A dashing individualist, “Mrs. Jack” Gardner startled Boston society by erecting a Venetian pleasure dome in Back Bay and filling it with masterpieces for the public to enjoy…
In buying old masters, Mrs. Gardner was a generation ahead of tycoons like Andrew Mellon and Henry Clay Frick. The collection of the latter, housed in what was briefly his sumptuous Fifth Avenue home, most nearly in America resembles her own. And if she did not always get what she thought she was buying, and who does? ; a Filippo Lippi which turned out to be a Pesellino, a Clouet now ascribed to Corneille de Lyon, and supposed works by Correggio Tintoretto, and Bronzino now attributed to followers of those painters; she could always point to verification of those treasures by the expert who was then the world’s leading authority on Italian Renaissance art. This was her protege Bernard Berenson, the dazzling Lithuanian-born youngster from Harvard, whose early studies in Europe she helped finance.
One of the first lion hunters in American society, Belle ( for Isabelle Stewart Gardner) knew everybody worth knowing. If photographic evidence and her portraits by Sargent, Whistler and Anders Zorn may be believed, she was extremely plain of face. But a long list of the most brilliant men of her time paid her homage while her adoring, well-bred husband paid her bills. As Oliver Wendell Holmes put it: ” Mr. Gardner has wealth and position; Miss Stewart has wealth and charm. The alliance must be satisfactory to both families.” Incidentally, it was not.
The climax of her career as collector and hostess, her most shining hour, was the opening of Fenway Court on New years night, 1903. She had bought the barren, swampy wasteland on which it stood in 1899; and if no woman of her time had a more lively flair for publicity, Mrs. Gardner could be as discreet as Plymouth Rock when she wanted to keep a secret. Speculation mounted as her Renaissance palace took shape, but Belle gave no interviews, dispensed no information. Although she showed a few foreign friends like Ellen Terry, Henry Irving, and the Archbishop of Canterbury through the house before its official opening, she wanted the big surprise to bowl Boston over. It did.
At 10:30 P.M. ablaze with her famous pearls and two huge diamonds set like the antennae of her butterfly in her hair, she stood atop a horseshoe shaped staircase in the Music Room- afterwards replaced by the Spanish Cloister. Muttering their protests, but consumed with curiosity, three hundred of her friends and enemies, the cream of Back Bay society, clambered up one staircase to meet their hostess and marched down the other. Fifty members of the Boston Symphony Orchestra under her friend Gericke played Bach, Mozart, Schumann, and Chaussen for an hour as the tension mounted.
Finally, on cue, a mirrored door rolled back and the invited guests saw for the first time the three storied courtyard, scented with tropical flowers, aglow with orange lanterns from Paris and thousands of candles, the fountains tinkling, nasturtiums trailing down from the eight balconies taken from the Ca d’Oro in Venice. And beyond the orchids in the palm trees waited the old masters displayed in gallery after gallery on three floors. …