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| photo by Alice Lum |
In 1869 sculptor John Quincy Adams Ward’s ground-breaking
statue “The Indian Hunter” was unveiled in Central Park. It was notable not only because it was the
first work by an American artist in the park; but because the subject was a
uniquely American subject. Ward depicted
the hunter and his dog in truly naturalistic poses; a stark departure from the
neo-classical style Victorians were accustomed to. It was just the first of four bronze statues
Ward would execute for the park.
Three years later Ward’s statue of William Shakespeare was
installed, followed two years later, in 1874, by his Seventh Regiment Memorial. Now, in 1884, with its 75th
anniversary approaching, the New England Society commissioned Ward to design a
monument to the Pilgrim fathers who landed in Massachusetts in 1620.
On October 12, 1884 The New York Times described “Mr. J. Q.
A. Ward’s ideal figure of a New-Englander for Central Park.” A reporter visited Ward’s studio and deemed
the statue “one of Mr. Ward’s best efforts and will doubtless rank next to his
Shakespeare, already in the Park.” The
journalist commented on Ward’s details. “It
was possible to be picturesque by using boots such as we associate with the Cavalier
rather than the Roundhead, an old-fashioned belt with archaic powder and shot
pouched, a cuirass, a rolling collar of the period, and a ‘steeple’ hat.”
The Pilgrim stared off into the distance while his right
hand rested on the muzzle of the flintlock at his side. “The face is eminently characteristic of
certain New-Englanders, wince it is handsome in feature but not amiable in
expression. It is a fine face with a
discontented and somewhat sullen look,” said the writer.
At this point the critic let his imagination get the best of
him. He compared the figure to Captain
Underhill of the Massachusetts colony who sought to exterminate the Native Americans. “’I will exterminate the vermin round here,’
he seems to be saying, ‘if you Dutch sons of Belial will give me seawant enough to trade with the Mohawks
up to Rensselaerswyck.’ It is a very
confident face, and his attitude also shows an almost childlike confidence that
his flintlock will not go off suddenly, as guns do nowadays, for if it did he
would have no right hand left.”
The Times critic was undecided as to whether Ward’s fine
statue was the result of talent or luck.
“The statue is thus not only a good piece of work artistically, but the
cleverness or the good luck of the sculptor has made it the fittest of all
representative New-Englanders for a place in Manhattan’s chief park.”
At the time of the article the Park Commissioners had not
yet formally approved acceptance of the statue.
Letters were received from the Presidents of the Metropolitan Museum of
Art, the National Academy of Design and the New York Chapter of the American
Institute o Architects; all of whom gave their support. On Wednesday, December 17, 1884 the Board
voted, agreeing to accept the gift of the statue.
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| The statue not long after its unveiling -- photograph by Augustus Hepp from the collection of the Museum of the City of New York http://collections.mcny.org/C.aspx?VP3=SearchResult_VPage&VBID=24UAYWE7U47X&SMLS=1&RW=1280&RH=915 |
The statue was unveiled on June 6, 1885. Nine-feet high, it sat upon a granite
pedestal designed by Richard Morris Hunt (another, more massive, pedestal by
Hunt for the Statue of Liberty was under construction at the time). The impressive ceremony began at 2:00 with a 20-block
procession of 225 members of the New England society up Fifth Avenue;
accompanied by the 7th Regiment Veterans. John Quincy Adams Ward personally unveiled
his statue. The New-York Tribune
reported that “His work was received with every expression of appreciation.”
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| Ward included four bronze tablets in the base; this one depicting the Mayflower -- photo by Alice Lum |
Perhaps the bronze Puritan symbolically represented purity
and morality for German immigrant George Bessendorf. Whatever the reason, he chose the statue as
the site for murder-suicide just four months later.
On October 3 he and a woman “whose Christian name appeared
to be Maria,” according to The Sun, spread a coarse black lap robe over the
grass. They wore their finest apparel; and
Maria seemed to be dressed for her own mourning. “The couple were Germans,” said The Sun, “of
decent and respectable appearance, and traces of an effort at holiday making
bedecked what was evidently their Sunday attire. The woman’s black silk dress was trimmed with
black velvet, her beaded black jersey had a neat nosegay at the throat, and the
left hand was squeezed into a black kid glove.
Her neat black straw hat was high crowned, as of recent purchase, and an
amber-handled and silk umbrella completed her equipment.”
The newspaper was detailed in its description of the
woman. “She seemed like an industrious
German servant, long enough in this country to have acquired the art and earned
the means of making a very good appearance.
Her face was of the heavy German type that in death was not particularly
attractive.”
Like Maria, George was dressed in his best black suit and a
derby hat. “The care that he had taken
in his appearance was indicated by a buttonhole bouquet that matched the woman’s.”
Around 7:30 that evening Park Policeman William Dugan heard
pistol shots from the vicinity of the Pilgrim Statue and rushed to the
scene. George Bessendorf and Maria were
dead on the lap robe. Beside them was a
small collar box addressed “To the Coroner of the city of New York.”
Inside were various letters; some of recommendation that
proved George’s respectability, other were love letters from him to Maria. In several he acknowledged “that he had
wrought the ruin of the woman, and expressed regret,” said The Sun.
Because Maria was ruined, the pair devised their suicide
plan as the only way out. The bodies
were taken to the Central Park Arsenal where Captain Donovan noted that Maria
had taken care not to damage her handsome dress. She “had evidently opened her clothing and
bared her breast to be shot. The skin was
blackened and burned by powder marks, but the clothing was only marked with
blood. Two bullet holes were in the
body, one in the left breast and one in the right.”
George apparently buttoned her dress after having murdered
his loved one. He then shot himself in
the chest. He held the pistol so close
to his body that his clothing was on fire when Policeman Dugan arrived on the
scene.
In 1895 the National Sculpture Society expressed its
disappointment in the location of the statue.
The Sun reported on August 1 that the society had sent a report to the
Park Commissioners in which “The statues of the Pilgrim in Central Park and
Admiral Farragut are cited as examples of bad location.”
At the turn of the century Warner Van Norden was a member of
the Holland Society of New-York; an organization whose members’ Dutch ancestry
was reflected in names like Van Schaick, Van Santvoord, Van Wyck, De Peyster
and Hasbrouck. At the group’s 27th
annual meeting, in 1912, Van Norden expressed his disappointment that the New
England Society’s statue depicted a generic pilgrim; rather than a specific
figure.
As the Holland Society discussed its own statue, Van Norden
noted “It has always been my opinion from the very first…that the statue ought
to represent some colonial worthy, of some one who represents the ideal of our
colonial ancestors, just as the Puritans have put up a statue to the Pilgrim
Fathers in Central Park; they did not put up a statue of Oliver Cromwell.”
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| photo by Alice Lum |
The Pilgrim Statue stands atop a long slope which earned the
name Pilgrim Hill. Over the decades the
stern-faced Puritan has watched from his granite perch as generations of New York
children sledded down the snowy slope.
The Pilgrim was the first of Central Park’s statues to be
restored when, in 1979, the Central Park Conservancy initiated its ambitious
program to restore its collection of statuary.
In 1999 the powder flasks, by now 115 years old, were recast and
replaced.
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