family, she married into an
even wealthier one—her husband John
“Jack” Gardner was the descendent of generations of Boston Brahmins on both
sides of his family—and benefitted from those connections immensely:
traveling extensively throughout Europe and Asia, befriending numerous painters
and artists, serving as a patron to many of them as well as to organizations
such as the
Boston Symphony, commandeering the Boston social scene for many decades,
and so on. It was not a life without significant losses—her only child, a son,
died at the age of two; she outlived her beloved husband by more than a
quarter-century—but certainly it was a life of great privilege and all that
comes with it; as Bruce
Springsteen put it, “a life of leisure and a pirate’s treasure / Don’t make
much for tragedy.”
Indeed
they don’t—but the key question to ask of Isabella Stewart Gardner is what she
did make of her life, and the answer is on multiple levels very inspiring. In
her private life, Gardner followed her passions and loves without (it seems) the
slightest worry about what was considered proper or how she might be
perceived—some of those loves were stereotypically highbrow (Venice, the opera,
priceless art and antiques), but others were anything but (Red
Sox baseball and Harvard football, boxing and horse racing, entertainments
and adventures wherever and however she could find them). In response to the rumors
and gossip that often sprang up around her, Gardner simply noted, “Don’t
spoil a good story by telling the truth” and continued to live her life.
Even more inspiringly, her relationships with the artists and authors she
befriended were far from simply financial or one-way streets—John Singer
Sargent, the painter to whom she was particularly close (and on whom more tomorrow),
considered her a lifelong friend, and his
painting of her from two years before her death is one of the most
sensitive and powerful portraits ever produced in America.
Gardner’s
legacy, as embodied in and exemplified by the Museum, is more inspring still. Literally
every aspect of the Museum—known at its 1903 opening as Fenway
Court—represents Gardner’s own design and inspiration, from its Fenway location
to its use of a transported three-story Venetian palace, the arrangements and specifics
of each room to the courtyard’s precise details of colors, flowers, and more. Gardner’s will bequeathed
a substantial amount to the upkeep and expansion of the Museum, with the
requirement that it maintain her vision and choices. And most importantly, that
vision was anything but a Gilded Age stereotype: she hoped that the Museum
could serve “for
the education and enrichment of the public forever,” and openly and
passionately hoped that all Americans could have the chance to visit the Museum
and experience its artistic, cultural, historical, and educational environment
and effects. Such goals are perhaps not unlike other Gilded
Age figures’ Gospel of Wealth, of philanthropic giving coupled to vast
fortunes—but in Gardner’s case, she offered not just her wealth but every inch
of her identity and perspective, of what she cared about and what she most
valued. You can feel that gift in every inch of the Museum.
Next
Gardner Museum link tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What
do you think? Takes on the Gardner? Other unique places and spaces you’d highlight?
9/10
Memory Day nominees: A tie between two iconoclastic,
influential,
and impressive
20th
century American authors
and voices, H.D. (Hilda Doolittle) and Stephen Jay Gould.
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