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diff --git a/18118-h/18118-h.htm b/18118-h/18118-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9528a51 --- /dev/null +++ b/18118-h/18118-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10425 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Journeys To the Homes of the Great, Volume 4 (of 14), by Elbert Hubbard + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + img {border: none;} + .ctr {text-align: center;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + .poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i13 {display: block; margin-left: 13em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i17 {display: block; margin-left: 17em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i20 {display: block; margin-left: 20em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i22 {display: block; margin-left: 22em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i23 {display: block; margin-left: 23em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i27 {display: block; margin-left: 27em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i31 {display: block; margin-left: 31em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great, +Volume 4 (of 14), by Elbert Hubbard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great, Volume 4 (of 14) + Little Journeys to the Homes of Eminent Painters + +Author: Elbert Hubbard + +Release Date: April 4, 2006 [EBook #18118] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE JOURNEYS TO THE HOMES *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h3>Little Journeys To the Homes of the Great, Volume 4</h3> + +<h1>Little Journeys To The Homes Of Eminent Painters</h1> + +<h2>Elbert Hubbard</h2> + +<h3>Memorial Edition</h3> + +<h4>Printed and made into a Book by The Roycrofters, +who are in East Aurora, Erie County, New York</h4> + +<h3>New York</h3> + +<h3>1916</h3> + + +<hr class="full" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#MICHELANGELO"><b>MICHELANGELO</b></a><br /> +<a href="#REMBRANDT"><b>REMBRANDT</b></a><br /> +<a href="#RUBENS"><b>RUBENS</b></a><br /> +<a href="#MEISSONIER"><b>MEISSONIER</b></a><br /> +<a href="#TITIAN"><b>TITIAN</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ANTHONY_VAN_DYCK"><b>ANTHONY VAN DYCK</b></a><br /> +<a href="#FORTUNY"><b>FORTUNY</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ARY_SCHEFFER"><b>ARY SCHEFFER</b></a><br /> +<a href="#FRANCOIS_MILLET"><b>FRANCOIS MILLET</b></a><br /> +<a href="#JOSHUA_REYNOLDS"><b>JOSHUA REYNOLDS</b></a><br /> +<a href="#LANDSEER"><b>LANDSEER</b></a><br /> +<a href="#GUSTAVE_DORE"><b>GUSTAVE DORE</b></a><br /> +</p> + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_1"></a><a name="IV_Page_2"></a><a name="IV_Page_3"></a></p> +<h2><a name="MICHELANGELO" id="MICHELANGELO"></a>MICHELANGELO</h2> + +<p><a name="IV_Page_4"></a></p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How can that be, lady, which all men learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By long experience? Shapes that seem alive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrought in hard mountain marble, will survive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their maker, whom the years to dust return!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to effect, cause yields. Art hath her turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And triumphs over Nature. I, who strive with sculpture,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know this well: her wonders live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In spite of time and death, those tyrants stern.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So I can give long life to both of us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In either way, by color or by stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making the semblance of thy face and mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Centuries hence when both are buried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus thy beauty and my sadness shall be shown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And men shall say, "For her 'twas wise to pine."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">—<i>Sonnets of Michelangelo</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-1.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-1_th.jpg" alt="MICHELANGELO" /></a></p><p class="ctr">MICHELANGELO</p> + +<p><a name="IV_Page_5"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + + +<p>"Call me by my pet name," wrote +Elizabeth Barrett Browning, in one +of those incomparable sonnets of +which the Portuguese never heard. +And the task yet remains for some +psychologist to tell us why, when +we wish to bestow the highest honor, +coupled with familiar affection, we +call the individual by a given name.</p> + +<p>Young men and maidens will understand my allusion; +and I hope this book will not suffer the dire fate of falling +into the hands of any one who has forgotten the +days of his youth.</p> + +<p>In addressing the one we truly revere, we drop all prefix +and titles. Soldiers marching under the banner of a +beloved leader ever have for him a name of their own. +What honor and trust were once compressed into the +diminutive, "Little Corporal" or Kipling's "Bobs"; +or, to come down to something even more familiar to us, +say, "Old Abe" and "Little Phil"!</p> + +<p>The earth is a vast graveyard where untold millions +of men lie buried, but out of the myriads who pass into +forgetfulness every decade, the race holds a few names +embalmed in undying amber.</p> + +<p>Lovers of art, the round world over, carry in their +minds one character, so harmoniously developed on +<a name="IV_Page_6"></a>every side of his nature that we say twenty centuries +have never produced his equal. We call him +"Leonardo"—the one ideal man. Leonardo da Vinci was +painter, poet, sculptor, architect, mathematician, politician, +musician, man of science, and courtier. His disposition +was so joyous, his manner so captivating, his +form and countenance so beautiful, that wherever he +went all things were his. And he was so well ballasted +with brains, and so acute in judgment, that flattery +spoiled him not. His untiring industry and transcendent +talent brought him large sums of money, and he spent +them like a king. So potent was his personality that +wherever he made his home there naturally grew up +around him a Court of Learning, and his pupils and +followers were counted by the score. To the last of his +long life he carried with him the bright, expectant animation +of youth; and to all who knew him he was +"Leonardo—the only Leonardo."</p> + +<p>But great as was Leonardo, we call the time in which +he lived, the age of Michelangelo.</p> + +<p>When Leonardo was forty, and at the very height of +his power, Michel Agnola Buonarroti, aged twenty, +liberated from the block a marble Cupid that was so +exquisite in its proportions that it passed for an antique, +and men who looked upon it exclaimed, "Phidias!"</p> + +<p>Michel Agnola became Michelangelo, that is to say, +"Michel the Angel," in a day. The name thrown at +him by an unknown admirer stuck, and in his later +<a name="IV_Page_7"></a>years when all the world called him "Angelo" he cast +off the name his parents had given him and accepted +the affectionate pet name that clung like the love of +woman.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo was born in a shabby little village but a +few miles from Florence. In another village near by +was born Leonardo. "Great men never come singly," +says Emerson. And yet Angelo and Leonardo exercised +no influence upon each other that we can trace. The +younger man never came under the spell of the older +one, but moved straight on to his destiny, showing not +the slightest arc in his orbit in deference to the great +luminary of his time.</p> + +<p>The handsome Leonardo was social: he loved women, +and music, and festivals, and gorgeous attire, and +magnificent equipage. His life was full of color and +sweeping, joyous, rainbow tints.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo was homely in feature, and the aspect of +his countenance was mutilated by a crashing blow from +a rival student's mallet that flattened his nose to his +face. Torrigiano lives in history for this act alone, thus +proving that there are more ways than one to gain +immortality.</p> + +<p>Angelo was proud, self-centered, independent, and he +sometimes lashed the critics into a buzzing, bluebottle +fury by his sarcastic speech. "He affronted polite society, +conformed to no one's dictates, lived like an ascetic and +worked like a packmule," says a contemporary.<a name="IV_Page_8"></a></p> + +<p>Vasari, who among his many other accomplishments +seems to have been the Boswell of his time, compares +Leonardo and Michelangelo. He says, "Angelo can do +everything that Leonardo can, although he does it +differently." Further, he adds, "Angelo is painter, +sculptor, engineer, architect and poet." "But," adds +this versatile Italian Samuel Pepys, somewhat sorrowfully, +"he is not a gentleman."</p> + +<p>It is to be regretted that Signor Vasari did not follow +up his remarks with his definition of the term "gentleman."</p> + +<p>Leonardo was more of a painter than a sculptor. His +pictures are full of rollicking mirth, and the smile on +the faces of his women is handed down by imitation +even to this day. The joyous freedom of animal life +beckons from every Leonardo canvas; and the backgrounds +fade off into fleecy clouds and shadowy, dreamy, +opiate odor of violets.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo, however, is true to his own life as Leonardo +was to his—for at the last the artist only reproduces +himself. He never painted a laugh, for life to +him was serious and full of sober purpose. We can not +call his work somber—it does not depress—for it carries +with it a poise and a strength that is sufficient +unto itself. It is all heroic, and there is in it a subtle +quality that exorcises fear and bids care begone.</p> + +<p>No man ever portrayed the human figure with the same +fidelity that Angelo has. The naked Adam, when the +<a name="IV_Page_9"></a>finger of the Almighty touched him into life, gives one +a thrill of health to look upon, even after these four +hundred years have struggled to obliterate the lines.</p> + +<p>His figures of women shocked the artistic sense of +his time, for instead of the Greek idealization of beauty +he carved the swelling muscles and revealed the articulations +of form as no artist before him had ever dared. +His women are never young, foolish, timid girls—they +are Amazons; and his men are the kind that lead nations +out of captivity. The soft, the pretty, the yielding, +were far from him. There is never a suggestion of +taint or double meaning; all is frank, open, generous, +honest and fearless. His figures are nude, but never +naked.</p> + +<p>He began his artistic work when fourteen years old, and +he lived to be eighty-nine; and his years did not outlast +his zeal and zest. He was above the medium size, +an athlete in his lean and sinewy strength, and the +whipcord quality of his body mirrored the silken +strength of his will.</p> + +<p>In his old age the King arose when Michelangelo entered +the Council-Chamber, and would not sit until +he was seated at the right hand of the throne; the Pope +would not allow him to kneel before him; when he +walked through the streets of Rome the people removed +their hats as he passed; and today we who gaze upon +his work in the Eternal City stand uncovered.<a name="IV_Page_10"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Michelangelo was the firstborn in a large +family. Simone Buonarroti, his father, belonged +to an ebbtide branch of the nobility +that had lost everything but the memory of +great ancestors turned to dust. This father had ambitions +for his boy; ambitions in the line of the army +or a snug office under the wing of the State, where he +might, by following closely the beck and nod of the +prince in power, become a magistrate or a keeper of +customs.</p> + +<p>But no boy ever disappointed a proud father more.</p> + +<p>When great men in gilt and gold braid, with scarlet +sashes across their breasts, and dangling swords that +clicked and clanged on the stone pavement, strode by, +rusty, dusty little Michel refused to take off his cap +and wish them "Long life and God's favor," as his +father ordered. Instead, he hid behind his mother's +gown and made faces. His father used to say he was +about as homely as he could be without making faces, +and if he didn't watch out he would get his face crooked +some day and couldn't get it back.</p> + +<p>Simone Buonarroti had qualities very Micawber-like +mixed in his clay, and the way he cringed and crawled +may have had something to do with setting the son +on the other tack.</p> + +<p>The mother was only nineteen when Michel was born, +and although the moralists talk much about woman's +vanity and extravagance, the theory gets no backing +<a name="IV_Page_11"></a>from this quarter. She was a plain woman in appearance, +quiet and self-contained, with no nerves to speak +of, a sturdy, physical endowment, and commonsense +enough for two. When scarcely out of dresses the boy +began to draw pictures. He drew with charcoal on the +walls, or with a stick in the sand, and shaped curious +things out of mud in the gutters.</p> + +<p>It was an age of creative art, and most of the work +being in the churches the common people had their +part in it. In fact, the common people were the artists. +And when Simone Buonarroti found his twelve-year-old +boy haunting the churches to watch the workmen, +and also discovered that he was consorting with the +youths who studied drawing in the atelier of Ghirlandajo, +he was displeased.</p> + +<p>Painters, to this erstwhile nobleman, were simply men +in blue blouses who worked for low wages on high scaffolds, +and occasionally spattered color on the good +clothes of ladies and gentlemen who were beneath. He +didn't really hate painters, he simply waived them; +and to his mind there was no difference between an +artisan and an artist.</p> + +<p>The mother, however, took a secret pride in her boy's +drawings, as mothers always do in a son's accomplishments. +Doubtless she knew something of the art of +decoration, too, for she had brothers who worked as +day laborers on high scaffolds. Yet she didn't say +much about it, for women then didn't have so much +<a name="IV_Page_12"></a>to say about anything as now.</p> + +<p>But I can imagine +that this good woman, as she went daily to church to +pray, the year before her first child was born, watched +the work of the men on the scaffolds, and observed +that day by day the pictures grew; and as she looked, +the sun streamed through stained windows and revealed +to her the miracles of form and color, and the +impressions of "The Annunciation," "Mary's Visit +to Elizabeth" and "The Babe in the Manger" filled +her wondering soul with thoughts and feelings too great +for speech. To his mother was Michelangelo indebted +for his leaning toward art. His father opposed such a +plebeian bent vigorously:</p> + +<p>"Bah! to love beautiful things is all right, but to wish +to devote all of one's time to making them, just for +others—ouch! it hurts me to think of it!"</p> + +<p>The mother was lenient and said, "But if our child +can not be anything more than a painter—why, we +must be content, and God willing, let us hope he will +be a good one."</p> + +<p>Ghirlandajo's was practically a school where, for a +consideration, boys were taught the secrets of fresco. +The master always had contracts of his own on hand +and by using 'prentice talent made both ends meet. +Young Michel made it his lounging-place and when he +strayed from home his mother always knew where to +find him.</p> + +<p>The master looked upon him as a possible pupil, and +<a name="IV_Page_13"></a>instead of ordering him away, smiled indulgently and +gave him tasks of mixing colors and making simple +lines. And the boy showed such zest and comprehension +that in a short time he could draw freehand with a +confidence that set the brightest scholar in the background. +Such a pupil, so alert, so willing, so anxious, is +the joy of a teacher's heart. Ghirlandajo must have him—he +would inspire the whole school!</p> + +<p>So the master went to the father, but the father demurred, +and his scruples were only overcome when +Ghirlandajo offered to reverse the rule, and pay the +father the sum that parents usually paid the master. +A cash payment down caused pater to capitulate, and +the boy went to work—aged fourteen.</p> + +<p>The terms of his apprenticeship called for three years, +but after he had been at work a year, the ability of the +youth made such an impression on the master that he +took him to Lorenzo, Lorenzo the Magnificent, who +then ruled over Florence.</p> + +<p>Lorenzo had him draw a few sketches, and he was +admitted to the Academy. This "Academy" was +situated in the palace of Lorenzo, and in the gardens +was a rich collection of antique marbles: busts, columns, +and valuable fragments that had come down +from the days when Pericles did for Athens what Lorenzo +was then doing for Florence. The march of commerce +has overrun the garden, but in the Uffizi Gallery +are to be seen today most of the curios that Lorenzo +<a name="IV_Page_14"></a>collected.</p> + +<p>By introducing the lad to Lorenzo, Ghirlandajo +lost his best helper, but so unselfish was this +excellent master that he seemed quite willing to forego +his own profit that the boy might have the best possible +advantages. And I never think of Ghirlandajo +without mentally lifting my hat.</p> + +<p>At the Academy, Michelangelo ceased to paint and +draw, and devoted all his energies to modeling in clay. +So intent was his application that in a few weeks he +had mastered technicalities that took others years to +comprehend.</p> + +<p>One day the father came and found the boy in a blouse +at work with mallet and chisel on a block of marble. +"And is it a stone-mason you want to make of my heir +and firstborn?" asked the fond father.</p> + +<p>It was explained that there were stone-masons and +stone-masons. A stone-mason of transcendent skill is a +sculptor, just as a painter who can produce a beautiful +picture is an artist.</p> + +<p>Simone Buonarroti acknowledged he had never looked +at it just in that way, but still he would not allow his +son to remain at the trade unless—unless he himself +had an office under the government.</p> + +<p>Lorenzo gave him the desired office, and took the young +stone-mason as one of the Medici family, and there the +boy lived in the Palace, and Lorenzo acted toward him +as though he were his son.</p> + +<p>The favor with which he was treated excited the envy +<a name="IV_Page_15"></a>of some of the other pupils, and thus it was that in +sudden wrath Torrigiano struck him that murderous +blow with the mallet. Torrigiano paid for his fierce +temper, not only by expulsion from the Academy, but +by banishment from Florence.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo was the brightest of the hundred young +men who worked and studied at the Medici palace.</p> + +<p>But when this head scholar was eighteen Lorenzo died. +The son of Lorenzo continued his father's work in a +feeble way, for Piero de Medici was a good example of +the fact that great men seldom reproduce themselves +after the flesh. Piero had about as much comprehension +of the beautiful as the elder Buonarroti. He thought +that all these young men who were being educated at +the Academy would eventually be valuable adjuncts to +the State, and as such it was a good scheme to give +each a trade—besides, it kept them off the street; and +then the work was amusing, a diversion to the nobility +when time hung heavy.</p> + +<p>Once there came a heavy snowstorm, and snow being +an unusual thing in Florence, Piero called a lot of his +friends together in the gardens, and summoning Michelangelo, +ordered him to make a snow image for the +amusement of the guests, just as Piero at other times +had a dog jump through a hoop.</p> + +<p>"What shall it be?" asked Michelangelo.</p> + +<p>"Oh, anything you please," replied Piero; "only don't +keep us waiting here in the cold all day!"<a name="IV_Page_16"></a></p> + +<p>Young Angelo cast one proud look of contempt toward +the group and set to work making a statue. In ten +minutes he had formed a satyr that bore such a close +resemblance to Piero that the guests roared with +laughter. "That will do," called Piero; "like Deity, +you make things in your own image." Some of the +company tossed silver coin at the young man, but he +let the money lie where it fell.</p> + +<p>Michel at this time was applying himself to the study +of anatomy, and giving his attention to literature +under the tutorship of the famous poet and scholar, +Poliziano, who resided at the court.</p> + +<p>So filled was the young man's mind with his work that +he was blind to the discontent arising in the State. To +the young, governments and institutions are imperishable. +Piero by his selfish whims had been digging the +grave of the Medici. From sovereignty they were flung +into exile. The palace was sacked, the beautiful gardens +destroyed, and Michelangelo, being regarded as one +of the family, was obliged to flee for his life. He +arrived in Bologna penniless and friendless, and applied +to a sculptor for work. "What can you do?" the old +sculptor asked. For answer, Michelangelo silently took +a crayon and sketched a human hand on the wall. +Marvelous were the lines! The master put his arms +around the boy and kissed his cheek.</p> + +<p>This new-found friend took him into his house, and +placed him at his own table. Michelangelo was led into +<a name="IV_Page_17"></a>the library and workrooms, and told that all was his to +use as he liked.</p> + +<p>The two years he remained at Bologna were a great +benefit to the young man. The close contact with +cultured minds, and the encouragement he received, +spurred his spirit to increased endeavor. It was here +that he began that exquisite statue of a Cupid that +passed for an antique, and found its way into the +cabinet of the Duchess of Mantua.</p> + +<p>Before long the discovery was made that the work was +done by a young man only a little past twenty, and +Cardinal San Giorgio sent a message inviting him to +Rome.<a name="IV_Page_18"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Rome had long been the Mecca of the boy's +ambitions, and he joyously accepted the +invitation. At Rome he was lodged in the +Vatican, and surrounded by that world of +the beautiful, he went seriously about his life's work. +The Church must have the credit for being the +mother of modern art. Not only did she furnish the +incentive, but she supplied the means. She gave security +from the eternal grind of material wants and offered +men undying fame as reward for noble effort.</p> + +<p>The letter of religion was nothing to Michelangelo, but +the eternal spirit of truth that broods over and beyond +all forms and ceremonies touched his soul. His heart +was filled with the poetry of pagan times. The gods of +ancient Greece on high Olympus for him still sang and +feasted, still lived and loved.</p> + +<p>But to the art of the Church he devoted his time and +talents. He considered himself a priest and servant to +the cause of Christ.</p> + +<p>Established at Rome in the palace of the Pope, Michelangelo +felt secure. He knew his power. He knew he +could do work that would for generations move men to +tears, and in his prophetic soul was a feeling that his +name would be inseparably linked with Rome. His +wanderings and buffetings were things of the past—he +was necessary to the Church, and his position was now +secure and safe. The favor of princes lasts but for a +day, but the Church is eternal. The Church should be +<a name="IV_Page_19"></a>his bride; to her and to her alone would he give his +passionate soul. Thus mused Michelangelo, aged twenty-two. +His first work at Rome was a statue of Bacchus, +done it seems for an exercise to give Cardinal Giorgio +a taste of his quality, just as he had drawn the human +hand on the wall for his Bologna protector; for this fine +and lofty pride in his power was a thing that clung to +Michelangelo from rosy youth to hoary age.</p> + +<p>The "Bacchus," which is now in the National Museum +at Florence, added to his reputation; and the little +world of art, whose orbit was the Vatican, anxiously +awaited a more serious attempt, just as we crane our +necks when the great violinist about to play awakens +expectation by a few preliminary flourishes.</p> + +<p>His first great work at Rome was the "Pieta." We see +it today in Saint Peter's at the first chapel to the right +as we enter, in a long row of commonplace marbles, in +all its splendid beauty and strength. It represents the +Mother of Christ, supporting in her arms the dead +body just after it was lowered from the cross. In most +of Michelangelo's work there is a heroic quality in the +figures and a muscular strength that in a degree detracts +from the spirit of sympathy that might otherwise come +over us. It is admiration that seizes us, not sympathy. +But this early work is the flower of Michelangelo's +genius, round and full and complete. The later work +may be different, but it is not better.</p> + +<p>When this group was unveiled in Fourteen Hundred<a name="IV_Page_20"></a> +Ninety-eight it was the sensation of the year. Old and +young, rich and poor, learned and unlearned, flocked +to see it, and the impression it made was most +profound. If the Catholic Church has figured on the +influence of statuary and painting on the superstitious, +as has been tauntingly said, she has reckoned well. The +story of steadfast love and loyalty is masterly told in +that first great work of Michelangelo. The artist himself +often mingled with the crowds that surrounded his +speaking marble, and the people who knelt before it +assured him by their reverence that his hand had +wrought well. And once he heard two able doctors +disputing as to who the artist was. They were lavish +in their praise, and one insisted that the work was done +by the great sculptor at Bologna, and he named the +master who had befriended Michelangelo. The artist +stood by and heard the argument put forth that no mere +youth could conceive such a work, much less execute it.</p> + +<p>That night he stole into the church and by the wan +light of a lantern carved his name deep on the girdle +of the Virgin, and there do we read it today. The pride +of the artist, however, afterward took another turn, +for he never thereafter placed his name on a piece. +"My work is unlike any other—no lover of the beautiful +can mistake it," he proudly said.</p> + +<p>He worked away with untiring industry and the Church +paid him well. But many of his pieces have been carried +from Rome, and as they were not signed and scores of +<a name="IV_Page_21"></a>imitations sprang up, it can not always be determined +now what is his work and what not. He toiled alone, +and allowed no 'prentice hand to use the chisel, and +unlike the sculptors of our day, did not work from a +clay model, but fell upon the block direct. "I caught +sight of Michelangelo at work, but could not approach +for the shower of chips," writes a visitor at Rome in +the year Fifteen Hundred One.<a name="IV_Page_22"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Perfect peace is what Michelangelo expected +to find in the palace of the Pope. Later he +came to know that life is unrest, and its +passage at best a zigzag course, that only +straightens to a direct line when viewed across the +years. If a man does better work than his fellows he +must pay the penalty. Personality is an offense.</p> + +<p>In Rome there was a small army of painters and sculptors, +each eager and anxious for the sole favor of the +powers. They quibbled, quarreled, bribed, cajoled, and +even fair women used their influence with cardinals +and bishops in favor of this artist or that.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo was never a favorite in society; simpering +beauty peeked at him from behind feather fans and +made jokes concerning his appearance. Yet Walter +Pater thought he found evidence that at this time +Michelangelo was beloved by a woman, and that the +artist reproduced her face and form, and indirectly +pictured her in poems. In feature she was as plain as +he; but her mind matched his, and was of a cast too +high and excellent to allow him to swerve from his high +ideals. Yet the love ended unhappily, and in some +mysterious way gave a tinge of melancholy and a secret +spring of sorrow to the whole long life of the artist.</p> + +<p>Jealous competitors made their influence felt. Michelangelo +found his work relegated to corners and his supplies cut short.</p> + +<p>At this time an invitation came from Florence for him +<a name="IV_Page_23"></a>to come and make use of a gigantic block of marble that +had lain there at the city gate, blackening in the dirt, +for a century.</p> + +<p>The Florence that had banished him, now begged him +to come back.</p> + +<p>"Those who once leave Florence always sigh to return," +says Dante. He returned, and at once began work on +the "David." The result was the heroic statue that +stood for three hundred years at the entrance to the +Palazzo Vecchio, only a hundred feet from where +Savonarola was hanged and burned. The "David" is +now in the Belle d' Arte, and if the custodian will allow +you to climb up on a ladder you will see that the top +of the head shows the rough unfinished slab, just as it +was taken from the quarry. Any one but a master +would have finished the work.</p> + +<p>This magnificent statue took nearly two years to complete. +As a study of growing youth, boldly recognizing +all that is awkward and immature, it has never ceased +to cause wordy warfare to reign in the camp of the +critics. "The feet, hands and head are all too large," +the Athenians say. But linger around the "old +swimmin'-hole" any summer day, and you will see tough, +bony, muscular boys that might have served as a model +for the "David."</p> + +<p>The heads of statues made by the Greeks are small in +proportion to the body. The "Gladiator" wears a +Number Six hat, and the "Discobolus" one size +<a name="IV_Page_24"></a>smaller; yet the figures represent men weighing one +hundred eighty pounds each. The Greeks aimed to +satisfy the eye, and as the man is usually seen clothed, +they reduced the size of the head when they showed the +nude figure.</p> + +<p>But Michelangelo was true to Nature, and the severest +criticism ever brought against him is that he is absolutely +loyal to truth. He was the first man ever to +paint or model the slim, slender form of a child that +has left its round baby shape behind and is shooting +up like a lily-stalk. A nude, hardy boy six years old +reveals ankle-bones, kneecap, sharp hips, ribs, collar-bone +and shoulder-blade with startling fidelity. And +why, being Nature's work, it is any less lovely than a +condition of soft, cushioned adipose, we must let the +critics tell, but Michelangelo thought it wasn't.</p> + +<p>From Fourteen Hundred Ninety-six, when Michelangelo +first arrived in Rome, to Fifteen Hundred Four, +he worked at nothing but sculpture. But now a change +came over his restless spirit, for an invitation had come +from the Gonfaloniere of Florence to decorate one of +the rooms of the Town Hall, in competition with Leonardo +da Vinci—the only Leonardo.</p> + +<p>He painted that strong composition showing Florentine +soldiers bathing in the Arno. The scene depicts the +surprise of the warriors as a trumpet sounds, calling +them to battle with the enemy that is near at hand. +The subject was chosen because it gave opportunity for +<a name="IV_Page_25"></a>exploiting the artist's marvelous knowledge of anatomy. +Thirty figures are shown in various attitudes. Nearly +all are nude, and as they scramble up the bank, buckling +on their armor as they rush forward, eager for the +fight, we see the wild, splendid swell of muscle and +warm, tense, pulsing flesh. As an example of Michelangelo's +consummate knowledge of form it was believed +to be his finest work.</p> + +<p>But it did not last long; the jealous Bandinelli made a +strong bid for fame by destroying it. And thus do +Bandinelli and Torrigiano go clattering down the +corridors of time hand in hand. Yet we know what the +picture was, for various men who saw it recorded their +impressions; but although many of the younger artists +of Italy flocked to Florence to see it, and many copied +it, only one copy has come down to us—the one in the +collection of the Earl of Leicester, at Holkham.</p> + +<p>So even beautiful Florence could not treat her gifted +son with impartiality, and when a call came from Pope +Julius the Second, who had been elected in Fifteen +Hundred Three, to return to Rome, the summons was +promptly obeyed.<a name="IV_Page_26"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Julius was one of the most active and vigorous +rulers the earth has known. He had +positive ideas on many subjects and like +Napoleon "could do the thinking for a +world."</p> + +<p>The first work he laid out for Michelangelo was a tomb, +three stories high, with walls eighteen feet thick at the +base, surrounded with numerous bas-reliefs and thirty +heroic statues. It was to be a monument on the order +of those worked out by the great Rameses, only incorporating +the talent of Greece with that of ancient +and modern Rome.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo spent nearly a year at the Carrara quarries, +getting out materials and making plans for forwarding +the scheme. But gradually it came over him +that the question of economy, which was deeply rooted +in the mind of Julius, forbade the completion of such +a gigantic and costly work. Had Julius given Michelangelo +"carte-blanche" orders on the treasury, and +not meddled with the plans, this surpassing piece of +architecture might have found form. But the fiery +Julius, aged seventy-four, was influenced by the architect +Bramante to demand from Michelangelo a bill of +expense and definite explanation as to details.</p> + +<p>Very shortly after, Michelangelo quit work and sent +a note to the Pope to the effect that the tomb was in +the mountain of Carrara, with many beautiful statues, +and if he wanted them he had better look for some one +<a name="IV_Page_27"></a>to get them out. As for himself, his address was Florence.</p> + +<p>The Pope sent couriers after him, one after another +until five had been dispatched, but neither pleading, +bribes nor threats could induce him to return.</p> + +<p>As the scientist constructs the extinct animal from a +thigh-bone, so we can guess the grandeur of what the +tomb might have been from the single sample that has +come down to us. The one piece of work that was completed +for this tomb is the statue of "Moses." If the +reputation of Michelangelo rested upon nothing else +than this statue, it would be sufficient for undying +fame. The "Moses" probably is better known than +any other piece of Michelangelo's work. Copies of it +exist in all important galleries; there are casts of it in +fifty different museums in America, and pictures of it +are numberless. There it stands in the otherwise obscure +church of Saint Pietro in Vincolo today, one hand +grasping the flowing beard, and the other sustaining +the tables of the law—majesty, strength, wisdom beaming +in every line. As Mr. Symonds has said, "It reveals +the power of Pope Julius and Michelangelo fused into +a Jove."</p> + +<p>And so the messengers and messages were in vain, and +even when the Pope sent an order to the Gonfaloniere +Soderini, the actual ruler of Florence, to return the +artist on pain of displeasure, the matter still rested—Michelangelo +said he was neither culprit nor slave, and +would live where he wished.<a name="IV_Page_28"></a></p> + +<p>At length the matter got so serious that it threatened +the political peace of Florence, and in the goodly company +of cardinals, bishops and chief citizens, Michelangelo +was induced to go to Bologna and make peace +with the Pope.</p> + +<p>His first task now was a bronze statue of Julius, made, +it is stated, as a partial reproduction of the "Moses." +Descriptions of it declare it was even finer than the +"Moses," but alas! it only endured four years, for a +mob evolved it into a cannon to shoot stones, and at +the same time ousted Julius from Bologna.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo very naturally seconded the anathematization +of the Bolognese by Julius, not so much for +the insult to the Pope as for the wretched lack of taste +they had shown in destroying a work of art. Had they +left the beautiful statue there on its pedestal, Bologna +would now on that account alone be a place of pilgrimage. +The cannon they made is lost and forgotten—buried +deep in the sand by its own weight—for Mein +Herr Krupp can make cannon; but, woe betide us! who +can make a statue such as Michelangelo made?</p> + +<p>Michelangelo now followed the Pope to Rome and +began a work that none other dare attempt, but which +today excites the jealous admiration of every artist +soul who views it—the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. +Ghirlandajo, Perugino, Botticelli and Luca Signorelli +had worked on the walls with good effect, but to lie on +one's back and paint overhead so as to bring out a +<a name="IV_Page_29"></a>masterly effect when viewed from seventy feet below +was something they dare not attempt. Michelangelo +put up his scaffolds, drew designs, and employed the +best fresco artists in Italy to fill in the color. But as +they used their brushes he saw that the designs became +enfeebled under their attempts—they did not grasp the +conception—and in wrath he discharged them all. He +then obliterated all they had done, and shutting out +the ceiling from every one but himself, worked alone. +Often for days he would not leave the building, for +fear some one would meddle with the work. He drew +up food by a string and slept on the scaffold without +changing his clothes.</p> + +<p>After a year of intense application, no one but the artist +had viewed the work. The Pope now demanded that +he should be allowed to see it. A part of the scaffolding +was struck, and the delight of the old Pope was unbounded. +This was in Fifteen Hundred Nine, but the +completed work was not shown to the public until All +Souls' Day, Fifteen Hundred Twelve.</p> + +<p>The guides at the Vatican tell us this ceiling was painted +in twenty-two months, but the letters of Michelangelo, +recently published, show that he worked on it over +four years.</p> + +<p>It contains over three hundred figures, all larger than +life, and some are fifteen feet long. A complete description +of the work Michelangelo did in this private chapel +of the Pope would require a book, and in fact several +<a name="IV_Page_30"></a>books have been written with this ceiling as a subject. +The technical obstacles to overcome in painting scenes +and figures on an overhead surface can only be appreciated +by those who have tried it. We can better +appreciate the difficulties when we think that, in order +even to view the decorations with satisfaction, large +mirrors must be used, or one must lie prone on his back. +In the ability to foreshorten and give harmonious +perspective—supplying the effect of motion, distance, +upright movement, coming toward you or moving +away—all was worked out in this historic chapel in a +way that has excited the wondering admiration of artists +for three hundred years.</p> + +<p>When the scaffolding was at last removed, the artist +thought for a time he had done his last work. The unnatural +positions he had been obliged to take had so +strained the muscles of his neck that on the street he +had often to look straight up at the sky to rest himself, +and things on a straight line in front he could not +distinguish. Eyes, muscles, hands, refused to act +normally.</p> + +<p>"My life is there on the ceiling of the Chapel of Sixtus," +he said.</p> + +<p>He was then thirty-nine years old.</p> + +<p>Fifty eventful years of life and work were yet before +him.<a name="IV_Page_31"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Pope Julius died, in Fifteen Hundred +Thirteen, Leo the Tenth, a son of Lorenzo the +Magnificent, was called to take his place. We +might suppose that Leo would have remembered +with pride the fact that it was his father who gave +Michelangelo his first start in life, and have treated the +great artist in the way Lorenzo would, were he then +alive. But the retiring, abstemious habits of Michelangelo +did not appeal to Leo. The handsome and +gracious Raphael was his favorite, and at the expense of +Michelangelo, Raphael was petted, feted and advanced. +Hence arose that envious rivalry between these two +great men, which reveals each in a light far from +pleasant—just as if Rome were not big enough for both. +The pontificate of Leo the Tenth lasted just ten years. +On account of the lack of encouragement Michelangelo +received, it seems the most fruitless season of his whole +life.</p> + +<p>Clement the Seventh, another member of the Medici +family, succeeded Leo. Clement was too sensible of +Michelangelo's merit to allow him to rust out his +powers in petty tasks. He conceived the idea of erecting +a chapel to be attached to the church of San Lorenzo, +at Florence, to be the final resting-place of the great +members of the Medici family. Michelangelo planned +and built the chapel and for it wrought six great pieces +of art. These are the statues of Lorenzo de Medici, +father of Catherine de Medici (who was such a large, +<a name="IV_Page_32"></a>black blot on the page of history); a statue of Giuliano +de Medici (whose name lives now principally because +Michelangelo made this statue); and the four colossal +reclining figures known as "Night," "Morning," +"Dawn" and "Twilight." This chapel is now open to +the public, and no visitor at Florence should miss +seeing it.</p> + +<p>The statue of Lorenzo must ever rank as one of the +world's masterpieces. The Italians call it "Il Pensiero." +The sullen strength of the attitude gives one a vague +ominous impulse to get away. Some one has said that +it fulfils Milton's conception of Satan brooding over his +plans for the ruin of mankind.</p> + +<p>In Fifteen Hundred Twenty-seven, while Michelangelo +was working on the chapel, Florence was attacked and +sacked by the Constable de Bourbon. The Medici family +was again expelled, and from the leisurely decoration of +a church in honor of the gentle Christ, the artist was +called upon to build barricades to protect his native +city. His ingenuity as an engineer was as consummate +as his exquisite idea of harmony, and for nine months +the city was defended.</p> + +<p>Through treachery the enemy was then allowed to enter +and Michelangelo fled. Riots and wars seem as natural +as thunderstorms to the Latin people; but after a year +the clouds rolled by, Michelangelo was pardoned, and +went back to his work of beautifying the chapel of San +Lorenzo.<a name="IV_Page_33"></a></p> + +<p>In Fifteen Hundred Thirty-four, Pope Clement was +succeeded by Paul the Third. Paul was seventy years +old, but the vigor of his mind was very much like that of +the great Julius. His first desire was to complete the +decoration of the Sistine Chapel, so that the entire +interior should match the magnificence of the ceiling, +and to the task he summoned Michelangelo.</p> + +<p>The great artist hesitated. The ceiling was his supreme +work as a painter, and he knew down deep in his heart +that he could not hope to surpass it, and the risk of not +equaling it was too great for him to run. The matter +was too delicately personal to explain—only an artist +could understand.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo made excuses to the Pope and declared he +had forgotten how to use a brush, that his eyesight was +bad, and that the only thing he could do was to carve.</p> + +<p>But Paul was not to be turned aside, and reluctantly +Michelangelo went back to the Sistine, that he had left +over twenty years before.</p> + +<p>Then it was that he painted "The Last Judgment" on +the wall of the upper end of the chapel. Hamerton calls +this the grandest picture ever executed, at the same +time acknowledging its faults in taste. But it must be +explained that the design was the conception of Julius, +endorsed by Pope Paul, and it surely mirrors the spiritual +qualities (or lack of them) in these men better than +any biography possibly could.</p> + +<p>The merciful Redeemer is shown as a muscular athlete, +<a name="IV_Page_34"></a>full of anger and the spirit of revenge—proud, haughty, +fierce. The condemned are ranged before him—a confused +mass of naked figures, suspended in all attitudes +of agony and terrible foreboding. The "saved" are +ranged on one side, and do not seem to be of much better +intellectual and spiritual quality than the damned; very +naturally they are quite pleased to think that it is the +others who are damned, and not they. The entire +conception reveals that masterly ability to portray the +human figure in every attitude of fear or passion. A +hundred years after the picture was painted, some +dignitary took it into his head that portions of the work +were too "daring"; and a painter was set at work robing +the figures. His fussy attempts are quite apparent.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo's next work was to decorate the Paolina +Chapel. As in his last work on the Sistine, he was +constantly interrupted and advised and criticized. As he +worked, cardinals, bishops and young artists watched +and suggested, but still the "Conversion of Saint +Paul" and the "Crucifixion of Saint Peter," in the +Paolina, must ever rank as masterly art.</p> + +<p>The frescoes in the Paolina Chapel occupied seven years +and ended the great artist's career as a painter. He was +seventy-three years old.</p> + +<p>Pope Paul then made him Chief Architect of Saint +Peter's. Michelangelo knew the difficulties to be +encountered—the bickerings, jealousies and criticisms +that were inseparable from the work—and was only +<a name="IV_Page_35"></a>moved to accept the place on Pope Paul's declaration +that no one else could do as well, and that it was the +will of God. Michelangelo looked upon the performance +as a duty and accepted the task, refusing to take any +recompense for his services. He continued to discharge +the duties of the office under the direction of Popes Paul, +Pius the Fourth and Pius the Fifth. In all he worked +under the pontificates of seven different popes.</p> + +<p>The dome of Saint Peter's, soaring to the skies, is his +finest monument. The self-sustaining, airy quality in +this stupendous structure hushes the beholder into +silence; and yet that same quality of poise, strength and +sufficiency marks all of the work of this colossus, +whether it be painting, architecture or sculpture. +America has paid tribute to Michelangelo's genius by +reproducing the dome of Saint Peter's over the Capitol +at Washington.</p> + +<p>Michelangelo died at Rome, aged eighty-nine, working +and planning to the last. His sturdy frame showed +health in every part, and he ceased to breathe just as a +clock runs down. His remains were secretly taken to +Florence and buried in the church of Santa Croce. A +fine bust marks the spot, but the visitor can not help +feeling a regret that the dust of this marvelous man +does not rest beneath the zenith of the dome of Saint +Peter's at Rome.<a name="IV_Page_36"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Sitting calmly in this quiet corner, and with +closed eyes, viewing Michelangelo's life as a +whole, the impression is one of heroic +strength, battling with fierce passions, and +becoming victor over them by working them up into +art. The mold of the man was masculine, and the subdued +sorrow that flavors his whole career never degenerates +into sickly sentimentality or repining.</p> + +<p>The sonnets of Michelangelo, recently given to the +world, were written when he was nearly seventy years +old. Several of the sonnets are directly addressed to +Vittoria Colonna, and no doubt she inspired the whole +volume. A writer of the time has mentioned his accidentally +finding Michelangelo and Vittoria Colonna +seated side by side in the dim twilight of a deserted +church, "talking soft and low." Deserted churches have +ever been favorite trysting-places for lovers; and one is +glad for this little glimpse of quiet and peace in the +tossing, troubled life-journey of this tireless man. In +fact, the few years of warm friendship with Vittoria +Colonna is a charmed and temperate space, without +which the struggle and unrest would be so ceaseless as to +be appalling. Sweet, gentle and helpful was their mutual +friendship. At this period of Michelangelo's life we +know that the vehemence of his emotions subsided, and +tranquility and peace were his for the rest of his life, +such as he had never known before.</p> + +<p>The woman who stepped out of high society and won +<a name="IV_Page_37"></a>the love of this stern yet gentle old man must have +been of a mental and spiritual quality to command our +highest praise. The world loves Vittoria Colonna +because she loved Michelangelo, and led him away from +strife and rivalry and toil.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_38"></a></p><p><a name="IV_Page_39"></a></p> +<h2><a name="REMBRANDT" id="REMBRANDT"></a>REMBRANDT</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_40"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>The eyes and the mouth are the supremely significant +features of the human face. In Rembrandt's portraits +the eye is the center wherein life, in its infinity of aspect, +is most manifest. Not only was his fidelity absolute, but +there is a certain mysterious limpidity of gaze that +reveals the soul of the sitter. A "Rembrandt" does not +give up its beauties to the casual observer—it takes +time to know it, but once known, it is yours forever.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">—<i>Emile Michel</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-2.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-2_th.jpg" alt="REMBRANDT" /></a></p><p class="ctr">REMBRANDT</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_41"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>Swimming uneasily in my ink-bottle +is a small preachment concerning +names, and the way they +have been evolved, and lost, or +added to. Some day I will fish this +effusion out and give it to a waiting +world. Those of us whose ancestors +landed at Plymouth or Jamestown +are very proud of our family names, and even if we trace +quite easily to Castle Garden we do not always discard +the patronymic.</p> + +<p>Harmen Gerritsz was a young man who lived in the city +of Leyden, Holland, in the latter part of the Sixteenth +Century. The letters "sz" at the end of his name stood +for "szoon" and signified that he was the szoon of +Mynheer Gerrit.</p> + +<p>Now Harmen Gerritsz duly served an apprenticeship +with a miller, and when his time expired, being of an +ambitious nature, he rented a mill on the city wall, and +started business for himself. Shortly after he very +naturally married the daughter of a baker.</p> + +<p>All of Mr. Harmen Gerritsz's customers called him +Harmen, and when they wished to be exact they spoke +of him as Harmen van Ryn—that is to say, Harmen of +the Rhine, for his mill was near the river. "Out West," +even now, if you call a man Mister, he will probably +<a name="IV_Page_42"></a>inquire what it is you have against him.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Harmen lived in the mill, and as years went by were +blessed with a nice little family of six children. The +fifth child is the only one that especially interests us. +They named him Rembrandt.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Ryn, he called himself +when he entered at the grammar-school at Leyden, +aged fourteen. His father's first name being Harmen, +he simply took that, and discarded the Gerrit entirely, +according to the custom of the time. In fact, all our +Johnsons are the sons of John, and the names Peterson, +Thompson and Wilson, in feudal times, had their due +and proper significance. Then when we find names with +a final ending of "s," such as Robbins, Larkins and +Perkins, we are to understand that the owner is the +son of his father. And so we find Rembrandt Harmenszoon +in his later years writing his name Harmensz and +then simply Harmens.</p> + +<p>Mynheer Harmen Gerritszoon's windmill ground exceeding +small, and the product found a ready market. There +were no servants in the miller's family—everybody +worked at the business. In Holland people are industrious. +The leisurely ways of the Dutch can, I think, +safely be ascribed to their environment, and here is an +argument Buckle might have inserted in his great book, +but did not, and so I will write it down.</p> + +<p>There are windmills in Holland (I trust the fact need +not longer be concealed) and these windmills are used +<a name="IV_Page_43"></a>for every possible mechanical purpose. Now the wind +blows only a part of the time—except in Chicago—and +there may be whole days when not a windmill turns +in all Holland. The men go out in the morning and take +due note of the wind, and if there is an absolute calm +many of them go back to bed. I have known the wind +to die down during the day and the whole force of a +windmill troop off to a picnic, as a matter of course. So +the elements in Holland set man the example—he will +not rush himself to death when not even the wind does.</p> + +<p>Then another thing: Holland has many canals. +Farmers load their hay on canal-boats and take it to +the barn, women go to market in boats, lovers sail, +seemingly, right across the fields—canals everywhere.</p> + +<p>Traveling by canal is not rapid transit. So the people of +Holland have plenty of precedent for moving at a +moderate speed. There are no mountains in Holland, so +water never runs; it may move, but the law of gravitation +there only acts to keep things quiet. The Dutch +never run footraces—neither do they scorch.</p> + +<p>In Amsterdam I have seen a man sit still for an hour, +and this with a glass of beer before him, gazing off into +space, not once winking, not even thinking. You can +not do that in America, where trolley-cars whiz and +blizzards blow—there is no precedent for it in things +animate or inanimate. In the United States everything +is on the jump, art included.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt Harmens worked in his father's mill, but +<a name="IV_Page_44"></a>never strained his back. He was healthy, needlessly +healthy, and was as smart as his brothers and sisters, +but no smarter, and no better looking. He was exceedingly +self-contained, and would sit and dream at his +desk in the grammar-school, looking out straight in +front of him—just at nothing.</p> + +<p>The master tried flogging, and the next day found a +picture of himself on the blackboard, his face portrayed +as anything but lovely. Young Rembrandt was sent +home to fetch his father. The father came.</p> + +<p>"Look at that!" said the irate teacher; "see what +your son did; look at that!"</p> + +<p>Mynheer Harmen sat down and looked at the picture +in his deliberate Dutch way, and after about fifteen +minutes said, "Well, it does look like you!"</p> + +<p>Then he explained to the schoolmaster that the lad +was sent to school because he would not do much +around the mill but draw pictures in the dust, and it +was hoped that the schoolmaster could teach him something.</p> + +<p>The schoolmaster decided that it was a hopeless case, +and the miller went home to report to the boy's mother.</p> + +<p>Now, whenever a Dutchman is confronted by a +problem too big to solve, or a task too unpleasant for +him to undertake, he shows his good sense by turning +it over to his wife. "You are his mother, anyway," said +Harmen van Ryn, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>The mother simply waived the taunt and asked, "Do +<a name="IV_Page_45"></a>you tell me the schoolmaster says he will not do anything +but draw pictures?"</p> + +<p>"Not a tap will he do but make pictures—he can not +multiply two by one."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the mother, "if he will not do anything +but draw pictures, I think we'd better let him draw +pictures."<a name="IV_Page_46"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At that early age I do not think Rembrandt +was ambitious to be a painter. Good healthy +boys of fourteen are not hampered and +harassed by ambition—ambition, like love, +camps hot upon our trail later. Ambition is the concomitant +of rivalry, and sex is its chief promoter—it is +a secondary sex manifestation.</p> + +<p>The boy simply had a little intuitive skill in drawing, +and the exercise of the talent was a gratification. It +pleased him to see the semblance of face or form unfold +before him. It was a kind of play, a working off of +surplus energy.</p> + +<p>Had the lad's mind at that time been forcibly diverted +to books or business, it is very probable that today the +catalogs would be without the name of Rembrandt.</p> + +<p>But mothers have ambitions, even if boys have not—they +wish to see their children do things that other +women's children can not do. Among wild animals the +mother kills, when she can, all offspring but her own. +Darwin refers to mother-love as, "that instinct in the +mind of the female which causes her to exaggerate the +importance of her offspring—often protecting them to +the death." Through this instinct of protection is the +species preserved. In human beings mother-love is well +flavored with pride, prejudice, jealousy and ambition. +This is because the mother is a woman. And this is well—God +made it all, and did He not look upon His work +and pronounce it good?<a name="IV_Page_47"></a></p> + +<p>The mother of Rembrandt knew that in Leyden there +were men who painted beautiful pictures. She had seen +these pictures at the University, and in the Town Hall +and in the churches; and she had overheard men discussing +and criticizing the work. She herself was poor +and uneducated, her husband was only a miller, with +no recreation beyond the beer-garden and a clicking +reluctantly off to church in his wooden shoes on Sunday. +They had no influential friends, no learned patrons—the +men at the University never so much as nodded to +millers. Her lot was lowly, mean, obscure, and filled +with drudgery and pettiness. And now some one was +saying her boy Rembrandt was lazy; he would neither +work nor study. The taunt stung her mother-pride—"He +will do nothing but make pictures!"</p> + +<p>Ah! a great throb came to her heart. Her face flushed, +she saw it all—all in prophetic vision stood out like an +etching on the blankness of the future. "He will do +nothing but draw pictures? Very well then, he shall +draw pictures! He will draw so well that they shall +adorn the churches of Leyden, and the Town Hall, and +yes! even the churches of Amsterdam. Holland shall be +proud of my boy! He will teach other men to draw, his +pictures will command fabulous prices, and his name +shall be honored everywhere! Yes, my boy shall draw +pictures! This day will I take him to Mynheer Jacob +van Swanenburch, who was a pupil of the great Rubens, +and who has scholars even from Antwerpen. I will take +<a name="IV_Page_48"></a>him to the Master, and I will say: 'Mynheer, I am only +a poor woman, the daughter of an honest baker. My +husband is a miller. This is my son. He will do nothing +but draw pictures. Here is a bag of gold—not much, but +it is all good gold; there are no bad coins in this bag; +I've been ten years in saving them. Take this bag—it +is yours—now teach my son to paint. Teach him as you +taught Valderschoon and those others—my memory +is bad, I can not remember the names—I'm only a poor +woman. Show my boy how to paint. And when I am +dead, and you are dead, men will come to your grave +and say, "It is here that he rests, here—the man who +first taught Rembrandt Harmenszoon to use a brush!" +Do you hear, Mynheer Van Swanenburch? The gold—it +is yours—and this is my boy!'"<a name="IV_Page_49"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Van Swanenburches were one of the most +aristocratic families of Leyden. Jacob van +Swanenburch's father had been burgomaster, +and he himself occupied from time to time +offices of importance. He was not a great painter, +although several specimens of his work still adorn the +Town Hall of his native city.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt was not very anxious to attend Swanenburch's +classes. He was a hesitating, awkward youth, +and on this account was regarded as unsocial. For a +year the boy looked on, listened, and made straight +marks and curves and all that. He did not read, and +the world of art was a thing unknown to him.</p> + +<p>There are two kinds of people to be found in all studios: +those who talk about art, and the fellows who paint the +pictures.</p> + +<p>However, Rembrandt was an exception, and for a time +would do neither. He would not paint, because he said +he could not—anyway he would not; but no doubt he +did a deal of thinking. This habit of reticence kept +him in the background, and even the master had suspicions +that he was too beefy to hold a clear mental +conception.</p> + +<p>The error of the Swanenburch atelier lay +in the fact that quiet folks are not necessarily stupid. +It is doubtless true, however, that stupid men by remaining +quiet may often pass for men of wisdom: this +is because no man can really talk as wisely as he can +look.<a name="IV_Page_50"></a></p> + +<p>Young Rembrandt was handicapped by a full-moon +face, and small gray eyes that gave no glint, and his +hair was so tousled and unruly that he could not wear +a hat.</p> + +<p>So the sons of aristocrats who cracked sly jokes at the +miller's boy had their fun.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt usually came in late, after the master had +begun his little morning lecture. The lad was barefoot, +having left his wooden shoon in the hallway "so as not +to wear out the floor." He would bow awkwardly to the +professor, fall over a chair or two that had been slyly +pushed in his way, and taking his seat chew the butt +end of a brush.</p> + +<p>"Why are you always late?" asked the master one +day.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was working at home and forgot the time."</p> + +<p>"And what are you working at?"</p> + +<p>"Me? I'm—I'm drawing a little," and he colored +vermilion to the back of his neck.</p> + +<p>"Well, bring your work here so we can profit by it," +exclaimed a joker, and the class guffawed.</p> + +<p>The next morning the lad brought his picture—a +woman's face—a picture of a face, homely, wrinkled, +weather-beaten, but with a look of love and patience +and loyalty beaming out of the quiet eyes.</p> + +<p>"Who did this?" demanded the teacher.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt hesitated, stuttered, stammered, and then +confessed that he did it himself—he could not tell a lie.<a name="IV_Page_51"></a></p> + +<p>He was sure the picture would be criticized and ridiculed, +but he had decided to face it out. It was a picture +of his mother, and he had sketched her just as she +looked. He would let them laugh, and then at noon he +would wait outside the door and smash the boy who +laughed loudest over the head with a wooden shoe—and +let it go at that.</p> + +<p>But the scholars did not laugh, for Jacob van Swanenburch +took the boy by the hand and leading him out +before the class told those young men to look upon +their master.</p> + +<p>From that time forth Rembrandt was regarded by the +little art world of Leyden as a prodigy.</p> + +<p>Like William Cullen Bryant, who wrote "Thanatopsis" +when scarcely eighteen, and writing for sixty years +thereafter never equaled it, or Dante Gabriel Rossetti, +who wrote "The Blessed Damozel" at the same age, +Rembrandt sprang into life full-armed.</p> + +<p>It is probably true that he could not then have produced +an elaborate composition, but his faces were Rembrandtesque +from the very first.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt is the king of light and shade. You never +mistake his work. As the years passed, around him +clustered a goodly company of pupils, hundreds in all, +who diligently worked to catch the trick, but Rembrandt +stands alone. "He is the only artist who could +ever paint a wrinkle," says Ruskin. All his portraits +have the warts on. And the thought has often come to +<a name="IV_Page_52"></a>me that only a Rembrandt—the only Rembrandt—could +have portrayed the face of Lincoln. Plain, homely, +awkward, eyes not mates, sunken cheeks, leathery +skin, moles, uncombed hair, neckcloth askew; but over +and above and beyond all a look of power—and the +soul! that look of haunting sorrow and the great, gentle, +compassionate soul within!</p> + +<p>And so there is a picture +of Rembrandt's mother which this son painted that +must ever stand out as one of the world's masterpieces. +Let who will, declare that the portrait by Richter in the +Gallery at Cologne, of Queen Louise, is the handsomest +portrait ever painted; yet the depth of feeling, the +dignity and love in the homely old mother's face, pale +not in comparison, but are things to which the proud +and beautiful Queen herself paid homage.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt painted nearly a hundred pictures of his +mother that we can trace. In most of them she holds +in her hands a little Bible, and thus did the son pay +tribute to her devoted piety. She was a model of which +he never tired. He painted her in court dress, and +various other fantastic garbs, that she surely never +wore. He painted her as a nun, as a queen, a court +beauty, a plain peasant, a musician; and in various +large pictures her face and form are introduced. And +most of these pictures of his mother are plainly signed +with his monogram. He also painted his sister as the +Madonna, and this is signed; but although he doubtless +painted his father's face, yet he did not sign such +<a name="IV_Page_53"></a>pictures, so their authenticity is a hazard. This fact +gives a clue to his affections which each can work out +for himself.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt remained with Swanenburch for three years, +and the master proved his faithful friend. He gave him +an introduction into the aristocratic art world which +otherwise might have barred its doors against so profound +a genius, as aristocracy has done time and again.</p> + +<p>The best artists are not necessarily the best teachers. +If a man has too much skill along a certain line he will +overpower and kill the individuality in his pupil. There +are teachers who smother a pupil with their own +personality, and thus it often happens that the strongest +men are not the most useful as instructors. The ideal +teacher is not the one who bends all minds to match his +own; but the one who is able to bring out and develop +the good that is in the pupil—him we will crown with +laurel.</p> + +<p>Swanenburch was pretty nearly the ideal teacher. His +good nature, the feminine quality of sympathy in his +character, his freedom from all petty, quibbling +prejudice, and his sublime patience all worked to +burst the tough husk, and develop that shy and sensitive, +yet uncouth and silent youth, bringing out the best +that was in him. A wrong environment in those early +years might easily have shaped Rembrandt into a +morose and resentful dullard: the good in his nature, +thrown back upon itself, would have been turned to gall.<a name="IV_Page_54"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The little business on the city wall had prospered, +and Harmen van Ryn moved, with his +family, out of the old mill into a goodly +residence across the street. He was carrying +his head higher, and the fact that his son Rembrandt +was being invited to the homes of the professors at the +University was incidentally thrown off, until the patrons +at the beer-garden grew aweary and rapped their glasses +on the table as a signal for silence.</p> + +<p>Swanenburch had given a public exhibition of the work +of his pupils, at which young Rembrandt had been +pushed forward as an example of what right methods in +pedagogics could do.</p> + +<p>"Well, why can not all your scholars draw like that, +then?" asked a broad-beamed Dutchman.</p> + +<p>"They certainly could, if they would follow the +principles I lay down," answered the master severely.</p> + +<p>But admiration did not spoil Rembrandt. His temperature +was too low for ebullition—he took it all quite +as a matter of course. His work was done with such ease +that he was not aware it was extraordinary in quality; +and when Swanenburch sold several of his sketches at +goodly prices and put the silver in the lad's hand, he +asked who the blockheads were who had invested.</p> + +<p>Swanenburch taught his pupils the miracle of spreading +a thin coat of wax on a brass plate, and drawing a +picture in the wax with a sharp graver; then acid was +poured over it and the acid ate into the brass so as to +<a name="IV_Page_55"></a>make a plate from which you could print. Etching was a +delight to Rembrandt. Expert illustrators of books were +in demand at Leyden, for it was then the bookmaking +center of Northern Europe. The Elzevirs were pushing +the Plantins of Antwerp hard for first place.</p> + +<p>So skilfully did Rembrandt sketch, that one of the great +printers made a proposition to his father to take the +boy until he was twenty-one, and pay the father a +thousand florins a year for the lad's services as an +illustrator. The father accepted the proposition; and +the next day brought around another Harmenszoon, +who he declared was just as good. But the bookmaker +was stubborn and insisted on having a certain one or +none. So the bargain fell through.</p> + +<p>It was getting near four years since Swanenburch had +taken Rembrandt into his keeping, and now he went to +the boy's parents and said: "I have given all I have to +offer to your son. He can do all I can, and more. There +is only one man who can benefit him and that is Pieter +Lastman, of Amsterdam. He must go and study with +the great Lastman—I myself will take him."</p> + +<p>Lastman had spent four years in Italy, and had come +back full to overflowing with classic ideas. His family +was one of the most aristocratic in Amsterdam, and +whatever he said concerning art was quoted as final. He +was the court of last appeal. His rooms were filled with +classic fragments, and on his public days visitors flocked +to hear what he might have to say about the wonders of<a name="IV_Page_56"></a> +Venice, Florence and Rome. For in those days men +seldom traveled out of their own countries, and those +who did had strange tales to tell the eager listeners when +they returned.</p> + +<p>Lastman was handsome, dashing, popular. His pictures +were in demand, principally because they were Lastman's. +Proud ladies came from afar and begged the +privilege of sitting as his model. In Italy, Lastman had +found that many painters employed 'prentice talent. +The great man would sketch out the pictures, and the +boys would fill in the color. Lastman would go off about +his business, and perhaps drop in occasionally during +the day to see how the boys got on, adding a few touches +here and there, and gently rebuking those who showed +too much genius. Lastman believed in genius, of course; +but only his own genius filled his ideal. As a consequence +all of Lastman's pictures are alike—they are all equally +bad. They represent neither the Italian school nor the +Dutch, being hybrids: Italian skies and Holland backgrounds; +Dutchmen dressed as dagoes.</p> + +<p>Lastman was putting money in his purse. He closely +studied public tastes, and conformed thereto. He was +popular, and there is in America today a countryman of +his, of like temperament, who is making much moneys +out of literature by similar methods.</p> + +<p>Into Lastman's keeping came the young man, Rembrandt +Harmens. Lastman received him cordially, and +set him to work.<a name="IV_Page_57"></a></p> + +<p>But the boy proved hard to manage: he had his own +ideas about how portraits should be painted.</p> + +<p>Lastman +tried to unlearn him. The master was patient, and +endeavored hard to make the young man paint as he +should—that is, as Lastman did; but the result was not +a success. The Lastman intellect felt sure that Rembrandt +had no talent worth encouraging.</p> + +<p>Lastman produced a great number of pictures, and his +name can be found in the catalogs of the galleries of +Amsterdam, Munich, Berlin and Antwerp; and his +canvases are in many of the old castles and palaces of +Germany. In recent years they have been enjoying a +vogue, simply because it was possible that Rembrandt +had worked on them. All the "Lastmans" have been +gotten out and thoroughly dusted by the connoisseurs, +in a frantic search for earmarks.</p> + +<p>The perfect willingness of Lastman to paint a picture +on any desired subject, and have it ready Saturday +night, all in the colors the patron desired, with a guarantee +that it would give satisfaction, filled the heart of +Rembrandt with loathing.</p> + +<p>At the end of six months, when he signified a wish +to leave, it was a glad relief to the master. Lastman +had tried to correct Rembrandt's vagaries as to chiaroscuro, +but without success. So he wrote an ambiguous +letter certifying to the pupil's "having all his future +before him," gave him a present of ten florins in +jingling silver, and sent him back to his folks.<a name="IV_Page_58"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Rembrandt had been disillusioned by his +stay in the fashionable art-world of Amsterdam. +Some of his idols had crumbled, and +there came into his spirit a goodly dash of +pessimism. His father was disappointed and suggested +that he get a place as illustrator at the bookmakers, +before some one else stepped in and got the job.</p> + +<p>But Rembrandt was not ambitious. He decided he would +not give up painting, at least not yet—he would keep +at it and he would paint as he pleased. He had lost faith +in teachers. He moped around the town, and made the +acquaintance of the painter Engelbrechtsz and his +talented pupil, Lucas van Leyden. Their work impressed +him greatly, and he studied out every detail on the +canvases until he had absorbed the very spirit of the +artist. Then, when he painted, he very naturally took +their designs, and treated them in his own way. Indeed, +the paucity in invention of those early days must ever +impress the student of art.</p> + +<p>In visiting the galleries of Europe, I made it my business +to secure a photograph of every "Madonna and Babe" +of note that I could find. My collection now numbers +over one hundred copies, with no two alike.</p> + +<p>The Madonna, of course, is the extreme example; but +there are dozens of "The Last Supper," "Abraham's +Sacrifice," "The Final Judgment," "The Brazen +Serpent," "Raising of Lazarus," "The Annunciation," +"Rebekah at the Well" and so on.<a name="IV_Page_59"></a></p> + +<p>If one painter produced a notable picture, all the other +artists in the vicinity felt it their duty to treat the same +subject; in fact, their honor was at stake—they just +had to, in order to satisfy the clamor of their friends, +and meet the challenges of detractors.</p> + +<p>This "progressive sketching" was kept up, each man +improving, or trying to improve, on the attempts of the +former, until a Leonardo struck twelve and painted his +"Last Supper," or a Rubens did his "Descent From +the Cross"—then competitors grew pale, and tried +their talent on a lesser theme.</p> + +<p>One of the most curious examples of the tendency to +follow a bellwether is found in the various pictures +called "The Anatomy Lesson." When Venice was at its +height, in the year Fourteen Hundred Ninety-two—a +date we can easily remember—an unknown individual +drew a picture of a professor of anatomy; on a table in +the center is a naked human corpse, while all around are +ranged the great doctor's pupils. Dissection had just +been introduced into Venice at that time, and in a +treatise on the subject by Andrea Vesali, I find that it +became quite the fad. The lecture-rooms were open to +the public, and places were set apart for women visitors +and the nobility, while all around the back were benches +for the plain people. On the walls were skeletons, and +in cases were arranged saws, scalpels, needles, sponges +and various other implements connected with the +cheerful art.<a name="IV_Page_60"></a></p> + +<p>The Unknown's picture of this scene made a sensation. +And straightway other painters tried their hands at it, +the unclothed form of the corpse affording a fine opportunity +for the "classic touch." Paul Veronese tried it, +and so did the Bellinis—Titian also.</p> + +<p>Then a century passed, as centuries do, and the glory of +Venice drifted to Amsterdam—commercially and artistically. +Amsterdam painters used every design that the +Venetians had, and some of their efforts were sorry +attempts. In Sixteen Hundred Twenty, following +Venetian precedent, dissection became a fad in Leyden +and Amsterdam. Swanenburch engraved a picture of the +Leyden dissecting-room, with a brace of gallant doctors +showing some fair ladies the beauties of the place. The +Dutch were ambitious—the young men, Rembrandt +included, drew pictures entitled, "The Lesson in +Anatomy." Doctors who were getting on in the world +gave orders for portraits, showing themselves as about +to begin work on a subject. One physician, with intent +to get even with his rival, had the artist picture the +rival in the background as a pupil. Then the rival +ordered a picture of himself, proud and beautiful, giving +a lesson in anatomy, armed and equipped for business, +and the cadaver was—the other doctor.</p> + +<p>At the Chicago Fair, in Eighteen Hundred Ninety-three, +there was shown a most striking "Anatomy +Lesson" from the brush of a young New York artist. +It pictures the professor removing the sheet from the +<a name="IV_Page_61"></a>face of the corpse, and we behold the features of a +beautiful young woman.</p> + +<p>Some day I intend to write a book entitled, "The Evolution +and Possibilities of the Anatomy Lesson." Keep +your eye on the subject—we are not yet through with it.</p> + +<p>Swanenburch offered to give Rembrandt a room in +his own house, but he preferred the old mill, and a +wheat-bin was fitted up for a private studio. The fittings +of the studio must have cost fully two dollars, according +to all accounts; there were a three-legged stool, an +easel, a wooden chest, and a straw bed in the corner. +Only one window admitted the light, and this was so +high up that the occupant was not troubled by visitors +looking in.</p> + +<p>Our best discoveries are the result of accident.</p> + +<p>This single window, eight feet from the ground, allowed +the rays of light to enter in a stream. On cloudy days +and early in the mornings or in the evenings, Rembrandt +noted that when the light fell on the face of the visitor +the rest of the body was wholly lost in the shadow. He +placed a curtain over the window with a varying +aperture cut in it, and with his mother as model made +numerous experiments in the effects of light and shade. +He seems to have been the very first artist who could +draw a part of the form, leaving all the rest in absolute +blackness, and yet give the impression to the casual +onlooker that he sees the figure complete. Plain people +with no interest in the technique of art will look upon +<a name="IV_Page_62"></a>a "Rembrandt," and go away and describe things in the +picture that are not there. They will declare to you that +they saw them—those obvious things which one fills in +at once with his inward eye. For instance, there is a +portrait of a soldier, by Rembrandt, in the Louvre, and +above the soldier's head you see a tall cockade. You +assume at once that this cockade is in the soldier's hat, +but no hat is shown—not the semblance nor the outline +of a hat. There is a slight line that might be the rim of +a hat, or it might not. But not one person out of a +thousand, looking upon the picture, but would go away +and describe the hat, and be affronted if you should tell +them there is no hat in the picture. Given a cockade, we +assume a hat.</p> + +<p>By the use of shadows Rembrandt threw the faces into +relief; he showed the things he wished to show and +emphasized one thing by leaving all else out. The success +of art depends upon what you omit from your canvas. +This masterly effect of illusion made the son of the +miller stand out in the Leyden art-world like one of his +own etchings.</p> + +<p>Curiously enough, the effect of a new model made +Rembrandt lose his cunning; with strangers he was self-conscious +and ill at ease. His mother was his most +patient model; his father and sisters took their turn; +and then there was another model who stood Rembrandt +in good stead. And that was himself. We have +all seen children stand before a mirror and make +<a name="IV_Page_63"></a>faces. Rembrandt very early contracted this habit, and +it evidently clung to him through life. He has painted +his own portrait with expressions of hate, fear, pride, +mirth, indifference, hope and wrath shown on his plastic +features.</p> + +<p>There is also an old man with full white beard and +white hair that Rembrandt has pictured again and +again.</p> + +<p>This old man poses for "Lot," "Abraham," +"Moses," "A Beggar," "A King," and once he +even figures as "The Almighty." Who he was we +do not know, and surely he did not realize the honor +done him, or he would have written a proud word +of explanation to be carved on his tomb.<a name="IV_Page_64"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the Stuttgart Museum is a picture entitled, +"Saint Paul in Prison," signed by Rembrandt, +with the date Sixteen Hundred +Twenty-seven. "The Money-Changers" in +the Berlin Gallery bears the same signature and date. +Rembrandt was then twenty years of age, and we see +that he was doing good work. We also know that there +was a certain market for his wares.</p> + +<p>When twenty-two years of age his marvelous effects of +light and shade attracted people who were anxious to +learn how to do it. According to report he had sixteen +pupils in Sixteen Hundred Twenty-eight, each of whom +paid him the fixed sum of one hundred florins. This was +not much, but it gave him an income equal to that of his +father, and tended to confirm his faith in his own powers.</p> + +<p>His energy was a surprise to all who had known him, +for besides teaching his classes he painted, sketched and +etched. Most of his etchings were of his own face—not +intended as portraits, for they are often purposely disguised. +It seemed to be the intent of the artist to run +the whole gamut of the passions, portraying them on +the human face. Six different etchings done in the year +Sixteen Hundred Twenty-eight are to be seen in the +British Museum.</p> + +<p>His most intimate friend at this time was Jan Lievens. +The bond that united them was a mutual contempt for +Lastman of Amsterdam. In fact, they organized a club, +the single qualification required of each candidate for +<a name="IV_Page_65"></a>admittance being a hatred for Lastman. This club met +weekly at a beer-hall, and each member had to relate +an incident derogatory to the Lastman school. At the +close of each story, all solemnly drank eternal perdition +to Lastman and his ilk. Finally, Lastman was invited +to join; and in reply he wrote a gracious letter of +acceptance. This surely shows that Lastman was pretty +good quality, after all.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt was making money. His pupils spread his +praise, and so many new ones came that he took the old +quarters of Swanenburch.</p> + +<p>In Sixteen Hundred Thirty-one, there came to him a +young man who was to build a deathless name for himself—Gerard +Dou. Then to complete the circle came +Joris van Vliet, whose reputation as an engraver must +ever take a first rank. Van Vliet engraved many of +Rembrandt's pictures, and did it so faithfully and with +such loving care that copies today command fabulous +prices among the collectors. Indeed, we owe to Van +Vliet a debt for preserving many of Rembrandt's +pictures, the originals of which have disappeared. With +the help of Van Vliet the Elzevirs accomplished their +wishes, and so made use of the talent of Rembrandt.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt lived among the poor, as a matter of artistic +policy, mingling with them on an absolute equality. He +considered their attitudes simpler, more natural, and +their conduct less artificial, than the manners of those +in higher walks.<a name="IV_Page_66"></a></p> + +<p>About Sixteen Hundred Twenty-nine, there came into +his hands a set of Callot's engravings, and the work +produced on his mind a profound impression. Callot's +specialty was beggardom. He pictured decrepit beggars, +young beggars, handsome girl-beggars, and gallant old +beggars who wore their fluttering rags with easy grace.</p> + +<p>The man who could give the phlegmatic Rembrandt +a list to starboard must have carried considerable +ballast. Straightway on making Callot's acquaintance +he went forth with bags of coppers and made the +acquaintance of beggars. He did not have to travel far—"the +Greeks were at his door." The news spread, and +each morning, the truthful Orles has told us, "there +were over four hundred beggars blocking the street that +led to his study," all willing to enlist in the cause of art. +For six months Rembrandt painted little beside "the +ragged gentry." But he gradually settled down on about +ten separate and distinct types of abject picturesqueness.</p> + +<p>Ten years later, when he pictured the "Healing Christ," +he introduced the Leyden beggars, and these fixed types +that he carried hidden in the cells of his brain he +introduced again and again in various pictures. In this +respect he was like all good illustrators: he had his +properties, and by new combinations made new +pictures. Who has not noticed that every painter carries +in his kit his own distinct types—sealed, certified to, +and copyrighted by popular favor as his own personal +<a name="IV_Page_67"></a>property?</p> + +<p>Can you mistake Kemble's "coons," +Denslow's dandies, Remington's horses, Giannini's +Indians, or Gibson's "Summer Girl"? These men may +not be Rembrandts, but when we view the zigzag course +art has taken, who dare prophesy that this man's name +is writ in water and that man's carved in the granite of a +mountain-side! Contemporary judgments usually have +been wrong. Did the chief citizens of Leyden in the year +Sixteen Hundred Thirty regard Rembrandt's beggars +as immortal? Not exactly!<a name="IV_Page_68"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In Sixteen Hundred Thirty-one, Rembrandt +concluded that his reputation in the art-world +of Holland was sufficient for him to go +to Amsterdam and boldly pit himself against +De Keyser, Hals, Lastman and the rest. He had put +forth his "Lesson in Anatomy," and the critics and +connoisseurs who had come from the metropolis to see +it were lavish in their praise. Later we find him painting +the subject again with another doctor handling the +tweezers and scalpel.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt started for Amsterdam the second time—this +time as a teacher, not as a scholar. He rented an old +warehouse on the canal for a studio. It was nearly as +outlandish a place as his former quarters in the mill at +Leyden. But it gave him plenty of room, was secluded, +and afforded good opportunity for experiments in light +and shade.</p> + +<p>He seemed to have gotten over his nervousness in +working with strange models; for new faces now begin +to appear. One of these is that of a woman, and it +would have been well for his art had he never met her. +We see her face quite often, and in the "Diana Bathing" +we behold her altogether.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt shows small trace of the classic instinct, for +classic art is founded on poetic imagination. Rembrandt +painted what he saw; the Greeks portrayed that which +they felt; and when Rembrandt paints a Dutch wench +and calls her "Diana," he unconsciously illustrates the +<a name="IV_Page_69"></a>difference between the naked and the nude. Rembrandt +painted this same woman, wearing no clothes to speak +of, lolling on a couch; and evidently considering the +subject a little risky, thought to give it dignity by a +Biblical title: "Potiphar's Wife." One good look at this +picture, and the precipitate flight of Joseph is fully +understood. We feel like following his example.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt had simply haunted the dissecting-rooms of +the University at Leyden a little too long.</p> + +<p>The study of these viragos scales down our rating of the +master. Still, I suppose every artist has to go through +this period—the period when he thinks he is called +upon to portray the feminine form divine—it is like the +mumps and the measles.</p> + +<p>After a year of groping for he knew not what, with +money gone, and not much progress made, Rembrandt +took a reef in his pride and settled down to paint +portraits, and to do a little good honest teaching.</p> + +<p>Scholars came to him, and commissions for portraits +began to arrive. He renounced the freaks of costume, +illumination and attitude, and painted the customer in +plain, simple Dutch dress. He let "Diana" go, and +went soberly to work to make his fortune.</p> + +<p>Holland was prosperous. Her ships sailed every sea, +and brought rich treasures home. The prosperous can +afford to be generous. Philanthropy became the fad. +Charity was in the air, and hospitals, orphanages and +homes for the aged were established. The rich merchants +<a name="IV_Page_70"></a>felt it an honor to serve on the board of managers of +these institutions.</p> + +<p>In each of the guildhalls were parlors set apart for +deliberative gatherings; and it became the fashion to +embellish these rooms with portraits of the managers, +trustees and donors.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt's portraits were finding their way to the +guilds. They attracted much attention, and orders came—orders +for more work than the artist could do. He +doubled his prices in the hope of discouraging applicants.</p> + +<p>Studio gossip and society chatter seemed to pall on +young Rembrandt. It is said that when a 'bus-driver +has a holiday he always goes and rides with the man +who is taking his place; but when Rembrandt had a +holiday he went away from the studio, not towards it. +He would walk alone, off across the meadows, and along +the canals, and once we find him tramping thirty miles +to visit cousins who were fishermen on the seacoast. +Happy fisher-folk!</p> + +<p>But Rembrandt took few play-spells; he broke off +entirely from his tavern companions and lived the life +of an ascetic and recluse, seeing no society except the +society that came to his studio. His heart was in his art, +and he was intent on working while it was called the +day.</p> + +<p>About this time there came to him Cornelis Sylvius, the +eminent preacher, to sit for a picture that was to adorn +the Seaman's Orphanage, of which Sylvius was director.<a name="IV_Page_71"></a></p> + +<p>It took a good many sittings to bring out a Rembrandt +portrait. On one of his visits the clergyman was +accompanied by a young woman—his ward—by name, +Saskia van Ulenburgh.</p> + +<p>The girl was bright, animated and intelligent, and as +she sat in the corner the painter sort of divided his +attention between her and the clergyman. Then the +girl got up, walked about a bit, looking at the studio +properties, and finally stood behind the young painter, +watching him work. This was one of the things Rembrandt +could never, never endure. It paralyzed his +hand, and threw all his ideas into a jumble. It was the +law of his studio that no one should watch him paint—he +had secrets of technique that had cost him great +labor.</p> + +<p>"You do not mind my watching you work?" asked the +ingenuous girl.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not in the least!"</p> + +<p>"You are quite sure my presence will not make you +nervous, then?"</p> + +<p>Rembrandt said something to the effect that he rather +liked to have some one watch him when he worked; it +depended, of course, on who it was—and asked the +sitter to elevate his chin a little and not look so cross.</p> + +<p>Next day Saskia came again to watch the transfer of +the good uncle's features to canvas.</p> + +<p>The young artist was first among the portrait-painters +of Amsterdam, and had a long waiting-list on his +<a name="IV_Page_72"></a>calendar, but we find he managed to paint a portrait of +Saskia about that time. We have the picture now and +we also have four or five other pictures of her that +Rembrandt produced that year. He painted her as a +queen, as a court lady and as a flower-girl. The features +may be disguised a little, but it is the same fine, bright, +charming, petite young woman.</p> + +<p>Before six months had passed he painted several more +portraits of Saskia; and in one of these she has a sprig +of rosemary—the emblem of betrothal—held against +her heart.</p> + +<p>And then we find an entry at the Register's to the effect +that they were married on June Twenty-fourth, Sixteen +Hundred Thirty-four.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt's was a masterly nature: strong, original +and unyielding. But the young woman had no wish that +was not his, and her one desire was to make her lover +happy. She was not a great woman, but she was good, +which is better, and she filled her husband's heart to +the brim. Those first few years of their married life +read like a fairy-tale.</p> + +<p>He bought her jewels, laces, elegant costumes, and +began to fill their charming home with many rare +objects of art. All was for Saskia—his life, his fortune, +his work, his all.</p> + +<p>As the years go by we shall see that it would have been +better had he saved his money and builded against the +coming of the storm; but even though Saskia protested +<a name="IV_Page_73"></a>mildly against his extravagance, the master would have +his way.</p> + +<p>His was a tireless nature: he found his rest in change. +He usually had some large compositions on hand and +turned to this for pastime when portraits failed. Then +Saskia was ever present, and if there was a holiday he +painted her as the "Jewish Bride," "The Gypsy +Queen," or in some other fantastic garb.</p> + +<p>We have seen that in those early years at Leyden he +painted himself, but now it was only Saskia—she was +his other self. All those numerous pictures of himself +were drawn before he knew Saskia—or after she had +gone.</p> + +<p>Their paradise continued nine years—and then Saskia +died.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt was not yet forty when desolation settled +down upon him.<a name="IV_Page_74"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Saskia was the mother of five children; four +of them had died, and the babe she left, Titus +by name, was only eight months old when +she passed away.</p> + +<p>For six months we find that Rembrandt did very little. +He was stunned, and his brain and hand refused to +co-operate.</p> + +<p>The first commission he undertook was the portrait of +the wife of one of the rich merchants of the city. When +the work was done, the picture resembled the dead +Saskia so much more than it did the sitter that the +patron refused to accept it. The artist saw only Saskia +and continued to portray her.</p> + +<p>But work gave him rest, and he began a series of +Biblical studies—serious, sober scenes fitted to his +mood. His hand had not lost its cunning, for there is a +sureness and individuality shown in his work during the +next few years that stamps him as the Master.</p> + +<p>But his rivals raised a great clamor against his style. +They declared that he trampled on all precedent and +scorned the laws on which true art is built. However, he +had friends, and they, to help him, went forth and +secured the commission—the famous "Night-Watch," +now in the Ryks Museum at Amsterdam.</p> + +<p>The production of this fine picture resulted in a comedy +of errors, that shaded off into a tragedy for poor +Rembrandt. The original commission for this picture +came from thirty-seven prominent citizens, who were +<a name="IV_Page_75"></a>to share the expense equally among them. The order +was for the portraits of the eminent men to appear on +one canvas, the subjects to be grouped in an artistic +way according to the artist's own conceit.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt studied hard over the matter, as he was not +content to execute a picture of a mass of men doing +nothing but pose.</p> + +<p>It took a year to complete the picture. The canvas shows +a band of armed men, marching forth to the defense of +the city in response to a sudden night alarm. Two brave +men lead the throng and the others shade off into mere +Rembrandt shadows, and you only know there are men +there by the nodding plumes, banners and spearheads +that glisten in the pale light of the torches.</p> + +<p>When the picture was unveiled, the rich donors looked +for themselves on the canvas, and some looked in vain. +Only two men were satisfied, and these were the two +who marched in the vanguard.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?" demanded a wealthy shipowner of +Rembrandt as the canvas was scanned in a vain search +for his proud features.</p> + +<p>"You see the palace there in the picture, do you +not?" asked the artist petulantly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see that," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"Well, you are behind that palace."</p> + +<p>The company turned on Rembrandt, and forbade the +hanging of any more of his pictures in the municipal +buildings.<a name="IV_Page_76"></a></p> + +<p>Rembrandt shrugged his shoulders. But as the year +passed and orders dropped away, he found how unwise +a thing it is to affront the public. Men who owed him +refused to pay, and those whom he owed demanded +their money.</p> + +<p>He continued doggedly on his course.</p> + +<p>Some years before he had bought a large house and +borrowed money to pay for it, and had further given his +note at hand to various merchants and dealers in curios. +As long as he was making money no one cared for more +than the interest, but now the principal was demanded. +So sure had Rembrandt been of his powers that he did +not conceive that his income could drop from thirty +thousand florins a year to scarcely a fifth of that.</p> + +<p>Then his relations with Hendrickje Stoffels had displeased +society. She was his housekeeper, servant and +model—a woman without education or refinement, we +are told. But she was loyal, more than loyal, to Rembrandt: +she lived but to serve him and sought to protect +his interests in every way. When summoned before the +elders of the church to answer for her conduct, she +appeared, pleaded guilty and shocked the company by +declaring, "I would rather go to Hell with Rembrandt +Harmens than play a harp in Heaven, surrounded by +such as you!"</p> + +<p>The remark was bruited throughout the city and did +Rembrandt no good. His rivals combined to shut his +work out of all exhibitions, and several made it their +<a name="IV_Page_77"></a>business to buy up the overdue claims against him.</p> + +<p>Then officers came and took possession of his house, +and his splendid collections of jewels, laces, furniture, +curios and pictures were sold at auction. The fine dresses +that once belonged to Saskia were seized: they even took +her wedding-gown: and wanton women bid against the +nobility for the possession of these things. Rembrandt +was stripped of his sketches, and these were sold in +bundles—the very sweat of his brain for years. Then +he was turned into the streets.</p> + +<p>But Hendrickje Stoffels still clung to him, his only +friend. Rembrandt's proud heart was broken. He found +companionship at the taverns; and to get a needful loaf +of bread for Hendrickje and his boy, made sketches and +hawked them from house to house.</p> + +<p>Fashions change and art is often only a whim. People +wondered why they had ever bought those dark, +shadowy things made by that Leyden artist, What's-his-name! +One man utilized the frames which contained +"Rembrandts" by putting other canvases right over +in front of them.</p> + +<p>Rembrandt's son Titus tried his skill at art, but with +indifferent success. He died while yet a youth. Then +Hendrickje passed away, and Rembrandt was alone—a +battered derelict on the sea of life. He lost his identity +under an assumed name, and sketched with chalk on +tavern-walls and pavement for the amusement of the +crowd.<a name="IV_Page_78"></a></p> + +<p>He died in Sixteen Hundred Sixty-nine, and the expense +of his burial was paid by the hands of charity.</p> + +<p>The cost of the funeral was seven dollars and fifty cents.</p> + +<p>In Eighteen Hundred Ninety-seven, there was sold +in London a small portrait by Rembrandt for a sum +equal to a trifle more than thirty-one thousand dollars. +But even this does not represent the true value of one +of his pictures—for connoisseurs regard a painting by +Rembrandt as priceless.</p> + +<p>There is a law in Holland forbidding any one on serious +penalty to remove a "Rembrandt" from the country. +If any one of the men who combined to work his ruin +is mentioned in history, it is only to say, "He lived in +the age of Rembrandt."</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_79"></a></p> +<h2><a name="RUBENS" id="RUBENS"></a>RUBENS</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_80"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>I was admitted to the Duke of Lerma's presence, and +took part in the embassy. The Duke exhibited great +satisfaction at the excellence and number of the pictures, +which surely have acquired a certain fair appearance of +antiquity (by means of my retouching), in spite even of +the damage they had undergone. They are held and +accepted by the King and Queen as originals, without +there being any doubt on their side, or assertion on ours, +to make them believe them to be such.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">—<i>Letter From Rubens at Madrid, to Chieppo, Secretary of the Duke of Mantua</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-3.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-3_th.jpg" alt="RUBENS" /></a></p><p class="ctr">RUBENS</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_81"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>The father of Peter Paul Rubens was +a lawyer, a man of varied attainments +and marked personality. In +statecraft he showed much skill, +and by his ability in business +management served William the +Silent, Prince of Orange, in good +stead.</p> + +<p>But Jan Rubens had a bad habit of thinking for himself. +The habit grew upon him until the whisper was passed +from this one to that, that he was becoming decidedly +atheistic.</p> + +<p>Spain held a strong hand upon Antwerp, and the policy +of Philip the Second was to crush opposition in the bud. +Jan Rubens had criticized Spanish rule, and given it as +his opinion that the Latin race would not always push +its domination upon the people of the North.</p> + +<p>At this time Spain was so strong that she deemed herself +omnipotent, and was looking with lustful eyes +towards England. Drake and Frobisher and Walter +Raleigh were learning their lessons in seafaring; Elizabeth +was Queen; while up at Warwickshire a barefoot +boy named William Shakespeare was playing in the +meadows, and romping in the lanes and alleys of +Stratford.</p> + +<p>All this was taking place at the time when Jan Rubens +<a name="IV_Page_82"></a>was doing a little thinking on his own account. On +reading the history of Europe, Flanders seems to one +to have been a battle-ground from the dawn of history +up to the night of June Eighteenth, Eighteen Hundred +Fifteen, with a few incidental skirmishes since, for it is +difficult to stop short. And it surely was meet that +Napoleon should have gone up there to receive his +Waterloo, and charge his cavalry into a sunken roadway, +making a bridge across with a mingled mass of +men and horses; upon which site now is a huge mound +thrown up by the English, surmounted by a gigantic +bronze lion cast from the captured cannon of the +French.</p> + +<p>Napoleon belonged to the Latin race: he pushed his +rule north into Flanders, and there his prowess ended—there +at the same place where Spanish rule had been +throttled and turned back upon itself. "Thus far, and +no farther." Jan Rubens was right. But he paid dearly +for his prophecy.</p> + +<p>When William the Silent was away on his many warfaring +expeditions, the man who had charge of certain +of his affairs was Jan Rubens. Naturally this brought +Rubens into an acquaintanceship with the wife of the +silent prince. Rubens was a handsome man, ready in +speech, and of the kind that makes friends easily. And if +the wife of the Prince of Orange liked the vivacious +Rubens better than the silent warrior (who won his +sobriquet, they do say, through density of emotion and +<a name="IV_Page_83"></a>lack of ideas), why, who can blame her!</p> + +<p>But Rubens +had a wife of his own, to whom he was fondly attached; +and this wife was also the close and trusted friend of +the woman whose husband was off to the wars. And +yet when this dense and silent man came back from +one of his expeditions, it was only publicly to affront +and disgrace his wife, and to cast Jan Rubens into a +dungeon. No doubt the Prince was jealous of the courtly +Rubens—and the Iagos are a numerous tribe. But +Othello's limit had been reached. He damned the innocent +woman to the lowest pit, and visited his wrath on +the man.</p> + +<p>Of course I know full well that all Northern Europe +once rang with shrill gossip over the affair, and as usual +the woman was declared the guilty party. Even yet, +when topics for scandal in Belgium run short, this old +tale is revived and gone over—sides being taken. I've +gone over it, too, and although I may be in the minority, +just as I possibly am as to the "guilt" of Eve, yet +I stand firm on the side of the woman. I give the facts +just as they appear, having canvassed the whole subject, +possibly a little more than was good for me.</p> + +<p>Republics may be ungrateful, but the favor of princes +is fickle as the East Wind.</p> + +<p>We make a fine hullabaloo nowadays because France +or Russia occasionally tries and sentences a man without +giving him an opportunity of defense; but in the +Sixteenth Century the donjon-keeps of hundreds of +<a name="IV_Page_84"></a>castles in Europe were filled with prisoners whose +offense consisted in being feared or disliked by some +whimsical local ruler.</p> + +<p>Jan Rubens was sent on an official errand to Dillenburg, +and arriving there was seized and thrown into prison, +without trial or the privilege of communicating with +his friends.</p> + +<p>Months of agonizing search on the part of his wife +failed to find him, and the Prince only broke the silence +long enough to usurp a woman's privilege by telling a +lie, and declaring he did not know where Rubens was, +"but I believe he has committed suicide through +remorse."</p> + +<p>The distracted wife made her way alone from prison +to prison, and finally, by bribing an official, found her +husband was in an underground cell in the fortress at +Dillenburg. It was a year before she was allowed to +communicate with or see him. But Maria Rubens was +a true diplomat. You move a man not by going to him +direct, but by finding out who it is that has a rope tied +to his foot. She secured the help of the discarded wife +of the Prince, and these two managed to interest a +worthy bishop, who brought his influence to bear on +Count John of Nassau. This man had jurisdiction of +the district in which the fortress where Rubens was +confined was located; and he agreed to release the prisoner +on parole on condition that a deposit of six thousand +thalers be left with him, and an agreement signed +<a name="IV_Page_85"></a>by the prisoner that he would give himself up when +requested; and also, further, that he would acknowledge +before witnesses that he was guilty of the charges +made against him.</p> + +<p>The latter clause was to justify the Prince of Orange in +his actions toward him.</p> + +<p>Rubens refused to plead guilty, even for the sake of +sweet liberty, on account of the smirch to the name of +the Princess.</p> + +<p>But on the earnest request of both his wife and the +"co-respondent," he finally accepted the terms in the +same manner that Galileo declared the earth stood still. +Rubens got his liberty, was loyal to his parole, but +John of Nassau kept the six thousand thalers for +"expenses."</p> + +<p>So much for the honor of princes; but in passing it is +worthy of recall that Jan Rubens pleaded guilty of +disloyalty to his wife, on request of said wife, in order +that he might enjoy the society of said wife—and cast +a cloud on the good name of another woman on said +woman's request.</p> + +<p>So here is a plot for a play: a tale of self-sacrifice and +loyalty on the part of two women that puts to shame +much small talk we hear from small men concerning +the fickleness and selfishness of woman's love. "Brief +as woman's love!" said Hamlet—but then, Hamlet +was crazy.</p> + +<p>Jan Rubens died in Cologne, March Eighteenth, Fifteen<a name="IV_Page_86"></a> +Hundred Eighty-seven, and lies buried in the Church +of Saint Peter. Above the grave is a slab containing +this inscription: "Sacred to the Memory of Jan Rubens, +of Antwerp, who went into voluntary exile and retired +with his family to Cologne, where he abode for nineteen +years with his wife Maria, who was the mother of his +seven children. With this his only wife Maria he lived +happily for twenty-six years without any quarrel. This +monument is erected by said Maria Pypelings Rubens +to her sweetest and well-deserved husband."</p> + +<p>Of course, no one knew then that one of the seven—the +youngest son of Jan and Maria—was to win deathless +fame, or that might have been carved on the slab, too, +even if something else had to be omitted.</p> + +<p>But Maria need not have added that last clause, stating +who it was that placed the tablet: as it stands we should +all have known that it was she who dictated the inscription. +Epitaphs are proverbially untruthful; hence arose +the saying, "He lies like an epitaph." The woman who +can not evolve a good lie in defense of the man she loves +is unworthy of the name of wife.</p> + +<p>The lie is the weapon of defense that kind Providence +provides for the protection of the oppressed. "Women +are great liars," said Mahomet; "Allah in his wisdom +made them so."</p> + +<p>Hail, Maria Rubens! turned to dust these three hundred +years, what star do you now inhabit? or does your +avatar live somewhere here in this world? At the +<a name="IV_Page_87"></a>thought of your unselfish loyalty and precious fibbing, +an army of valiant, ghostly knights will arise from their +graves, and rusty swords leap from their scabbards if +aught but good be said against thee.</p> + +<p>"Ho, ho! and wasn't your husband really guilty, and +didn't you know it all the time?" I'll fling my glove +full in the face of any man who dare ask you such a +question.</p> + +<p>Beloved and loving wife for six-and-twenty years, and +mother of seven, looking the world squarely in the eye +and telling a large and beautiful untruth, carving it in +marble to protect your husband's name, I kiss my +hand to you!<a name="IV_Page_88"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the doorpost of a queer little stone house +in Cologne is carved an inscription to the +effect that Peter Paul Rubens was born there +on June Twenty-ninth, Fifteen Hundred +Seventy-seven. It is probably true that the parents of +Rubens lived there, but Peter Paul was born at Siegen, +under the shadow of a prison from which his father +was paroled.</p> + +<p>After a few years the discipline relaxed, for there were +new prisoners coming along, and Maria and Jan were +given permission to move to Cologne.</p> + +<p>Peter Paul was ten years of age when his father died. +The next year the widow moved with her little brood +back to Antwerp, back to the city from which her husband +had been exiled just twenty years before. Five +years previous the Prince of Orange, who had exiled +her husband, was himself sent on a journey, via the +dagger of an assassin. As the chief enemy of Jan Rubens +was dead, it was the hope of the widow to recover their +property that had been confiscated.</p> + +<p>Maria Rubens was a good Catholic; and she succeeded +in making the authorities believe that her husband had +been, too, for the home that Royalty had confiscated +was returned to her.</p> + +<p>The mother of Peter Paul loved the dim twilight +mysteries of the Church, and accepted every dogma +and edict as the literal word of God. It is easier and +certainly safer to leave such matters to the specialists.<a name="IV_Page_89"></a></p> + +<p>She was a born diplomat. She recognized the power of +the Church and knew that to win one must go with the +current, not against it. To have doubts, when the +Church is willing to bear the whole burden, she thought +very foolish. Had she been a man she would have been +a leader among the Jesuits. The folly of opposition had +been shown her most vividly in her husband's career. +What could he not have been had he been wise and +patient and ta'en the tide at its flood! And this was the +spirit that she inculcated in the minds of her children.</p> + +<p>Little Peter Paul was a handsome lad—handsome +as his father—with big, dark brown eyes and clustering +curls. He was bright, intelligent, and blessed with a +cheerful, obliging disposition. He came into the world +a welcome child, carrying the beauty of the morning +in his face, and form, and spirit.</p> + +<p>No wonder is it that the Countess de Lalaing desired +the boy for a page as soon as she saw him. His mother +embraced the opportunity to let her favorite child see +court life, and so at the early age of twelve, at a plunge, +he began that career in polite diplomacy that was to +continue for half a century.</p> + +<p>The Countess called herself his "other mother," and +lavished upon him all the attention that a childless +woman had to bestow. The mornings were sacred to his +lessons, which were looked after by a Jesuit priest; and +in the afternoon, another priest came to give the ladies +lessons in the languages, and at these circles young<a name="IV_Page_90"></a> +Peter Paul was always present as one of the class.</p> + +<p>Indeed, +the earliest accomplishment of Peter Paul was +his polyglot ability. When he arrived at Antwerp, a +mere child, he spoke German, Flemish and French.</p> + +<p>Such a favorite did little Peter Paul become with his +"other mother," and her ladies of the court, that his +sure-enough mother grew a bit jealous, and feared they +would make a hothouse plant of her boy, and so she +took him away.</p> + +<p>The question was, for what profession should he be +educated? That he should serve the Church and State +was already a settled fact in the mother's mind: to get +on in the world you must cultivate and wisely serve +those who are in power—that is, those who have power +to bestow. Priests were plentiful as blackberries, and +politicians were on every corner, and many of the +priests and officeseekers had no special talent to recommend +them. They were simply timeservers. Maria +knew this: To get on you must have several talents, +otherwise people will tire of you.</p> + +<p>In Cologne, Maria Rubens had met returned pilgrims +from Rome and they had told her of that trinity of +giants, Michelangelo, Raphael and Leonardo; and how +these men had been the peers of prince and pope, because +they had the ability to execute marvelous works +of beauty.</p> + +<p>This extraordinary talent called attention to themselves, +so they were summoned out of the crowd and became +<a name="IV_Page_91"></a>the companions and friends of the greatest names of +their time.</p> + +<p>And then, how better can one glorify his +Maker than by covering the sacred walls of temples +with rich ornament!</p> + +<p>The boy entered into the project, and the mother's +ambition that he should retrieve his father's fortune +fired his heart. Thus does the failure in life of a parent +often give incentive to the genius of a son.</p> + +<p>Tobias Verhaecht was the man who taught Rubens the +elements of drawing, and inculcated in him that love +of Nature which was to be his lifelong heritage. The +word "landscape" is Flemish, and it was the Dutch +who carried the term and the art into England. Verhaecht +was among the very first of landscape-painters. +He was a specialist: he could draw trees and clouds, +and a winding river, but could not portray faces. And +so he used to call in a worthy portrait-painter, by the +name of Franck, to assist him whenever he had a canvas +on the easel that demanded the human form. Then +when Franck wanted background and perspective, +Verhaecht would go over with a brush and a few pots +of paint and help him out.</p> + +<p>At fifteen, the keen, intuitive mind of Rubens had +fathomed the talents of those two worthies, Verhaecht +and Franck. His mind was essentially feminine: he +absorbed ideas in the mass. Soon he prided himself on +being able to paint alone as good a picture as the two +collaborators could together. Yet he was too wise to +<a name="IV_Page_92"></a>affront them by the boast. The bent of his talent he +thought was toward historical painting; and more than +this, he knew that only epic art would open the churches +for a painter. And so he next became a pupil under +Adam van Noort. This man was a rugged old character, +who worked out things in his own way and pushed the +standard of painting full ten points to the front. His +work shows a marked advance over that of his contemporaries +and over the race of painters that preceded +him. Every great artist is the lingering representative +of an age that is dead, or else he is the prophet and +forerunner of a golden age to come.</p> + +<p>When I visited the Church of Saint Jaques in Antwerp, +where Rubens lies buried, the good old priest who acted +as guide called my attention to a picture by Van Noort, +showing Peter finding the money in the mouth of the +fish. "A close study of that picture will reveal to you +the germ of the Rubens touch," said the priest, and he +was surely right: its boldness of drawing, the strong, +bright colors and the dexterity in handling all say, +"Rubens." Rubens builded on the work of Van Noort.</p> + +<p>Twenty years after Rubens had left the studio of +Van Noort he paid tribute to his old master by saying, +"Had Van Noort visited Italy and caught the spirit +of the classicists, his name would stand first among +Flemish artists."</p> + +<p>Rubens worked four years with Van Noort and then +entered the studio of Otto van Veen. This man was not +<a name="IV_Page_93"></a>a better painter than Van Noort, but he occupied a +much higher social position, and Peter Paul was intent +on advancing his skirmish-line. He never lost ground. +Van Veen was Court Painter, and on friendly terms +with the Archduke Albert, and Isabella, his wife, +daughter of Philip the Second, King of Spain.</p> + +<p>Van Veen took very few pupils—only those who had +the ability to aid him in completing his designs. To +have worked with this master was an introduction at +once into the charmed circle of royalty.</p> + +<p>Rubens was in no haste to branch out on his own +account: he was quite content to know that he was +gaining ground, making head upon the whole. He won +the confidence of Van Veen at once by his skill, his +cheerful presence, and ability to further the interests +of his master and patrons. In Fifteen Hundred Ninety-nine, +when Rubens was twenty-two, he was enrolled as +a free master at the Guild of Saint Luke on the nomination +of Van Veen, who also about this time introduced +the young artist to Albert and Isabella.</p> + +<p>But the best service that Van Veen did for Rubens was +in taking him into his home and giving him free access +to the finest collection of Italian art in the Netherlands. +These things filled the heart of Rubens with a desire +to visit Italy, and there to dive deeply into the art +spirit of that land from which all our art has sprung.</p> + +<p>To go abroad then and gain access to the art treasures +of the world was not a mere matter of asking for a +<a name="IV_Page_94"></a>passport, handing out a visiting-card, and paying your +way.</p> + +<p>Young men who wished to go abroad to study were +required to pass a stiff examination. If it was believed +that they could not represent their own country with +honor, their passports were withheld. And to travel +without a passport was to run the risk of being arrested +as an absconder.</p> + +<p>But Rubens' place in society was already secure. Instead +of applying for his passports personally and undergoing +the usual catechization, his desires were explained +to Van Veen, and all technicalities were waived, as they +always are when you strike the right man. Not only +were the passports forthcoming, but Albert and Isabella +wrote a personal note to Viccuzo Gonzaga, the +Duke of Mantua, commending the young painter to +the Duke's good offices.</p> + +<p>Van Veen further explained to Rubens that to know the +Duke of Mantua might mean either humiliation or +crowning success. To attain the latter through the +Duke of Mantua, it was necessary to make a good +impression on Annibale Chieppo, the Duke's Minister +of State. Chieppo had the keeping of the ducal conscience +as well as the key to the strong-box.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Mantua was one of those strange loaded +dice that Fate occasionally flings upon this checkerboard +of time: one of those characters whose feverish +faculties border on madness, yet who do the world +<a name="IV_Page_95"></a>great good by breaking up its balances, preventing +social ankylosis, and eventually forcing upon mankind +a new deal. But in the train of these vagrant stars +famine and pestilence follow.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Mantua was brother in spirit to the man who +made Versailles—and making Versailles undid France.</p> + +<p>Versailles is a dream: no language that the most +enthusiastic lovers of the beautiful may utter, can +exaggerate the wonders of those acres of palaces and +miles of gardens. The magnificence of the place makes +the ready writer put up his pencil, and go away +whipped, subdued and crestfallen to think that here +are creations that no one pen can even catalog. Louis +the Grand, we are told, had thirty-six thousand men and +six thousand horses at work here at one time. No wonder +Madame De Maintenon was oppressed by the treasures +that were beyond the capacity of man to contemplate; +and so off in the woods was built that lover's retreat, +"The Trianon." And out there today, hidden in the +forest, we behold the second Trianon, built by Marie +Antoinette, and we also see those straw-thatched huts +where the ladies of her Court played at peasant life.</p> + +<p>Louis the Fourteenth builded so well that he discouraged +his successor from doing anything but play keep-house, +and so extensively that France was rent in +twain, and so mightily that even Napoleon Bonaparte +was staggered at the thought of maintaining Versailles.</p> + +<p>"It's too much for any man to enjoy—I give it up!"<a name="IV_Page_96"></a> +said the Little Man, perplexed, and ordered every door +locked and every window tightly shuttered. Then he +placed a thousand men to guard the place and went +about his business.</p> + +<p>But today Versailles belongs to the people of France; +more, it belongs to the people of earth: all is free and +you may carry away all the beauty of the place that +your soul can absorb.</p> + +<p>Now, who shall say that Louis the Fourteenth has not +enriched the world?</p> + +<p>The Duke of Mantua was sumptuous in his tastes, +liberal, chivalrous, voluptuous, extravagant. At the +same time he had a cultivated mind, an eye for proportion, +and an ear for harmony. He was even pious at +times, and like all debauchees had periods of asceticism. +He was much given to gallantry, and his pension-list +of beautiful women was not small. He was a poet and +wrote some very good sonnets; he was a composer who +sang, from his own compositions, after the wine had +gone round; he was an orator who committed to memory +and made his own the speeches that his secretary +wrote.</p> + +<p>He traveled much, and in great state, with a retinue of +servants, armed guards, outriders and guides. Wherever +he went he summoned the local poet, or painter, +or musician, and made a speech to him, showing that +he was familiar with his work by humming a tune or +quoting a stanza. Then he put a chain of gold around +<a name="IV_Page_97"></a>the poor embarrassed fellow's neck, and a purse in his +hands, and the people cheered.</p> + +<p>When he visited a town, cavalcades met him afar out, +and as he approached, little girls in white and boys +dressed in velvet ran before and strewed flowers in +front of his carriage.</p> + +<p>Oh, the Duke of Mantua was a great man!</p> + +<p>In his retinue was a troop of comedians, a court fool, +two dwarfs for luck, seven cooks, three alchemists and +an astrologer. Like the old woman who lived in a shoe, +he had so many children he didn't know what to do. +One of his sons married a princess of the House of +Saxony, another son was a cardinal, and a daughter +married into the House of Lorraine. He had alliances +and close relations with every reigning family of Europe. +The sister of his wife, Marie de Medici, became +"King of France," as Talleyrand avers, and had a +mad, glad, sad, bad, jolly time of it.</p> + +<p>Wherever the Duke of Mantua went, there too went +Annibale Chieppo, the Minister of State. This man had +a calm eye, a quiet pulse, and could locate any man or +woman in his numerous retinue at any hour of the day +or night. He was a diplomat, a soldier, a financier.</p> + +<p>You could not reach the Duke until you had got past +Chieppo.</p> + +<p>And the Duke of Mantua had much commonsense—for +in spite of envy and calumny and threat he never +lost faith in Annibale Chieppo.<a name="IV_Page_98"></a></p> + +<p>No success in life is possible without a capable first +mate. Chieppo was king of first mates.</p> + +<p>He was subtle as Richelieu and as wise as Wolsey.</p> + +<p>When Peter Paul Rubens, aged twenty-three, arrived +at Venice, the Duke of Mantua and his train were +there. Rubens presented his credentials to Chieppo, +and the Minister of State read them, looked upon the +handsome person of the young man, proved for himself +he had decided talent as a painter, put him through a +civil-service examination—and took him into favor. +Such a young man as this, so bright, so courtly, so +talented, must be secured. He would give the entire +Court a new thrill.</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow," said the Minister of State, "tomorrow +you shall be received by the Duke of Mantua and his +court!"<a name="IV_Page_99"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The ducal party remained at Venice for +several weeks, and when it returned to +Mantua, Rubens went along quite as a +matter of course. From letters that he wrote +to his brother Philip, as well as from many other +sources, we know that the art collection belonging to +the Duke of Mantua was very rich. It included works +by the Bellinis, Correggio, Leonardo da Vinci, Andrea +del Sarto, Tintoretto, Titian, Paoli Veronese, and +various others whose names have faded away like +their colors.</p> + +<p>Rubens had long been accustomed to the ways of polite +society. The magnificence of his manner, and the fine +egotism he showed in his work, captivated the Court. +The Duke was proud of his ward and paraded him +before his artistic friends as the coming man, incidentally +explaining that it was the Duke of Mantua who +had made him and not he himself.</p> + +<p>It was then the custom of those who owned masterpieces +to have copies made and present them to various +other lovers of the beautiful. If an honored guest was +looking through your gallery, and expressed great +pleasure in a certain canvas, the correct thing was to +say, "I'll have my best painter make a copy of it, and +send it to you"—and a memorandum was made on an +ivory tablet. This gracious custom seems to have come +down from the time when the owners of precious books +constantly employed scribes and expert illuminators +<a name="IV_Page_100"></a>in making copies for distribution. The work done in the +scriptoriums of the monasteries, we know, was sent +away as presents, or in exchange for other volumes.</p> + +<p>Rubens set diligently to work copying in the galleries +of Mantua; and whether the Duke was happier because +he had discovered Rubens than Rubens was because +he had found the Duke, we do not know. Anyway, all +that the young painter had hoped and prayed for had +been sent him.</p> + +<p>Here was work from the very hands of the masters he +had long worshiped from afar. His ambition was high +and his strong animal spirits and tireless energy were a +surprise to the easy-going Italians. The galleries were +his without let or hindrance, save that he allow the +ladies of the Court to come every afternoon and watch +him work. This probably did not disturb him; but we +find the experienced Duke giving the young Fleming +some good advice, thus: "You must admire all these +ladies in equal portion. Should you show favoritism +for one, the rest will turn upon you; and to marry any +one of them would be fatal to your art."</p> + +<p>Rubens wrote the advice home to his mother, and the +good mother viseed it and sent it back.</p> + +<p>After six months of diligent work at Mantua we find +Rubens starting for Rome with letters from the Duke +to Cardinal Montalto, highly recommending him to +the good graces of the Cardinal, and requesting, "that +you will be graciously so good as to allow our Fleming +<a name="IV_Page_101"></a>to execute and make copies for us of such paintings as +he may deem worthy."</p> + +<p>Cardinal Montalto was a nephew of Pope Sixtus, and +the strongest man, save the Pope, in Rome. He had +immense wealth, great learning, and rare good sense in +matters of art. He was a close friend of the Duke of +Mantua; and to come into personal relations with such +a man was a piece of rare good fortune for any man. +The art world of Rome now belonged to Rubens—all +doors opened at his touch. "Our Fleming" knew the +value of his privileges. "If I do not succeed," he writes +to his mother, "it will be because I have not improved +my opportunities." The word fail was not in his lexicon. +His industry never relaxed. In Walpole's "Anecdotes +of Painting," an account is given of a sketchbook compiled +by Rubens at this time. The original was in the +possession of Maurice Johnson, of Spalding, England, +in Eighteen Hundred Forty-five, at which time it was +exhibited in London and attracted much attention.</p> + +<p>I have seen a copy of the book with its hundred or +more sketches of the very figures that we now see and +admire in the Uffizi and Pitti galleries and in the Vatican. +Eight generations of men have come and gone since +Rubens sketched from the Old Masters, but there +today stand the chiseled shapes, which were then +centuries old, and there today are the "Titians" and +the "Raphaellos" just as the exuberant Fleming saw +them. Surely this must show us how short are the days +<a name="IV_Page_102"></a>of man! "Open then the door; you know how little +while we have to stay!"</p> + +<p>The two figures that seemed to impress Rubens most, +as shown in the sketchbook, are the Farnese "Hercules" +and Michelangelo's "David." He shows the foot of +the "Hercules," and the hand of the "David," and +gives front, back and side views with comments and +criticisms. Then after a few pages have been covered +by other matter he goes back again to the "Hercules"—the +subject fascinates him.</p> + +<p>When we view "The Crucifixion," in the Cathedral at +Antwerp, we conclude that he admired the "Hercules" +not wisely but too well, for the muscles stand out on all +the figures, even of the Savior, in pure Farnese style. +Two years after that picture was painted, he did his +masterpiece, "The Descent From the Cross," and we +behold with relief the change that had come over the +spirit of his dreams. Mere pride in performing a difficult +feat had given place to a higher motive. There is no +reason to suppose that the Apostles had trained to +perform the twelve labors of Hercules, or that the two +Marys were Amazons. But the burly Roman forms +went back to Flanders, and for many years staid citizens +were slipped into classic attitudes to do duty as +Disciples, Elders, Angels—all with swelling biceps, +knotted muscles, and necks like the Emperor Vespasian.</p> + +<p>The Mantuan Envoy at Rome had private orders +from Chieppo to see that the Fleming was well treated.<a name="IV_Page_103"></a> +The Envoy was further requested to report to the +Secretary how the painter spent his time, and also how +he was regarded by Cardinal Montalto. Thus we see +the wily Secretary set one servant watching another, +and kept in close touch with all.</p> + +<p>The reports, however, all confirmed the Secretary in his +belief that the Fleming was a genius, and, moreover, +worthy of all the encouragement that was bestowed +upon him. The Secretary sent funds from time to time +to the painter, with gentle hints that he should pay due +attention to his behavior, and also to his raiment, for +the apparel oft doth proclaim the man.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Mantua seems to have regarded Rubens +as his own private property, and Rubens had too much +sense to do anything by word or deed that might displease +his patron.</p> + +<p>When he had gotten all that Italy could give, or more +properly all he could absorb, his intent was to follow his +heart and go straight back to Flanders.</p> + +<p>Three years had passed since Rubens had arrived in +Venice—years of profit to both spirit and purse. He had +painted pictures that placed him in the rank of acknowledged +artists, and the Duke of Mantua had dropped all +patronizing airs. With the ducal party Rubens had +visited Verona, Florence, Pisa and Padua. His fame was +more than local. The painter hinted to Chieppo that +he would like to return to Antwerp, but the Secretary +objected—he had important work for him.<a name="IV_Page_104"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Rubens was from Flanders, and Flanders +was a Spanish possession: then the Fleming +knew the daughter of the King of Spain. No +man was so well fitted to go on a delicate +diplomatic mission to Spain as the Flemish painter. +"You are my heart's jewel," said the Duke of Mantua +to the Prime Minister, when the Minister suggested it.</p> + +<p>The Duke wished private information as to certain +things Spanish, and was also preparing the way to ask +for sundry favors. The Court at Madrid was artistic in +instinct; so was the Mantuan Court. To recognize the +esthetic side of your friend's nature, when your friend +is secretly not quite sure but that he is more worldly +than spiritual, is a stroke of diplomacy. Spain was not +really artistic, but there were stirrings being felt, and +Velasquez and Murillo were soon to appear.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Mantua wished to present the King of +Spain with certain pictures; his mind was filled with a +lively sense of anticipation of future favors to be received—which +feeling we are told is gratitude. The +entire ceremony must be carried out appropriately—the +poetic unities being fully preserved. Therefore a +skilful painter must be sent with the pictures, in order +to see that they were safely transported, properly unpacked, +and rightly hung.</p> + +<p>Instructions were given to Peter Paul Rubens, the +artistic ambassador, at great length, as to how he +should proceed. He was to make himself agreeable to +<a name="IV_Page_105"></a>the King, and to one greater than the King—the man +behind the throne—the Duke of Lerma; and to several +fair ladies as well.</p> + +<p>The pictures were copies of the masters—"Titians," +"Raphaellos," "Tintorettos" and "Leonardos." They +were copied with great fidelity, even to the signature +and private marks of the original artist. In fact, so well +was the work done that if the recipient inclined to +accept them as originals, his mind must not be disabused. +Further, the envoy was not supposed to know +whether they were originals or not (even though he had +painted them), and if worse came to worst he must +say, "Well, surely they are just as good as the originals, +if not better."</p> + +<p>Presents were taken for a dozen or more persons. Those +who were not so very artistic were to have gifts of guns, +swords and precious stones. The ambassador was to +travel in a new carriage, drawn by six horses and followed +by wagons carrying the art treasures. All this +so as to make the right impression and prove to Madrid +that Mantua was both rich and generous. And as a +capsheaf to it all, the painter must choose an opportune +moment and present his beautiful carriage and horses +to the King, for the belief was rife that the King of +Spain was really more horsey than artistic.</p> + +<p>The pictures were selected with great care, and the +finest horses to be found were secured, regardless of +cost. Several weeks were consumed in preparations, and +<a name="IV_Page_106"></a>at last the cavalcade started away, with Rubens in the +carriage and eleven velvet suits in his chest, as he himself +has told us. It was a long, hard journey to Madrid. +There were encounters with rapacious landlords, and +hairbreadth escapes in the imminent deadly custom-house. +But in a month the chromatic diplomat arrived +and entered Madrid at the head of his company, wearing +one of the velvet suits, and riding a milk-white +charger.</p> + +<p>Rubens followed orders and wrote Signor Chieppo at +great length, giving a minute account of every incident +and detail of the journey and of his reception at Madrid. +While at the Court he kept a daily record of happenings, +which was also forwarded to the Secretary.</p> + +<p>These many letters have recently been given to the +public. They are in Italian, with a sprinkling here and +there of good honest Dutch. All is most sincere, grave +and explicit. Rubens deserved great credit for all these +letters, for surely they were written with sweat and +lamp-smoke. The work of the toiler is over all, but we +must remember that at that time he had been studying +Italian only about a year.</p> + +<p>The literary style of Rubens was Johnsonese all his life, +and he made his meaning plain only by repetitions and +many rhetorical flounderings. Like the average sixteen-year-old boy +who sits himself down and takes his pen +in hand, all his sprightliness of imagination vanished +at sight of an ink-bottle. With a brush his feelings were +<a name="IV_Page_107"></a>fluid, and in a company grace dwelt upon his lips; but +when asked to write it out he gripped the pen as though +it were a crowbar instead of a crow's-quill.</p> + +<p>But Chieppo received his reports; and we know the +embassy was a success—a great success. The debonair +Fleming surprised the King by saying, "Your Majesty, +it is like this"—and then with a few bold strokes drew +a picture.</p> + +<p>He modestly explained that he was not much of a +painter—"merely used a brush for his own amusement"—and +then made a portrait for the Minister of +State that exaggerated all of that man's good points, +and ignored all his failings. There was a cast in the +Minister's eye, but Rubens waived it. The Minister was +delighted, and so was the King. He then made a portrait +of the King that was as flattering as portraits should be +that are painted for monarchs.</p> + +<p>Among his other accomplishments the Fleming was a +skilful horseman; he rode with such grace and dash that +the King took him on his drives, Rubens riding by the +side of the carriage, gaily conversing as they rode.</p> + +<p>And so with the aid of his many talents he won the confidence +of the King and Court and was initiated into +the inner life of Spanish royalty in a way that Iberta, +the Mantuan Resident, never had been. The King +liked Rubens, and so did the Man behind the Throne.</p> + +<p>Mortals do not merely like each other because they +like each other; such a bond is tenuous as a spider's +<a name="IV_Page_108"></a>thread. I love you because you love the things that I +love. One woman won my heart by her subtle appreciation +of "The Dipsy Chanty." Men meet on a horse +basis, a book basis, a religious basis, or some other +mutual leaning; sometimes we find them uniting on a +mutual dislike for something. For instance, I have a +friend to whom I am bound by the tie of oneness +because we dislike olives, and have a mutual indifference +to the pretended claims of the unpronounceable +Pole who wrote "Quo Vadis." The discovery was +accidentally made in a hotel dining-room: we clasped +hands across the board, and since then have been as +brothers.</p> + +<p>The more points at which you touch humanity the +more friends you have—the greater your influence. +Rubens was an artist, a horseman, a musician, a politician +and a gourmet. When conceptions in the kitchen +were vague, he would send for the cook and explain +to him how to do it. He possessed a most discriminating +palate and a fine appreciation of things drinkable. +These accomplishments secured him a well-defined case +of gout while yet a young man. He taught the Spanish +Court how to smoke, having himself been initiated by +an Englishman, who was a companion of Sir Walter +Raleigh, and showed them how to roll a cigarette while +engaged in ardent conversation. And the Spaniards +have not yet lost the art, for once in Cadiz I saw a horse +running away, and the driver rolled and lighted a +<a name="IV_Page_109"></a>cigarette before trying to stop the mad flight of the +frantic brute.</p> + +<p>In the Royal Gallery at Madrid are several large paintings +by Rubens that were doubtless done at this time. +They are religious subjects; but worked in, after the +manner of a true diplomat, are various portraits of +brave men and handsome women. To pose a worthy +senator as Saint Paul, and a dashing lady of the Court +as the Holy Virgin, was most gratifying to the phrenological +development of approbativeness of the said +senator and lady. Then, as the painter had pictured +one, he must do as much for others, so there could be +no accusation of favoritism.</p> + +<p>Thus the months passed rapidly. The Duke of Lerma +writes to Chieppo, "We desire your gracious permission +to keep the Fleming another month, as very special +portraits are required from his brush."</p> + +<p>The extra month extended itself to three; and when at +last Rubens started back for Mantua it was after a full +year's absence.</p> + +<p>The embassy was a most complete success. The diplomat +well masked his true errand with the artist's garb: +and who of all men was ever so well fitted by Nature +to play the part as Rubens?</p> + +<p>Yet he came near overdoing the part at least once. It +was in this wise: he really was not sure that the honors +paid him were on account of his being a painter or a +courtier. But like comedians who think their forte is +<a name="IV_Page_110"></a>tragedy, so the part of courtier was more pleasing to +Rubens than that of painter, because it was more difficult. +He painted with such ease that he set small store +on the talent: it was only a makeshift for advancement.</p> + +<p>Don John, Duke of Braganza, afterward King of +Portugal, was a lover of art, and desired to make the +acquaintance of the painter. So he wrote to Rubens at +Madrid, inviting him to Villa Vitiosa, his place of residence.</p> + +<p>Rubens knew how the Duke of Mantua did +these things—he decided to follow suit.</p> + +<p>With a numerous train, made up from the fringe of the +Madrid Court, with hired horsemen going before, and +many servants behind, the retinue started away. Coming +within five miles of the villa of Don John, word was +sent that Rubens and his retinue awaited his embassy.</p> + +<p>Now Don John was a sure-enough duke and could +muster quite a retinue of his own on occasion, yet he +had small taste for tinsel parades. Men who have a real +good bank-balance do not have to wear fashionable +clothes. Don John was a plain, blunt man who liked +books and pictures. He wanted to see the painter, not +a courtier: and when he heard of the style in which the +artist was coming, he just put a boy on a donkey and +sent word out that he was not at home. And further, to +show the proud painter his place, he sent along a small +purse of silver to pay the artist for the trouble to which +he had been. The rebuke was so delicate that it was +altogether lost on Rubens—he was simply enraged.<a name="IV_Page_111"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In all, Rubens spent eight years in the service +of the Duke of Mantua. He had visited the +chief cities of Italy, and was familiar with all +the art of the golden ages that had gone +before. When he left Italy he had to take advantage +of the fact that the Duke was in France, for every time +before, when he had suggested going, he was questioned +thus: "Why, have you not all you wish? What more +can be done for you? Name your desire and you shall +have it."</p> + +<p>But Rubens wanted home: Antwerp, his mother, +brothers, sister, the broad River Scheldt, and the good +old Flemish tongue.</p> + +<p>Soon after arriving in Antwerp he was named as Court +Painter by Albert and Isabella. Thus he was the successor +of his old master, Van Veen.</p> + +<p>He was now aged thirty-two, in possession of an income +from the State, and a fame and name to be envied. He +was rich in money, jewels and art treasures brought +from Italy, for he had the thrifty instincts of a true +Dutchman.</p> + +<p>And it was a gala day for all Antwerp when the bells +rang and the great organ in the Cathedral played the +wedding-march when Peter Paul Rubens and Isabella +Brandt were married, on the Thirteenth of October, +Sixteen Hundred Nine. Never was there a happier +mating.</p> + +<p>That fine picture at Munich of Rubens and his wife tells +<a name="IV_Page_112"></a>of the sweet comradeship that was to be theirs for +many years. He opened a school, and pupils flocked to +him from all Europe; commissions for work came and +orders for altar-pieces from various churches.</p> + +<p>An order was issued by the Archduke that he should +not leave Holland, and a copy of the order was sent to +the Duke of Mantua, to shut off his importunities.</p> + +<p>Among the pupils of Rubens we find the name of Jordaens +(whom he had first known in Italy), De Crayer, +Anthony Van Dyck, Franz Snyder and many others who +achieved distinction. Rubens was a positive leader; so +animated was his manner that his ambition was infectious. +All his young men painted just as he did. His will +was theirs. From now on, out of the thousands of pictures +signed "P. P. Rubens," we can not pick out a +single picture and say, "Rubens did this." He drew +outlines and added the finishing touches; and surely +would not have signed a canvas of which he did not +approve. In his great studio at Antwerp, at various +times, fully a hundred men worked to produce the +pictures we call "Rubens."</p> + +<p>Those glowing canvases in the "Rubens Gallery" of +the Louvre, showing the history and apotheosis of +Marie de Medici, were painted at Antwerp. The joyous, +exuberant touch of Rubens is over all, even though +the work was done by 'prentice hands.</p> + +<p>Peaceful lives make dull biographies, and in prosperity +is small romance.<a name="IV_Page_113"></a></p> + +<p>We may search long before finding a life so full to +overflowing of material good things as that of Rubens. +All he touched turned to gold. From the time he returned +to Antwerp in Sixteen Hundred Eight to his +death in Sixteen Hundred Forty, his life-journey was +one grand triumphal march. His many diplomatic missions +were simply repetitions of his first Spanish embassy, +with the Don John incident left out, for Don +John seems to have been the only man who was not at +home to the gracious Rubens.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ruskin has said: "Rubens was a great painter, but +he lacked that last undefinable something which makes +heart speak to heart. You admire, but you never adore. +No real sorrow ever entered his life."</p> + +<p>Perhaps we get a valuable clue in that last line. Great +art is born of feeling, and the heart of Rubens was never +touched by tragedy, nor the rocky fastnesses of his +tears broken in upon by grief. In many ways his was the +spirit of a child: he had troubles, but not sufficient to +prevent refreshing sleep, and when he awoke in the +morning the trials of yesterday were gone.</p> + +<p>Even when the helpful, faithful and loving Isabella +Brandt was taken away from him by death, there soon +came other joys to take the place of those that were lost.</p> + +<p>We have full fifty pictures of his second wife: she +looks down at us—smiling, buxom, content—from +every gallery-wall in Europe. Rubens was fifty-three +and she was sixteen when they were married; and were +<a name="IV_Page_114"></a>it not for a twinge of gout now and then, he would have +been as young as she.</p> + +<p>When Rubens went to England on "an artistic commission," +we see that he captured Charles the First +just as he captured the court of Spain. He painted five +portraits of the King that we can trace. The mild-mannered +Charles was greatly pleased with the fine +portrait of himself bestriding the prancing cream-colored +charger.</p> + +<p>Several notable artists, Sir Joshua Reynolds among +them, have complimented the picture by taking the +horse, background and pose, and placing another man +in the saddle—or more properly, taking off the head of +Charles the First and putting on the head of any bold +patron who would furnish the price. In looking through +the galleries of Europe, keep your eye out for equestrian +portraits, and you will be surprised to see on your tab, +when you have made the rounds, how many painters +have borrowed that long-maned, yellow horse that still +rears in the National Gallery in London, smelling the +battle afar off—as Charles himself preferred to smell it.</p> + +<p>Rubens had a good time in England, although his +patience was severely tried by being kept at painting +for months, awaiting an opportune time to give King +Charles some good advice on matters political.</p> + +<p>English ways were very different from those of the +Continent, but Rubens soon spoke the language with +fluency, even if not with precision.<a name="IV_Page_115"></a></p> + +<p>Rubens spoke seven languages, and to speak seven +languages is to speak no one well. On this point we have +a little comment from high authority. Said Charles the +First, writing to Buckingham, "The Fleming painter +prides himself on being able to pass for an Englishman, +but his English is so larded with French, Dutch and +Italian that we think he must have been employed on +the Tower of Babel."</p> + +<p>While painting the ceiling of the banqueting-room at +Whitehall (where a Dutchman was later to be crowned +King of England), he discussed politics with the Duke +of Buckingham and the King, from the scaffold. Some +years after we find Buckingham visiting Rubens at his +home in Antwerp, dickering for his fine collection of +curios and paintings.</p> + +<p>The Duke afterwards bought the collection and paid +Rubens ten thousand pounds in gold for it.</p> + +<p>Every one complimented Rubens on his shrewdness in +getting so much money for the wares, and Rubens gave +a banquet to his friends in token of the great sale to the +Britisher. It was a lot of money, to be sure, but the +Englishman realized the worth of the collection better +than did Rubens. We have a catalog of the collection. +It includes nineteen Titians, thirteen Paul Veroneses, +seventeen Tintorettos, three Leonardos, three Raphaels +and thirteen pictures by Rubens himself.</p> + +<p>A single one of the Titians, if sold at auction today, +would bring more than the Duke paid for the entire +<a name="IV_Page_116"></a>collection.</p> + +<p>James McNeil Whistler has said, "There +may be a doubt about Rubens having been a Great +Artist; but he surely was an Industrious Person."</p> + +<p>There is barely enough truth in Mr. Whistler's remark, +taken with its dash of wit, to save it; but Philip Gilbert +Hamerton's sober estimate is of more value: "The +influence of Rubens for good can not be overestimated. +He gave inspiration to all he met, and his example of +industry, vivid imagination, good-cheer and good taste +have had an incalculable influence on art. We have +more canvases from his hand than from the hand of any +other master. And these pictures are a quarry to which +every artist of today, consciously or unconsciously, is +indebted."</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_117"></a></p> +<h2><a name="MEISSONIER" id="MEISSONIER"></a>MEISSONIER</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_118"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>I never hesitate about scraping out the work of days, +and beginning afresh, so as to satisfy myself, and try to +do better. Ah! that "better" which one feels in one's +soul, and without which no true artist is ever content!</p> + +<p>Others may approve and admire; but that counts for +nothing, compared with one's own feeling of what +ought to be.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">—<i>Meissonier's Conversations</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-4.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-4_th.jpg" alt="MEISSONIER" /></a></p><p class="ctr">MEISSONIER</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_119"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>Life in this world is a collecting, and +all the men and women in it are +collectors.</p> + +<p>The question is, What will you collect? +Most men are intent on collecting +dollars. Their waking-hours +are taken up with inventing plans, +methods, schemes, whereby they +may secure dollars from other men. To gather as many +dollars as possible, and to give out as few, is the +desideratum. But when you collect one thing you always +incidentally collect others. The fisherman who casts his +net for shad usually secures a few other fish, and once +in a while a turtle, which enlarges the mesh to suit, and +gives sweet liberty to the shad. To focus exclusively on +dollars is to secure jealousy, fear, vanity, and a vaulting +ambition that may claw its way through the mesh and +let your dollars slip into the yeasty deep.</p> + +<p>Ragged Haggard and his colleague, Cave-of-the-Winds, +collect bacteria; while the fashionable young men of +the day, with a few exceptions, are collecting headaches, +regrets, weak nerves, tremens, paresis—death. +Of course we shall all die (I will admit that), and further, +we may be a long time dead (I will admit that), and +moreover, we may be going through the world for the +last time—as to that I do not know; but while we are +<a name="IV_Page_120"></a>here it seems the part of reason to devote our energies +to collecting that which brings as much quiet joy to +ourselves, and as little annoyance to others, as possible.</p> + +<p>My heart goes out to the collector. In the soul of the +collector of old books, swords, pistols, brocades, prints, +clocks and bookplates, there is only truth. If he gives +you his friendship, it is because you love the things +that he loves; he has no selfish wish to use your good +name to further his own petty plans—he only asks that +you shall behold, and beholding, your eye shall glow, +and your heart warm within you.</p> + +<p>Inasmuch as we live in the age of the specialist, one +man often collects books on only one subject, Dante +for instance; another, nothing but volumes printed at +Venice; another, works concerning the stage; and still +another devotes all his spare time to securing tobacco-pipes. +And I am well aware that the man who for a +quarter of a century industriously collects snuffboxes +has a supreme contempt for the man who collects both +snuffboxes and clocks. And in this does the specialist +reveal that his normal propensity to collect has degenerated. +That is to say, it has refined itself into an +abnormality, and from the innocent desire to collect, +has shifted off into a selfish wish to outrival.</p> + +<p>The man who collects many things, with easy, natural +leanings toward, say, spoons, is pure in heart and free +from guile; but when his soul centers on spoons exclusively, +he has fallen from his high estate and is simply +<a name="IV_Page_121"></a>possessed of a lust for ownership—he wants to own more +peculiar spoons than any other man on earth. Such a one +stirs up wrath and rivalry, and is the butt and byword +of all others who collect spoons.</p> + +<p>Prosperous, practical, busy people sometimes wonder +why other folks build cabinets with glass fronts and +strong locks and therein store postage-stamps, bits of +old silks, autographs and books that are very precious +only when their leaves are uncut; and so I will here +endeavor to explain. At the same time I despair of +making my words intelligible to any but those who are +collectors, or mayhap to those others who are in the +varioloid stage.</p> + +<p>Then possibly you say I had better not waste good +paper and ink by recording the information, since collectors +know already, and those who are without the +pale have neither eyes to see nor hearts to incline. But +the simple fact is, the proposition that you comprehend +on first hearing was yours already; for how can you +recognize a thing as soon as it comes into view if you +have never before seen it? You have thought my thought +yourself, or else your heart would not beat fast and your +lips say, "Yes, yes!" when I voice it. Truth is in the +air, and when your head gets up into the right stratum +of atmosphere you breathe it in. You may not know +that you have breathed it in until I come along and +write it out on this blank sheet, and then you read it +and say, "Yes—your hand! that is surely so; I knew it +<a name="IV_Page_122"></a>all along!"</p> + +<p>And so then if I tell you a thing you +already know, I confer on you the great blessing of +introducing you to yourself and of giving you the consciousness +that you know.</p> + +<p>And to know you know is power. And to feel the sense +of power is to feel a sense of oneness with the Source of +Power.</p> + +<p>Let's see—what was it, then, that we were talking +about? Oh, yes! collectors and collecting.</p> + +<p>Men collect things because these things stir imagination +and link them with the people who once possessed and +used these things. Thus, through imagination, is the +dead past made again to live and throb and pulse with +life. Man is not the lonely creature that those folks with +bad digestions sometimes try to have us believe.</p> + +<p>We are brothers not only to all who live, but to all who +have gone before.</p> + +<p>And so we collect the trifles that once were valuables for +other men, and by the possession of these trifles are we +bounden to them. These things stimulate imagination, +stir the sympathies, and help us forget the cramping +bounds of time and space that so often hedge us close +around.</p> + +<p>The people near us may be sordid, stupid, mean; or +more likely they are weary and worn with the battle for +mere food, shelter and raiment; or they are depressed +by that undefined brooding fear which civilization +exacts as payment for benefits forgot—so their better +<a name="IV_Page_123"></a>selves are subdued.</p> + +<p>But through fancy's flight we +can pick our companions out of the company of saints +and sinners who have long turned to dust. I have the +bookplates of Holbein and Hogarth, and I have a book +once owned by Rembrandt, and so I do not say Holbein +and Hogarth and Rembrandt were—I say they are.</p> + +<p>And thus the collector confuses the glorious dead and +the living in one fairy company; and although he may +detect varying degrees of excellence, for none does he +hold contempt, of none is he jealous, none does he envy. +From them he asks nothing, upon him they make no +demands. In the collector's cast of mind there is something +very childlike and ingenuous.</p> + +<p>My little girl has a small box of bright bits of silk +thread that she hoards very closely; then she possesses +certain pieces of calico, nails, curtain-rings, buttons, +spools and fragments of china—all of which are very +dear to her heart. And why should they not be? For +with them she creates a fairy world, wherein are only +joy, and peace, and harmony, and light—quite an +improvement on this! Yes, dearie, quite.<a name="IV_Page_124"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Ernest Meissonier, the artist, began +collecting very early. He has told us that he +remembers, when five years of age, of going +with his mother to market and collecting +rabbits' ears and feet, which he would take home, and +carefully nail up on the wall of the garret. And it may +not be amiss to explain here that the rabbit's foot as an +object of superstitious veneration has no real place +outside of the United States of America, and this only +south of Mason and Dixon's line.</p> + +<p>The Meissonier lad's collection of rabbits' ears increased +until he had nearly colors enough to run the chromatic +scale. Then he collected pigeons' wings in like manner, +and if you have ever haunted French market-places you +know how natural a thing this would be for a child. The +boy's mother took quite an interest in his amusements, +and helped him to spread the wings out and arrange the +tails fan-shape on the walls. They had long strings of +buttons and boxes of spools in partnership; and when +they would go up the Seine on little excursions on +Sunday afternoons, they would bring back rich spoils +in the way of swan feathers, butterflies, "snake-feeders" +and tiny shells. Then once they found a bird's +nest, and as the mother bird had deserted it, they +carried it home. That was a red-letter day, for the garret +collection had increased to such an extent that a +partition was made across the corner of a room by +hanging up a strip of cloth. And all the things in that +<a name="IV_Page_125"></a>corner belonged to Ernest—his mother said so. Ernest's +mother seems to have had a fine, joyous, childlike +nature, so she fully entered into the life of her boy. He +wanted no other companion. In fact, this mother was +little better herself than a child in years—she was only +sixteen when she bore him. They lived at Lyons then, +but three years later moved to Paris. Her temperament +was poetic, religious, and her spirit had in it a touch of +superstition—which is the case with all really excellent +women.</p> + +<p>But this sweet playtime was not for long—the mother +died in Eighteen Hundred Twenty-five, aged twenty-four +years.</p> + +<p>I suppose there is no greater calamity that can befall a +child than to lose his mother. Still, Nature is very kind, +and for Ernest Meissonier there always remained firm, +clear-cut memories of a slight, fair-haired woman, with +large, open, gray eyes, who held him in her arms, sang +to him, and rocked him to sleep each night as the darkness +gathered. He lived over and over again those few +sunshiny excursions up the river; and he knew all the +reeds and flowers and birds she liked best, and the +places where they had landed from the boat and lunched +together were forever to him sacred spots.</p> + +<p>But the death of his mother put a stop for a time to his +collecting. The sturdy housekeeper who came to take +the mother's place, speedily cleared "the truck" out +of the corner, and forbade the bringing of any more +<a name="IV_Page_126"></a>feathers and rabbits' feet into her house—well, I guess +so! The birds' nests, long grasses, reeds, shells and +pigeons' wings were tossed straightway into the fireplace, +and went soaring up the chimney in smoke.</p> + +<p>The destruction of the collection didn't kill the propensity +to collect, however, any more than you can +change a man's opinions by burning his library. It only +dampened the desire for a time. It broke out again +after a few years and continued for considerably more +than half a century. There was a house at Poissy "full +to the roof-tiles" of books, marbles, bronzes and +innumerable curios, gathered from every corner of the +earth; and a palace at Paris filled in like manner, for +which Ernest Meissonier had expended more than a +million francs.</p> + +<p>In the palace at Paris, when the owner was near his +threescore years and ten, he took from a locker a +morocco case, and opening it, showed his friend, Dumas, +a long curl of yellow hair; and then he brought out a +curious old white-silk dress, and said to the silent +Dumas, "This curl was cut from my mother's head +after her death, and this dress was her wedding-gown."</p> + +<p>A few days after this Meissonier wrote these words +in his journal: "It is the Twentieth of February—the +morning of my seventieth birthday. What a long time +to look back upon! This morning, at the hour when my +mother gave me birth, I wished my first thoughts to be +of her. Dear Mother, how often have the tears risen +<a name="IV_Page_127"></a>to my eyes at the remembrance of you! It was your +absence—the longing I had for you—that made you so +dear to me. The love of my heart goes out to you! Do +you hear me, Mother, calling and crying for you? How +sweet it must be to have a mother, I say to myself."<a name="IV_Page_128"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"I would have every man rich," said Emerson, +"that he might know the worthlessness +of riches."</p> + +<p>Every man should have a college education, +in order to show him how little the thing is really worth. +The intellectual kings of the earth have seldom been +college-bred. Napoleon ever regretted the lack of instruction +in his early years; and in the minds of such men as +Abraham Lincoln and Ernest Meissonier there usually +lingers the suspicion that they have dropped something +out of their lives.</p> + +<p>"I'm not a college man—ask Seward," said Lincoln, +when some one questioned him as to the population of +Alaska. The remark was merry jest, of course, but as in +all jest there lurks a grain of truth, so did there here.</p> + +<p>At the height of Meissonier's success, when a canvas +from his hand commanded a larger price than the work +of any other living artist, he exclaimed, "Oh, if only I +had been given the advantages of a college training!"</p> + +<p>If he had, it is quite probable that he never would have +painted better than his teacher. Discipline might have +reduced his daring genius to neutral salts, and taken +all that fine audacity from his brush.</p> + +<p>He was a natural artist: he saw things clearly and in +detail; he had the heart to feel, and he longed for the +skill to express that which he saw and felt. And when +the desire is strong enough it brings the thing—and thus +is prayer answered.<a name="IV_Page_129"></a></p> + +<p>Meissonier while but a child set to work making pictures—he +declared he would be an artist. And in spite of his +father's attempts to shame him out of his whim, and to +starve him into a more practical career, his resolution +stuck.</p> + +<p>He worked in a drugstore and drew on the wrapping-paper; +then with this artist a few days, and then with +that. He tried illustrating, and finally a bold stand was +made and a little community formed that decided on +storming the Salon.</p> + +<p>There is something pathetic in that brotherhood of six +young men, binding themselves together, swearing they +would stand together and aid each other in producing +great art.</p> + +<p>The dead seriousness of the scheme has a peculiar +sophomore quality. There were Steinheil, Trimolet, +Daumier, Daubigny, Deschaumaes and Meissonier, all +aged about twenty, strong, sturdy, sincere and innocently +ignorant—all bound they would be artists.</p> + +<p>Two of these young men were sign-painters, the others +did odd jobs illustrating, and filled in the time at anything +which chance offered. When one got an invitation +out to dinner he would go, and furtively drop biscuit +and slices of meat into his lap, and then slyly transfer +them to his waistcoat-pockets, so as to take them to his +less fortunate brethren.</p> + +<p>They haunted the galleries, made themselves familiar +with catalogs, criticized without stint, knew all about +<a name="IV_Page_130"></a>current prices, and were able to point out the great +artists of Paris when they passed proudly up the street.</p> + +<p>They sketched eternally, formed small wax models, +and made great preparations for masterpieces.</p> + +<p>The reason they did not produce the masterpieces was +because they did not have money to buy brushes, paints +and canvas. Neither did they have funds to purchase +food to last until the thing was done; and it is difficult +to produce great art on half-rations. So they formed the +brotherhood, and one midnight swore eternal fealty. +They were to draw lots: the lucky member was to paint +and the other five were to support him for a month. He +was to be supplied his painting outfit and to be absolutely +free from all responsibility as to the bread-and-butter +question for a whole month.</p> + +<p>Trimolet was the first lucky man.</p> + +<p>He set diligently to work, and dined each evening on a +smoking mutton-chop with a bottle of wine, at a +respectable restaurant. The five stood outside and +watched him through the window—they dined when +and where they could.</p> + +<p>His picture grew apace, and in three weeks was completed. +It was entitled, "Sisters of Charity Giving Out +Soup to the Poor." The work was of a good machine-made +quality, not good enough to praise nor bad enough +to condemn: it was like Tomlinson of Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>On account of the peculiar subject with which it +dealt, it found favor with a worthy priest, who bought +<a name="IV_Page_131"></a>it and presented it to a convent.</p> + +<p>This so inflated +Trimolet that he suggested it would be a good plan to +keep right on with the arrangement, but the five +objected.</p> + +<p>Steinheil was next appointed to feed the vestal fire. His +picture was so-so, but would not sell.</p> + +<p>Daubigny came next, and lived so high that inspiration +got clogged, fatty degeneration of the cerebrum set in, +and after a week he ceased to paint—doing nothing but +dream.</p> + +<p>When the turn of the fourth man came, Meissonier had +concluded that the race must be won by one and one, +and his belief in individualism was further strengthened +by an order for a group of family portraits, with a goodly +retainer in advance.</p> + +<p>Straightway he married Steinheil's sister, with whom +he had been some weeks in love, and the others feeling +aggrieved that an extra mouth to feed, with danger of +more, had been added to the "Commune," declared +the compact void.</p> + +<p>Trimolet still thought well of the arrangement, though, +and agreed, if Meissonier would support him, to secure +fame and fortune for them both.</p> + +<p>Meissonier declined the offer with thanks, and struck +boldly out on his own account.</p> + +<p>The woman who had so recklessly agreed to share his +poverty must surely have had faith in him—or are +very young people who marry incapable of either faith +<a name="IV_Page_132"></a>or reason? Never mind; she did not hold the impulsive +young man back.</p> + +<p>She couldn't—nothing but death could have stayed +such ambition. His will was unbending and his ambition +never tired.</p> + +<p>He was an athlete in strength, and was fully conscious +that to be a good animal is the first requisite. He swam, +rowed, walked, and could tire out any of his colleagues +at swordplay or skittles.</p> + +<p>But material things were scarce those first few years of +married life, and once when the table had bread, but no +meat nor butter, he took the entire proceeds of a +picture and purchased a suit of clothing of the time of +Louis the Grand: not to wear, of course—simply to put +in the "collection."</p> + +<p>Small wonder is it that, for some months after, when he +would walk out alone the fond wife would caution him +thus: "Now Ernest, do not go through that old-clothes +market—you know your weakness."</p> + +<p>"I have no money, so you need not worry," he would +gaily reply.</p> + +<p>Of those times of pinching want he has written, "As +to happiness—is it possible to be wretched at twenty, +when one has health, a passion for art, free passes for +the Louvre, an eye to see, a heart to feel, and sunshine +gratis?"</p> + +<p>But poverty did not last long. Pictures such as this +young man produced must attract attention anywhere.<a name="IV_Page_133"></a></p> + +<p>He belonged to no school, but simply worked away after +his own fashion; what he was bound to do was to produce +a faithful picture—sure, clear, strong, vivid. He +saw things clearly and his sympathies were acute, as is +shown in every canvas he produced.</p> + +<p>Meissonier had the true artistic conscience—he was +incapable of putting out an average, unobjectionable +picture—it must have positive excellence. "There is a +difference," said he, "between a successful effort and a +work of love." He painted only in the loving mood.</p> + +<p>No greater blessing than the artistic conscience can +come to any worker in art, be he sculptor, writer, singer +or painter. Hold fast to it, and it shall be your compass +in time when the sun is darkened. To please the public +is little, but to satisfy your Other Self, that self that +leans over your shoulder and watches your every +thought and deed, is much. No artistic success worth +having is possible unless you satisfy that Other Self.</p> + +<p>But like the moral conscience it can be dallied with +until the grieved spirit turns away, and the wretch is +left to his fate.</p> + +<p>Meissonier never hesitated to erase a whole picture +when it did not satisfy his inward sense—customers +might praise and connoisseurs offer to buy, it made no +difference. "I have some one who is more difficult to +please than you," he would say; "I must satisfy myself."</p> + +<p>The fine intoxication that follows good artistic work +is the highest joy that mortals ever know. But once let +<a name="IV_Page_134"></a>a creative artist lower his standard and give the world +the mere product of his brain, with heart left out, that +man will hate himself for a year and a day. He has sold +his soul for a price: joy has flown, and bitterness is his +portion. Meissonier never trifled with his compass. To +the last he headed for the polestar.<a name="IV_Page_135"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The early domestic affairs of Meissonier can +best be guessed from his oft-repeated assertion +that the artist should never marry. "To +produce great work, Art must be your mistress," +he said. "You must be married to your work. A +wife demands unswerving loyalty as her right, and a +portion of her husband's time she considers her own. +This is proper with every profession but that of Art. +The artist must not be restrained, nor should even a +wife come between him and his Art. The artist must not +be judged by the same standards that are made for +other men. Why? Simply because when you begin to +tether him you cramp his imagination and paralyze +his hand. The priest and artist must not marry, for it +is too much to expect any woman to follow them in +their flight, and they have no moral right to tie themselves +to a woman and then ask her to stay behind."</p> + +<p>From this and many similar passages in the "Conversations" +it is clear that Meissonier had no conception +of the fact that a woman may possibly keep +step with her mate. He simply never considered such +a thing.</p> + +<p>A man's opinions concerning womankind are based +upon the knowledge of the women he knows best.</p> + +<p>We can not apply Hamerton's remark concerning +Turner to Meissonier. Hamerton said that throughout +Turner's long life he was lamentably unfortunate in +that he never came under the influence of a strong and +<a name="IV_Page_136"></a>good woman.</p> + +<p>Meissonier associated with good women, +but he never knew one with a spread of spiritual wing +sufficient to fit her to be his companion. There is a +minor key of loneliness and heart hunger running +through his whole career. Possibly, in the wisdom of +Providence, this was just what he needed to urge him +on to higher and nobler ends. He never knew peace, and +the rest for which he sighed slipped him at the very +last. "I'm tired, so tired," he sighed again and again +in those later years, when he had reached the highest +pinnacle.</p> + +<p>And still he worked—it was his only rest! +Meissonier painted very few pictures of women, and in +some miraculous way skipped that stage in esthetic +evolution wherein most artists affect the nude. In his +whole career he never produced a single "Diana," nor +a "Susanna at the Bath." He had no artistic sympathy +with "Leda and the Swan," and once when Delaroche +chided him for painting no pictures of women, he was so +ungallant as to say, "My dear fellow, men are much +more beautiful than women!"</p> + +<p>During the last decade of his life Meissonier painted but +one portrait of a woman, and to America belongs the +honor. The sitter was Mrs. J. W. Mackay, of California.</p> + +<p>As all the world knows, Mrs. Mackay refused to +accept the canvas. She declared the picture was no +likeness, and further, she would not have it for a gift.</p> + +<p>"So you do not care for the picture?" asked the great +artist.</p> + +<p>"Me? Well, I guess not—not that picture!"<a name="IV_Page_137"></a></p> + +<p>"Very well, Madam. I think—I think I'll keep it for +myself. I'll place it on exhibition!" And the great artist +looked out of the window in an absent-minded way, and +hummed a tune.</p> + +<p>This put another phase on the matter. Mrs. Mackay +winced, and paid the price, which rumor says was +somewhere between ten and twenty-five thousand +dollars. She took the little canvas in her carriage and +drove away with it, and what became of the only +portrait of a woman painted by Meissonier during his +later years, nobody knew but Mrs. Mackay, and Mrs. +Mackay never told.</p> + +<p>Meissonier once explained to a friend that his offense +consisted in producing a faithful likeness of the customer.</p> + +<p>The Mackay incident did not end when the lady paid +the coin and accepted the goods. Meissonier, by the +haughtiness of his manner, his artistic independence, +and most of all, by his unpardonable success, had been +sowing dragons' teeth for half a century. And now +armed enemies sprang up, and sided with the woman +from California. They made it an international episode: +less excuses have involved nations in war in days agone. +But the enemies of Meissonier did not belong alone to +America, although here every arm was braced and every +tongue wagged to vindicate the cause of our countrywoman.</p> + +<p>In Paris the whole art world was divided into those who +sided with Meissonier and those who were against him.<a name="IV_Page_138"></a> +Cafes echoed with the sounds of wordy warfare; the +columns of all magazines and newspapers bulged with +heated argument; newsboys cried extras on the street, +and bands of students paraded the boulevards singing +songs in praise of Mrs. Mackay and in dishonor of +Meissonier, "the pretender." The assertion was made +again and again that Meissonier had fed sham art upon +the public, and by means of preposterous prices and +noisy puffing had hypnotized a world. They called him +the artist of the Infinitely Little, King of Lilliput, and +challenged any one to show where he had thrown heart +and high emotion into his work. Studies of coachmen, +smokers, readers, soldiers, housemaids, chess-players, +cavaliers and serenaders were not enough upon which +to base an art reputation—the man must show that he +had moved men to high endeavor, said the detractors. +A fund was started to purchase the Mackay portrait, +so as to do the very thing that Meissonier had threatened +to do, but dare not: place the picture on exhibition. To +show the picture, the enemy said, would be to prove +the artist's commonplace quality, and not only this, +but it would prove the man a rogue. They declared he +was incapable of perceiving the good qualities in a +sitter, and had consented for a price to portray a person +whom he disliked; and as a result, of course, had produced +a caricature; and then had blackmailed his +patron into paying an outrageous sum to keep the +picture from the public.<a name="IV_Page_139"></a></p> + +<p>The argument sounded plausible. And so the battle +raged, just as it has since in reference to Zola.</p> + +<p>The tide of Meissonier's prosperity began to ebb: +prospective buyers kept away; those who had given +commissions canceled them.</p> + +<p>Meissonier's friends saw that something must be done. +They inaugurated a "Meissonier Vindication," by +making an exhibition of one hundred fifty-five "Meissoniers"—and +the public was invited to come and be +the jury. Art-lovers from England went in bodies, and +all Paris filed through the gallery, as well as a goodly +portion of provincial France. By the side of each canvas +stood a gendarme to protect it from a possible fanatic +whose artistic hate could not be restrained.</p> + +<p>To a great degree this exhibition brought feeling to a +normal condition. Meissonier was still a great artist, +yet he was human and his effects were now believed to +be gotten by natural methods. But there was a lull in +the mad rush to secure his wares. The Vanderbilts grew +lukewarm; titled connoisseurs from England were not +so anxious; and Mrs. Mackay sat back and smiled +through her tears.</p> + +<p>Meissonier had expended over a million francs on his +house in the Boulevard Malesherbes in Paris, and nearly +as much on the country-seat at Poissy. These places +were kingly in their appointments and such as only the +State should attempt to maintain. For a single man, by +the work of his right hand, to keep them up was too +<a name="IV_Page_140"></a>much to expect.</p> + +<p>Meissonier's success had been too +great. As a collector he had overdone the thing. Only +poor men, or those of moderate incomes, should be +collectors, for then the joy of sacrifice is theirs. Charles +Lamb's covetous looking on the book when it was red, +daily for months, meanwhile hoarding his pay, and at +last one Saturday night swooping down and carrying +the volume home to Bridget in triumph, is the true type.</p> + +<p>But money had come to Meissonier by hundreds of +thousands of francs, and often sums were forced upon +him as advance payments. He lived royally and never +imagined that his hand and brain could lose their +cunning, or the public be fickle.</p> + +<p>The fact that a "vindication" had been necessary was +galling: the great man grew irritable and his mood +showed itself in his work: his colors grew hard and +metallic, and there were angles in his lines where there +should have been joyous curves.</p> + +<p>Debts began to press. He painted less and busied his +mind with reminiscence—the solace of old age.</p> + +<p>And then it was that he dictated to his wife the "Conversations." +The book reveals the quality of his mind +with rare fidelity—and shows the power of this second +wife fully to comprehend him. Thus did she disprove +some of the unkind philosophy given to the world by +her liege. But the talk in the "Conversations" is of an +old man in whose heart was a tinge of bitterness. Yet +the thought is often lofty and the comment clear and +<a name="IV_Page_141"></a>full of flashing insight. It is the book of Ecclesiastes +over again, written in a minor key, with a little harmless +gossip added for filling. Meissonier died in Paris on +the Twenty-first of January, Eighteen Hundred Ninety-one, +aged seventy-six years.<a name="IV_Page_142"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The canvas known as "Eighteen Hundred +Seven," which is regarded as Meissonier's +masterpiece, has a permanent home in the +Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. +The central figure is Napoleon, at whose shrine the +great artist loved to linger. The "Eighteen Hundred +Seven" occupied the artist's time and talent for fifteen +years, and was purchased by A. T. Stewart for sixty +thousand dollars. After Mr. Stewart's death his art +treasures were sold at auction, and this canvas was +bought by Judge Henry Hilton and presented to the +city of New York.</p> + +<p>There are in all about seventy-five pictures by Meissonier +owned in America. Several of his pieces are in the +Vanderbilt collection, others are owned by collectors in +Chicago, Cleveland and Saint Louis.</p> + +<p>There are various glib sayings to the effect that the +work of great men is not appreciated until after they +are dead. This may be so and it may not. It depends +upon the man and the age. Meissonier enjoyed full half +a century of the highest and most complete success +that was ever bestowed upon an artist.</p> + +<p>The strong intellect and marked personality of the man +won him friends wherever he chose to make them; and +it probably would have been better for his art if a degree +of public indifference had been his portion in those +earlier years. His success was too great: the calm judgment +of posterity can never quite endorse the plaudits +<a name="IV_Page_143"></a>paid the living man. He is one of the greatest artists the +Nineteenth Century has produced, but that his name +can rank among the great artists of all time is not at +all probable.</p> + +<p>William Michael Rossetti has summed the matter up +well by saying: "Perfection is so rare in this world that +when we find it we must pause and pay it the tribute +of our silent admiration. It is very easy to say that Meissonier +should have put in this and omitted that. Had he +painted differently he would have been some one else. +The work is faultless, and such genius as he showed +must ever command the homage of those who know +by experience the supreme difficulty of having the +hand materialize the conceptions of the mind. And yet +Meissonier's conceptions outmatched his brush: he +was greater than his work. He was a great artist, and +better still, a great man—proud, frank, fearless and +conscientious."</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_144"></a></p><p><a name="IV_Page_145"></a></p> +<h2><a name="TITIAN" id="TITIAN"></a>TITIAN</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_146"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>Titian by a few strokes of the brush knew how to make +the general image and character of whatever object he +attempted. His great care was to preserve the masses +of light and of shade, and to give by opposition the +idea of that solidity which is inseparable from natural +objects. He was the greatest of the Venetians, and +deserves to rank with Raphael and Michelangelo.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">—<i>Sir Joshua Reynolds</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-5.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-5_th.jpg" alt="TITIAN" /></a></p><p class="ctr">TITIAN</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_147"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>The march of progress and the rage +for improvement make small impression +on Venice. The cabmen +have not protested against horsecars +as they did in Rome, tearing +up the tracks, mobbing the drivers, +and threatening the passengers; +neither has the cable superseded +horses as a motor power, and the trolley then rendered +the cable obsolete.</p> + +<p>In short, there never was a horse in Venice, save those +bronze ones over the entrance to Saint Mark's, and the +one Napoleon rode to the top of the Campanile. But +there are lions in Venice—stone lions—you see them at +every turn. "Did you ever see a live horse?" asked a +ten-year-old boy of me, in Saint Mark's Square.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I; "several times."</p> + +<p>"Are they fierce?" he asked after a thoughtful pause. +And then I explained that a thousand times as many +men are killed by horses every year as by lions.</p> + +<p>Four hundred years have made no change in the style +of gondolas, or anything else in Venice. The prow of the +Venetian gondola made today is of the same height as +that prescribed by Tommaso Mocenigo, Doge in the +year Fourteen Hundred. The regulated height of the +prow is to insure protection for the passengers when +<a name="IV_Page_148"></a>going under bridges, but its peculiar halberd shape is a +thing not one of the five thousand gondoliers in Venice +can explain. If you ask your gondolier he will swear a +pious oath, shrug his fine shoulders, and say, "Mon +Dieu, Signore! how should I know?—it has always been +so." The ignorance and superstition of the picturesque +gondolier, with his fluttering blue hatband and gorgeous +sash, are most enchanting. His lack of knowledge is like +the ignorance of childhood, when life has neither beginning +nor end; when ways and means present no +vexatious problems; when if food is not to be had for +the simple asking, it can surely be secured by coaxing; +when the day is for frolic and play, and the night for +dreams and sleep.</p> + +<p>But although your gondolier may not be able to read or +write, he yet has his preferences in music and art, and +possesses definite ideas as to the eternal fitness of things. +In Italy, many of the best paintings being in churches, +and all the galleries being free on certain days, the +common people absorb a goodly modicum of art education +without being aware of it. I have heard market-women +compare the merits of Tintoretto and Paul +Veronese, and stupid indeed is the boat "hooker" in +Venice who would not know a "Titian" on sight.</p> + +<p>But the chronology of art is all a jumble to this indolent, +careless, happy people. These paintings were in the +churches when their fathers and mothers were alive, +they are here now, and no church has been built in<a name="IV_Page_149"></a> +Venice for three hundred years.</p> + +<p>The history of +Venice is nothing to a gondolier. "Why, Signore! how +should I know? Venice always has been," explained +Enrico, when I asked him how old the city was.</p> + +<p>When +I hired Enrico I thought he was a youth. He wore such +a dandy suit of pure white, and his hatband so exactly +matched his sash, that I felt certain I was close upon +some tender romance, for surely it was some dark-eyed +lacemaker who had embroidered this impossible hatband +and evolved the improbable sash!</p> + +<p>The exercise of rowing a gondola is of the sort that gives +a splendid muscular development. Men who pull oars +have round shoulders, but the gondolier does not pull +an oar, he pushes it, and as a result has a flat back and +brawny chest. Enrico had these, and as he had no nerves +to speak of, the passing years had taken small toll. +Enrico was sixty. Once he ran alongside another gondola +and introduced me to the gondolier, who was his +son. They were both of one age. Then one day I went +with Enrico to his home—two whitewashed rooms away +up under the roof of an old palace on the Rialto—and +there met his wife.</p> + +<p>Mona Lisa showed age more than Enrico. She had +crouched over a little wooden frame making one pattern +of lace for thirty years, so her form was bent and +her eyesight faulty. Yet she proudly explained that +years and years ago she was a model for a painter, and +in the Della Salute I could see her picture, posed as<a name="IV_Page_150"></a> +Magdalen. She got fourteen cents a day for her work, +and had been at it so long she had no desire to quit. +She took great pride in Enrico's white-duck suits and +explained to me that she never let him wear one suit +more than two days without its being washed and +starched; and she always pipeclayed his shoes and carefully +inspected him each morning before sending him +forth to his day's work. "Men are so careless, you +know," she added by way of apology.</p> + +<p>There was no furniture in the rooms worth mentioning—Italians +do not burden themselves with things—but +on the wall I caught sight of a bright-colored unfinished +sketch of the Bridge of Sighs. It was little more than +an outline, and probably did not represent ten minutes' +work, but the lines seemed so firm and sure that I at +once asked who did it.</p> + +<p>"An American did it, Signore, an American painter; +he comes here every year; our son is his gondolier and +shows him all the best places to paint, and takes him +there when the light is good and keeps the people back +so the artist can work—you understand? A shower +came up just as his Excellency, the American, began on +this, and it got wet and so he gave it to my son and he +gave it to me."</p> + +<p>"What is the painter's name?" I asked. Enrico could +not remember, but Mona Lisa said his name was Signore +Hopsmithiziano, or something like that.</p> + +<p>There were several little plaster images on the walls, +<a name="IV_Page_151"></a>and through the open door that led to the adjoining +room I saw a sort of an improvised shrine, with various +little votive offerings grouped about an unframed +canvas. The picture was a crude attempt at copying +that grand figure in Titian's "Assumption."</p> + +<p>"And who painted that?" I asked.</p> + +<p>Enrico crossed himself in silence, and Mona Lisa's subdued +voice answered: "Our other son did that. He was +only nineteen. He was a mosaicist and was studying to +be a painter; he was drowned at the Lido."</p> + +<p>The old woman made the sign of the cross, her lips +moved, and a single big tear stood on her leathery cheek. +I changed the painful subject, and soon found excuse to +slip away. That evening as the darkness gathered and +twinkling lights began to appear like fireflies, up and +down the Grand Canal, I sat in a little balcony of my +hotel watching the scene. A serenading party, backing +their boats out into the stream, had formed a small +blockade, and in the group of gondolas that awaited +the unraveling of the tangle I spied Enrico. He had a +single passenger, a lady in the inevitable black mantilla, +holding in her hands the inevitable fan. A second glance +at the lady—and sure enough! it was Mona Lisa. I ran +downstairs, stepped out across the moored line of gondolas, +took up a hook, and reaching over gently pulled +Enrico's gondola over so I could step aboard.</p> + +<p>Mona Lisa was crooning a plaintive love-song and her +gondolier was coming in occasionally with bars of +<a name="IV_Page_152"></a>melodious bass. I felt guilty for being about to break in +upon such a sentimental little scene, and was going to +retreat, but Enrico and Mona Lisa spied me and both +gave a little cry of surprise and delight.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" I asked—"you fine old +lovers!"</p> + +<p>And then they explained that it was a Holy Day and +they had been over to the Church of San Giorgio, and +were now on their way to Santa Maria de' Frari.</p> + +<p>"It is a very special mass, by torchlight, and is for the +repose of the soul of Titian, who is buried there. You +may never have an opportunity to see such a sight +again—come with us," and Enrico held out his strong +brown hand.</p> + +<p>I stepped aboard, the boats opened out to the left and +to the right, and we passed with that peculiar rippling +sound, across the water that reflected the lights as of a +myriad stars.<a name="IV_Page_153"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Titian was born one hundred years before +Rubens, and died just six months before +Rubens' birth.</p> + +<p>On the one hundred twenty-second anniversary +of the birth of Titian, Rubens knelt at his +grave, there in the church of Santa Maria de' Frari, and +vowed he would follow in the footsteps of the illustrious +master. And the next day he wrote to his mother describing +the incident. Thousands of other sentimental +and impulsive youth have stood before that little slab +of black marble on which is carved the simple legend, +"Tiziano Vecellio," and vowed as Rubens did, but out +of the throng not one rendered such honor to the master +as did the brilliant Fleming. The example of Titian was +a lifelong inspiration to Rubens; and to all his pupils he +held up Titian as the painter par excellence. In the +Rubens studio Titian was the standard by which all +art was gauged.</p> + +<p>When Rubens returned to Flanders from Italy he +carried with him twenty-one pictures done by the hand +of the master.</p> + +<p>Titian was born at the little village of Cadore, a few +miles north of Venice. When ten years of age his father +took him down to the city and apprenticed him to a +worker in mosaic, the intent of the fond parent probably +being to get the youngster out of the way, more than +anything else.</p> + +<p>The setting together of the little bits of colored glass, +<a name="IV_Page_154"></a>according to a pattern supplied, is a task so simple that +children can do it about as well as grown folks. They +do the work there today just exactly as they did four +hundred years ago, when little Tiziano Vecellio came +down from Cadore and worked, getting his ears pinched +when he got sleepy, or carelessly put in the red glass +when he should have used the blue.</p> + +<p>An inscription on a tomb at Beni Hassan, dating from +the reign of Osortasen the First, who lived three thousand +years before Christ, represents Theban glassblowers +at work. I told Enrico of this one day when we +were on our way to a glass-factory.</p> + +<p>"That's nothing," said Enrico; "it was the glassblowers +of Venice who taught them how," and not a +ghost of a smile came across his fine, burnt-umber face.</p> + +<p>There is a story by Pliny about certain Phenician +mariners landing on the shores of a small river in +Palestine and making a fire to cook their food, and afterward +discovering that the soda and sand under their +pots had fused into glass. No one now seriously considers +that the first discovery of glass, and for all I +know Enrico may be right in his flat statement that the +first glass was made at Venice, "for Venice always +was."</p> + +<p>The art of glassmaking surely goes back to the morning +of the world. The glassblower is a classic, like the sower +who goes forth to sow, the potter at his wheel, and the +grinding of grain with mortar and pestle. Thus, too, the +<a name="IV_Page_155"></a>art of the mosaicist—who places bright bits of stone +and glass in certain positions so as to form a picture—goes +back to the dawn. The exquisite work in mosaic at +Pompeii is the first thing that impresses the visitor to +that silent city. Much of the work there was done long +before the Christian era, and must have then been +practised many centuries to bring it to such perfection.</p> + +<p>Young Tiziano from Cadore did not like the mere +following of a set pattern—he introduced variations of +his own, and got his nose tweaked for trying to improve +on a good thing. Altogether he seemed to have had a +hard time of it there at Messer Zuccato's mosaic-shop.</p> + +<p>The painter's art, then as now, preceded the art of +the mosaicist, for the picture or design to be made in +mosaic is first carefully drawn on paper, and then +colored, and the worker in mosaic is supposed simply +to follow copy. When you visit the glass-factories of +Venice today, you see the painted picture tacked up on +the wall before the workmen, who with deft fingers +stick the bits of glass into their beds of putty. This +scheme of painting a pattern is in order that cheap help +can be employed; when it began we do not know, but +we do know there was a time when the great artist in +mosaic had his design in his head, and materialized it by +rightly placing the bits of glass with his own hands, +experimenting, selecting and rejecting until the thing +was right. But this was before the time of Titian, for +when Titian came down to Venice there were painters +<a name="IV_Page_156"></a>employed in the shop of Sebastian Zuccato who made +the designs for the dunderheads to follow. That is not +just the word the painters used to designate the boys +and women who placed the bits of glass in position, but +it meant the same thing.</p> + +<p>The painters thought themselves great folks, and used +to make the others wait on them and run errands, serving +them as "fags."</p> + +<p>But the Vecellio boy did not worship at the shrine of the +painters who made the designs. He said he could make +as good pictures himself, and still continued to make +changes in the designs when he thought they should +be made; and once in a dispute between the boy and +the maker of a design, the master took sides with the +boy. This inflated the lad with his own importance so, +that shortly after he applied for the position of the +quarrelsome designer.</p> + +<p>The fine audacity of the youngster so pleased the +master that he allowed him to try his hand with the +painters a few hours each day. He was getting no wages +anyway, only his board, and the kind of board did not +cost much, so it did not make much difference.</p> + +<p>In Venice at that time there were two painters by the +name of Bellini—Gentile and Giovanni, sons of the +painter Jacob Bellini, who had brought his boys up in +the way they should go. Gian, as the Venetians called +the younger brother, was the more noted of the two. +Occasionally he made designs for the mosaicists, and +<a name="IV_Page_157"></a>this sometimes brought him to the shop where young +Titian worked.</p> + +<p>The boy got on speaking terms with the great painter, +and ran errands back and forth from his studio. When +twelve years of age we find him duly installed as a +helper at Gian Bellini's studio, with an easel and box +of paints all his own.<a name="IV_Page_158"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The brightest scholar in the studio of Gian +Bellini was a young man by the name of +Giorgio, but they called him Giorgione, +which being interpreted means George the +Great. He was about the age of Titian, and the two +became firm friends.</p> + +<p>Giorgione was nearly twenty when we first hear of him. +He was a handsome fellow—tall, slender, with an olive +complexion and dreamy brown eyes. There was a becoming +flavor of melancholy in his manner, and more +than one gracious dame sought to lure him back to +earth, away from his sadness, out of the dream-world +in which he lived.</p> + +<p>Giorgione was a musician and a poet. He sang his own +pieces, playing the accompaniment on a harp. Vasari +says he sang his songs, playing his own accompaniment +on a flute, but I think this is a mistake.</p> + +<p>Into all his work Giorgione infused his own soul—and +do you know what the power to do that is? It is genius. +To be able to make a statue is little, but to breathe into +its nostrils the breath of life—ah! that is something +else! The last elusive, undefinable stroke of the brush, +that something uniting the spirit of the beholder with +the spirit of the artist, so that you feel as he felt when +he wrought—that is art. Burne-Jones is the avatar of +Giorgione. He subdues you into silence, and you wait, +expecting that one of his tall, soulful dream-women +will speak, if you are but worthy—holding your soul in +<a name="IV_Page_159"></a>tune.</p> + +<p>Giorgione never wrought so well as Burne-Jones, +because he lived in a different age—all art is an +evolution. Painting is a form of expression, just as +language is a form of expression. Every man who writes +English is debtor to Shakespeare. Every man who paints +and expresses something of that which his soul feels is +debtor to Giorgione and Botticelli. But to judge of +the greatness of an artist—mind this—you must compare +him with his contemporaries, not with those who +were before or those who came after. The old masters +are valuable, not necessarily for beauty, but because +they reveal the evolution of art.</p> + +<p>Between Burne-Jones and Giorgione came Botticelli. +Now, Botticelli builded on Giorgione, while Burne-Jones +builded on Botticelli. Aubrey Beardsley, dead at the age +at which Keats died, builded on both, but he perverted +their art and put a leer where Burne-Jones placed faith +and abiding trust. Aubrey Beardsley got the cue for +his hothouse art from one figure in Botticelli's "Spring," +I need not state which figure: a glance at the picture +and you behold sulphur fumes about the face of one of +the women.</p> + +<p>Did Aubrey Beardsley infuse his own spirit into his +work? Yes, I think he did. Mrs. Jameson says, "There +are no successful imitations of Giorgione, neither can +there be, for the spirit of the man is in every face he +drew, and the people who try to draw like him always +leave that out."<a name="IV_Page_160"></a></p> + +<p>There are various pictures in the Louvre, the National +Gallery, and the Pinacothek at Munich, signed with +Giorgione's name, but Mrs. Jameson declares they are +not his, "because they do not speak to your soul with +that mild, beseeching look of pity," Possibly we should +make allowance for Mrs. Jameson's warm praise—other +women talked like that when Giorgione was alive.</p> + +<p>Giorgione was one of those bright luminaries that dart +across our plane of vision and then go out quickly in +hopeless night, leaving only the memory of a blinding +light. He died at thirty-three, which Disraeli declares +is the age at which the world's saviors have usually +died—and he names the Redeemer first in a list of +twenty who passed out at the age of three-and-thirty. +Disraeli does not say that all those in his list were +saviors, for the second name he records is that of Alexander +the Great, the list ending with Shelley.</p> + +<p>Giorgione died of a broken heart.</p> + +<p>The girl he loved +eloped with his friend, Morta del Feltri, to whom he +had proudly introduced her a short time before. It is an +old story—it has been played again and again to its +Da Rimini finish. The friend introduces the friend, and +the lauded virtues of this friend inflames imagination, +until love strikes a spark; then soon instead of three +we find one—one groping blindly, alone, dazed, stunned, +bereft.</p> + +<p>The handsome Giorgione pined away, refusing to be +comforted. And soon his proud, melancholy soul took +<a name="IV_Page_161"></a>its flight from an environment with which he was ever +at war, and from a world which he never loved. And +Titian was sent for to complete the pictures which he +had begun.</p> + +<p>Surely, disembodied spirits have no control over mortals, +or the soul of Giorgione would have come back +and smitten the hand of Titian with palsy.</p> + +<p>For a full year before he died Giorgione had not spoken +to Titian, although he had seen him daily.</p> + +<p>Giorgione had surpassed all artists in Venice. He had a +careless, easy, limpid style. But there was decision and +surety in his swinging lines, and best of all, a depth of +tenderness and pity in his faces that gave to the whole +a rich, full and melting harmony.</p> + +<p>Giorgione's head touched heaven, and his feet were not +always on earth. Titian's feet were always on earth, and +his head sometimes touched heaven. Titian was healthy +and in love with this old, happy, cruel, sensuous world. +He was willing to take his chances anywhere. He had +no quarrel with his environment, for did he not stay +here a hundred years (lacking half a year), and then +die through accident? Of course he liked it. One woman, +for him, could make a paradise in which a thousand +nightingales sang. And if one particular woman liked +some one else better, he just consoled himself with the +thought that "there is just as good fish," etc. I will not +quote Walt Whitman and say his feet were tenoned and +mortised in granite, but they were well planted on the +<a name="IV_Page_162"></a>soil—and sometimes mired in clay.</p> + +<p>Titian admired +Giorgione; he admired him so much that he painted +exactly like him—or as nearly as he could.</p> + +<p>Titian was a good-looking young man, but he was not +handsome like Giorgione. Yet Titian did his best; he +patronized Giorgione's tailor, imitated his dreamy, +far-away look, used a brush with his left hand, and +painted with his thumb. His coloring was the same, and +when he got a commission to fresco the ceiling of a +church he did it as nearly like Giorgione frescoes as he +could.</p> + +<p>This kind of thing is not necessarily servile imitation—it +is only admiration tipped to t' other side. It is found +everywhere in aspiring youth and in every budding +artist.</p> + +<p>As in the animal kingdom, genius has its prototype. In +the National Gallery at London you will see in the +Turner Room a "Claude Lorraine" and a "Turner" +hung side by side, as provided for in Turner's will. You +would swear, were the pictures not labeled, that one +hand did them both. When thirty, Turner admired +Claude to a slavish degree; but we know there came a +time when he bravely set sail on a chartless sea, and +left the great Claude Lorraine far astern.</p> + +<p>Titian loved Giorgione so well that he even imitated his +faults. At first this high compliment was pleasing to +Giorgione; then he became indifferent, and finally disgusted. +The very sight of Titian gave him a pain.<a name="IV_Page_163"></a></p> + +<p>He avoided his society. He ceased to speak to him when +they met, and forbade his friends to mention the name +"Titian" in his presence.</p> + +<p>It was about this time that Giorgione's ladylove won +fame by discarding him in that foolish, fishwife fashion. +He called his attendants and instructed them thus: +"Do not allow that painter from Cadore—never mind +his name—to attend my funeral—you understand?"</p> + +<p>Then he turned his face to the wall and died.</p> + +<p>In his studio were various pictures partly completed, +for it seems to have been his habit to get rest by turning +from one piece of work to another. His executors looked +at these unfinished canvases in despair. There was only +one man in all Venice who could complete them, and +that was Titian.</p> + +<p>Titian was sent for.</p> + +<p>He came, completed the pictures, signed them with the +dead man's name, and gave them to the world.</p> + +<p>"And," says the veracious Vasari, "they were done +just as well, if not better than Giorgione himself could +have done them, had he been alive!"</p> + +<p>It was absurd of Giorgione to die of a broken heart and +let Titian come in, making free with everything in his +studio, and complete his work. It was very absurd.</p> + +<p>Time is the great avenger—let us wait. Morta del +Feltri, the perfidious friend, grew tired of his mistress: +their love was so warm it shortly burned itself to ashes—ashes +of roses.<a name="IV_Page_164"></a></p> + +<p>Morta deserted the girl, fled from Venice, joined the +army, and a javelin plunged through his liver at the +battle of Zara ended his career.</p> + +<p>The unhappy young woman, twice a widow, fought off +hungry wolves by finding work in a glass-factory, making +mosaics at fourteen cents a day. When she was +seventy, Titian, aged seventy-five, painted her picture +as a beggar-woman.<a name="IV_Page_165"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The quality of sentiment that clings about the +life of Giorgione seems to forbid a cool, +critical view of his work. Byron indited a fine +poem to him; and poetic criticism seems for +him the proper kind. The glamour of sentiment conceals +the real man from our sight. And anyway, it is +hardly good manners to approach a saint closely and +examine his halo to see whether it be genuine or not. +Halos are much more beautiful when seen through the +soft, mellow light of distance.</p> + +<p>Giorgione's work was mostly in fresco, so but little of it +has survived. But of his canvases several surely have +that tender, beseeching touch of spirit which stamps +the work as great art.</p> + +<p>Whether Mrs. Jameson is right in her assumption that +all canvases bearing Giorgione's name are spurious +which lack that look of pity, is a question. I think that +Mrs. Jameson is more kind than critical, although my +hope is that Renan is correct in his gratuitous statement, +"At the Last Great Day men will be judged by +women, and the Almighty will merely vise the verdict." +If this be true, all who, like Giorgione, have died for the +love of woman will come off lightly.</p> + +<p>But the fact is, no man is great all the time. Genius is +an exceptional mood even in a genius, and happy is the +genius who, like Tennyson, builds a high wall about his +house, so he is seen but seldom, and destroys most of +his commonplace work.<a name="IV_Page_166"></a></p> + +<p>Ruskin has printed more rubbish than literature—ten +times over. I have his complete works, and am sorry to +say that, instead of confining myself to "Sesame and +Lilies," I have foolishly read all the dreary stuff, +including statistics, letters to Hobbs and Nobbs, with +hot arguments as to who fished the murex up, and long, +scathing tirades against the old legal shark who did +him out of a hundred pounds. Surely, to be swindled by +a lawyer is not so unusual a thing that it is worth +recording!</p> + +<p>But Ruskin wrote about it, had it put in print, read the +proof, and printed the stuff, so no one, no matter how +charitably disposed, can arise and zealously declare +that this only is genuine, and that spurious. It's all +genuine—rubbish, bosh and all.</p> + +<p>Titian painted some dreary, commonplace pictures, and +he also painted others that must ever be reckoned as +among the examples of sublime art that have made the +world stronger in its day and generation and proud of +what has been.</p> + +<p>Titian was essentially a pagan. When he painted Christian +subjects he introduced a goodly flavor of the old +Greek love of life. Indeed, there is a strong doubt +whether the real essence of Christianity was ever known +at Venice, except in rare individual cases.</p> + +<p>It was the spirit of the sea-kings, and not the gentle, +loving Christ, that inspired her artists and men of +learning.<a name="IV_Page_167"></a></p> + +<p>The sensuous glamour of the Orient steeped the walls +of San Marco in their rainbow tints, and gave that +careless, happy habit to all the Venetian folk. In +Titian's time, as today, gay gallants knelt in the +churches, and dark, dreamy eyes peeked out from +behind mantillas, and the fan spoke a language which +all lovers knew. Outside was the strong smell of the sea, +and never could a sash be flung open to the azure but +there would come floating in on the breeze the gentle +tinkle of a guitar.</p> + +<p>But Titian, too, as well as Giorgione, infused into his +work at times the very breath of life.</p> + +<p>At the Belle +d' Arte at Venice is that grand picture, "The Assumption," +which for more than two hundred years was in +the Church of Santa Maria de' Frari. When Napoleon +appointed a commission to select the paintings in +Venice that were considered best worth preserving and +protecting, and take them to the Belle d' Arte, this +picture was included in the list. It was then removed +from its place, where it had so long hung, above the +grave of the man who executed it.</p> + +<p>I have several large photographs of this picture, showing +different portions of it. One of these pictures reveals +simply the form of the Virgin. She rises from the earth, +caught up in the clouds, the drapery streaming in soft +folds, and on the upturned face is a look of love and +tenderness and trust, combined with womanly strength, +that hushes us into tears.<a name="IV_Page_168"></a></p> + +<p>Surely there is an upward law of gravitation as well as a +gravitation that pulls things down. Titian has shown us +this. And as he drew over and over again in his pictures +the forms and faces of the men and women he knew, so I +imagine that this woman was a woman he knew and +loved. She is not a far-off, tenuous creature, born of +dreams: she is a woman who has lived, suffered, felt, +mayhap erred, and now turns to a Power, not herself, +eternal in the heavens. Into this picture the artist +infused his own exalted spirit, for the mood we behold +manifest in others is usually but the reflection of our +own spirit.</p> + +<p>In some far-off eon, ere this earth-journey began, some +woman looked at me that way once, just as Titian has +this woman look, with the same melting eyes and half-parted +lips, and it made an impression on my soul that +subsequent incarnations have not effaced.</p> + +<p>I bought the photograph in Venice, at Ongania's, and +paid three dollars for it. Then I framed it in simple, +unplaned, unstained cedar, and it hangs over my desk +now as I write.</p> + +<p>When I am tired and things go wrong, and the round +blocks all seem to be getting into the square holes, and +remembrances of the lawyer who cheated me out of a +hundred pounds come stealing like a blight over +my spirit, I look up at the face of this woman who is +not only angelic but human. I behold the steady +upward flight and the tender look of pity, and my +<a name="IV_Page_169"></a>soul reaches out, grasping the hem of the garment +of Her who we are told was the Mother of God, and +with Her I leave the old sordid earth far beneath and +go on, and on, and up, and up, and up, until my soaring +spirit mingles and communes with the great Infinite.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_170"></a><a name="IV_Page_171"></a></p> +<h2><a name="ANTHONY_VAN_DYCK" id="ANTHONY_VAN_DYCK"></a>ANTHONY VAN DYCK</h2> + +<p><a name="IV_Page_172"></a></p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His pieces so with live objects strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That both or pictures seem, or both alive.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature herself, amaz'd, does doubting stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is her own and which the painter's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And does attempt the like with less success,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her own work in twins she would express.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His all-resembling pencil did outpass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The magic imagery of looking-glass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor was his life less perfect than his art.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor was his hand less erring than his heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was no false or fading color there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The figures sweet and well-proportioned were.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">—<i>Cowley's "Elegy on Sir Anthony Van Dyck"</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-6.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-6_th.jpg" alt="ANTHONY VAN DYCK" /></a></p><p class="ctr">ANTHONY VAN DYCK</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_173"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>The most common name in Holland +is Van Dyck. Its simple inference is +that the man lives on the dyke, or +near it. In the good old days when +villagers never wandered far from +home, the appellation was sufficient, +and even now, at this late day, it +is not especially inconsistent.</p> + +<p>In Holland you are quite safe in addressing any man +you meet as Van Dyck.</p> + +<p>The ancient Brotherhood of Saint Luke, of Antwerp, +was always an exclusive affair, but during the years +between Fifteen Hundred Ninety-seven and Sixteen +Hundred Twenty-three there were twenty-seven artists +by the name of Van Dyck upon its membership register. +Out of these two dozen and three names, but one +interests us.</p> + +<p>Anthony Van Dyck was the son of a rich merchant. He +was born in the year Fifteen Hundred Ninety-nine—just +twenty-two years after the birth of Rubens. Before +Anthony was ten years old the name and fame of +Rubens illumined all Antwerp, and made it a place of +pilgrimage for the faithful lovers of art of Northern +Europe.</p> + +<p>The success of Rubens fired the ambition of young +Van Dyck. His parents fostered his desires, and after he +<a name="IV_Page_174"></a>had served an apprenticeship with the artist Van Balen, +a place was secured for him in the Rubens studio. For a +full year the ambitious Rubens took small notice of the +Van Dyck lad, and possibly would not have selected +him then as a favorite pupil but for an accident.</p> + +<p>Rubens reduced his work to a system. While in his +studio he was the incarnation of fire and energy. But +at four o'clock each day he dismissed his pupils, locked +the doors, and mounting his horse, rode off into the +country, five miles and back.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, when the master had gone for his usual +ride, several of the pupils returned to the studio, wishing +to examine a certain picture, and by hook or by crook +gained admittance. On an easel was a partly finished +canvas, the paint fresh from the hands of the master. +The boys examined the work and then began to scuffle—boys +of sixteen or seventeen always scuffle when left +to themselves. They scuffled so successfully that the +easel was upset, and young Van Dyck fell backwards +upon the wet canvas, so that the design was transferred +to his trousers.</p> + +<p>The picture was ruined.</p> + +<p>The young men looked upon their work aghast. It +meant disgrace for them all.</p> + +<p>In despair Van Dyck righted the easel, seized a brush, +and began to replace the picture ere it could fade from +his memory. His partners in crime looked on with +special personal interest and encouraged him with +<a name="IV_Page_175"></a>words of lavish praise. He worked to within ten minutes +of the time the master was due; and then all made +their escape by the window through which they had +entered.</p> + +<p>The next day, when the class assembled, the pupils were +ordered to stand up in line. Then they were catechized +individually as to who had replaced the master's picture +with one of his own.</p> + +<p>All pleaded ignorance until the master reached the +blond-haired Van Dyck. The boy made a clean breast +of it all, save that he refused to reveal the names of his +accomplices.</p> + +<p>"Then you painted the picture alone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the firm answer that betokened the +offender was resolved on standing the consequences.</p> + +<p>The master relieved the strained tension by a laugh, and +declared that he had only discovered the work was not +his own by perceiving that it was a little better than +he could do. Accidents are not always unlucky—this +advanced young Van Dyck at once to the place of +first assistant to Peter Paul Rubens.<a name="IV_Page_176"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Commissions were pouring in on Rubens. +With him the tide was at flood. He had been +down to Paris and had returned in high +spirits with orders to complete that extensive +set of pictures for Marie de Medici; he also had commissions +from various churches; and would-be sitters +for portraits waited in his parlors, quarreling about +which should have first place.</p> + +<p>Van Dyck, his trusted first lieutenant, lived in his +house. The younger man had all the dash, energy and +ambition of the older one. He caught the spirit of the +master, and so great was his skill that he painted in a +way that thoroughly deceived the patrons; they could +not tell whether Rubens or Van Dyck had done the +work.</p> + +<p>This was very pleasing to Rubens. But when Van Dyck +began sending out pictures on his own account, properly +signed, and people said they were equal to those of +Rubens, if not better, Rubens shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>There was as little jealousy in the composition of Peter +Paul Rubens as in any artistic man we can name; but +to declare that he was incapable of jealousy, as a few +of his o'er-zealous defenders did, is to apply the whitewash. +The artistic temperament is essentially feminine, +and jealousy is one of its inherent attributes. Of course +there are all degrees of jealousy, but the woman who can +sit serenely by and behold her charms ignored for those +of another, by one who yesterday sat at her feet making +<a name="IV_Page_177"></a>ballad to her eyebrow and sighing like a furnace, does +not exist on the planet called Earth.</p> + +<p>The artist, in any line, craves praise, and demands +applause as his lawful right; and the pupil who in +excellence approaches him, pays him a compliment that +warms the cockles of his heart. But let a pupil once +equal him and the pupil's name is anathema. I can not +conceive of any man born of woman who would not +detest another man who looked like him, acted like +him, and did difficult things just as well. Such a one +robs us of our personality, and personality is all there is +of us.</p> + +<p>The germ of jealousy in Rubens' nature had never been +developed. He dallied with no "culture-beds," and the +thought that any one could ever really equal him had +never entered his mind. His conscious sense of power +kept his head high above the miasma of fear.</p> + +<p>But now a contract for certain portraits that were to +come from the Rubens studio had been drawn up by +the Jesuit Brothers, and in the contract was inserted a +clause to the effect that Van Dyck should work on each +one of the pictures.</p> + +<p>"Pray you," said Rubens, "to which Van Dyck do you +refer? There are many of the name in Antwerp."</p> + +<p>The jealousy germ had begun to develop.</p> + +<p>And about this time Van Dyck was busying himself as +understudy, by making love to Rubens' wife. Rubens +was a score of years older than his pupil, and Isabella +<a name="IV_Page_178"></a>was somewhere between the two—say ten years older +than Van Dyck, but that is nothing! These first fierce +flames that burn in the heart of youth are very apt to +be for some fair dame much older than himself. No +psychologist has ever yet just fathomed the problem, +and I am sure it is too deep for me—I give it up. And +yet the fact remains, for how about Doctor Samuel +Johnson—and did not our own Robert Louis fall +desperately in love with a woman sixteen years his +senior? Aye, and married her, too, first asking her +husband's consent, and furtherance also being supplied +by the ex-husband giving the bride away at the altar. +At least, we have been told so.</p> + +<p>Were this sketch a catalog, a dozen notable instances +could be given in which very young men have been +struck hard by women old enough to have nursed them +as babes.</p> + +<p>Van Dyck loved Isabella Rubens ardently. He grew +restless, feverish, lost appetite and sighed at her with +lack-luster eye across the dinner-table. Rubens knew +of it all, and smiled a grim, sickly smile.</p> + +<p>"I, too, love every woman who sits to me for a portrait. +He'll get over it," said the master. "It all began when +I allowed him to paint her picture."</p> + +<p>Busy men of forty, with ambitions, are not troubled by +Anthony Hope's interrogation. They glibly answer, +"No, no, love is not all—it's only a small part of life—simply +incidental!"<a name="IV_Page_179"></a></p> + +<p>But Van Dyck continued to sigh, and all of his spare +time was taken up in painting pictures of the matronly +Isabella. He managed to work even in spite of loss of +appetite; and sitters sometimes called at the studio and +asked for "Master Van Dyck," whereas before there +was only one master in the whole domain.</p> + +<p>Rubens grew aweary.</p> + +<p>He was too generous to think of crushing Van Dyck, +and too wise to attempt it. To cast him out and recognize +him openly as a rival would be to acknowledge his +power. A man with less sense would have kicked the +lovesick swain into the street. Rubens was a true diplomat. +He decided to get rid of Van Dyck and do it in a +way that would cause no scandal, and at the same time +be for the good of the young man.</p> + +<p>He took Van Dyck into his private office and counseled +with him calmly, explaining to him how hopeless must +be his love for Isabella. He further succeeded in convincing +the youth that a few years in Italy would add +the capsheaf to his talent. Without Italy he could not +hope to win all; with Italy all doors would open at his +touch.</p> + +<p>Then he led him to his stable and presented him with +his best saddle-horse, and urged immediate departure +for a wider field and pastures new.</p> + +<p>A few days later the handsome Van Dyck—with a +goodly purse of gold, passports complete, and saddlebags +well filled with various letters of introduction to<a name="IV_Page_180"></a> +Rubens' Italian friends—followed by a cart filled with +his belongings, started gaily away, bound for the land +where art had its birth.</p> + +<p>"With Italy—with Italy I can win all!" he kept repeating +to himself as he turned his horse's head to the South.<a name="IV_Page_181"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The first day's ride took the artistic traveler +to the little village of Saventhem, five miles +from Brussels. Here he turned aside long +enough to say good-by to a fair young lady, +Anna Van Ophem by name, whom he had met a few +months before at Antwerp.</p> + +<p>He rode across the broad pasture, entered the long lane +lined with poplars, and followed on to the spacious old +stone mansion in the grove of trees.</p> + +<p>Anna herself saw him coming and came out to meet +him. They had not been so very well acquainted, but +the warmth of a greeting all depends upon where it +takes place. It was lonely for the beautiful girl there in +the country: she welcomed the handsome young painter-man +as though he were a long-lost brother, and proudly +introduced him to her parents.</p> + +<p>Instead of a mere call he was urged to put up his horse +and remain overnight; and a servant was sent out to +find the man who drove the cart with the painter's +belongings, and make him comfortable.</p> + +<p>The painter decided that he would remain overnight +and make an early start on the morrow.</p> + +<p>And it was so agreed.</p> + +<p>There was music in the evening, and pleasant converse +until a late hour, for the guest must sit up and see the +moon rise across the meadow—it would make such a +charming subject for a picture!</p> + +<p>So they sat up to see the moon rise across the meadow.<a name="IV_Page_182"></a></p> + +<p>At breakfast the next morning there was a little +banter on the subject of painting. Could not the distinguished +painter remain over one day and give his +hosts a taste of his quality?</p> + +<p>"I surely will if the fair Anna will sit for her portrait!" +he courteously replied.</p> + +<p>The fair Anna consented.</p> + +<p>The servant who drove the cart had gotten on good +terms with the servants of the household, and was being +initiated into the mysteries of making Dutch cheese.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the master had improvised a studio and +was painting the portrait of the charming Anna.</p> + +<p>After working two whole days he destroyed the canvas +because the picture was not keyed right, and started +afresh. The picture was fairish good, but his desire now +was to paint the beautiful Anna as the Madonna.</p> + +<p>Van Dyck's affections having been ruthlessly uprooted +but a few days before, the tendrils very naturally clung +to the first object that presented itself—and this of +course was the intelligent and patient sitter, aged nineteen +last June.</p> + +<p>If Rubens could not paint the picture of a lady without +falling in love with her, what should be expected of his +best pupil, Van Dyck?</p> + +<p>Pygmalion loved into life the cold marble which his +hand had shaped, and thus did Van Dyck love his pictures +into being. All portrait-painters are sociable—they +have to be in order to get acquainted with the +<a name="IV_Page_183"></a>subject. The best portrait-painter in America talks like +a windmill as he works, and tries a whole set round of +little jokes, and dry asides and trite aphorisms on the +sitter, meanwhile cautiously noting the effect. For of +course so long as a sitter is coldly self-conscious, and +fully mindful that he is "being took," his countenance +is as stiff, awkward, and constrained as that of a farmer +at a dinner-party.</p> + +<p>Hence the task devolves upon the +portrait-artist to bring out, by the magic of his presence, +the nature of the subject. "In order to paint a +truly correct likeness, you must know your sitter thoroughly," +said Van Dyck.</p> + +<p>The gracious Rubens prided himself on his ability in +this line. He would often spend half an hour busily +mending a brush or mixing paints, talking the while, +but only waiting for the icy mood of the sitter to thaw. +Then he would arrange the raiment of his patron, +sometimes redress the hair, especially of his lady patrons, +and once we know he kissed the cheek of the +Duchess of Mantua, "so as to dispel her distant look." +I know a portrait-artist in Albany who is said to occasionally +salute his lady customers by the same token, +and if they protest he simply explains to them that it +was all in the interest of art—in other words, artifice +for art's sake.</p> + +<p>After three days at the charming old country-seat at +Saventhem, Van Dyck called his servant and told him +to take the shoes off of the saddle-horse, and turn it and +<a name="IV_Page_184"></a>the cart-horse loose in the pasture. He had decided to +remain and paint a picture for the village church.</p> + +<p>And it was so done.</p> + +<p>The pictures that Van Dyck then painted are there now +in the same old ivy-grown, moss-covered church at +Saventhem. The next time you are in Brussels it will +pay you to walk out and see them.</p> + +<p>One of the pictures is called "Saint Martin Dividing +His Cloak With Two Beggars." The Saint is modestly +represented by Van Dyck himself, seated astride the +beautiful horse that Rubens gave him.</p> + +<p>The other picture is "The Holy Family," in which the +fair Anna posed for the Virgin, and her parents and +kinsmen are grouped around her as the Magi and +attendants.</p> + +<p>Both pictures reveal the true Van Dyck touch, and are +highly prized by the people of the village and the good +priests of the church. Each night a priest carries in a +cot and sleeps in the chancel to see that these priceless +works of art are protected from harm. When you go +there to see them, give the cowled attendant a franc +and he will unfold the tale, not just as I have written it, +but substantially. He will tell you that Van Dyck +stopped here on his way to Italy and painted these +pictures as a pious offering to God, and what boots it +after all!</p> + +<p>More than once have the village peasants collected, +armed with scythes, hoes and pitchforks, to protect +<a name="IV_Page_185"></a>these sacred pictures from vandalism on the part of +lustful collectors or marauding bands of soldiers.</p> + +<p>In Eighteen Hundred Fourteen, a detachment of French +soldiers killed a dozen of the villagers, and a priest fell +fighting for these treasures on the sacred threshold, +stabbed to his death. Then the vandals tramped over +the dead bodies, entered the church, and cut from its +frame Van Dyck's "Holy Family" and carried the +picture off to Paris. But after Napoleon had gotten his +Waterloo (only an hour's horseback ride from Saventhem), +the picture was restored to the villagers on order +of the Convention.</p> + +<p>Rubens waited expectantly, thinking to have news from +his brilliant pupil in Italy. He waited a month. Two +months passed, and still no word. After three months +a citizen reported that the day before he had seen Van +Dyck, aided by a young woman, putting up a picture +in the village church at Saventhem.</p> + +<p>Rubens saddled his horse and rode down there. He +found Van Dyck and his lady-love sitting hand in hand +on a mossy bank, in a leafy grove, listening to the song +of a titmouse. Rubens did not chide the young man; he +merely took him one side and told him that he had +stayed long enough, and "beyond the Alps lies Italy." +He also suggested that Anthony Van Dyck could not +afford to follow the example of his illustrious Roman +namesake who went down into Egypt and found things +there so softly luxurious that he forgot home, friends, +<a name="IV_Page_186"></a>country—all! To remain at Saventhem would be death +to his art—he must have before him the example of +the masters.</p> + +<p>Van Dyck said he would think about it; and Rubens +took a look at his old saddle-horse rolling in the pasture +or wading knee-deep in clover, and rode back home.</p> + +<p>In a few days he sent Chevalier Nanni down to the +country-seat at Saventhem, to tell Van Dyck that he +was on his way to Italy and that Van Dyck had better +accompany him.</p> + +<p>Van Dyck concluded to go. He made tearful promises +to his beautiful Anna that he would return for her in a +year.</p> + +<p>And so the servant, who had become an expert in the +making of Dutch cheese, caught the horses out of the +pasture, and having rebroken them, the cavalcade +started southward in good sooth.<a name="IV_Page_187"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was four years before Van Dyck returned. +He visited Milan, Florence, Verona, Mantua, +Venice and Rome, and made himself familiar +with the works of the masters. Everywhere +he was showered with attention, and the fact that he +was the friend and protege of Rubens won him admittance +into the palaces of the nobles.</p> + +<p>The four years in Italy widened his outlook and transformed +him from a merely handsome youth into a man +of dignity and poise.</p> + +<p>Great was his relief when he returned to Antwerp to +hear that the pretty Anna Van Ophem of Saventhem +had been married three years before to a worthy wine +merchant of Brussels, and was now the proud mother +of two handsome boys.</p> + +<p>Great was the welcome that Van Dyck received at +Antwerp; and in it all the gracious Rubens joined. But +there was one face the returned traveler missed: Isabella +had died the year before.</p> + +<p>The mere fact that a man has been away for several +years studying his profession gives him a decided prestige +when he returns. Van Dyck, fresh from Italy, +exuberant with life and energy, became at once the +vogue.</p> + +<p>He opened a studio, following the same lines that +Rubens had, and several churches gave him orders for +extensive altarpieces.</p> + +<p>Antwerp prided herself on being an artistic center.<a name="IV_Page_188"></a> +Buyers from England now and then appeared, and +several of Rubens' pictures had been taken to London +to decorate the houses and halls of royalty.</p> + +<p>Portrait-painting is the first form of art that appeals +to a rude and uncultivated people. To reproduce the +image of a living man in stone, or to show a likeness of +his face in paint, is calculated to give a thrill even to a +savage. There is something mysterious in the art, and +the desire to catch the shadow ere the substance fades +is strong in the human heart. One reason that sacred +art was so well encouraged in the Middle Ages was +because the faces portrayed were reproductions of +living men and women. This lent an intense personal +interest in the work, and insured its fostering care. +Callous indeed was the noble who would not pay good +coin to have himself shown as Saint Paul, or his enemy +as Judas. In fact, "Judas Receiving the Thirty Pieces +of Silver" was a very common subject, and the "Judas" +shown was usually some politician who had given +offense.</p> + +<p>In Sixteen Hundred Twenty-eight, England had not +yet developed an art-school of her own. All her art was +an importation, for although some fine pictures had +been produced in England, they were all the work of +foreigners—men who had been brought over from the +Continent.</p> + +<p>Henry the Eighth had offered Raphael a princely sum +if he would come to London and work for a single year.<a name="IV_Page_189"></a> +Raphael, however, could not be spared from Italy to do +work for "the barbarians," and so he sent his pupil, +Luca Penni. Bluff old Hans Holbein also abode in England +and drew a goodly pension from the State.</p> + +<p>During the reign of Mary and her Spanish husband, +Philip, several pictures by Titian arrived in London, +via Madrid. Then, too, there were various copies of +pictures by Paul Veronese, Murillo and Velasquez that +long passed for original, because the copyist had faithfully +placed the great artist's trademark in the proper +place.</p> + +<p>Queen Elizabeth held averages good by encouraging +neither art nor matrimony—whereas her father had +set her the example of being a liberal patron of both. If +Elizabeth never discovered Shakespeare, how could +she be expected to know Raphael?</p> + +<p>About Sixteen Hundred Twenty, the year the "Mayflower" +sailed, Paul Vensomer, Cornelis Jannsen and +Daniel Mytens went over to England from the Netherlands +and quickly made fortunes by painting portraits +for the nobility. This was the first of that peculiar rage +for having a hall filled with ancestors. The artists just +named painted pictures of people long gone hence, +simply from verbal descriptions, and warranted the +likeness to give satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Oh, the Dutch are a thrifty folk!</p> + +<p>James the First had no special eye for beauty—no +more than Elizabeth had—but a few of his nobles were +<a name="IV_Page_190"></a>intent on providing posterity with handsome ancestors, +and so the portrait-painter flourished.</p> + +<p>An important move in the cause of literature was made +by King James when he placed Sir Walter Raleigh in +the Tower; for Raleigh's best contributions to letters +were made during those thirteen years when he was +alone, with the world locked out. And when his mind +began to lose its flash, the King wisely put a quietus +on all danger of an impaired output by cutting off the +author's head.</p> + +<p>Still, there was no general public interest in art until the +generous Charles appeared upon the scene. Charles was +an elegant scholar and prided himself on being able to +turn a sonnet or paint a picture; and the only reason, +he explained, why he did not devote all his time to +literature and art was because the State must be preserved. +He could hire men to paint, but where could +one be found who could govern?</p> + +<p>Charles had purchased several of Rubens' pieces, and +these had attracted much attention in London. Receptions +were given where crowds surged and clamored +and fought, just to get a look at the marvelous painting +of the wonderful Fleming. Such gorgeous skill in color +had never before been seen in England.</p> + +<p>Charles knighted Rubens and did his best to make him a +permanent attache of his Court; but Rubens had too +many interests of a financial and political nature at home +to allow himself to be drawn away from his beloved<a name="IV_Page_191"></a> +Antwerp.</p> + +<p>But now he had a rival—the only real rival +he had ever known. Van Dyck was making head. The +rival was younger, handsomer, and had such a blandishing +tongue and silken manner that the crowd began +to call his name and declare he was greater than Cæsar.</p> + +<p>Yet Rubens showed not a sign of displeasure on his +fine face—he bowed and smiled and agreed with the +garrulous critics when they smote the table and declared +that all of Van Dyck's Madonnas really winked.</p> + +<p>He bided his time.</p> + +<p>And it soon came, for the agent of Lord Arundel, that +great Mæcenas of the polite arts, came over to Flanders +to secure treasures, and of course called on Rubens.</p> + +<p>And Rubens talked only of Van Dyck—the marvelous +Van Dyck.</p> + +<p>The agent secured several copies of Van Dyck's work, +and went back to England, telling of all that Rubens +had told him, with a little additional coloring washed +in by his own warm imagination.</p> + +<p>To discover a genius is next to being one yourself. Lord +Arundel felt that all he had heard of Van Dyck must be +true, and when he went to the King and told him of the +prodigy he had found, the King's zeal was warm as that +of the agent, for does not the "messianic instinct" +always live?</p> + +<p>This man must be secured at any cost. They had failed +to secure Rubens, but the younger man had no family +ties, no special property interests, neither was he +<a name="IV_Page_192"></a>pledged to his home government as was Rubens.</p> + +<p>Straightway the King of England dispatched a messenger +urging Anthony Van Dyck to come over to +England. The promised rewards and honors were too +great for the proud and ambitious painter to refuse. +He started for England.<a name="IV_Page_193"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In stature Van Dyck was short, but of a very +compact build. He carried the crown of his +head high, his chin in, and his chest out. His +name is another added to that list of big-little +men who had personality plus, and whose presence +filled a room. Cæsar, Napoleon, Lord Macaulay, +Aaron Burr and that other little man with whom Burr's +name is inseparably linked, belong to the same type. +These little men with such dynamic force that they can +do the thinking for a race are those who have swerved +the old world out of her ruts—whether for good or ill +is not the question here.</p> + +<p>When you find one of these big-little men, if he does +not stalk through society a conquering Don Juan it is +because we still live in an age of miracles.</p> + +<p>Women fed on Van Dyck's smile, and pined when he +did not deign to notice them. He was royal in all his +tastes—his manner was regal, and so proud was his +step that when he passed forbidden lines, sentinels and +servants saluted and made way, never daring to ask +him for card, passport or countersign.</p> + +<p>He gloried in his power and worked it to its farthest +limit.</p> + +<p>Unlike Rembrandt, he never painted beggars; nor did +he ever stoop as Titian did when he pictured his old +mother as a peasant woman at market, in that gem of +the Belle d' Arte at Venice; nor did he ever reveal on +his canvas wrinkled, weather-worn old sailors, as did<a name="IV_Page_194"></a> +Velasquez.</p> + +<p>He pictured only royalty, and managed, +in all his portraits, to put a look of leisure and culture +and quiet good-breeding into the face, whether it was +in the original or not. In fact, he fused into every picture +that he painted a goodly modicum of his own +spirit. You can always tell a Van Dyck portrait; there +is in the face a self-sufficiency, a something that speaks +of "divine right"—not of arrogance, for arrogance +and assumption reveal a truth which man is trying to +hide, and that is that his position is a new acquirement. +Van Dyck's people are all to the manner born.</p> + +<p>He was thirty-three years old when he arrived in +England.</p> + +<p>King Charles furnished the painter a house at Blackfriars, +fronting the Thames, to insure a good light, and +gave him a summer residence in Kent. All his expenses +were paid by the State, and as his tastes were regal the +demands on the public exchequer were not small. His +title was, "Principal Painter in Ordinary to the King +and Queen of England."</p> + +<p>Van Dyck had worked so long with Rubens that he +knew how to use 'prentice talent. He studied by a system +and turned off a prodigious number of canvases. The +expert can at once tell a picture painted by Van Dyck +during his career in England: it lacks the care and +finish that was shown in his earlier years. Yet there +is a subtle sweep and strength in it all that reveals +the personality of the artist.<a name="IV_Page_195"></a></p> + +<p>Twenty-two pictures he painted of King Charles that +we can trace. These were usually sent away as presents. +And it is believed that in the seven years Van +Dyck lived in England he painted nearly one thousand +portraits.</p> + +<p>The courtly manner and chivalrous refinement of the +Fleming made him a prime favorite of Charles. He was +even more kingly than the King.</p> + +<p>In less than three months after he arrived in England +Charles publicly knighted him, and placed about his +neck a chain of gold to which was attached a locket, +set with diamonds, containing a picture of the King.</p> + +<p>A record of Van Dyck's affairs of the heart would fill a +book. His old habit of falling in love with every lady +patron grew upon him. His reputation went abroad, +and his custom of thawing the social ice by talking +soft nonsense to the lady on the sitter's throne, while +it repelled some allured others.</p> + +<p>At last Charles grew nettled and said that to paint Lady +Digby as "The Virgin" might be all right, and even +to turn around and picture her as "Susanna at the +Bath" was not necessarily out of place, but to show +Margaret Lemon, Anne Carlisle and Catherine Wotton +as "The Three Graces" was surely bad taste. And +furthermore, when these same women were shown as +"Psyche," "Diana" and the "Madonna"—just as +it happened—it was really too much!</p> + +<p>In fact, the painter must get married; and the King and<a name="IV_Page_196"></a> +Queen selected for him a wife in the person of a Scottish +beauty, Maria Ruthven.</p> + +<p>Had this proposition come a few years before, the proud +painter would have flouted it. But things were changed. +Twinges of gout and sharp touches of sciatica backed up +the King's argument that to reform were the part of +wisdom. Van Dyck's manly shape was tending to +embonpoint: he had evolved a double chin, the hair on +his head was rather seldom, and he could no longer run +upstairs three steps at a time. Yes, he would get married, +live the life of a staid, respectable citizen, and paint +only religious subjects. Society was nothing to him—he +would give it up entirely.</p> + +<p>And so Sir Anthony Van Dyck was married to Maria +Ruthven, at Saint Paul's Cathedral, and the King gave +the bride away, ceremonially and in fact.</p> + +<p>Sir Anthony's gout grew worse, and after some months +the rheumatism took an inflammatory turn. Other +complications entered, which we would now call +Bright's Disease—that peculiar complaint of which +poor men stand in little danger.</p> + +<p>The King offered the Royal Physician a bonus of five +hundred pounds if he would cure Van Dyck: but if he +had threatened to kill the doctor if the patient died, +just as did the Greek friends of Byron, when the poet +was ill at Rome, it would have made no difference.</p> + +<p>A year after his marriage, and on the day that Maria +Ruthven gave birth to a child, Anthony Van Dyck +<a name="IV_Page_197"></a>died, aged forty years. Rubens had died but a few +months before.</p> + +<p>The fair Scottish wife did not care to retain her illustrious +name at the expense of loneliness, and so shortly +married again. Whom she married matters little, since +it would require a search-warrant to unearth even the +man's name, so dead is he. But inasmuch as the brilliant +Helena Fourment, second wife of Rubens, whose picture +was so often painted by her artist-husband, married +again, why shouldn't Madame Van Dyck follow the +example?</p> + +<p>It is barely possible that Charles Lamb was right when +he declared that no woman married to a genius ever +believed her husband to be one. We know that the wife +of Edmund Spenser became the Faerie Queene of another +soon after his demise, and whenever Spenser was praised +in her presence she put on a look that plainly said, "I +could a tale unfold."</p> + +<p>My own opinion is that a genius makes a very bad husband. +And further, I have no faith in that specious plea, +"A woman who marries a second time confers upon her +first husband the highest compliment, for her action +implies that she was so happy in her first love that she +is more than willing to try it again."</p> + +<p>I think the reverse is more apt to be the truth, and that +the woman who has been sorely disappointed in her +first marriage is anxious to try the great experiment +over again, in order if possible to secure that bliss which +<a name="IV_Page_198"></a>every daughter of Eve feels is her rightful due.</p> + +<p>Maria +Ruthven lived to rear a goodly brood of children, and +Samuel Pepys records that she used to send a sort o' +creepy feeling down the backs of callers by innocently +introducing her children thus: "This is my eldest +daughter, whose father was Sir Anthony Van Dyck, of +whom you have doubtless heard; and these others are +my children by my present husband, Sergeant Nobody." +Van Dyck's remains are buried in Saint Paul's Cathedral. +A very fine monument, near the grave of Turner, +marks the spot; but his best monument is in the +examples of his work that are to be found in every great +art-gallery of the world.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_199"></a></p> +<h2><a name="FORTUNY" id="FORTUNY"></a>FORTUNY</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_200"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>I think I knew Fortuny as well as any one did. He was +surcharged with energy, animation and good-cheer; and +the sunshine he worked into every canvas he attempted, +was only a reflection of the sparkling, gem-like radiance +of his own nature. He absorbed from earth, air, sky, the +waters and men, and transmuted all dross into gold. +To him all things were good.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">—<i>Letter From Regnault</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-7.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-7_th.jpg" alt="FORTUNY" /></a></p><p class="ctr">FORTUNY</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_201"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>Now, once upon a day there was a +swart, stubby boy by the name of +Mariano Fortuny. He was ten years +old, going on 'leven, and lived with +his grandfather away up and up +four flights of rickety stairs in an +old house at the village of Reus, in +Spain. Mariano's father had died +some years before—died mysteriously in a drunken +fight at a fair, where he ran a Punch and Judy show. +Some said the Devil had come and carried him off, just +as he nightly did Mr. Punch.</p> + +<p>Frowsy, little, shock-headed Mariano didn't feel so +awfully bad when his father died, because his father +used to make him turn the hand-organ all day, and half +the night, and take up the collections; and the fond +parent used to cuff him when there were less than ten +coppers in the tambourine. They traveled around from +place to place, with a big yellow dog and a little blue +wagon that contained the show. They hitched their +wagon to a dog. At night they would sleep in some +shed back of a tavern, or under a table at a market, +and Mariano would pillow his head on the yellow dog +and curl up in a ball trying to keep warm.</p> + +<p>When the father died, a tall man, who carried a sword +and wore spurs, and had two rows of brass buttons +<a name="IV_Page_202"></a>down the front of his coat, took the dog and the wagon +and the Punch and Judy show and sold 'em all—so as +to get money to pay the funeral expenses of the dead +man.</p> + +<p>The tall man with the sword might have sold little +Mariano, too, or thrown him in with the lot for good +measure, but nobody seemed to want the boy—they +all had more boys than they really needed already.</p> + +<p>A fat market-woman gave the lad a cake, and another +one gave him two oranges, and still another market-woman, +fatter than the rest, blew her nose violently +on her check apron and said it was too bad a boy like +that didn't have a mother.</p> + +<p>Mariano never had a mother—at least none that he +knew of, and it really seemed as if it didn't make much +difference, but now he began to cry, and, since the fat +woman had suggested it, really wished he had a mother, +after all.</p> + +<p>There was an old priest standing by in the group. +Mariano had not noticed him. But when the priest +said, "But God is both our father and our mother, so no +harm can come to us!" Mariano looked up in his face +and felt better.</p> + +<p>The priest's name was Father Gonzales; Mariano knew, +because this is what the market-woman called him. +The fat market-woman talked with the priest, and the +priest talked with the man with the dangling sword, +and then Father Gonzales took the boy by the hand and +<a name="IV_Page_203"></a>led him away, and Mariano trotted along by his side, +quite content, save for a stifled wish that the big yellow +dog might go too. And it is a gross error to suppose that +a yellow dog is necessarily nothing but a canine whose +capillary covering is highly charged with ocherish +pigment.</p> + +<p>Where they were going made no difference. "God is +our father and our mother"—Father Gonzales said +so—and, faith! he ought to know.</p> + +<p>And by and by they came to the tall old tenement-house, +and climbed up the stairs to where Mariano's +old "grandfather" lived. Perhaps he wasn't Mariano's +sure-enough grandfather, but he was just as good as if +he had been.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>But now it was an awfully long time ago since little +Mariano and Father Gonzales had first climbed the +stairs to where Grandfather Fortuny lived. The old +grandfather and Mariano worked very hard, but they +were quite content and happy. They had enough to eat, +and each had a straw bed and warm blankets to cover +him at night, and when the weather was very cold +they made a fire of charcoal in a brazier and sat before +it with spread-out hands, very thankful that God had +given them such a good home and so many comforts.</p> + +<p>The grandfather made images out of white plaster, +flowers sometimes, and curious emblems that people +bought for votive offerings. Little Mariano's share in +<a name="IV_Page_204"></a>the work was to color the figures with blue and red +paint, and give a lifelike tint to the fruit and bouquets +that the grandfather cast from the white plaster.</p> + +<p>Father Gonzales was their best customer, and used +often to come up and watch Mariano paint an image of +the Virgin, just as he ordered it. Mariano was very +proud to receive Father Gonzales' approval; and when +the image was complete he would sometimes get a +copper extra for delivering the work to some stricken +person that the priest wished especially to remember. +For one of Father Gonzales' peculiarities was that +although he bought lots of things he always gave them +away.</p> + +<p>Mariano used often to carry letters and packages for +Father Gonzales.</p> + +<p>One day the good priest came up the stairs quite out of +breath. He carried a letter in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Here, Mariano, my boy, you can run, while my poor +old legs are full of rheumatism. Here, take this letter +down to the Diligence Office and tell them to send it +tonight, sure. It is for the Bishop at Barcelona and it +must be in his hands before tomorrow. Run now, for +the last post closes very soon."</p> + +<p>Mariano took the letter, dived hatless out of the door +and, sitting on the first stair, shot to the bottom like the +slide to doom.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Fortuny and the gentle old priest leaned +out over the stone window-sill and laughed to see the +<a name="IV_Page_205"></a>boy scurry down the street.</p> + +<p>Then the priest went his way.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Fortuny waited, looking out of the window, +for the boy to come back. The boy did not come.</p> + +<p>He waited.</p> + +<p>Lights began to flicker in the windows across the way.</p> + +<p>A big red star came up in the West. The wind blew +fresh and cool.</p> + +<p>The old man shut down the sash, and looked at the +untasted supper of brown bread and goat's milk and +fresh fruit.</p> + +<p>He took his hat from the peg and his cane from the corner +and hobbled down the stairs. He went to the Diligence +Office. No one there remembered seeing the boy—how +can busy officials be expected to remember +everything?</p> + +<p>Grandfather Fortuny made his way to the house of +Father Gonzales. The priest had been called away to +attend a man sick unto death—he would not be back +for an hour.</p> + +<p>The old man waited—waited one hour—two.</p> + +<p>Father Gonzales came, and listened calmly to the troubled +tale of the old man. Then together they made their +way over to the tall tenement and up the creaky stairway.</p> + +<p>There was the flicker of a candle to be seen +under the door.</p> + +<p>They entered, and there at the table sat Mariano +munching silently on his midnight supper.<a name="IV_Page_206"></a></p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" was the surprised question +of both old men, speaking as one person.</p> + +<p>"Me? I've been to Barcelona to give the letter to the +Bishop—the last diligence had gone," said the boy with +his mouth full of bread.</p> + +<p>"To Barcelona—ten miles, and back?"</p> + +<p>"Me? Yes."</p> + +<p>"Did you walk?"</p> + +<p>"No, I ran."</p> + +<p>Father Gonzales looked at Grandfather Fortuny, and +Grandfather Fortuny looked at Father Gonzales; then +they both burst out laughing. Mariano placed an extra +plate on the table, and the three drew up chairs.<a name="IV_Page_207"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Business was looking up with Grandfather +Fortuny and Mariano. All the images they +made were quickly taken. People said they +liked the way the cheeks and noses of the +Apostles were colored; and when Father Gonzales +brought in a sailor who had been shipwrecked, and the +sailorman left ten pesetas for a plaster-of-Paris ship to +be placed as a votive offering in the Chapel of Saint +Dominic, their cup was full.</p> + +<p>Mariano made the ship himself, and painted it, adding +the yellow pennant of Spain to the mainmast.</p> + +<p>This piece of work caused a quarrel between Grandfather +Fortuny and Father Gonzales. The priest +declared that a boy like that shouldn't waste his youth +in the shabby, tumble-down village of Reus—he should +go to Barcelona and receive instruction in art.</p> + +<p>The grandfather cried and protested that the boy was +all he had to love in the wide world; he himself was +growing feeble, and without the lad's help at the business +nothing could be done—starvation would be the +end.</p> + +<p>Besides, it would take much money to send Mariano to +the Academy—it would take all their savings, and more! +Do not inflate the child with foolish notions of making a +fortune and winning fame! The world is cruel, men are +unkind, and the strife of trying to win leads only to +disappointment and vain regret at the last. Did not the +artist Salvio commit suicide? Mariano had now a trade<a name="IV_Page_208"></a>—who +in Reus could make an image of the Virgin and +color it in green, red and yellow so it would sell on sight +for two pesetas?</p> + +<p>Father Gonzales smiled and said something about +images at two pesetas each as compared with the work +of Murillo and Velasquez. He laughed at the old man's +fears of starvation, and defied him to name a single case +where any one had ever starved. And as for expenses, +why, he had thought it all out: he would pay Mariano's +expenses himself!</p> + +<p>"Should we two old men, about ready to die, stand in +the way of the success of that boy?" exclaimed the +priest. "Why, he will be an artist yet, do you hear?—an +artist!"</p> + +<p>They compromised on the Grammar-School, with three +lessons a week by a drawing-master.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Fortuny did not starve. Mariano was a +regular steam-engine for work. He made more images +evenings, and better ones, than they had ever made +before during the day.</p> + +<p>Finally Father Gonzales' wishes prevailed and Mariano +was sent to the Academy at Barcelona. Out of his own +scanty income the old priest set aside a sum equal to +eight dollars a month for Mariano; and when the +grandfather's sight grew too feeble for him to work at +his trade he moved over to the rectory.</p> + +<p>For a year, Father Gonzales sent the eight dollars on the +first of each month. And then there came to him a brusk +<a name="IV_Page_209"></a>notification from Claudio Lorenzale, the Director of the +Academy, to the effect that certain sums had been +provided by the City of Barcelona to pay the expenses +of four of the most worthy pupils at the Academy, and +Mariano Fortuny had been voted as one who should +receive the benefit of the endowment.</p> + +<p>Father Gonzales read the notice to Grandfather +Fortuny, and then they sent out for a fowl, and a bottle +and a loaf of bread two feet long; and together the two +old men made merry.</p> + +<p>The grandfather had now fully come to the belief that +the lad would some day be a great artist.</p> + +<p>We do not know much concerning the details of +Mariano's life at Barcelona, save from scraps of information +he now and then gave out to his friends Regnault +and Lorenzo Valles, and which they in turn have given +to us.</p> + +<p>Yet we know he won the love of his teachers, and that +Federico Madrazo picked out his work and especially +recommended it.</p> + +<p>Madrazo, I believe, is living now—at least he was a few +years ago. He was born and bred an artist. His father, +Joseph, had been a pupil under David, and was an +artist of more than national renown. He served the +Court at Madrid in various diplomatic relations, and +won wealth and a noble name.</p> + +<p>Federico Madrazo used to spend a portion of his time at +the Academy of Barcelona as instructor and adviser to +<a name="IV_Page_210"></a>the Director. I do not know his official position, if he +had one, but I know he afterward became the Director +of the Museum of Art at Madrid.</p> + +<p>Madrazo had two sons, who are now celebrated in the +art world. One of them, Raimonde Madrazo, is well +known in Paris, and, in Eighteen Hundred Ninety-three, +had several pictures on exhibition at the Chicago Exposition; +while another son, Rivera, is a noted sculptor +and a painter of no small repute.</p> + +<p>And so it was that Mariano Fortuny at Barcelona +attracted the attention of Federico Madrazo, the artist +patrician.</p> + +<p>I can not find that Mariano's work at this time had any +very special merit. It merely showed the patient, painstaking, +conscientious workman. But the bright, strong, +eager young man was the sort that every teacher must +love. He knew what he was at school for, and did his +best.</p> + +<p>Madrazo said, "He's a manly fellow, and if he does +not succeed he is now doing more—he deserves success." +So Mariano Fortuny and the great Madrazo, pupil and +teacher, became firm friends.</p> + +<p>And we know that, in Eighteen Hundred Fifty-seven, +Mariano was voted the "Prize of Rome." Each year +this prize was awarded to the scholar who on vote of +the teachers and scholars was deemed most deserving. +It meant two years of study at Rome with five hundred +dollars a year for expenses. And the only obligation was +<a name="IV_Page_211"></a>that the pupil should each year send home two paintings: +one an original and the other a copy of some old +masterpiece.</p> + +<p>The sum of two hundred fifty dollars was advanced to +Mariano at once. He straightway sent one-half of the +amount down to his grandfather, with particulars of the +good news.</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you?" said the grandfather. "It was +I who first taught him to use a brush. I used to caution +him about running his reds into his greens, and told him +to do as I said and he would be a great artist yet."</p> + +<p>Father Gonzales and Grandfather Fortuny went out +and bought two fowls, three bottles, and a loaf of bread +a yard long.</p> + +<p>Mariano made all preparations to start for Rome. But +the night before the journey was to begin, conscription +officers came to his lodging and told him to consider +himself under arrest—he must serve the State as a +soldier.</p> + +<p>It seems that the laws of Spain are such that any citizen +can be called on to carry arms at any moment; and there +are officials who do little but lie in wait for those who +can pay, but have no time to fight. These officials are +more intent on bleeding their countrymen than the +enemy.</p> + +<p>Mariano applied to his friend Madrazo for advice as to +what to do, and Madrazo simply cut the Gordian knot +by paying out of his own purse three hundred dollars +<a name="IV_Page_212"></a>to secure the release of the young artist.</p> + +<p>And so Mariano started gaily away, carrying with him the +heart's love of two old men, and the admiring affection +of a whole school.</p> + +<p>The grandfather died three months afterward—went +babbling down into the Valley, making prophecies to +the last to the effect that Mariano Fortuny would yet +win deathless fame.</p> + +<p>And Father Gonzales lived to see these prophecies +fulfilled.<a name="IV_Page_213"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Then, at twenty-two, Fortuny was ordered +by the city of Barcelona to accompany +General Prim on his Algerian expedition, it +was a milepost on his highway of success.</p> + +<p>Nominally he was secretary to the General. Who it was +secured his appointment he never knew; but we have +reason to suppose it was Federico Madrazo.</p> + +<p>Fortuny's two years in Rome had just expired; his +Barcelona friends knew that the time had been well +spent, and the opportunities improved, and a further +transplantation they believed would result in an +increased blossoming.</p> + +<p>"Enter into life! Enter into life!" was the call of a +prophet long ago. In barbaric Africa, Fortuny entered +into life with the same fine, free, eager, receptive spirit +that he had elsewhere shown. General Prim, soldier and +scholar, saw that his secretary was capable of doing +something more than keeping accounts, and so a substitute +was hired and Fortuny was sent here and there +as messenger, but in reality, so that he could see as +many sides of old Moorish life as possible.</p> + +<p>Staid old General Prim loved the young man just as +Madrazo had. Fortuny was not much of a soldier, for +war did not interest him, save from its picturesque side. +"War is transient, but Beauty is eternal," he once said.</p> + +<p>Even the fact that the Spanish Army was now on the +soil of her ancient enemy, the Moor, did not stir his +patriotism.<a name="IV_Page_214"></a></p> + +<p>He sketched with feverish industry, fearing the war +would end too soon, and he would have to go back with +empty sketchbooks. The long stretches of white sands, +the glaring sunshine, the paradox of riotous riches and +ragged poverty, the veiled women, blinking camels, +long rifles with butts inlaid with silver, swords whose +hilts are set with precious stones, gray Arab horses with +tails sweeping the ground, and everywhere the flutter +of rags—these things bore in on his artist-nature and +filled his heart.</p> + +<p>He hastily painted in a few of his sketches and sent +them as presents to his friends in Barcelona.</p> + +<p>The very haste of the work, the meager outline and +simple colors—glaring whites and limpid blues, with +here and there a dash of red to indicate a scarf or sash—astonished +his old teachers. Here were pictures painted +in an hour that outmatched any of the carefully worked +out, methodical attempts of the Academy! It was all +life, life, life—palpitating life.</p> + +<p>The sketches were shown, the men in power interviewed, +and the city of Barcelona ordered Fortuny to +paint one large picture to be eventually placed in the +Parliament House to commemorate the victory of +General Prim.</p> + +<p>As an earnest of good faith a remittance of five hundred +dollars accompanied the order.</p> + +<p>The war was short. At the battle of Wad Ras the enemy +was routed after a pitched fight where marked dash and +<a name="IV_Page_215"></a>spirit were shown on both sides.</p> + +<p>And so this was to +be the scene of Fortuny's great painting. Hundreds of +sketches were made, including portraits of General Prim +and various officers. Fortuny set about the work as a +duty to his patrons who had so generously paved the +way for all the good fortune that was his. The painting +was to be a world-beater; and Fortuny, young, strong, +ambitious—knowing no such word as fail—went at the +task.</p> + +<p>Fortuny had associated with many artists at Rome and +he had heard of that wonderful performance of Horace +Vernet's, the "Taking of the Smalah of Abd-el-Kader." +This picture of Vernet's, up to that time, was the largest +picture ever held in a single frame. It is seventy-one feet +long and sixteen feet high. To describe that picture of +Vernet's with its thousand figures, charging cavalry, +flashing sabers, dust-clouds, fleeing cattle, stampeding +buffalos, riderless horses, overturned tents, and fear-stricken, +beautiful women would require a book.</p> + +<p>In passing, it is well to say that this picture of Vernet's +is the parent of all the panorama pictures that have +added to the ready cash of certain enterprising citizens +of Chicago, and that Vernet is the father of the modern +"military school."</p> + +<p>If you have seen Vernet's painting you can never forget +it, and if there were nothing else to see at Versailles but +this one picture you would be repaid, and amply repaid, +for going out from Paris to view it.<a name="IV_Page_216"></a></p> + +<p>Before beginning his great canvas Fortuny was advised +to go to Versailles and see the Vernet masterpiece.</p> + +<p>He went and spent three days studying it in detail.</p> + +<p>He turned away discouraged. To know too much of +what other men have said is death to a writer; for an +artist to be too familiar with the best in art is to have +inspiration ooze out at every pore.</p> + +<p>Fortuny took a week to think it over. He was not discouraged—not +he—but he decided to postpone work +on the masterpiece and busy himself for a while with +simpler themes. He remained at Paris and made his +thumb-nail sketches: a Moor in spotless white robe with +red cap, leaning against a wall; a camel-driver at rest; +a solitary horseman with long spear, a trellis with +climbing vines, and a veiled beauty looking out from +behind, etc.</p> + +<p>And in all these pictures is dazzling sunshine and living +life. The joy of them, the ease, the grace, the beauty, are +matchless.</p> + +<p>Goupil and Company, the art-dealers, contracted to +take all the work he could turn out. And Fortuny did +not make the mistake of doing too much. He possessed +the artistic conscience, and nothing left his studio that +did not satisfy his heart and head.</p> + +<p>Trips had been taken to Florence, Venice and the +beloved Morocco, and the poise and grace and limpid +beauty of Fortuny's pictures seemed to increase.</p> + +<p>Three years had passed, and now came a letter from the +<a name="IV_Page_217"></a>authorities at Barcelona asking for their great battle +picture, and a remittance was sent "to meet expenses."</p> + +<p>Fortuny promised, and made an effort at the work.</p> + +<p>Another year went by and another letter of importunity +came. Barcelona did not comprehend how her gifted son +was now being counted among the very ablest artists in +Paris—that world center of art. Artists should struggle +for recognition, be rebuffed, live on a crust in dingy +garrets, cultivate a gaunt and haggard look, and wear +suits shiny at the elbows!</p> + +<p>How could the old professors down at Barcelona understand +that this mere youth was pressed with commissions +from rich Americans, and in receipt of a princely income?</p> + +<p>Fortuny returned all the money that Barcelona had +sent him, regarding it all as a mere loan, and promised +to complete the battle picture whenever he could bring +his mind to bear upon it so that the work would satisfy +himself.</p> + +<p>The next year he visited Spain and was received at +Madrid and Barcelona as a prince. Decorations and +ceremonials greeted him at Madrid; and at Barcelona +there were arches of triumph built over the streets, and +a hundred students drew his carriage from the steamboat-landing +up to the old Academy where he used to +draw angles and curves from a copy all day long.</p> + +<p>And it was not so many moons after this little visit to +Barcelona that wedding-bells were sent a-swing, and +Mariano Fortuny was married to Cecilia, daughter of<a name="IV_Page_218"></a> +Federico Madrazo.</p> + +<p>Their honeymoon of a year was +spent at the Alhambra Palace amid the scenes made +famous by our own Washington Irving. And it was from +Granada that he sent a picture to America to be sold +for the benefit of the sufferers in the Chicago fire.</p> + +<p>But there were no idle days. The artist worked with +diligence, dipping deep into the old Moorish life, and +catching the queer angles of old ruins and more queer +humanity upon his palette. His noble wife proved his +mate in very deed, and much of his best work is traceable +to her loving criticism and inspiration.</p> + +<p>Paris, Granada and Rome were their home, each in +turn. The prices Fortuny realized were even greater +than Meissonier commanded. Some of his best pieces +are owned in America, through the efforts of W. H. +Stewart of Philadelphia. At the A. T. Stewart sale, in +New York, the "Fortunys" brought higher prices than +anything else in the collection, save, I believe, the +"1807" of Meissonier. In fact, there are more "Fortunys" +owned in New York than there are in either +Barcelona or Madrid.</p> + +<p>Indeed, there is a marked similarity between the style +of Fortuny and that of Meissonier. When some busybody +informed Meissonier that Fortuny was imitating +him, Meissonier replied, "To have such a genius as +Mariano Fortuny imitate me would be the greatest +happiness of my whole career."</p> + +<p>Fortuny's life is mirrored in his name: his whole career +<a name="IV_Page_219"></a>was one triumphant march to fortune, fame, love and +honor.</p> + +<p>He avoided society, as he was jealous of the fleeting +hours, and his close friends were few; but those who +knew him loved him to a point just this side of idolatry.</p> + +<p>Fortuny died at Rome on November Twenty-second, +Eighteen Hundred Seventy-two, of brain rupture—an +instant and painless death. In his short life of thirty-six +years he accomplished remarkable results, but all this +splendid work he regarded as merely in the line of +preparation for a greater work yet to come.</p> + +<p>For some weeks before he died he had been troubled +with a slight fever, contracted, he thought, from painting +in a damp church; but the day of his death he took +up his brush again and, as he worked, gaily talked with +his wife of their plans for the future.</p> + +<p>It is very pleasant to recall, however, that before death +claimed him, Fortuny had completed the great picture +of "The Battle of Wad Ras." The canvas is now hanging +on the wall of the Parliament House at Barcelona, +and the picture is justly the pride of the city that +showed itself such a wise and loving mother to the +motherless boy, Mariano Fortuny.<a name="IV_Page_220"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Italy and Spain are sisters, and not merely +first cousins, as Mr. Whistler once remarked. +Their history to a great degree is contemporaneous. +They have seen dynasties arise, +grow old, and die; and schools of art, once the pride of +the people, sink into blank forgetfulness: for schools, +like dynasties and men, live their day and go tottering +to their rest.</p> + +<p>Italy, as the elder sister, has set the fashion for the +younger. The manners, habits and customs of the people +have been the same.</p> + +<p>To a great extent all art is controlled by fad and fashion; +and all the fashions in the polite arts easily drifted from +Italy into Spain. The works of Titian carried to Madrid +produced a swarm of imitators, some of whom, like +Velasquez, Zurbaran, Ribera and Murillo, having spun +their cocoons, passed through the chrysalis stage, +developed wings, and soared to high heaven. But the +generations of imitators who followed these have usually +done little better than gape.</p> + +<p>And although Spain has been a kind mother to art for +four hundred years, yet the modern school of Spanish +art shows no "apostolic succession" from the past. It +is a thing separate and alone: gorgeous, dazzling, strong, +and rarely beautiful. Totally unlike the art of the old +masters, it takes its scenes from Nature and actual +living life—depending not on myth, legend or fable. It +discards pure imagination, and by holding a mirror up +<a name="IV_Page_221"></a>to Nature has done the world the untold blessing of +introducing it to itself.</p> + +<p>The average man sees things in the mass, and therefore +sees nothing; everything, to his vision, is run together +in hopeless jumble: all is discord, confusion—inextricable +confusion worse confounded.</p> + +<p>But the artist who is also a scientist (whether he knows +it or not) discovers that in the seeming confusion, order, +method and law yet reign supreme. And to prove his +point he lifts from the tangle of things one simple, single +scene and shows this, and this alone, in all its full and +rounded completeness—beautiful as a snow-crystal on +the slide of a microscope.</p> + +<p>All art consists in this: to show the harmony of a part. +And having seen the harmony of a part we pass on to a +point where we can guess the harmony of the whole. +Whether you be painter, sculptor, musician or writer, +all your endeavors are toward lifting from the mass of +things a scene, a form, a harmony, a truth, and, +relieving it from all that distracts, catch it in immortal +amber.</p> + +<p>The writer merely unearths truth: truth has always +existed: he lifts it out of the mass, and holding it up +where others can see it, the discerning cry, "Yes, yes—we +recognize it!" The musician takes the sound he +needs from the winds blowing through the forest +branches, constructs a harp strung with Apollo's golden +hair, and behold, we have a symphony! The wrongs of a +<a name="IV_Page_222"></a>race in bondage never touched the hearts of men until a +woman lifted out a single, solitary black man and +showed us the stripes upon the quivering back of Uncle +Tom. One human being nailed to a cross reveals the +concentrated woes of earth; and as we gaze upon the +picture, into our hard hearts there comes creeping a +desire to lessen the sorrows of the world by an increased +love; and a gentleness and sympathy are ours such as +we have never before known.</p> + +<p>Fortuny is king of the modern school of Spanish painters. +His genius made an epoch, and worked a revolution in +the art of his country—and, some have said, in the art +of the time.</p> + +<p>As a nation it may be that Spain is crumbling into dust, +but her rotting ruins will yet fertilize many a bank of +violets. Certain it is that no modern art surpasses the +art of Spain; and for once Italy must go to Spain for +her pattern.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_223"></a></p> +<h2><a name="ARY_SCHEFFER" id="ARY_SCHEFFER"></a>ARY SCHEFFER</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_224"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>The artistic tastes of the Princess, the lofty range of +her understanding, her liberality, and the sterling +benevolence of her mind all combined to engender a +coldness and lack of sympathy between herself and the +persons composing the Court.</p> + +<p>In the heart of the Princess dwelt a deep religious faith, +such as becomes a noble, womanly heart. Nevertheless, +her ardent mind sought to penetrate every mystery, so +she was often accused of being a doubter—when the +reverse was really true.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">—<i>Ary Scheffer to His Brother Arnola</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-8.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-8_th.jpg" alt="ARY SCHEFFER" /></a></p><p class="ctr">ARY SCHEFFER</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_225"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>The artistic evolution of Ary Scheffer +was brought about mainly through +the influence of three women. In the +love of these women he was bathed, +nourished and refreshed; their approbation +gave direction to his efforts; +for them he lived and worked; while +a fourth woman, by her inability +to comprehend the necessities of such a genius, clipped +his wings, so that he fell to earth and his feet mired in +the clay.</p> + +<p>The first factor in the evolution of Scheffer, in point of +both time and importance, was his mother. She was the +flint upon which he tried his steel: his teacher, adviser, +critic, friend. She was a singularly strong and capable +woman, seemingly slight and fragile, but with a deal of +whipcord, sinewy strength in both her physical and +mental fiber.</p> + +<p>No one can study the lives of eminent artists without +being impressed with the fact that the artist is essentially +the child of his mother. The sympathy demanded to +hold a clear, mental conception—the imagination that +sees the whole, even when the first straight line is made—is +the gift of mother to son. She gives him of her +spirit, and he is heir to her love of color, her desire for +harmony and her hunger for sympathy. These, plus his +<a name="IV_Page_226"></a>masculine strength, may allow him to accomplish that +which was to her only a dream.</p> + +<p>If a mother is satisfied with her surroundings, happy in +her environment, and therefore without "a noble discontent," +her children will probably be quite willing to +have a good time on the "unearned increment" that is +their material portion. Her virtue and passive excellence +die with her, and she leaves a brood of mediocrities.</p> + +<p>Were this miraculous scheme of adjustment lacking in +the Eternal Plan, wealth, achievement and talent could +be passed along in a direct line and the good things of +earth be corraled by a single family.</p> + +<p>But Nature knows no law of entail; she does, however, +have her Law of Compensation, and this is the law +which holds in order the balance of things. If a man +accumulates a vast fortune, he probably also breeds +spendthrifts who speedily distribute his riches; if he has +great talent, the talent dies with him, for he only +inspires those who are not of his blood; and if a woman +is deprived of the environment for which her soul yearns, +quite often her children adjust the average by working +out an answer to her prayer.</p> + +<p>When twenty-eight years of age we find Madame +Scheffer a widow, with three sons: by name, Ariel, +Henri and Arnold.</p> + +<p>Madame Scheffer had a little money—not much, but +enough to afford her a small, living income.</p> + +<p>She might have married again, or she could have kept +<a name="IV_Page_227"></a>her little "dot" intact and added interest to principal +by going and living with kinsmen who were quite willing +to care for her and adopt her children.</p> + +<p>But no; she decided to leave the sleepy little Dutch +village where they lived in Holland, and go down to +Paris.</p> + +<p>And so she thrust her frail bark boldly out upon the +tide, hoping and expecting that somewhere and sometime +the Friendly Islands would be reached. She would +spend her last sou in educating her boys, and she knew, +she said, that when that was gone, God would give +them the power and inclination to care for her and +provide for themselves. In short, she tumbled her whole +basket of bread upon the waters, fully confident that it +would come back buttered. Her object in moving to +Paris was that her boys could acquire French, the +language of learning, and also that they might be taught +art.</p> + +<p>And so they moved to the great, strange world of +Paris—Paris the gay, Paris the magnificent, Paris that +laughs and leers and sees men and women go down to +death, and still laughs on.</p> + +<p>They lived, away up and up in a tenement-house, in two +little rooms. There was no servant, and the boys took +hold cheerfully to do the housekeeping, for the mother +wasn't so very strong.</p> + +<p>The first thing was to acquire the French language, and +if you live in Paris the task is easy. You just have to<a name="IV_Page_228"></a>—that's +all.</p> + +<p>Madame Scheffer was an artist of some +little local repute in the village where they had lived, +and she taught her boys the rudiments of drawing.</p> + +<p>Ariel was always called Ary. When he grew to manhood +he adopted this pet name his mother had playfully +given him. He used to call her "Little Mother." +Shortly after reaching Paris, Ary was placed in the +studio of M. Guerin. Arnold showed a liking for the +Oriental languages, and was therefore allowed to follow +the bent of his mind. Henry waxed fat on the crumbs +of learning that Ary brought home.</p> + +<p>And so they lived and worked and studied; very happy, +with only now and then twinges of fear for the future, +for it would look a little black at times, do all they could +to laugh away the clouds. It was a little democracy of +four, with high hopes and lofty ideals. Mutual tasks and +mutual hardships bound them together in a love that +was as strong as it was tender and sweet.</p> + +<p>Two years of Paris life had gone by, and the little fund +that had not been augmented by a single franc in way +of income had dwindled sadly.</p> + +<p>In six months it was gone.</p> + +<p>They were penniless.</p> + +<p>The mother sold her wedding-ring and the brooch her +husband had given her before they were married.</p> + +<p>Then the furniture went to the pawnbroker's, piece by +piece.</p> + +<p>One day Ary came bounding up the stairs, three steps +<a name="IV_Page_229"></a>at a time. He burst into the room and tossed into his +mother's lap fifty francs.</p> + +<p>When he got his breath he explained that he had sold +his first picture.</p> + +<p>Ary, the elder boy, was eighteen; Henri, the younger, +was thirteen. "It was just like a play, you see," said Ary +Scheffer, long years afterward. "When things get +desperate enough they have to mend—they must. The +pictures I painted were pretty bad, but I really believe +they were equal to many that commanded large prices, +and I succeeded in bringing a few buyers around to my +views. Genius may starve in a garret, if alone; but the +genius that would let its best friends starve, too, being +too modest to press its claims, is a little lacking somewhere."</p> + +<p>Young Scheffer worked away at any subject he thought +would sell. He painted just as his teacher, Guerin, told +him, and Guerin painted just like his idol, David, or as +nearly as he could.</p> + +<p>Art had gotten into a fixed groove; laws had been laid +down as to what was classic and what not. Conservatism +was at the helm.</p> + +<p>Art, literature, philosophy, science, even religion, have +their periods of infancy, youth, manhood and decay. +And there comes a time to every school, and every sect, +when it ceases to progress. When it says, "There now, +this is perfection, and he who seeks to improve on it is +anathema," it is dead, and should be buried. But schools +<a name="IV_Page_230"></a>and sects and creeds die hard. Creeds never can be +changed: they simply become obsolete and are forgotten; +they turn to dust and are blown away on the free winds +of heaven.</p> + +<p>The art of the great David had passed into the hands of +imitators. It had become a thing of metes and bounds +and measurements and geometric theorems. Its colors +were made by mixing this with that according to certain +fixed formulas.</p> + +<p>About this time a young playwright by the name of +Victor Hugo was making much din, and the classics as +a consequence were making mighty dole and endeavoring +to hiss him down. The Censor had forbidden a +certain drama of Hugo's to be played until it had been +cut and trimmed and filed and polished, and made just +like all other plays.</p> + +<p>Victor Hugo was the acknowledged leader of the spirit +of protest; in lyric music Rossini led; and Delacroix +raised the standard of revolt in painting. With this new +school, which called itself "Romanticism," Madame +Scheffer and her sons sincerely sympathized. The term +"Romanticism" of itself means little, or nothing, or +everything, but the thing itself is the eternal plea for +the right of the individual—a cry for the privilege to +live your own life and express the truth as you feel it, +all in your own way. It is a revolution that has come a +thousand times, and must and will come again and +again. When custom gets greater than man it must be +<a name="IV_Page_231"></a>broken. The ankylosis of artistic smugness is no new +thing. In heart and taste and ambition Ary and the +Little Mother were one. Madame Scheffer rejoiced in +the revolt she saw in the air against the old and outgrown. +She was a Republican in all her opinions and +ideals; and these feelings she shared with her boys. +They discussed politics and art and religion over the +teacups; and this brave and gentle woman kept intellectual +pace with her sons, who in merry frolic often +carried her about in their arms. Only yesterday, it +seemed to her, she had carried them, and felt upon her +face the soft caress of baby hands. And now one of these +sons stood a foot higher than she.</p> + +<p>Ary Scheffer was tall, slender, with a thoughtful, +handsome face. The habit of close study, and the early +realization of responsibilities had hastened his maturity. +Necessity had sharpened his business sense and given a +practical side to his nature, so he deferred enough to the +old world to secure from it the living that is every +man's due.</p> + +<p>His pictures sold—sold for all they were worth. The +prices were not large, but there was enough money so +that the gaunt wolf that once scratched and sniffed at +the door was no longer to be seen nor heard.</p> + +<p>They had all they needed. The Little Mother was the +banker, and we may safely guess that nothing was +wasted.</p> + +<p>Pupils now came to Ary Scheffer—dull fellows from the +<a name="IV_Page_232"></a>schools, who wished to be coached. Sitters in search of +good portraits, cheap for cash, occasionally climbed the +stairway. The Little Mother dusted about and fixed up +the studio so as to make it look prosperous.</p> + +<p>One fine lady came in a carriage to sit for her portrait. +She gave her wraps into the keeping of the Little Mother +at the door, with an admonitory, "Take care of these, +mind you, or I'll report you to your master."</p> + +<p>The Little Mother bowed low and promised.</p> + +<p>That night when she told at the supper-table how the +fine lady had mistaken her for a servant, Henri said, +"Well, just charge the fine lady fifty francs extra in the +bill for that."</p> + +<p>But Ary would not consent to let the blunder go so +cheaply. When the fine lady came for her next sitting, +the Little Mother was called and advised with at length +as to pose and color-scheme.</p> + +<p>Neither was the advising sham, for Ary deferred to his +mother's judgment in many ways, and no important +step was taken without her approval. They were more +like lovers than mother and son. His treatment of her +was more than affectionate—it was courteous and +deferential, after the manner of men who had ancestors +who were knights of the olden time.</p> + +<p>The desire to sit on a divan and be waited upon is the +distinguishing feature of the heartless mistress of fortune. +Like the jeweled necklace and bands of gold at +wrist and waist, which symbol a time when slavery was +<a name="IV_Page_233"></a>rife and these gauds had a practical meaning, so does +the woman who in bringing men to her feet by beck and +nod tell of animality too coarse for speech.</p> + +<p>But the woman with the great, tender and loving heart +gives her all and asks no idolatrous homage. Her delight +is in serving, and willingly and more than willingly, for +without thought she breaks the vase of precious ointment +and wipes the feet of the beloved with the hairs +of her head.</p> + +<p>Madame Scheffer sought in all ways to serve her sons, +and so we find there was always a gentle rivalry between +Ary and his mother as to who could love most.</p> + +<p>She kept his studio in order, cleaned his brushes and +prepared the canvas. In the middle of the forenoon she +would enter his workroom with tea and toast or other +little delicacies that he liked, and putting the tray down, +would kiss the forehead of the busy worker and gently +tiptoe out.</p> + +<p>When the day's work was done she intelligently criticized +and encouraged; and often she would copy the picture +herself and show how it could be changed for the better +here or there.</p> + +<p>And all this fine, frank, loving companionship so filled +Ary's heart that he put far behind him all thought of a +love for another with its closer tie. He lived and worked +for the Little Mother. They were very happy, for they +were succeeding. They had met the great, cruel world, +the world of Paris that romps and dances and laughs, +<a name="IV_Page_234"></a>and sees struggling and sad-eyed women and men go +down to their death, and still laughs on; they had met +the world in fair fight and they had won.</p> + +<p>The Little Mother had given all for Ary; on his genius +and ability she had staked her fortune and her life.</p> + +<p>And now, although he was not twenty-one, she saw all +that she had given in perfect faith, coming back with +interest ten times compounded.</p> + +<p>The art world of Paris had both recognized and acknowledged +the genius of her boy—with that she was content.<a name="IV_Page_235"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the year Eighteen Hundred Eighteen, we +find General Lafayette writing to Lady +Morgan in reference to a proposed visit to the +Chateau de la Grange. He says: "I do not +think you will find it dull here. Among others of our +household is a talented young painter by the name of +Scheffer."</p> + +<p>Later, Lady Morgan writes to friends in England from +La Grange, "Ary Scheffer, a talented artist, is a member +of our company here at the chateau. He is quite young, +but is already a person of note. He is making a portrait +of the General, and giving lessons to the young ladies in +drawing, and I, too, am availing myself of his tutorship."</p> + +<p>Through his strong Republican tendencies Scheffer had +very naturally drifted into the company of those who +knew Lafayette. The artist knew the history of the +great man and was familiar with his American career. +Scheffer was interested in America, for the radicals +with whom he associated were well aware that there +might come a time when they would have to seek +hastily some hospitable clime where to think was not a +crime. And indeed, it is but natural that those with a +penchant for heresy should locate a friendly shore, just +as professional criminals study the extradition laws.</p> + +<p>Lafayette, Franklin and Washington had long been to +Scheffer a trinity of familiar names, and when an +opportunity came to be introduced to the great<a name="IV_Page_236"></a> +Franco-American patriot he gladly took advantage +of it.</p> + +<p>Lafayette was sixty-one; Scheffer was twenty-three, but +there at once sprang up a warm friendship between +them. Not long after their first meeting Scheffer was +invited to come to La Grange and make it his home as +long as he cared to.</p> + +<p>The Little Mother urged the acceptance of such an +invitation. To associate for a time with the aristocratic +world would give the young man an insight into society +and broaden his horizon.</p> + +<p>In the family of Lafayette, Scheffer mingled on an +equality with the guests. His conversation was earnest, +serious and elevated; and his manner so gracious and +courtly that he won the respect of all he met. Lady +Morgan intimates that his simplicity of manner +tempted the young ladies who were members of his +class in drawing to cut various innocent capers in his +presence, and indulge in sly jokes which never would +have been perpetrated had the tutor been more of a +man of the world.</p> + +<p>It has happened more than once that men of the highest +spirituality have had small respect for religion, as it is +popularly manifested. The machinery of religion and +religion itself are things that are often widely separated; +and Ary Scheffer was too high-minded and noble to +worship the letter and relinquish the spirit that maketh +alive. He was of that type that often goes through the +<a name="IV_Page_237"></a>world scourged by a yearning for peace, and like the +dove sent out from the Ark finding no place to rest. All +about he beheld greed, selfishness, hypocrisy and pretense. +He longed for simplicity and absolute honesty, +and was met by craft and diplomacy. He asked for +religion, and was given a creed.</p> + +<p>And so into the hearts of such as he there comes creeping +a spirit of revolt. Instead of accepting this topsy-turvy +old world and making the best of it, their eyes +are fixed upon an ideal that Heaven alone can realize.</p> + +<p>The home of Lafayette was the rendezvous of the discontented. +Art, literature, politics and religion were all +represented in the parlors of La Grange. Where Franklin +had discoursed Poor Richard philosophy, there now +gathered each Sunday night a company in which "the +greatest of the Americans" would have delighted. For +this company, no question was too sacred for frank and +free discussion.</p> + +<p>It was at the home of Lafayette that Scheffer met +Augustin Thierry, and between these two there grew a +friendship that only death was to divide.</p> + +<p>But there was one other person Scheffer met at La +Grange who was to exercise a profound influence on his +life: this was the Duchess of Orleans. The quiet manliness +of the young artist impressed the future Queen of +France, and he was invited to Neuilly to copy certain +portraits.</p> + +<p>In the year Eighteen Hundred Twenty-six, we find<a name="IV_Page_238"></a> +Scheffer regularly established in the household of the +Duke and Duchess of Orleans, with commissions to +paint portraits of all the members of the family, and +incidentally to give lessons in drawing and mathematics +to the Princess Marie.</p> + +<p>The Princess had been a sore trial to her parents, in that +she had failed to fit into the conventional ways of polite +society. Once she had shocked all Neuilly by donning +man's attire and riding horseback astride. A worthy +priest who had been her tutor had found her tongue too +sharp for his comfort, and had resigned his post in +dismay. The Princess argued religion with the Bishop +and discussed politics with visitors in such a radical way +that her father often turned pale. For the diversions of +society she had a profound contempt that did not fail +to manifest itself in sharp sallies against the smug +hypocrisy of the times. She had read widely, knew +history, was familiar with the poets, and had dived into +the classics to a degree equaled by few women in France. +So keen was her wit that, when pompous dignitaries +dined at Neuilly, her father and mother perspired freely, +not knowing what was coming next. In her character +were traits that surely did not belie her Louis Quatorze +ancestry.</p> + +<p>And yet this father and mother had a certain secret +pride in the accomplishments of their daughter. Parents +always do. Her independence sort of kept them vibrating +between ecstasies of joy and chills of fear.<a name="IV_Page_239"></a></p> + +<p>The Princess was plain in feature but finely formed, and +had attracted the favorable attention of various worthy +young men, but no man had ever dared to make love to +her except by post or proxy. Several lovers had pressed +their claims, making appeal through her father; but the +Duke of Orleans, strong as he was, never had cared to +intimate to his daughter a suggestion as to whom she +should wed. Love to her was a high and holy sacrament, +and a marriage of convenience or diplomacy was to the +mind of the Princess immoral and abhorrent.</p> + +<p>The father knew her views and respected them.</p> + +<p>But happiness is not a matter of intellect. And in spite +of her brilliant, daring mind the Princess of Orleans +was fretting her soul out against the bars of environment: +she lacked employment; she longed to do, to act, +to be.</p> + +<p>She had ambitions in the line of art, and believed she +had talent that was worth cultivating.</p> + +<p>And so it was that Ary Scheffer, the acknowledged man +of talent, was invited to Neuilly.</p> + +<p>He came.</p> + +<p>He was twenty-nine years of age; the Princess was +twenty-five.</p> + +<p>The ennui of unused powers and corroding heart-hunger +had made the Princess old before her time. Scheffer's +fight with adversity had long before robbed him of his +youth.</p> + +<p>These two eyed each other curiously.<a name="IV_Page_240"></a></p> + +<p>The gentle, mild-voiced artist knew his place and did +not presume on terms of equality with the Princess who +traced a direct pedigree to Louis the Great. He thought +to wait and allow her gradually to show her quality.</p> + +<p>She tried her caustic wit upon him, and he looked at her +out of mild blue eyes and made no reply. He had no +intention of competing with her on her own preserve; +and he had a pride in his profession that equaled her +pride of birth.</p> + +<p>He looked at her—just looked at her in silence. And this +spoilt child, before whom all others quailed, turned +scarlet, stammered and made apology.</p> + +<p>In good sooth, she had played tierce and thrust with +every man she had met, and had come off without a +scar; but here was a man of pride and poise, and yet far +beneath her in a social way, and he had rebuked her +haughty spirit by a simple look.</p> + +<p>A London lawyer has recently put in a defense for wife-beating, +on the grounds that there are women who +should be chastised for their own good. I do not go quite +this far, but from the time Scheffer rebuked the Princess +of Orleans by refusing to reply to her saucy tongue there +was a perfect understanding between them. The young +woman listened respectfully if he spoke, and when he +painted followed his work with eager eyes.</p> + +<p>At last she had met one who was not intent on truckling +for place and pelf. His ideals were as high and excellent +as her own—his mind more sincere. Life was more to +<a name="IV_Page_241"></a>him than to her, because he was working his energies +up into art, and she was only allowing her powers to +rust.</p> + +<p>She followed him dumbly, devotedly.</p> + +<p>He wished to treat her as an honored pupil and with the +deference that was her due, but she insisted that they +should study and work as equals.</p> + +<p>Instead of giving the young woman lessons to learn, +they studied together. Her task as pupil was to read to +him two hours daily as he worked, and things she did +not fully understand he explained.</p> + +<p>The Princess made small progress as a painter, probably +because her teacher was so much beyond her that she +was discouraged at thought of equaling him; and feeling +that in so many other ways they were equals, she lost +heart in trying to follow him in this.</p> + +<p>At length, weary of attempts at indifferent drawing, the +Princess begged her tutor to suggest some occupation +for her where they could start afresh and work out +problems together. Scheffer suggested modeling in clay, +and the subject was taken up with avidity.</p> + +<p>The Princess developed a regular passion for the work, +and group after group was done. Among other figures +she attempted was an equestrian statue of Joan of Arc.</p> + +<p>This work was cast in bronze and now occupies an +honored place at Versailles.</p> + +<p>So thoroughly did the young woman enter into the +spirit of sculpture that she soon surpassed Scheffer in this +<a name="IV_Page_242"></a>particular line; but to him she gave all credit.</p> + +<p>Her success was a delight to her parents, who saw with +relief that the carping spirit of cynicism was gone from +her mind, and instead had come a kindly graciousness +that won all hearts.</p> + +<p>In the ability to think and act with independence there +was something decidedly masculine in the spirit of the +Princess Marie; and, as I have shown, Scheffer possessed +a sympathy and gentleness that was essentially +feminine (which is quite a different thing from being +effeminate). These two souls complemented each other, +and their thoughts being fixed on similar ideals, how +can we wonder that a very firm affection blossomed into +being?</p> + +<p>But the secret of their love has never been written, and +base would be the pen that would attempt to picture +it in detail.</p> + +<p>Take off thy shoes, for the place whereon thou standest +is holy ground.</p> + +<p>The Duke and Duchess admired Scheffer, but never +quite forgot that he was in their employ, and all their +attempts to treat him as an equal revealed the effort. +It was as though they had said: "You are lowly bred, +and work with your hands, and receive a weekly wage, +but these things are nothing to us. We will not think less +of you, for see, do we not invite you to our board?"</p> + +<p>The aristocracy of birth is very seldom willing to +acknowledge the aristocracy of brain. And the man of +<a name="IV_Page_243"></a>brains, if lowly born, has a mild indifference, at least, +for all the gilt and gaud of royalty. The Prince of Wales +does not recognize the nobility of Israel Zangwill; and +Israel Zangwill asks in bored indifference, "Who—who +is this man you call H. R. H.?"</p> + +<p>But love is greater than man-made titles, and when was +there ever a difference in station able to separate hearts +that throbbed only for each other?</p> + +<p>Possibly even the stern old Duke might have relented +and given his blessing were it not that events of mighty +importance came seething across the face of France, +and duties to his country outweighed the duties to his +daughter.</p> + +<p>On the Thirtieth day of July, Eighteen Hundred Thirty, +Ary Scheffer was at the house of his mother in Paris. A +hurried knock came at the door, and Ary answered it in +person. There on the threshold stood M. Thiers.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Scheffer! it is you, how fortunate! you are a +member of the household of Orleans, and I have a most +important message for the Duke. You must go with me +and deliver it to him."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Scheffer; "the Convention has named the +Duke as King of France, and we are to notify him."</p> + +<p>"Exactly so," said Thiers.</p> + +<p>Horses were at the door: they mounted and rode away. +The streets were barricaded, so carriages were out of the +question, but Scheffer and Thiers leaped the barricades, +and after several minor mishaps found themselves +<a name="IV_Page_244"></a>safely out of Paris.</p> + +<p>The call was not entirely unexpected +on the part of the Duke. Scheffer addressed him +as "Le Roi," and this told all.</p> + +<p>The Duke hesitated, but finally decided to accept the +mission, fraught with such mighty import. He started +in disguise for Paris that night on foot.</p> + +<p>At the back entrance of the Palais Royal stood Ary +Scheffer, and saw Louis Philippe mingle with the crowd, +unrecognized—then pass into the palace—this palace +that was his birthplace.</p> + +<p>The next day Louis appeared with Lafayette on a +balcony of the Hotel de Ville, and these two embraced +each other in sight of the multitude.</p> + +<p>It is not for me to write a history of those troublous +times, but suffice it to say that the "Citizen King" +ruled France probably as well as any other man could +have done. His task was a most difficult one, for he had +to be both king and citizen—to please Royalist and +Populist alike.</p> + +<p>This sudden turn of the political kaleidoscope was a +pivotal point in the life of Ary Scheffer. So long as the +Duke of Orleans was a simple country gentleman, +Scheffer was the intimate friend of the family, but how +could the King of France admit into his family circle a +mere low-born painter? Certainly not they who are +descended from kings!</p> + +<p>Orders were issued by the government to Scheffer to +paint certain pictures, and vouchers reached him from +<a name="IV_Page_245"></a>official sources, but he was made to understand that +friendship with the household of a king was not for him. +Possibly he had been too much mixed up with the +people in a political way! The favor of the populace is a +thing monarchs jealously note, as mariners on a lee +shore watch the wind.</p> + +<p>The father of Louis Philippe was descended from a +brother of Louis the Great, while on his mother's side +he was a direct descendant of the great monarch and +Madame de Montespan. Such an inbred claim to royalty +was something of which to boast, but at the same time +Louis Philippe was painfully sensitive as to the blot +on the 'scutcheon.</p> + +<p>The Princess Marie knew the slender tenure by which +her father held his place, and although her heart was +wrung by the separation from her lover, she was loyal +to duty as she saw it, and made no sign that might +embarrass the Citizen King.</p> + +<p>Arnold and Henri Scheffer were each married, and +working out careers. Ary and his mother lived together, +loving and devoted. And into the keeping of this mother +had come a grandchild—a beautiful girl-baby. They +called her name Cornelie. About the mother of Cornelie +the grandmother was not curious. It was enough to +know that the child was the child of her son, and upon +the babe she lavished all the loving tenderness of her +great, welling, mother heart. She had no words but +those of gentleness and love for the son that had brought +<a name="IV_Page_246"></a>this charge to her. And did she guess that this child +would be the sustaining prop for her son when she, +herself, was gone?</p> + +<p>All this time the poor Princess Marie was practically a +prisoner in the great palace, wearing out her heart, a +slave to what she considered duty. She grew ill, and all +efforts of her physicians to arouse her from her melancholy +were in vain.</p> + +<p>Her death was a severe shock to poor Scheffer. For some +months friends feared for his sanity, for he would only +busy his brush with scenes from Faust, or religious +subjects that bordered on morbidity. Again and again +he painted "Marguerite in Prison," "Marguerite Waiting," +"Marguerite in Paradise" and "Mignon." Into +all of his work he infused that depth of tenderness which +has given the critics their cue for accusing him of +"sentimentality gone mad." And in fact no one can +look upon any of the works of Scheffer, done after +Eighteen Hundred Thirty, without being profoundly +impressed with the brooding sadness that covers all as +with a garment.</p> + +<p>From the time he met the Princess of Orleans there came +a decided evolution in his art; but it was not until she +had passed away that one could pick out an unsigned +canvas and say positively, "This is Scheffer's!"</p> + +<p>In all his work you see that look of soul, and in his best +you behold a use of the blue background that rivals the +blue of heaven. No other painter that I can recall has +<a name="IV_Page_247"></a>gotten such effects from colors so simple.</p> + +<p>But Scheffer's +life was not all sadness. For even when the Little Mother +had passed away, Ary Scheffer wrote calmly to his +friend August Thierry: "I yet have my daughter +Cornelie, and were it not for her I fear my work would +be a thing of the past; but with her I still feel that God +exists. My life is filled with love and light."<a name="IV_Page_248"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was a curious circumstance that Ary +Scheffer, who conducted the Citizen King to +Paris, was to lead him away.</p> + +<p>Scheffer was a Captain in the National Guard, +and when the stormy times of Eighteen Hundred Forty-eight +came, he put away his brushes, locked his studio, +and joined his regiment.</p> + +<p>Louis Philippe had begun as a "citizen"—one of the +people—and following the usual course had developed +into a monarch with a monarch's indifference to the good +of the individual.</p> + +<p>The people clamored for a republic, and agitation soon +developed into revolution. On the morning of the +Twenty-fourth of February, Eighteen Hundred Forty-eight, +Scheffer met the son of Lafayette, who was also +an officer in the National Guard.</p> + +<p>"How curious," said Lafayette, "that we should be +protecting a King for whom we have so little respect!"</p> + +<p>"Still, we will do our duty," answered Scheffer.</p> + +<p>They made their way to the Tuileries, and posted themselves +on the terrace beneath the windows of the King's +private apartments. As they sat on the steps in the wan +light of breaking day. Scheffer heard some one softly +calling his name. He listened and the call was repeated.</p> + +<p>"Who wants me?" answered Scheffer.</p> + +<p>"'Tis I, the Queen!" came the answer.</p> + +<p>Scheffer looked up and at the lattice of the window saw +the white face of the woman he had known so well and +<a name="IV_Page_249"></a>intimately for a full score of years.</p> + +<p>The terror of the +occasion did away with all courtly etiquette.</p> + +<p>"Who is with you?" asked the Queen.</p> + +<p>"Only Lafayette," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"Come in at once, both of you. The King has abdicated +and you must conduct us to a place of safety."</p> + +<p>Scheffer and his companion ran up the steps, the +Queen unbolted the door with her own hands, and they +entered. Inside the hallway they found Louis Philippe +dressed as for a journey, with no sign of kingly trappings. +With them were their sons and several grandchildren.</p> + +<p>They filed out of the palace, through the garden, and +into the Place de la Concorde—that spot of ghastly +memories.</p> + +<p>The King looked about nervously. Some of the mob +recognized him.</p> + +<p>Scheffer concluded that a bold way was the best, and +stepping ahead of Louis Philippe, called in a voice of +authority, "Make way—make way for the King!"</p> + +<p>The crowd parted dumb with incredulity at the +strange sight.</p> + +<p>By the fountain in the square stood a public carriage, +and into this shabby vehicle of the night the royal +passengers were packed.</p> + +<p>Dumas, who had followed the procession, mounted the +box.</p> + +<p>Scheffer gave a quick whispered order to the driver, +closed the door with a slam, lifted his hat, and the +<a name="IV_Page_250"></a>vehicle rumbled away towards the Quai.</p> + +<p>When Scheffer got back to the Tuileries the mob had broken +in the iron gates at the front of the gardens, and was +surging through the palace in wild disorder.</p> + +<p>Scheffer hastened home to tell Cornelie the news of the +night.<a name="IV_Page_251"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When the Little Mother died, a daughter of +Henri Scheffer came to join the household of +Ary Scheffer. The name of this niece was also +Cornelie.</p> + +<p>The fact of there being two young women in the house +by one name has led to confusion among the biographers. +And thus it happens that at least four encyclopedias +record that Ernest Renan married the daughter +of Ary Scheffer. Renan married the niece, and the fact +that they named their first child Ary helped, possibly, +to confirm the error of the biographers.</p> + +<p>Scheffer's life was devoted to providing for and educating +these young women. He himself gave them +lessons in the languages, in music, painting and +sculpture. The daughter was a handsome girl; and in +point of intellect kept her artist-father very busy to +keep one lesson in advance. Together they painted and +modeled in clay, and the happiness that came to +Scheffer as he saw her powers unfold was the sweetest +experience he had ever known.</p> + +<p>The coldness between himself and the King had +increased. But Louis Philippe did not forget him, for +commissions came, one after another, for work to cover +the walls of the palace at Versailles. With the Queen his +relations were friendly—even intimate. Several times +she came to his house. Her interest in Cornelie was +tender and strong, and when Scheffer painted a "Mignon" +and took Cornelie for a model, the Queen insisted +<a name="IV_Page_252"></a>on having the picture and paying her own price—a +figure quite beyond what the artist asked.</p> + +<p>This picture, which represents so vividly the profound +pathos and depth of soul which Ary Scheffer could put +upon a canvas, can now be seen in the Louvre. But the +best collection of Scheffer's portraits and historical +pictures is at Versailles.</p> + +<p>In the gentle companionship of his beloved daughter, +Scheffer found the meed of joy that was his due. With +her he lived over the days that had gone forever, and +those other days that might have been.</p> + +<p>And when the inevitable came and this daughter loved +a worthy and suitable young man, Scheffer bowed his +head, and fighting hard to keep back the tears gave the +pair his blessing.</p> + +<p>The marriage of Doctor Marjolin and Cornelie Scheffer +was a happy mating; and both honored the gifted father +and ministered to him in every kindly way.</p> + +<p>But so susceptible was Scheffer's nature that when his +daughter had given her whole heart to another, the fine +edge of his art was dulled and blunted. He painted +through habit, and the work had merit, but only at rare +intervals was there in it that undefinable something +which all can recognize, but none analyze, that stamps +the product as great art.<a name="IV_Page_253"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When, in the year Eighteen Hundred Fifty, +Scheffer married, it was the death of his art.</p> + +<p>The artist does business on a very small +margin of inspiration. Do you understand +me? The man of genius is not a genius all the time. +Usually he is only a very ordinary individual. There +may be days or weeks that are fallow, and sometimes +even years that are years of famine. He can not conquer +the mood of depression that is holding him to earth.</p> + +<p>But some day the clouds suddenly clear away, the sun +bursts out, and the soul of the man is alive with divine +fervor. Sublime thoughts crowd upon him, great waves +of emotion sweep over his soul, and as Webster said of +his Hayne speech, "The air was full of reasons, and all +I had to do was to reach up and seize them."</p> + +<p>All great music and all deathless poems are written in a +fever of ecstasy; all paintings that move men to tears +are painted in tears.</p> + +<p>But it is easy to break in upon the sublime mood and +drag the genius back to earth. Certain country cousins +who occasionally visited the family of Ralph Waldo +Emerson cut all mental work off short; the philosopher +laid down his pen when the cousins came a-cousining +and literally took to the woods. An uncongenial caller +would instantly unhorse Carlyle, and Tennyson had a +hatred of all lion-hunters—not merely because they +were lion-hunters, but because they broke in upon his +paradise and snapped the thread of inspiration.<a name="IV_Page_254"></a></p> + +<p>Mrs. Grote tells us that Scheffer's wife was intelligent +and devoted—in fact, she was too devoted. She would +bring her sewing and watch the artist at his work. If the +great man grew oblivious of her presence she gently +chided him for it; she was jealous of his brothers, +jealous of his daughter, even jealous of his art. She +insisted not only that he should love her, but demanded +that he should love nothing else. And yet all the time +she was putting forth violent efforts to make him happy. +As a result she put him in a mood where he loved nothing +and nobody. She clipped his wings, and instead of a +soaring genius we find a whimsical, commonplace man +with occupation gone.</p> + +<p>Wives demand the society of their husbands as their +lawful right, and I suppose it is expecting too much to +suppose that any woman, short of a saint, could fit into +the bachelor ways of a dreamer of dreams, aged fifty-five.</p> + +<p>Before he met the widow of General Beaudrand, Scheffer +was happy, with a sweet, sad happiness in the memories +of the love of his youth—the love that was lost, and +being lost still lived and filled his heart.</p> + +<p>But the society of the widow was agreeable, her conversation +vivacious. He decided that this being so it +might be better still to have her by him all the time. +And this was what the lady desired, for it was she who +did the courting.</p> + +<p>Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "Because I like an +<a name="IV_Page_255"></a>occasional pinch of salt is no reason why you should +immerse me in brine," but Ary Scheffer, the mild, gentle +and guileless, did not reason quite so far.</p> + +<p>The vivacious Sophie took him captive, and he was +shorn of his strength. And no doubt the ex-widow was as +much disappointed as he; there really was no good +reason why he should not paint better than ever, when +here he wouldn't work at all! Lawks-a-daisy!</p> + +<p>His spirit beat itself out against the bars, health +declined, and although he occasionally made groggy +efforts to shake himself back into form, his heart was +not in his work.</p> + +<p>Seven years went dragging by, and one morning there +came word from London that the Duchess of Orleans, +the mother of the beloved Marie, was dying. Scheffer +was ill, but he braced himself for the effort, and hastily +started away alone, leaving a note for Cornelie.</p> + +<p>He arrived in England in time to attend the funeral of +his lifelong friend, and then he himself was seized with a +deadly illness.</p> + +<p>His daughter was sent for, and when she came the sick +man's longing desire was to get back to France. If he +was to die, he wanted to die at home. "To die at home +at last," is the prayer of every wanderer. Ary Scheffer's +prayer was answered. He expired in the arms of his +beloved daughter on June Fifteenth, Eighteen Hundred +Fifty-eight, aged sixty-three years.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_256"></a></p><p><a name="IV_Page_257"></a></p> +<h2><a name="FRANCOIS_MILLET" id="FRANCOIS_MILLET"></a>FRANCOIS MILLET</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_258"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>When I meet a laborer on the edge of a field, I stop and +look at the man: born amid the grain where he will be +reaped, and turning up with his plow the ground of his +tomb, mixing his burning sweat with the icy rain of +Autumn. The furrow he has just turned is a monument +that will outlive him. I have seen the pyramids of Egypt, +and the forgotten furrows of our heather: both alike +bear witness to the work of man and the shortness of +his days.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">—<i>Chateaubriand</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-9.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-9_th.jpg" alt="FRANCOIS MILLET" /></a></p><p class="ctr">FRANCOIS MILLET</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_259"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>Jean Francois Millet is to art +what Wagner is to music, or what +Whitman is to poetry. These men, +one a Frenchman, another a German, +the third an American, taught +the same gospel at the same time, +using different languages, and each +quite unaware of the existence of +the others. They were all revolutionaries; and success +came so tardily to them that flattery did not taint their +native genius.</p> + +<p>"Great men never come singly," says Emerson.</p> + +<p>Richard Wagner was born in the year Eighteen Hundred +Thirteen, Millet in Eighteen Hundred Fourteen, +and Whitman in Eighteen Hundred Nineteen. "Tannhauser" +was first produced in Eighteen Hundred Forty-five; +the "Sower" was exhibited in Eighteen Hundred +Fifty; and in Eighteen Hundred Fifty-five "Leaves of +Grass" appeared.</p> + +<p>The reception accorded to each masterpiece was about +the same; and all would have fallen flat had it not been +for the gibes and jeers and laughter which the work +called forth.</p> + +<p>Wagner was arrested for being an alleged rioter; Whitman +was ejected from his clerkship and his book looked +after by the Attorney-General of Massachusetts; Millet +<a name="IV_Page_260"></a>was hooted by his fellow-students and dubbed the +Wild-Man-of-the-Woods.</p> + +<p>In a letter to Pelloquet, Millet says, "The creations +that I depict must have the air of being native to their +situation, so that no one looking on them shall imagine +they are anything else than what they are."</p> + +<p>In his first preface to "Leaves of Grass," Whitman writes: "The art of +arts, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters is +simplicity. * * * To speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and +insouciance of the movement of animals and the unimpeachableness of the +sentiment of trees in the woods and grass by the roadside, is the flawless +triumph of art."</p> + +<p>Wagner wrote in an Essay on Art:</p> + +<p>"The Greek, proceeding from the bosom of Nature, +attained to Art when he had made himself independent +of the immediate influences of Nature.</p> + +<p>"We, violently debarred from Nature, and proceeding +from the dull ground of a Heaven-rid and juristic +civilization, first reach Art when we completely turn +our backs on such a civilization, and once more cast +ourselves, with conscious bent, into the arms of Nature."</p> + +<p>Men high in power, deceived by the "lack of form," +the innocent naivete as of childhood, the simple homeliness +of expression, the absence of effort, declared again +and again that Millet's work was not art, nor Wagner's +"recurring theme" true music, nor Whitman's rhymeless +<a name="IV_Page_261"></a>lines poetry. The critics refused to recognize that which +was not labored: where no violence of direction was +shown they saw no art. To follow close to Nature is to +be considered rude by some—it indicates a lack of +"culture."</p> + +<p>Millet, Wagner and Whitman lived in the open air; +with towns and cities they had small sympathy; they +felt themselves no better and no wiser than common +folks; they associated with working men and toiling +women; they had no definite ideas as to who were +"bad" and who "good."</p> + +<p>They are frank, primitive, simple. They are masculine—and +in their actions you never get a trace of coyness, +hesitancy, affectation or trifling coquetry. They have +nothing to conceal: they look at you out of frank, open +eyes. They know the pains of earth too well to dance +nimbly through life and laugh the hours away. They are +sober, serious, earnest, but not grim. Their faces are +bronzed by sun and wind; their hands are not concealed +by gloves; their shirts are open to the breast, as though +they wanted room to breathe deeply and full; the boots +they wear are coarse and thick-soled, as if the wearer +had come from afar and yet had many long miles to go. +But the two things that impress you most are: they are +in no haste; and they are unafraid.</p> + +<p>All can approach such men as these. Possibly the smug +and self-satisfied do not care to; but men in distress—those +who are worn, or old, or misunderstood—children, +<a name="IV_Page_262"></a>outcasts, those far from home and who long to get back, +silently slip weak hands in theirs and ask, "May we +go your way?"</p> + +<p>Can you read "Captain, My Captain," or listen to the +"Pilgrims' Chorus," or look upon "The Man With the +Hoe" without tears?</p> + +<p>And so we will continue our little journey.<a name="IV_Page_263"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Charles Warren Stoddard relates +that in one of the far-off islands of the South +Sea, he found savages so untouched by civilization +that they did not know enough to +tell a lie. It was somewhat such a savage as this with +whom we have to deal.</p> + +<p>He was nineteen years old, six feet high, weighed one +hundred sixty pounds, and as he had never shaved, had +a downy beard all over his face. His great shock of +brown hair tumbled to his shoulders. His face was +bronzed, his hands big and bony, and his dark gray eyes +looked out of their calm depths straight into yours—eyes +that did not blink, eyes of love and patience, eyes +like the eyes of an animal that does not know enough +to fear.</p> + +<p>He was the son of a peasant, and the descendant of a +long line of peasants, who lived on the coast of Normandy—plain, +toiling peasants whose lives were deeply +rooted into the rocky soil that gave them scanty +sustenance. If they ever journeyed it was as sailors—going +out with the tide—and if they did not come back +it was only because those who go down to the sea in +ships sometimes never do.</p> + +<p>And now this first-born of the peasant flock was going to +leave his native village of Gruchy.</p> + +<p>He was clad in a new suit of clothes, spun, woven, cut +and sewed by the hands of his grandmother.</p> + +<p>He was going away, and his belongings were all packed +<a name="IV_Page_264"></a>in a sailor's canvas bag; but he was not going to sea.</p> + +<p>Great had been the preparations for this journey.</p> + +<p>The family was very poor: the father a day-laborer and +farmer; the mother worked in the fields, and as the +children grew up they too worked in the fields; and after +a high tide the whole family hurried to the seashore to +gather up the "varech," and carry it home for fertilizer, +so that the rocky hillside might next Summer laugh a +harvest.</p> + +<p>And while the father and the mother toiled in the fields, +or gathered the varech, or fished for shrimps, the old +grandmother looked after the children at home. The +grandmother in such homes is the real mother of the +flock: the mother who bore the children has no time to +manifest mother-love; it is the grandmother who nurses +the stone-bruises, picks out the slivers, kisses away the +sorrows, gladdens young hearts by her simple stories, +and rocks in her strong, old arms the babe, as she croons +and quavers a song of love and duty.</p> + +<p>And so the old grandmother had seen "her baby" +grow to a man, and with her own hands she had made +his clothes, and all the savings of her years had been +sewed into a belt and given to the boy.</p> + +<p>And now he was going away.</p> + +<p>He was going away—going because she and she alone +had urged it. She had argued and pleaded, and when she +won the village priest over to her side, and Father +Lebrisseau in his turn had won several influential +<a name="IV_Page_265"></a>men—why, it must be!</p> + +<p>The boy could draw: he could +draw so well that he some day would be a great artist—Langlois, +the drawing-master at Cherbourg, ten miles +away, said so.</p> + +<p>What if they were only poor peasants and there never +had been a painter in the family! There would be now. +So the priest had contributed from his own purse; and +the Councilmen of Cherbourg had promised to help; +and the grandmother had some silver of her own.</p> + +<p>Jean Francois Millet was going to Paris to study to be +an artist.</p> + +<p>Tears rained down the wrinkled, leathery cheeks of the +old grandmother; the mother stood by dazed and dumb, +nursing a six-months-old babe; children of various ages +hung to the skirts of mother and grandmother, tearful +and mystified; the father leaned on the gate, smoking a +pipe, displaying a stolidity he did not feel.</p> + +<p>The diligence swung around the corner and came +rattling down the single, stony, narrow street of the +little village. The driver hardly deigned to stop for such +common folks as these; but the grandmother waved her +apron, and then, as if jealous of a service some one else +might render, she seized one end of the canvas bag and +helped the brown young man pass it up to the top of the +diligence. Jean Francois climbed up after, carrying a +little prayer-book that had been thrust into his hands—a +final parting gift of the grandmother.</p> + +<p>The driver cracked his whip and away they went.<a name="IV_Page_266"></a></p> + +<p>As the diligence passed the rectory, Father Lebrisseau +came out and held up a crucifix; the young man took off +his cap and bowed his head.</p> + +<p>The group of watchers moved out into the roadway. +They strained their eyes in the direction of the receding +vehicle.<a name="IV_Page_267"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>After a three days' ride, Jean Francois was +in Paris. The early winter night was settling +down, and the air was full of fog and sleet.</p> + +<p>The young man was sore from the long jolting. +His bones ached, and the damp and cold had hunted +out every part of his sturdy frame.</p> + +<p>The crowds that surged through the street hurrying for +home and fireside after the day's work were impatient.</p> + +<p>"Don't block the way, Johnny Crapaud!" called a +girl with a shawl over her head; and with the combined +shove and push of those behind, the sabot-shod young +man was shouldered into the street.</p> + +<p>There he stood dazed and bereft, with the sailor's bag +on his back.</p> + +<p>"Where do you wish to go?" asked a gendarme, not +unkindly.</p> + +<p>"Back to Gruchy," came the answer.</p> + +<p>And the young man went into the diligence office and +asked when the next stage started.</p> + +<p>It did not go until the following morning. He would have +to stay somewhere all night.</p> + +<p>The policeman outside the door directed him to a +modest tavern.</p> + +<p>Next morning things looked a little better. The sun had +come out and the air was crisp. The crowds in the street +did not look quite so cold and mean.</p> + +<p>After hunger had been satisfied, "Johnny Crapaud" +concluded to stay long enough to catch a glimpse of the<a name="IV_Page_268"></a> +Louvre, that marvel of marvels! The Louvre had been +glowingly described to him by his old drawing-master at +Cherbourg. Visions of the Louvre had been in his mind +for weeks and months, and now his hopes were soon to +be realized. In an hour perhaps he would stand and look +upon a canvas painted by Rubens, the immortal Rubens!</p> + +<p>His enthusiasm grew warm.</p> + +<p>The girl who had served him with coffee stood near and +was looking at him with a sort of silent admiration, such +as she might bestow upon a curious animal.</p> + +<p>He looked up; their eyes met.</p> + +<p>"Is it true—is it true that there are pictures by Rubens +in the Louvre?" asked the young man.</p> + +<p>The oddity of the question from such a being and the +queer Normandy accent amused the girl, and she burst +out laughing. She did not answer the question, but going +over to a man seated at another table whispered to him. +Then they both looked at the queer youth and laughed.</p> + +<p>The young countryman did not know what they +were laughing at—probably they did not, either—but +he flushed scarlet, and soon made his way out into the +street, his luggage on his back. He wanted to go to the +Louvre, but dare not ask the way—he did not care to +be laughed at.</p> + +<p>And so he wandered forth.</p> + +<p>The shops were very marvelous, and now and again he +lingered long before some window where colored prints +and paintings were displayed. He wondered if the places +<a name="IV_Page_269"></a>were artists' studios; and at one place as he looked at a +series of sketches the thought came to him that he +himself could do better.</p> + +<p>This gave him courage, and stepping inside the door he +set down his bag and told the astonished shopkeeper +that the pictures in the window were very bad—he +could paint better ones—would the proprietor not hire +him to paint pictures? He would work cheap, and labor +faithfully.</p> + +<p>He was hastily hustled out into the street—to harbor +lunatics was dangerous.</p> + +<p>So he trudged on—looking for the Louvre.</p> + +<p>Night came and the search was without reward.</p> + +<p>Seeing a sign of "Apartments for single gentlemen," he +applied and was shown a modest room that seemed +within his means. The landlady was very kind; in fact, +she knew people at Gruchy and had often been to +Cherbourg—her uncle lived there.</p> + +<p>Jean Francois felt relieved to find that even in busy, +bustling, frivolous Paris there were friendly people; and +when the kind lady suggested that pickpockets in the +streets were numerous, and that he had better give his +money over to her for safekeeping, he handed out his +store of three hundred francs without question.</p> + +<p>He never saw his money again.</p> + +<p>The next day he still sought the Louvre—not caring to +reveal his ignorance by asking the way.</p> + +<p>It was several days before Fate led him along the Seine +<a name="IV_Page_270"></a>and he found himself on the Pont Neuf. The palace +stretching out before him had a familiar look. He +stopped and stared. There were the palaces where +history had been made. He knew the Tuileries and he +knew the Louvre—he had seen pictures of both.</p> + +<p>He walked out across the Place de la Concorde, and +seeing others enter, made his way through the gates of +the sacred precinct.</p> + +<p>He was in the Palace of the Louvre; he had found the +way, unaided and alone.</p> + +<p>His deep religious nature was moved, and taking off his +cap he crossed himself in a silent prayer of gratitude.</p> + +<p>What his sensations were he partially pictured to his +friend Sensier thirty years after: "It seemed as though +I had at last attained, achieved. My feelings were too +great for words, and I closed my eyes, lest I be dazzled +by the sight and then dare not open them lest I should +find it all a dream. And if I ever reach Paradise I know +my joy will be no greater than it was that first morning +when I realized that I stood within the Louvre Palace."</p> + +<p>For a week Millet visited the Louvre every day.</p> + +<p>When the doors were unlocked each morning he was +waiting on the steps; and he did not leave in the afternoon +until the attendant warned him it was time to go.</p> + +<p>He lingered long before the "Raffaellos" and stood +in the "Rubens Gallery" dumb with wonder and +admiration.</p> + +<p>There were various people copying pictures here and +<a name="IV_Page_271"></a>there. He watched them furtively, and after seeing one +young man working at an easel in a certain place for a +week, he approached and talked with him.</p> + +<p>Jean Francois told his history and the young man +listened patiently. He advised that it would be foolish +to go back to Gruchy at once. The youth should go to +some master and show what he could do—remain and +study for a little while at least; in fact, he himself would +take him to Delaroche. Things looked brighter; and +arrangements were made to meet on the morrow and go +interview the master.</p> + +<p>Delaroche was found and proved kindly. He examined +the two sketches that Jean Francois submitted, asked a +few questions, and graciously led the new applicant +into the atelier, where a score of young men were +sketching, and set him to work.</p> + +<p>The letter written by Jean to the good old grandmother +that night hinted at great plans for the future, and told +of love, and of hope that was dauntless.<a name="IV_Page_272"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Twelve years were spent by Jean Francois +in Paris—years of biting poverty and grim +endurance: the sport and prey of Fate: the +butt and byword of the fashionable, artistic +world.</p> + +<p>Jean Francois did not belong in Paris: how can +robins build nests in omnibuses?</p> + +<p>He was at war with his environment; and the stern +Puritan bias of his nature refused to conform to the +free and easy ways of the gay metropolis. He sighed for +a sight of the sea, and longed for the fields and homely +companionship that Normandy held in store.</p> + +<p>So we find him renouncing Paris life and going back to +his own.</p> + +<p>The grandmother greeted him as one who had won, +but his father and mother, and he, himself, called it +failure.</p> + +<p>He started to work in the fields and fell fainting to the +earth.</p> + +<p>"He has been starved," said the village doctor. But +when hunger had been appeased and strength came +back, ambition, too, returned.</p> + +<p>He would be an artist yet.</p> + +<p>A commission for a group of family portraits came from +a rich family at Cherbourg. Gladly he hastened thence +to do the work.</p> + +<p>While in Cherbourg he found lodgings in the household +of a widow who had a daughter. The widow courted the +fine young painter-man—courted him for the daughter.<a name="IV_Page_273"></a> +The daughter married him. A strong, simple man, +unversed in the sophistry of society, loves the first +woman he meets, provided, of course, she shows toward +him a bit of soft, feminine sympathy. This accounts for +the ease with which very young men so often fall in +love with middle-aged women. The woman does the +courting; the man idealizes, and endows the woman +with all the virtues his imagination can conjure forth. +Love is a matter of propinquity.</p> + +<p>The wife of Jean Francois was neutral salts. She desired, +no doubt, to do what was right and best, but she had no +insight into her husband's needs, and was incapable of +guessing his latent genius.</p> + +<p>As for the new wife's mother and kinsmen, they regarded +Jean Francois as simply lazy, and thought to crowd him +into useful industry. He could paint houses or wagons, +and, then, didn't the shipyard folks employ painters?</p> + +<p>Well, I guess so.</p> + +<p>Jean Francois still dreamed of art.</p> + +<p>He longed to express himself—to picture on canvas the +emotions that surged through his soul.</p> + +<p>Disillusionment had come, and he now saw that his +wife was his mate only because the Church and State +said so. But his sense of duty was firm, and the thought +of leaving her behind never came to him.</p> + +<p>The portraits were painted—the money in his pocket; +and to escape the importunities and jeers of his wife's +relatives he decided to try Paris once more.<a name="IV_Page_274"></a></p> + +<p>The wife was willing. Paris was the gateway to pleasure +and ambition.</p> + +<p>But the gaiety of Paris was not for her. On a scanty +allowance of bread one can not be so very gay—and +often there was no fuel.</p> + +<p>Jean Francois copied pictures in the Louvre and hawked +them among the dealers, selling for anything that was +offered.</p> + +<p>Delaroche sent for him. "Why do you no longer come +to my atelier?" said the master.</p> + +<p>"I have no money to pay tuition," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"Never mind; I'll be honored to have you work here."</p> + +<p>So Jean Francois worked with the students of +Delaroche; and a few respected his work and tried to +help market his wares. But connoisseurs shook their +heads, and dealers smiled at "the eccentricities of +genius," and bought only conventional copies of masterpieces +or studies of the nude.</p> + +<p>Meantime the way did not open, and Paris was far +from being the place the wife supposed. She would have +gone back to Cherbourg, but there was no money to +send her, and pride prevented her from writing the +truth to her friends at home. She prayed for death, +and death came. The students at Delaroche's contributed +to meet the expenses of her funeral. Jean +Francois still struggled on.</p> + +<p>Delaroche and others declared his work was great, but +how could they make people buy it?<a name="IV_Page_275"></a></p> + +<p>A time of peculiar pinching hardship came, and Jean +Francois again bade Paris adieu and made his way back +to Gruchy. There he could work in the fields, gather +varech on the seashore, and possibly paint portraits +now and then—just for amusement.</p> + +<p>And thus he would live out the measure of his days.</p> + +<p>The visit of Jean Francois to his boyhood's home proved +a repetition of the first.</p> + +<p>Another woman married him.</p> + +<p>Catherine Lemaire was not a brilliant woman, but she +had a profound belief in her husband's genius.</p> + +<p>Possibly she did not understand him when he talked his +best, but she made a brave show of listening, and did not +cross him with any little whimsical philosophies of her +own.</p> + +<p>She was sturdy and strong of heart; privation was +nothing to her; she could endure all that Jean Francois +could, and count it a joy to be with him.</p> + +<p>She was the consoler, not he; and when the mocking +indifference of the world passed the work of Jean +Francois by, she said, "Who cares, so long as we know +'t is good?" and measured the stocking on her nose and +made merry music with the flying needles.</p> + +<p>Soon the truth forced itself on Jean Francois and +Catherine that no man is thought much of by his +kinsmen and boyhood acquaintances. No one at Gruchy +believed in the genius of Jean Francois—no one but the +old grandmother, who daily hobbled to mass and prayed +<a name="IV_Page_276"></a>the Blessed Virgin not to forget her boy. Jean Francois +and his wife studied the matter out and talked it over +at length, and they decided that to stay in Gruchy +would be to forfeit all hope of winning fame and fortune.</p> + +<p>Gruchy held nothing for them; possibly Paris did.</p> + +<p>And anyway, to go down in a struggle for better things +was not so ignominious an end as to allow one's powers +to rust out, held back only through fear of failure.</p> + +<p>They started for Paris.</p> + +<p>Yes, Paris remembered Jean Francois. How could Paris +forget him—he was so preposterous and his work so +impossible!</p> + +<p>It was still a struggle for bread.</p> + +<p>Marriages and births have a fixed relation to the price +of corn, the sociologists say. Perhaps they are right; but +not in this case.</p> + +<p>The babies came along with the years, and all brought +love with them.</p> + +<p>The devotion of Jean Francois to his wife and children +had a deep, sober, religious quality, such as we associate +with Abraham and Jacob and the other patriarchs of +old.</p> + +<p>The heart of Millet was often wrung by the thought of +the privation and hardships his wife and children had to +undergo. He blamed himself for their lack of creature +comforts, and the salt tears rained down his beard when +he had to go home and report that he had tramped the +streets all day with a picture under his arm, looking for +<a name="IV_Page_277"></a>a buyer, but no buyer could be found.</p> + +<p>But all this +time the old grandmother up in Normandy waited and +watched for news from her boy.</p> + +<p>Now and again during the years she saw his name +mentioned in connection with the Salon; and once she +heard a medal had been granted him, and at another +time an "Honorable Mention."</p> + +<p>Her heart throbbed in pride and she wrote congratulations, +and thanked the good God for answering her +prayers. Little did she know of the times when bread +was cut in tiny bits and parceled out to each hungry +mouth, or the days when there was no fuel and the +children kept to their beds to prevent freezing.</p> + +<p>But the few friends of Jean Francois who had forced the +"Honorable Mention" and secured the medal, now got +something more tangible; they induced the Government +Director of Fine Arts to order from Jean Francois Millet +a picture for which the artist was to receive two thousand +francs; two hundred francs were paid on account +and the balance was to be paid on delivery of the picture.</p> + +<p>Jean Francois hurried home with the order in his +trembling fingers. Catherine read the order with misty +eyes. She was not unduly elated—she knew that success +must come some time. And husband and wife then and +there decided that when the eighteen hundred francs +were paid over to them they would move out of Paris.</p> + +<p>They would make a home in the country. People do +without things in the country, but they do not starve.<a name="IV_Page_278"></a> +You can raise vegetables, and even though the garden +be small and the folks poor, God is good and the sunshine +and showers come and things grow. And for fuel +one can gather fagots if they are near a wood.</p> + +<p>They would go to Barbizon—Barbizon, that tiny village +on the edge of the Forest of Fontainebleau. Several +artists who had been there in the Summer sketching +had told them of it. The city was gradually smothering +Jean Francois. He prayed for a sight of the great open +stretches of pasture, and green woods and winding +river.</p> + +<p>And now it was all so near.</p> + +<p>He set to work feverishly to paint the great picture that +was to bring deliverance.</p> + +<p>At last the picture was done and sent to the Director's.</p> + +<p>Days of anxious waiting followed.</p> + +<p>The picture was accepted and paid for.</p> + +<p>Jean Francois and Catherine cried and laughed for joy, +as they tumbled their belongings into bags and bundles. +The grocer who had trusted them took some of their +furniture for pay, and a baker and a shoemaker compromised +by accepting a picture apiece. They were going +to Barbizon—going to the country—going to freedom! +And so the father and the mother and the queer-looking, +yellow children were perched on the top of the diligence +with their bundles, bound for Barbizon. They looked +into each other's faces and their joy was too great for +speech.<a name="IV_Page_279"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Living at the village of Barbizon, or near it, +were Theodore Rousseau, Hughes Martin, +Louis LeRoy and Clerge.</p> + +<p>These men were artists, and their peasant +neighbors recognized them as separate and apart from +themselves. They were Summer boarders. But Millet +was a peasant in thought and feeling and sympathy, and +mingled with the people on an absolute equality. He was +peasant—and more than peasant; for the majesty of the +woods, the broken rocks, the sublime stretches of +meadow-lands with their sights, odors and colors +intoxicated him with their beauty. He felt as if he had +never before looked upon God's beautiful world.</p> + +<p>And yet Paris was only a day's journey away! There he +could find a market for his work. To be near a great city +is a satisfaction to every intellectual worker, but, if he +is wise, his visits to the city are far apart. All he needs +is the thought that he can go if he chooses.</p> + +<p>Millet was thirty-four years of age when he reached +Barbizon. There he was to remain for the remaining +twenty-seven years of his life—to live in the one house—years +of toil, and not lacking in poverty, pain and +anxiety, but years of freedom, for he worked as he +wished and called no man master.</p> + +<p>It is quite the custom to paint the life of Millet at Barbizon +as one of misery and black unrest; but those who +do this are the people who read pain into his pictures: +they do not comprehend the simplicity and sublimity +<a name="IV_Page_280"></a>and quiet joy that were possible in this man's nature, +and in the nature of the people he pictured.</p> + +<p>From the time he reached Barbizon there came into his +work a largeness, a majesty and an elevation that is +unique in the history of art. Millet's heart went out to +humanity—the humanity that springs from the soil, +lives out its day, and returns to earth. His pictures +form an epic of country life, as he tells of its pains, its +anxieties, its privations—yes, of its peace and abiding +faith, and the joy and health and strength that comes +to those who live near to Nature's heart.</p> + +<p>Walt Whitman catalogues the workers and toilers, and +lists their occupations in pages that will live; Millet +shows us wood-gatherers, charcoal-burners, shepherds, +gleaners, washerwomen, diggers, quarrymen, road laborers, +men at the plow, and women at the loom. Then he +shows the noon-hour, the moments of devotion, the joys +of motherhood, the silent pride of the father, the love +of brother and sister and of husband and wife. And again +in the dusk of a winter night we see black-lined against +the sky the bent figure of an old woman, bearing her +burden of fagots; and again we are shown the plain, +homely interior of a cottage where the family watches +by the bedside of a dying child.</p> + +<p>And always the picture is not quite complete—the faces +are never distinct—no expression of feature is there, but +the soul worked up into the canvas conveys its silent +message to all those who have eyes to see and hearts +<a name="IV_Page_281"></a>to feel.</p> + +<p>Only a love and sympathy as wide as the world +could have produced the "Gleaners," the "Sower" and +the "Angelus."</p> + +<p>Millet was what he was on account of what he had +endured. All art is at last autobiography.</p> + +<p>The laborer's cottage that he took at Barbizon had but +three small, low rooms. These served as studio, kitchen +and bedchamber. When the family had increased to +eleven, other rooms were added, and the studio was +transferred to the barn, there at the end of the garden.</p> + +<p>Millet had two occupations, and two recreations, he +once said. In the mornings he worked in his garden, +digging, sowing, planting, reaping. In the afternoons he +painted—painted until the sun got too low to afford +the necessary light; then he went for his daily solitary +walk through the woods and fields, coming back at dark. +After supper he helped his wife with the housework, +put the children to bed, and then sat and read until the +clock struck midnight.</p> + +<p>This was his simple life. Very slowly, recognition came +that way. Theodore Rousseau, himself a great artist, +and a man too great for jealousy, spread his fame, and +the faithful Sensier in Paris lost no opportunity to aid +his friend by the use of a commercial shrewdness in +which Millet was woefully lacking.</p> + +<p>Then came Corot, Daubigny, Diaz and others of giant +stature, to Barbizon, and when they went back to Paris +they told of Millet and his work. And then we find<a name="IV_Page_282"></a> +Meissonier, the proud, knocking at the gate of Le Grand +Rustique.</p> + +<p>It is pleasant to recall that Americans were among the +first to recognize the value of Millet's art. His "Sower" +is the chief gem of the Vanderbilt collection; and the +"Angelus" has been thought much more of in France +since America so unreservedly set her seal upon it.</p> + +<p>Millet died in Eighteen Hundred Seventy-five.</p> + +<p>It was only during the last ten years of his life that he +felt financially free, and even then he was far from +passing rich. After his death his fame increased, and +pictures he had sold for twenty dollars, soon changed +hands for as many hundred.</p> + +<p>Englishmen say that America grew Millet-mad, and it +may be true that our admiration tipped a bit to t' other +side; yet the fabulous prices were not always paid by +Americans—the rich men of earth vied with each other +for the possession of a "Millet."</p> + +<p>The "Gleaners" was bought by the French Government +for three hundred thousand francs, and is now in +the Louvre "in perpetuity." This sum paid for this one +picture represents a larger amount of money than +passed through the hands of Millet during his entire +life; and yet it is not one-half what another "Millet" +brought. The "Angelus" was sold for the sum of eight +hundred thousand francs—a larger amount than was +ever before paid for a single canvas.</p> + +<p>It is idle to say that no picture is worth such a sum.<a name="IV_Page_283"></a> +Anything is worth what some one else will pay for it.</p> + +<p>The number of "Millets," it may be explained, is +limited, and with men in America who have incomes of +ten million dollars or more a year, no sane man dare +prophesy what price the "Sower" may yet command.</p> + +<p>Millet himself, were he here, would be aghast at the +prices paid for his work, and he would turn, too, with +disfavor from the lavish adulation bestowed upon his +name.</p> + +<p>This homely, simple artist was a profound thinker; a +sympathetic dreamer; a noble-hearted, generous man; +so truthful and lovable that his virtues have been +counted a weakness; and so they are—for the planet +Earth.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_284"></a></p><p><a name="IV_Page_285"></a></p> +<h2><a name="JOSHUA_REYNOLDS" id="JOSHUA_REYNOLDS"></a>JOSHUA REYNOLDS</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_286"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>To make it people's interest to advance you, by showing +that their business will be better done by you than +by any other person, is the only solid foundation of +success; the rest is accident.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">—<i>Reynolds to His Nephew</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-10.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-10_th.jpg" alt="JOSHUA REYNOLDS" /></a></p><p class="ctr">JOSHUA REYNOLDS</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_287"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>On the curious little river Plym, five +miles from Plymouth, is the hamlet +of Plympton. It is getting on towards +two hundred years since Joshua +Reynolds was born there. The place +has not changed so very much with +the centuries: there still stand the +quaint stone houses, built on arches +over the sidewalk, and there, too, is the old Norman +church with its high mullioned windows. Chester shows +the best example of that very early architecture, and +Plympton is Chester done in pigmy.</p> + +<p>The birthplace of Reynolds is one of these houses in +the "Row"; a greengrocer now has the lower floor of +the house for his shop, while his numerous family live +upstairs.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Samuel Reynolds also had a numerous +family—there being eleven children—so the present +occupation is a realistic restoration of a previous condition.</p> + +<p>The grocer has a leaning toward art, for his walls are +well papered with chromos and posters; and as he sold a +cabbage to a good housewife he nipped off a leaf for a +pen of rabbits that stood in the doorway, and talked to +me glibly of Reynolds and Gainsborough. The grocer +considers Gainsborough the greater artist, and surely +<a name="IV_Page_288"></a>his fame is wide, like unto the hat—hated by theater-goers—that +his name has rendered deathless, and which +certain unkind ones declare has given him immortality. +Joshua was the seventh child in the brood of five boys +and six girls. The fond parents set him apart for the +Church, and to that end he was placed in the Plympton +Grammar-School, and made to "do" fifty lines of +Ovid a day.</p> + +<p>The old belief that to translate Latin with facility was +the true test of genius has fallen somewhat into desuetude, +yet there are a few who still hold to the idea that +to reason, imagine and invent are not the tests of a +man's powers; he must conjugate, decline and derive. +But Grant Allen, possessor of three college degrees, +avers that a man may not even be able to read and +write, and yet have a very firm mental grasp on the +eternal verities.</p> + +<p>Anyway, Joshua Reynolds did not like Latin. He hated +the set task of fifty lines, and hated the system that +imposed a fine of twenty lines for a failure to fulfil the +first.</p> + +<p>The fines piled up until young Joshua, aged twelve, +goin' on thirteen, went into such hopeless bankruptcy +that he could not pay tuppence on the pound.</p> + +<p>We have a sheet of this Latin done at that time, in a +cramped, schoolboy hand, starting very bold and plain, +and running off into a tired blot and scrawl. On the +bottom of the page is a picture, and under this is a line +<a name="IV_Page_289"></a>written by the father: "This is drawn by Joshua in +school out of pure idleness." The Reverend Samuel had +no idea that his own name would live in history simply +because he was the father of this idle boy.</p> + +<p>Still, the clergyman showed that he was a man of good +sense, for he acceded to the lad's request to let the +Latin slide. This conclusion no doubt was the easier +arrived at after the master of the school had explained +that the proper education of such a youth was quite +hopeless.</p> + +<p>All the Reynolds children drew pictures and most of +them drew better than Joshua. But Joshua did not get +along well at school, and so he felt the necessity of doing +something.</p> + +<p>It is a great blessing to be born into a family where +strict economy of time and money is necessary. The +idea that nothing shall be wasted, and that each child +must carve out for himself a career, is a thrice-blessed +heritage.</p> + +<p>Rich parents are an awful handicap to youth, and few +indeed there be who have the strength to stand prosperity; +especially is this true when prosperity is not +achieved, but thrust upon them.</p> + +<p>Joshua got hold of a copy of Richardson's "Theory of +Painting," and found therein that the author prophesied +the rise of a great school of English painters.</p> + +<p>Joshua thought about it, talked with his brothers and +sisters about it, and surprised his mother by asking her +<a name="IV_Page_290"></a>if she knew that there was soon to be a distinct school +of British Art.</p> + +<p>About this time there came to the village a strolling +artist by the name of Warmell. This man opened up a +studio on the porch of the tavern and offered to make +your picture while you wait. He did a thriving business +in silhouettes, and patrons who were in a hurry could +have their profiles cut out of black paper with shears +and pasted on a white background in a jiffy—price, +sixpence.</p> + +<p>Joshua struck up quite a friendship with this man and +was taught all the tricks of the trade—even to the +warning that in drawing the portrait of a homely man +it is not good policy to make a really homely picture.</p> + +<p>The best-paying pewholder in the Reverend Samuel +Reynolds' church was a Mr. Craunch, whose picture +had been made by the joint efforts of the strolling artist +Warmell and young Reynolds. 'T was a very beautiful +picture, although it is not on record that Mr. Craunch +was a handsome man.</p> + +<p>Warmell refused to take pay for Craunch's picture, +claiming that he felt it was pay enough to have the +honor of such a great man sitting to him. This remark +proved to Craunch that Warmell was a discerning +person and they were very soon on intimate terms of +friendship. Mr. Craunch gave Mr. Warmell orders to +paint pictures of the Craunch family. One day Warmell +called the great man's attention to the fact that young<a name="IV_Page_291"></a> +Reynolds, his volunteer assistant, had ambitions in an +art way that could not be gratified unless some great +and good man stepped in and played the part of a +Mæcenas.</p> + +<p>In fact, Joshua wanted to go to London and study with +Hudson, the son-in-law and pupil of Richardson, the +eminent author who wrote the "Theory of Painting." +Warmell felt sure that after a few months, with his +help, young Reynolds could get the technique and the +color-scheme, and a' that, and the firm of Warmell and +Reynolds could open a studio in Plymouth or Portsmouth +and secure many good orders.</p> + +<p>Craunch listened with patience and advised with the +boy's parents.</p> + +<p>The next week he took the lad up to London and +entered him as a pupil with the great Hudson, who could +not paint much of a picture himself, but for a consideration +was willing to show others how.</p> + +<p>Rumor has it that Warmell got a certain sum in English +gold for all pupils he sent to Hudson's studio, but I take +no stock in such insinuations.</p> + +<p>Warmell here disappears from mortal view, like one of +those stage trapdoor vanishings of Mephisto—only +Mephisto usually comes back, but Warmell never did.</p> + +<p>Reynolds was very happy at Hudson's studio. He was +only seventeen years old when he arrived there, fresh +from the country. London was a marvel of delight to +Joshua; the shops, theaters, galleries and exhibitions +<a name="IV_Page_292"></a>were a never-ending source of joy. He worked with +diligence, and probably got more for his money than +any one of Hudson's fifty pupils. Hudson was well-to-do, +dignified and kind. His place was full of casts and classic +fragments, and when he had set his pupils to copying +these he considered his day's work done.</p> + +<p>Joshua wrote glowing letters home, telling of all he did. +"While I am at work I am the happiest creature alive," +he said. Hudson set Joshua to copying Guercino's works, +and kept the lad at it so steadily that he was really +never able to draw from Nature correctly thereafter.</p> + +<p>After a year, Craunch came up from the country to see +how his ward was getting along. Joshua showed him the +lions of the city; and painted his picture, making so fine +a portrait that when Mr. Craunch got back home he +threw away the one made by Warmell.</p> + +<p>Once at an exhibition Joshua met Alexander Pope, +whom he had seen several times at Hudson's studio. +Pope remembered him and shook hands. Joshua was so +inflated by the honor that he hastened home to write a +letter to his mother and tell her all about it.</p> + +<p>According to the terms of agreement with Hudson, +Joshua was bound to stay four years; but now two +years had passed, and one fine day in sudden wrath +Hudson told him to pack up his kit and go.</p> + +<p>The trouble was that Joshua could paint better than +Hudson—every pupil in the school knew it. When the +scholars wanted advice they went to Reynolds, and +<a name="IV_Page_293"></a>some of them, being sons of rich men, paid Reynolds +for helping them.</p> + +<p>Then Reynolds had painted a few portraits on his own +account and had kept the money, as he had a perfect +right to do. Hudson said he hadn't, for he was bound +as an apprentice to him.</p> + +<p>"But only during working-hours," replied young +Reynolds. We can hardly blame Hudson for sending +him away—no master wants a pupil around who sees +all over, above and beyond him, and who can do better +work than he. It's confusing, and tends to rob the +master of the deification that is his due.</p> + +<p>Reynolds had remained long enough—it was time for +him to go.</p> + +<p>He went back to Devonshire, and Craunch, the biggest +man in Plympton, took him over to Lord Edgecumbe, +the biggest man in Plymouth.</p> + +<p>Craunch carried along the portrait of himself that +Joshua had made, and asked milord if he didn't want +one just like it. Edgecumbe said he surely did, and asked +Joshua if he painted the picture all alone by himself.</p> + +<p>Joshua smiled.</p> + +<p>Lord Edgecumbe had a beautiful house, and to have a +good picture of himself, and a few choice old ancestors +on the walls, he thought would be very fine.</p> + +<p>Joshua took up his abode in the Edgecumbe mansion, +the better to do his work.</p> + +<p>He was a handsome youth, nearly twenty years old, +<a name="IV_Page_294"></a>with bright, beaming eyes, a slight but compact form, +and brown curls that came to his shoulders. His London +life had given him a confidence in himself, and in his +manner there was a grace and poise flavored with a +becoming diffidence.</p> + +<p>A man who can do things well should assume a modesty, +even if he has it not. If you can write well, do not talk—leave +that to the man who can do nothing else. If you +can paint, let your work speak for you.</p> + +<p>Joshua Reynolds was young, but he was an artist in +diplomacy. His talent, his modesty, his youth, his +beauty, won the hearts of the entire Edgecumbe household.</p> + +<p>He painted portraits of all the family; and of course all +the visitors were called upon to admire, not only the +pictures, but the painter as well.</p> + +<p>A studio was opened in one of Lord Edgecumbe's buildings +at Plymouth, and he painted portraits of all the +great folks thereabout.</p> + +<p>On Christmas-Day, Seventeen Hundred Forty-six, the +Reverend Samuel Reynolds died, but before his death +he fully realized that one of his children was well on the +way to fame and fortune.</p> + +<p>The care of the broken family now devolved on Joshua, +but his income was several times as much as his father +had ever earned, and his responsibilities were carried +lightly.</p> + +<p>While at the house of Lord Edgecumbe, Reynolds had +<a name="IV_Page_295"></a>met young Commodore Keppel. In Seventeen Hundred +Forty-nine, Keppel was placed in command of the +Mediterranean fleet, with orders to clear the seas of the +Barbary pirates. Keppel invited Reynolds to join him +on board the "Centurion" as his guest.</p> + +<p>Gladly he accepted, and they sailed away for the Orient +with a cabin stocked with good things, and enough +brushes, paints, canvases and easels to last several +painters a lifetime.<a name="IV_Page_296"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was three years before Reynolds came back +to Plymouth. He had visited Lisbon, Cadiz, +Gibraltar, Port Mahon and Minorca. At the +two last-named places there were British +garrisons, and Reynolds set to work making portraits +of the officers. For this he was so well paid that he +decided to visit Italy instead of voyaging farther with +his friend Keppel.</p> + +<p>He then journeyed on to Naples, Rome, Venice, Pisa +and Florence, stopping in each city for several months, +immersing himself in the art atmosphere of the place. +Returning to Rome, he remained there two years, +studying and copying the works of Raphael, Angelo, +Titian and other masters.</p> + +<p>Occasionally, he sold his copies of masterpieces, and +by practising strict economy managed to live in a fair +degree of comfort.</p> + +<p>Rome is the hottest place in Summer and the coldest in +Winter of which I know. The average Italian house has +a damp and chill in Winter which clutches the tourist +and makes him long for home and native land. Imagine +a New England farmhouse in March with only a small +dish-pan of coals to warm it, and you have Rome in +Winter.</p> + +<p>Rome, with its fever in Summer and rheumatism and +pneumonia in Winter, has sent many an artist to limbus. +Joshua Reynolds escaped the damp of the Vatican with +nothing worse than a deafness that caused him to carry +<a name="IV_Page_297"></a>an ear-trumpet for the rest of his life.</p> + +<p>But now he was +back at Plymouth. Lord Edgcumbe looked over the +work he had brought and called into the ear-trumpet +that a man who could paint like that was a fool to +remain in a country town: he should go to London and +vanquish all such alleged artists as Hudson.</p> + +<p>Keppel had gotten back to England, and he and +Edgcumbe had arranged that Reynolds should pitch +his tent in the heart of artistic London. So a handsome +suite of apartments was secured in Saint Martin's Lane.</p> + +<p>The first work undertaken seems to have been that +full-length portrait of Commodore Keppel. The picture +shows the Commodore standing on a rocky shore, +issuing orders to unseen hosts. There is an energy, dash +and heroism pictured in the work that at once caught +the eye of the public.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Keppel's portrait?" asked Edgcumbe +of every one he met.</p> + +<p>Invitations were sent out to call at Joshua Reynold's +studio and see "Keppel." There were a good many +pictures displayed there, but "Keppel" was placed in a +small room, set apart, rightly focused, properly draped, +and lighted only by candles, that stood in silver candle-sticks, +and which were solemnly snuffed by a detailed +marine, six foot three, in a red coat, with a formidable +hanger at his side. Only a few persons were admitted at +a time and on entering the room all you saw was the +valiant form of the doughty Commodore, the sea-mist +<a name="IV_Page_298"></a>in his face and the wild winds blowing his locks. The +big marine on guard in the shadow added the last +realistic touch, and the gentlemen visitors removed +their hats and the ladies talked in whispers—they all +expected Keppel to speak, and they wished to hear what +he would say.</p> + +<p>It is a great thing to paint a beautiful picture, but +'t is a more difficult feat to hypnotize the public into +accepting the fact.</p> + +<p>The live Keppel was pointed out on the street as the +man who had had his picture taken.</p> + +<p>Now, people do not have portraits painted simply +because they want portraits painted: they want these +portraits shown and admired.</p> + +<p>To have Reynolds paint your portrait might prove a +repetition of the Keppel—who knows!</p> + +<p>Sitters came and a secretary in livery took their names +and made appointments, as is done today in the office of +a prosperous dentist.</p> + +<p>Joshua Reynolds was young and strong, and he worked +while it was called the day. He worked from sunrise +until sunset.</p> + +<p>That first year in London he produced one hundred +twenty portraits, besides painting various other pictures. +This he could not have done without the assistance of a +most loyal helper.</p> + +<p>This helper was Giuseppe Marchi.</p> + +<p>There are a half-dozen biographies of Reynolds, and +<a name="IV_Page_299"></a>from Boswell, Walpole and Burney, Gossips-in-Ordinary, +we have vivid glimpses into his life and habits. Then +we have his own journal, and hundreds of letters; but +nowhere do we get a frank statement of the assistance +rendered him by Giuseppe Marchi.</p> + +<p>When Reynolds was in Rome, aged twenty-one, he fell +in with a tatterdemalion, who proffered his service as +guide. Rome is full of such specimens, and the type is +one that has not changed in five hundred years.</p> + +<p>Reynolds tossed the lad a copper, and the ragged one +showed his fine white teeth in a gladsome grin and +proffered information. He clung to the visitor all that +afternoon, and the next morning when Reynolds started +out with his sketching-outfit, the youngster was sitting +on his doorstep. So they fared forth, Giuseppe carrying +the kit.</p> + +<p>Reynolds knew but little Italian—the boy taught him +more. The boy knew every corner of Rome, and was +deep in the history of the Eternal City—all he knew was +Rome.</p> + +<p>Joshua taught the youngster to sketch, and after the +first few days there in Rome. Joshua rigged Giuseppe +up an easel, and where went Joshua there also went +Giuseppe.</p> + +<p>Joshua got a bit ashamed of his partner's attire and +bought him better raiment.</p> + +<p>When Reynolds left Rome on his homeward march, +there, too, tagged the faithful Giuseppe.<a name="IV_Page_300"></a></p> + +<p>After several months they reached Lyons, and Joshua +counted his money. There was only enough to pay his +fare by the diligence to Paris, with a few francs over for +food. He told Giuseppe that he could not take him +farther, and emptying his pockets of all his coppers, and +giving him his best silk handkerchief and a sketching-outfit, +they cried down each other's backs, kissed each +other on both cheeks in the Italian fashion, and parted.</p> + +<p>It took eight days to reach Paris by the diligence, +and Joshua only got through by stopping one day and +bartering a picture for sundry loaves of necessary bread.</p> + +<p>But he had friends in Paris, influential friends. And +when he reached the home of these influential friends, +there on the curbstone sat Giuseppe, awaiting his +coming, with the silk handkerchief knotted loosely +about his neck!</p> + +<p>Giuseppe had thrown away the painting-kit and walked +the three hundred miles in eight days, begging or stealing +by the way the food he needed.</p> + +<p>When Joshua Reynolds opened his studio in Saint +Martin's Lane, his faithful helper was Giuseppe Marchi. +Giuseppe painted just as Joshua did, and just as well.</p> + +<p>When sitters came, Giuseppe was only a valet: he +cleaned the brushes, polished the knives, ran for water +and hovered near to do his master's bidding. He was the +only person allowed in the model-room, and all the time +he was there his keen eyes made a correct and proper +estimate of the sitter. Listening to no conversation, +<a name="IV_Page_301"></a>seeing nothing, he yet heard everything and nothing +escaped his glance.</p> + +<p>When the sitting, which occupied an hour, was over, +Giuseppe took the picture into another room, and filled +in the background and drapery just as he knew it should +be.</p> + +<p>"Marchi does not sign and date the portraits, but he +does all the rest," said Garrick. And "Little Burney," +treading on thinner ice, once remarked, "If Sir Joshua +ever embraces a fair sitter and imprints upon her forehead +a chaste kiss, I am sure that Giuseppe Marchi will +never tell."</p> + +<p>It is too late to accuse Sir Joshua Reynolds of ingratitude +towards Giuseppe; he was grateful, and once +referred to Marchi as "an angel sent from God to help +me do my work." But he paid Marchi valet's wages +and treated him like a servant. Possibly this was the +part of expedience, for had Marchi ever gotten it into +his head that he could paint as well as Sir Joshua he +would have been worthless as a helper.</p> + +<p>For forty years they were never separated.</p> + +<p>Cotton disposes of Giuseppe Marchi by saying, "He +was a clever colorist, but incapable of doing independent +work." Cotton might, however, have told the whole +simple truth, and that was that Marchi was hands, feet, +eyes and ears for his master—certain it is that without +his help Sir Joshua could never have attained the fame +and fortune he did.<a name="IV_Page_302"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In selecting his time for a career, Joshua +Reynolds showed good judgment. He went +into public favor on a high tide. England +was prosperous, and there was in the air a +taste for the polite arts. Literature was becoming a fad.</p> + +<p>Within a short time there had appeared Gray's +"Elegy," Smollett's "Peregrine Pickle," Fielding's +"Amelia" and Richardson's "Clarissa Harlowe." Here +was menu to fit most palates, and the bill-of-fare was +duly discussed in all social gatherings of the upper +circles. The afflicted ones fed on Gray; the repentant +quoted Richardson; while Smollett and Fielding were +read aloud in parlor gatherings where fair ladies +threatened to leave the room—but didn't. Out at +Strawberry Hill, his country home, Horace Walpole +was running that little printing-shop, making books that +are now priceless, and writing long, gossipy letters that +body forth the spirit of the time, its form and pressure. +The Dilettante Society, composed of young noblemen +devoted to high art and good-fellowship, was discussing +a scheme for a National Academy. Garrick was at the +height of his fame; Hogarth was doing for art what +Smollett did for literature; while two young Irishmen, +Burke and Goldsmith, were getting ready to make +English letters illustrious; Hudson was painting portraits +with a stencil; Gainsborough was immortalizing +a hat; Doctor Johnson was waiting in the entry of Lord +Chesterfield's mansion with the prospectus of a +<a name="IV_Page_303"></a>dictionary; and pretty Kitty Fisher had kicked the hat +off the head of the Prince of Wales on a wager.</p> + +<p>And so into this atmosphere of seething life came +Joshua Reynolds, the handsome, gracious, silent, diplomatic +Reynolds. Fresh from Italy and the far-off islands +of the Southern seas where Ulysses sailed, he came—his +name and fame heralded as the Raphael of England.</p> + +<p>To have your portrait painted by Reynolds was considered +a proper "entree" into the "bon ton." To +attempt to give the names of royalty who sat to him +would be to present a transcript of Burke's Peerage.</p> + +<p>Unlike Van Dyck, at whose shrine Reynolds worshiped, +Reynolds was coldly diplomatic in his relations with his +sitters. He talked but little, because he could not hear, +and to hold an ear-trumpet and paint with both hands +is rather difficult. On the moment when the sitting was +over, the patron was bowed out. The good ladies who +lay in wait with love's lariat never found an opportunity +to make the throw.</p> + +<p>Reynolds' specialty was women and children. No man +has ever pictured them better, and with him all women +were kind. Not only were they good, but good-looking; +and when arms lacked contour, or busts departed from +the ideal, Kitty Fisher or Nelly O'Brien came at the +call of Marchi and lent their charms to complete the +canvas.</p> + +<p>Reynolds gradually raised his prices until he received +fifteen guineas for a head, one hundred for a half-length, +<a name="IV_Page_304"></a>and one hundred and fifty for a full-length. And so +rapidly did he work that often a picture was completed +in four hours.</p> + +<p>Usually, success is a zigzag journey, but it was not so +with Reynolds. From Seventeen Hundred Fifty-seven +to Seventeen Hundred Eighty-eight, his income was +never less than thirty thousand dollars a year, and his +popularity knew no eclipse.</p> + +<p>About the time the American Stamp Act was being +pushed through Parliament, Reynolds' studio was the +neutral stamping-ground for both parties.</p> + +<p>Copley, the Boston artist, gave Reynolds a bias in +favor of truth; and when Townshend, the man who +introduced the Stamp Act in Parliament, sat to Sir +Joshua, the artist and sitter forgot their business and +wrangled over politics. Soon afterward Sir Joshua made +a bet with Townshend, a thousand pounds against five, +that George Washington would never enter Reynolds' +studio. This was in response to the boast that Washington +would soon be brought to England a captive, and +Townshend would conduct him to Reynolds to have his +picture taken.</p> + +<p>The bet made a sensation and Reynolds offered to +repeat it to all comers; and a score or more of sincere +men paid over five pounds into the hands of Sir Joshua, +and took his note for one thousand pounds, payable +when Washington landed in England a prisoner.</p> + +<p>Old Ursa Major had small patience with Reynolds'<a name="IV_Page_305"></a> +political prophecies; he called America a land of pirates +and half-breed cutthroats, and would have bet Sir +Joshua to a standstill—only he had conscientious +scruples about betting, and besides, hadn't any money.</p> + +<p>Goldsmith and Burke, of course, sided with Reynolds +in his American sympathies, and Garrick referred to +them as "My friends, the three Irish Gentlemen."</p> + +<p>A frequent visitor at the studio at this time was +Angelica Kauffman, who deserves a volume instead of a +mere mention. She came up from Switzerland, unknown, +and made her way to the highest artistic circles in +London. She had wit and beauty, and painted so well +that Reynolds admitted she taught him a few tricks in +the use of color. She produced several portraits of +Reynolds, and Reynolds painted several of her; and the +daughter of Thackeray wrote a novel which turns on +the assumption that they were lovers.</p> + +<p>There certainly was a fine comradeship existing between +them; but whether Reynolds was ever capable of an +all-absorbing passion there is much doubt. He was +married to his work.</p> + +<p>Reynolds had many intimate friends among women: +Peg Woffington, Mrs. Clive, Mrs. Thrale, Hannah +More, Fanny Burney and others. With them all there +went the same high, chivalrous and generous disinterestedness. +He was a friend to each in very fact.</p> + +<p>When the Royal Academy was formed in Seventeen +Hundred Sixty-eight, Reynolds was made its president, +<a name="IV_Page_306"></a>and this office he held until the close of his life. He was +not one of the chief promoters of the Academy at the +beginning, and the presidency was half forced upon him. +He might have declined the honor then had the King +not made him a knight, and showed that it was his +wish that Reynolds should accept. Sir Joshua, however, +had more ballast in his character than any other painter +of his time, and it was plain that without his name at +the head the Academy would be a thing for smiles and +quiet jokes.</p> + +<p>The thirty-four charter members included the names of +two Americans, Copley and West, and of one woman, +Angelica Kauffman.</p> + +<p>And it is here worthy of note that although the Methodist +Church still refuses to allow women to sit as delegates +in its General Conference, yet, in Seventeen +Hundred Sixty-eight, no dissent was made when Joshua +Reynolds suggested the name of a woman as a member +of the Royal Academy.</p> + +<p>Sir Joshua did not forget his friends at the time honors +were given out, for he secured the King's permission to +add several honorary members to the Academy—men +who couldn't paint, but who still expressed themselves +well in other ways.</p> + +<p>Doctor Johnson was made Professor of Ancient Literature; +Oliver Goldsmith, Professor of Ancient History; +and Richard Dalton, Librarian.</p> + +<p>In this case the office did not seek the man: the man was +<a name="IV_Page_307"></a>duly measured, and the office manufactured to fit him.</p> + +<p>When Sir Joshua died, in February, Seventeen Hundred +Ninety-two, it was the close of a success so uninterrupted +that it seems unequaled in the history of art. +He left a fortune equal to considerably more than half +a million dollars; he had contributed valuable matter +to the cause of literature; he had been the earnest friend +of all workers in the cause of letters, music and art; +and had also been the intimate adviser and confidant of +royalty. He was generous and affectionate, wise and +sincere; a cheerful and tireless worker—one in whom the +elements were so well mixed that all the world might +say, This was a man!</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_308"></a></p><p><a name="IV_Page_309"></a></p> +<h2><a name="LANDSEER" id="LANDSEER"></a>LANDSEER</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_310"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>The man behind his work was seen through it—sensitive, +variously gifted, manly, genial, tender-hearted, +simple and unaffected; a lover of animals, +children and humanity; and if any one wishes to see at a +glance nearly all we have written, let him look at +Landseer's portrait, painted by himself, with a canine +connoisseur on either side.</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i23">—<i>Monkhouse</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-11.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-11_th.jpg" alt="LANDSEER" /></a></p><p class="ctr">LANDSEER</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_311"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>Happy lives make dull biographies. +Young women with ambitions should +be very cautious lest mayhap they +be caught in the soft, silken mesh +of a happy marriage, and go down +to oblivion, dead to the world.</p> + +<p>"Miss Pott—the beautiful Miss +Pott," they called her. The biographers +didn't take time to give her first name, nor +recount her pedigree, so rapt were they with her +personality. They only say, "She was tall, willowy and +lissome; and Sir Joshua Reynolds painted her picture +as a peasant beauty, bearing on her well-poised head a +sheaf of corn."</p> + +<p>It was at the house of Macklin, the rich publisher, that +John Landseer, the engraver, met Miss Pott. She was +artistic in all her instincts; and as she knew the work of +the brilliant engraver and named his best pieces without +hesitation he grew interested. Men grow interested when +you know and appreciate their work; sometimes they +grow more interested, at which time they are also +interesting.</p> + +<p>And so it came about that they were married, the +beautiful Miss Pott and John Landseer, and it can also +be truthfully added that they were happy ever afterward.<a name="IV_Page_312"></a></p> + +<p>But that was the last of Miss Pott. Her husband was so +strong, so self-centered, so capable, that he protected +her from every fierce wind, and gratified her every wish. +She believed in him thoroughly and conformed her life +to his. Her personality was lost in him. The biographer +scarcely refers to her, save when he is obliged to, +indirectly, to record that she became the mother of +three fine girls, and the same number of boys, equally +fine, by name, Thomas, Charles and Edwin.</p> + +<p>Thomas and Charles grew to be strong, learned and +useful men, so accomplished in literature and art that +their names would shine bright on history's page, were +they not thrown into the shadow by the youngest +brother.</p> + +<p>Before Edwin Landseer was twenty years of age he was +known throughout the United Kingdom as "Landseer." +John Landseer was known as "the father of Landseer," +and the others were "the brothers of Landseer."</p> + +<p>And when once in Piccadilly, the beautiful Miss Pott +(that was) was pointed out as "the mother of Landseer," +the words warmed the heart of the good woman like +wine. To be the wife of a great man, and the mother of a +greater was career enough—she was very happy.</p> + +<p>Queen Anne Street, near Cavendish Square, is a shabby +district, with long lines of plain brick houses built for +revenue only.</p> + +<p>But Queen Anne Street is immortal to all lovers of art +because it was the home of Turner; and within its dark, +<a name="IV_Page_313"></a>dull and narrow confines were painted the most dazzlingly +beautiful canvases that the world has ever seen. +And yet again the street has another claim on our +grateful remembrance, for at Number Eighty-three was +born, on March Seventh, Eighteen Hundred Two, +Edwin Landseer.</p> + +<p>The father of Landseer was an enthusiastic lover of art. +He had sprung from a long line of artistic workers in +precious metals; and to use a pencil with skill he +regarded as the chief end of man.</p> + +<p>Long before his children knew their letters, they were +taught to make pictures. Indeed, all children can make +pictures before they can write. For a play-spell, each +day John Landseer and his boys tramped across +Hampstead Heath to where there were donkeys, sheep, +goats and cows grazing; then all four would sit down on +the grass before some chosen subject and sketch the +patient model.</p> + +<p>Edwin Landseer's first loving recollections of his father +went back to these little excursions across the Heath. +And for each boy to take back to his mother and sisters +a picture of something they had seen was a great joy.</p> + +<p>"Well, boys, what shall we draw today?" the father +would ask at breakfast-time.</p> + +<p>And then they would all vote on it, and arguments in +favor of goat or donkey were eloquently and skilfully +set forth.</p> + +<p>I said that a very young child could draw pictures:<a name="IV_Page_314"></a> +standing by my chair as I write this line is a chubby +little girl, just four years old, in a check dress, with two +funny little braids down her back. She is begging me for +this pencil that she may "make a pussy-cat for Mamma +to put in a frame."</p> + +<p>What boots it that the little girl's "pussy-cat" has five +or six legs and three tails—these are all inferior details.</p> + +<p>The evolution of the individual mirrors the evolution of +the race, and long before races began to write or reason +they made pictures.</p> + +<p>Art education had better begin young, for then it is a +sort of play; and good artistic work, Robert Louis +Stevenson once said, is only useful play.</p> + +<p>Probably Edwin Landseer's education began a hundred +years before he was born; but his technical instruction +in art began when he was three years old, when his +father would take him out on the Heath and placing him +on the grass, put pencil and paper in his hand and let +him make a picture of a goat nibbling the grass.</p> + +<p>Then the boy noted for himself that a goat had a short +tail, a cow a switch-tail, and horses had no horns, and +that a ram's horns were unlike those of a goat.</p> + +<p>He had begun to differentiate and compare—and not +yet four years old!</p> + +<p>When five years of age he could sketch a sleeping dog as +it lay on the floor better than could Thomas, his brother, +who was seven years older.</p> + +<p>We know the deep personal interest that John Landseer +<a name="IV_Page_315"></a>felt in the boy, for he preserved his work, and today in +the South Kensington Museum we can see a series of +sketches made by Edwin Landseer, running from his +fifth year to manhood.</p> + +<p>Thus do we trace the unfolding of his genius.</p> + +<p>That young Landseer's drawing was a sort of play there +is no doubt. People who set very young children at tasks +of grubbing out cold facts from books come plainly +within the province of the Society for the Prevention of +Cruelty to Animals, and should be looked after, but to +do things with one's hands for fun is only a giving +direction to the natural energies.</p> + +<p>Before Edwin Landseer was eight years of age his father +had taught him the process of etching, and we see that +even then the lad had a vivid insight into the character +of animals. He drew pictures of pointers, mastiffs, +spaniels and bulldogs, and gave to each the right +expression.</p> + +<p>The Landseers owned several dogs, and what they +did not own they borrowed; and once we know that +Charles and Thomas "borrowed" a mastiff without +the owner's consent.</p> + +<p>All children go through the scissors age, when they cut +out of magazines, newspapers or books all the pictures +they can find, so as to add to the "collection." Often +these youthful collectors have specialties: one will +collect pictures of animals, another of machinery, and +still another of houses. But usually it is animals that +<a name="IV_Page_316"></a>attract.</p> + +<p>Scissors were forbidden in the Landseer +household, and if the boys wanted pictures they had to +make them.</p> + +<p>And they made them.</p> + +<p>They drew horses, sheep, donkeys, cattle, dogs; and +when their father took them to the Zoological Garden it +was only that they might bring back trophies in the way +of lions and tigers.</p> + +<p>Then we find that there was once a curiosity exhibited +in Fleet Street in the way of a lion-cub that had been +caught in Africa and mothered by a Newfoundland dog. +The old mother-dog thought just as much of the orphan +that was placed among her brood as of her sure-enough +children. The owner had never allowed the two animals +to be separated, and when the lion had grown to be +twice the size of his foster-mother there still existed +between the two a fine affection.</p> + +<p>The stepmother exercised a stepmother's rights, and +occasionally chastised, for his own good, her overgrown +charge, and the big brute would whimper and whine +like a lubberly boy.</p> + +<p>This curious pair of animals made a great impression on +the Landseers. The father and three boys sketched +them in various attitudes, and engravings of Edwin's +sketch are still to be had.</p> + +<p>And so wherever in London animals were to be found, +there, too, were the Landseers with pencils and brushes, +and pads and palettes.<a name="IV_Page_317"></a></p> + +<p>In the back yard of the house where the Landseers lived +were sundry pens of pet rabbits; in the attic were +pigeons, and dogs of various breeds lay on the doorstep +sleeping in the sun, or barked at you out of the windows.</p> + +<p>It is reported that John Landseer once contemplated +a change of residence; he selected the house he wanted, +bargained with the landlord, agreed as to terms and +handed out his card preparatory to signing a lease.</p> + +<p>The real-estate agent looked at the name, stuttered, +stammered, and finally said: "You must excuse me, +Sir, but they say as how you are a dealer in dogs, and +your boys are dog-catchers! You'll excuse me—but—I +just now 'appened to think the 'ouse is already took!"<a name="IV_Page_318"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Landseers moved from Queen Anne Street +to Foley Street, near Burlington House. This +was a neighborhood of artists, and for +neighbors they had West, Mulready, Northcote, +Constable, Flaxman and our own picturesque +Allston, of Cambridge, Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>The Elgin Marbles were then kept at Burlington House, +and these were a great source of inspiration to the +Landseer boys. It gave them a true taste of the Grecian, +and knowing a little about Greece, they wanted to know +more. Greece became the theme—they talked it at +breakfast, dinner and supper. The father and mother +told them all they knew, and guessed at a few things +more, and to keep at least one lesson ahead of the +children the parents "crammed for examination."</p> + +<p>Edwin sketched that world-famous horse's head from +the Parthenon, and the figures of horses and animals in +bas-relief that formed the frieze; and the boys figured +out in their minds why horses and men were all the +same height.</p> + +<p>Gradually it dawned upon the father and the brothers +that Edwin was their master so far as drawing was concerned. +They could sketch a Newfoundland dog that +would pass for anybody's Newfoundland, but Edwin's +was a certain identical dog, and none other.</p> + +<p>Edwin Landseer really discovered the dog.</p> + +<p>He discovered that dogs of one breed may be very +different in temper and disposition; and going further +<a name="IV_Page_319"></a>he found that dogs have character and personality. He +struck an untouched lode and worked it out to his own +delight and the delight of great numbers of others.</p> + +<p>His pictures were not mystical, profound or problematic—simply +dogs, but dogs with feelings, affections, +jealousies, prejudices. In short, he showed that dogs, +after all, are very much like folks; and from this, people +with a turn for psychology reasoned that the source of +life in the dog was the same as the source of life in man.</p> + +<p>Plain people who owned a dog beloved by the whole +household, as household dogs always are, became +interested in Landseer's dogs. They could not buy a +painting by Landseer, but they could spare a few +shillings for an engraving.</p> + +<p>And so John Landseer began to reproduce the pictures +of Edwin's dogs.</p> + +<p>The demand grew, and Thomas now ceased to sketch +and devoted all his time to etching and engraving his +brother's work.</p> + +<p>Every one knew of Landseer, even people who cared +nothing for art: they wanted a picture of one of his +dogs to hang over the chimney, because the dog looked +like one they used to own.</p> + +<p>Then rich people came and wanted Edwin to paint a +portrait of their dog, and a studio was opened where the +principal sitters were dogs. From a position where close +economy must be practised, the Landseers found themselves +with more money than they knew what to do with.<a name="IV_Page_320"></a></p> + +<p>Edwin was barely twenty, but had exhibited at several +Royal Academy Exhibitions and his name was on +every tongue. He gave no attention to marketing his +wares—his father and brothers did all that—he simply +sketched and had a good time. He was healthy, strong, +active, and could walk thirty miles a day; but now that +riches had come that way he bought a horse and rode.</p> + +<p>Then other horses were presented to him, and he began +to picture horses, too. That he knew horses and loved +them is evidenced in many a picture. In every village or +crossroads town of America can be found copies of his +"Shoeing," where stands the sleek bay mare, the sober, +serious donkey, and the big dog.</p> + +<p>No painter who ever lived is so universally known as +Landseer, and this is because his father and brothers +made it their life-business to reproduce his work by +engraving.</p> + +<p>Occasionally, rich ladies would want their own portraits +painted with a favorite dog at their feet, or men wanted +themselves portrayed on horseback, and so Landseer +found himself with more orders than he could well care +for. People put their names, or the name of their dog, +on his waiting-list, and some of the dogs died of old age +before the name was reached.</p> + +<p>"I hear," said a lady to Sydney Smith at a dinner +party—"I hear you are to have your portrait painted +by Landseer."</p> + +<p>"Is thy servant a dog that he should do this thing?"<a name="IV_Page_321"></a> +answered the wit. The story went the rounds, and +Mulready once congratulated the clergyman on the +repartee.</p> + +<p>"I never made the reply," said Sydney Smith; "but +I wish I had."</p> + +<p>Sydney Smith was once visiting the Landseer studio, +and his eye chanced to light on the picture of a very +peculiar-looking dog.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's a queer picture of a queer dog. The drawing +is bad enough, and never pleased me!" And Landseer +picked up the picture and gave it a toss out of the +window. "You may have it if you care to go get it," he +carelessly remarked to the visitor. Smith made haste +to run downstairs and out of the house to secure his +prize. He found it lodged in the branches of a tree.</p> + +<p>In telling the tale years afterward, Smith remarked that, +whereas many men had climbed trees to evade dogs, yet +he alone of all men had once climbed a tree to secure one.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter Scott saw Landseer's picture of "The +Cat's Paw," and was so charmed with it that he hunted +out the young artist, and soon after invited him to +Abbotsford.</p> + +<p>Leslie, the American artist, was at that time at Scott's +home painting the novelist's portrait. This portrait, by +the way, became the property of the Ticknor family of +Boston, and was exhibited a few years ago at the Boston +Museum of Fine Arts.</p> + +<p>Landseer, Leslie and Scott made a choice trio of +<a name="IV_Page_322"></a>congenial spirits. They were all "outdoor men," strong, +sturdy, good-natured, and fond of boyish romp and +frolic. Many were the long tramps they took across +mountain, heath and heather. They visited the Highland +district together, fished in Loch Lomond, paddled +the entire length of Loch Katrine, and hunted deer on +the preserve of Lord Gwydr.</p> + +<p>On one hunting excursion, Landseer was stationed on a +runway, gun in hand, with a gillie in attendance. The +dogs started a fine buck, which ran close to them, but +instead of leveling his gun, Landseer shoved the weapon +into the hands of the astonished gillie with the hurried +whispered request, "Here, you, hold this for me!" and +seizing his pencil, made a hasty sketch of the gallant +buck ere the vision could fade from memory.</p> + +<p>In fact, both Landseer and Leslie proved poor sportsmen—they +had no heart for killing things.</p> + +<p>A beautiful live deer was a deal more pleasing to +Landseer than a dead one; and he might truthfully have +expressed the thought of his mind by saying, "A bird +in the bush is worth two on a woman's bonnet." And +indeed he did anticipate Thoreau by saying, "To shoot +a bird is to lose it."</p> + +<p>The idea of following deer with dogs and guns, simply +for the sport of killing them, was repugnant to the soul +of this sensitive, tender-hearted man.</p> + +<p>In the faces of his deer he put a look of mingled grandeur +and pain—a half-pathos, as if foreshadowing their fate.<a name="IV_Page_323"></a></p> + +<p>In picturing the dogs and donkeys, he was full of jest +and merriment; but the kings of moor and forest called +forth deeper and sadder sentiments.</p> + +<p>That wild animals instinctively flee in frenzied alarm at +man's approach is comment enough on our treatment +of them.</p> + +<p>The deer, so gentle and so graceful, so innocent and so +beautiful, are never followed by man except as a +destroyer; and the idea of looking down a rifle-barrel +into the wide-open, soulful eyes of a deer made Landseer +sick at heart.<a name="IV_Page_324"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>To Landseer must be given the honor of first +opening a friendly communication between +the present royal family and the artistic and +literary world.</p> + +<p>Wild-eyed poets and rusty-looking, impecunious painters +were firmly warned away from Balmoral. The +thought that all poets and painters were anarchistic and +dangerous—certainly disagreeable—was firmly fixed in +the heart of the young Queen and her attendants.</p> + +<p>The barrier had first been raised to Landseer. He was +requested to visit the palace and paint a picture of one +of the Queen's deerhounds. It was found that the man +was not hirsute, untamed or eccentric. He was a gentleman +in manner and education—quite self-contained +and manly.</p> + +<p>He was introduced to the Queen; they shook hands and +talked about dogs and horses and things, just like old +acquaintances. They loved the same things, and so were +friends at once. It was not long before Landseer's near +neighbors at Saint John's Wood were stricken speechless +at the spectacle of Queen Victoria on horseback +waiting at the door of Landseer's house, while the +artist ran in to change his coat. When he came out he +mounted one of the groom's horses for a gallop across +the park with the Queen of England, on whose possessions +the sun never sets.</p> + +<p>These rides with royalty were, however, largely a matter +of professional study; for he not only painted a picture +<a name="IV_Page_325"></a>of the Queen on horseback, but of Albert as well. And at +Windsor there can now be seen many pictures of dogs +and horses painted by Landseer, with nobility incidentally +introduced, or vice versa, if you prefer.</p> + +<p>It was in Eighteen Hundred Thirty-five that Landseer +began to paint the pets of the royal family, and the +friendly intimacy then begun continued up to the time +of his death in Eighteen Hundred Seventy-three.</p> + +<p>In the National Academy are sixty-seven canvases by +Landseer; and for the Queen, personally, he completed +over one hundred pictures, for which he received a sum +equal to a quarter of a million dollars.</p> + +<p>Landseer's career was one of continuous prosperity. In +his life there was neither tragedy nor disappointment. +His horses and dogs filled his bachelor heart, and when +Tray, Blanche and Sweetheart bayed and barked him a +welcome to that home in Saint John's Wood where he +lived for just fifty years, he was supremely content.</p> + +<p>His fortune of three hundred thousand pounds was distributed +at his death, as he requested, among various +servants, friends and needy kinsmen.</p> + +<p>Landseer had no enemies, and no detractors worth +mentioning. That his great popularity was owing to his +deference to the spirit of the age goes without saying. +He never affronted popular prejudices, and was ever +alert to reflect the taste of his patrons. The influence of +passing events was strong upon him: the subtlety of +Turner, the spiritual vision of Fra Angelico, the sublime +<a name="IV_Page_326"></a>quality of soul (that scorned present reward and dedicated +its work to time) of Michelangelo were all far +from him.</p> + +<p>That he at times attempted to be humorous by dressing +dogs in coats and trousers with pipe in mouth is to be +regretted. A dog so clothed is not funny—the artist is.</p> + +<p>The point has also been made that in Landseer's work +there was no progression—no evolution. His pictures +of mountain scenery done in Scotland before he was +thirty mark high tide. To him never again came the +same sweep of joyous spirit or surge of feeling.</p> + +<p>Bank-accounts, safety and satisfaction are not the +things that stir the emotions and sound the soul-depths. +Landseer never knew the blessing of a noble +discontent. But he contributed to the quiet joy of a +million homes; and it is not for us to say, "It is beautiful; +but is it art?" Neither need we ask whether the +name of Landseer will endure with those of Raphael and +Leonardo. Edwin Landseer did a great work, and the +world is better for his having lived; for his message was +one of gentleness, kindness and beauty.</p> + + + +<hr class="full" /><p><a name="IV_Page_327"></a></p> +<h2><a name="GUSTAVE_DORE" id="GUSTAVE_DORE"></a>GUSTAVE DORE</h2> +<p><a name="IV_Page_328"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p>Lacroix told Dore one day, early in his life in Paris, that +he should illustrate a new edition of his works in four +volumes, and he sent them to him. In a week Lacroix +said to Dore, who had called, "Well, have you begun +to read my story?" "Oh! I mastered that in no time; +the blocks are all ready"; and while Lacroix looked on +stupefied, the boy dived into his pockets and piled many +of them on the table, saying, "The others are in a +basket at the door; there are three hundred in all!"</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i27">—<i>Blanche Roosevelt</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="./images/ljv4-12.jpg"><img src="./images/ljv4-12_th.jpg" alt="GUSTAVE DORE" /></a></p><p class="ctr">GUSTAVE DORE</p> +<p><a name="IV_Page_329"></a></p> +<p><br /></p> + +<p>It was at the Cafe de l'Horloge in +Paris. Mr. Whistler sat leaning on +his cane, looking off into space, +dreamily and wearily.</p> + +<p>He roused enough to answer the +question: "Dore—Gustave Dore—an +artist? Why, the name sounds +familiar! Oh, yes, an illustrator. Ah, +now I understand; but there is a difference between an +artist and an illustrator, you know, my boy. Dore—yes, +I knew him—he had bats in his belfry!"</p> + +<p>And Mr. Whistler dismissed the subject by calling for +a match, and then smoked his cigarette in grim silence, +blowing the smoke through his nose.</p> + +<p>Not liking a man, it is easy to shelve him with a joke, +or to waive his work with a shrug and toss of the head, +but not always will the ghost down at our bidding.</p> + +<p>In the realm of art nothing is more strange than this: +genius does not recognize genius. Still, the word is much +abused, and the man who is a genius to some is never +so to others. In defining a genius it is easiest to work by +the rule of elimination and show what he is not.</p> + +<p>For instance, neither Reynolds, Landseer nor Meissonier +was a genius. These men were strong, sane, well poised—filled +with energy and life. They were receptive and +quick to grasp a suggestion or hint that could be turned +<a name="IV_Page_330"></a>to their advantage—to further the immediate plans +they had in hand. They had ambition and the ability +to concentrate on a thing and do it. Just what they +focused their attention upon was largely a matter of +accident. They had in them the capacity for success—they +could have succeeded at anything they undertook, +and they were too sensible to undertake a thing at which +they could not succeed. They always saw light through +at the other end.</p> + +<p>"I have success tied to the leg of my easel by a blue +ribbon," said Meissonier.</p> + +<p>They succeeded by mathematical calculation, and the +fame, name and gold they won was through a conscious +laying hold upon the laws that bring these things to pass.</p> + +<p>They chose to paint pictures, and the entire energy of +their natures was concentrated upon this one thing. +Practising the art, day after day, month after month, +year after year, they acquired a wonderful facility. They +knew the history of art—its failures, pitfalls and successes. +They knew the human heart—they knew what +the people wanted and what they didn't. They set +themselves to supply a demand. And all this keenness, +combined with good taste and tireless energy, would +have brought a like success in any one of a dozen +different professions.</p> + +<p>And these are the men who give plausibility to that +stern half-truth: a man can succeed in anything he +undertakes—it is all a matter of will.<a name="IV_Page_331"></a></p> + +<p>But you can not count Gustave Dore in any such +category. He stands alone: he had no predecessors, and +he left no successors. We say that the artist has his +prototype; but every rule has its exception—even this +one.</p> + +<p>Gustave Dore drew pictures because he could do nothing +else. He never had a lesson in his life, never drew from +a model, could not sketch from Nature; accepted no +one's advice; never retouched or considered his work +after it was done; never cudgeled his brains for a subject; +could read a book by turning the leaves; grasped all +knowledge; knew all languages; found an immediate +market for his wares and often earned a thousand dollars +before breakfast; lived fifty years and produced +over one hundred thousand sketches—an average of +six a day; made two million dollars by the labor of his +own hands; was knighted, flattered, proclaimed, adored, +lauded, scorned, scoffed, hooted, maligned, and died +broken-hearted.</p> + +<p>Surely you can not dispose of a man like this with a +"bon mot"!</p> + +<p>Comets may be good or ill, but wise men nevertheless +make note of them, and the fact that they once flashed +their blinding light upon us must live in the history +of things that were.<a name="IV_Page_332"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>An Alsatian by birth, and a Parisian by +environment, Dore is spoken of as of the +French School, but if ever an artist belonged +to no "school" it was Gustave Dore.</p> + +<p>His early years were spent in Strassburg, within the +shadow of the cathedral. His father was a civil engineer—methodical, +calculating, prosperous. The lad was the +second of three sons: strong, bright, intelligent boys.</p> + +<p>In his travels up and down the Rhine the father often +took little Gustave with him, and the lad came to know +each wild crag, and crowning fortress, and bend in the +river where strong men with spears and bows and arrows +used to lie in wait. In imagination Gustave repeopled +the ruins and filled the weird forests with curious, +haunting shapes. The Rhine reeks with history that +merges off into misty song and fable; and this folklore +of the storied river filled the day-dreams and night-dreams +of this curious boy.</p> + +<p>But all children have a vivid imagination, and the chief +problem of modern education is how to conserve and +direct it. As yet no scheme or plan or method has been +devised that shows results, and the men of imagination +seem to be those who have succeeded in spite of school. +In Gustave Dore we have the curious spectacle of +Nature keeping bright and fresh in the man all those +strange conceptions of the child, and multiplying them +by a man's strength.</p> + +<p>The wild imaginings of Gustave only served his father +<a name="IV_Page_333"></a>and mother with food for laughter; and his erratic +absurdities in making pictures supplied the neighbors' +fun.</p> + +<p>But actions that are funny in a child become disturbing +in a man; he's cute when little, but "sassy" when +older.</p> + +<p>Gustave, however, did not put away childish things. +When he had reached the age of indiscretion—was +fourteen, and had a frog in his throat, and was conscious +of being barefoot—he still imagined things and made +pictures of them. His father was distressed, and sought +by bribes to get him to quit scrawling with pencil and +turn his attention to logarithms and other useful things; +but with only partial success.</p> + +<p>When fifteen he accompanied his father and older +brother to Paris, where the older boy was to be installed +in the Ecole Polytechnique. It was the hope of the father +that, once in Paris, Gustave would consent to remain +with his brother, and thus, by a change of base, a +reform in his tastes would come about and he would +leave the Rhine with its foolish old-woman tales and +cease the detestable habit of picturing them.</p> + +<p>It was the first time Gustave had ever been to Paris—the +first time he had ever visited a large city. He was +fascinated, captivated, enthralled. Paris was fairyland +and paradise. He announced to his father and brother +that he would not return to Alsace, neither would he +go to the Polytechnique. They told him he must do +<a name="IV_Page_334"></a>either one or the other; and as the father was going back +home in two days, Gustave could have just forty-eight +hours in which to decide his destiny.</p> + +<p>Passing by the office of the "Journal pour Rire," the +father and son gaping in all the windows like true +rustics, they saw announced an illustrated edition of +"The Labors of Hercules." Some of the illustrations +were shown in the window with the hope of tempting +possible buyers. Gustave looked upon these illustrations +with critical eye, and his face flushed scarlet—but he +said nothing.</p> + +<p>He knew the book; aye, every tale in it, with all its +possible variations, had long been to him a bit of true +history. To him Hercules lived yesterday, and, confusing +hearsay with memory, he was almost ready to swear +that he was present and used a shovel when the strong +man cleaned the Augean stables.</p> + +<p>The next morning, when his father and brother were +ready to go to visit the Polytechnique, Gustave pleaded +illness and was allowed to lie abed. But no sooner was +he alone than he seized pencil and paper and began to +make pictures illustrating "The Labors of Hercules."</p> + +<p>In two hours he had half a dozen pictures done, and +fearing the return of his father he hurried with his +pictures to Monsieur Philipon, director of the "Journal +pour Rire." He shouldered past the attendants, pushed +his way into the office of the great man, and spreading +his pictures out on the desk cried, "Look here, sir!<a name="IV_Page_335"></a> +that is the way 'The Labors of Hercules' should be +illustrated!"</p> + +<p>It was the action of one absorbed and lost in an idea. +Had he taken thought he would have hesitated, been +abashed, self-conscious—and probably been repulsed +by the flunkies—before seeing Monsieur Philipon. It +was all the sublime effrontery and conceit—or naturalness, +if you please—of a country bumpkin who did not +know his place.</p> + +<p>Philipon glanced at the pictures and then looked at the +boy. Then he looked at the pictures. He called to another +man in an adjoining room and they both looked at the +pictures. Then they consulted in an undertone. It was +suggested that the boy draw another illustration right +there and then. They wished to make sure that he himself +did the work, and they wanted to see how long it +took.</p> + +<p>Gustave sat down and drew another picture.</p> + +<p>Philipon refused to let the lad leave the office, and +dispatched a messenger for his father. When the father +arrived, a contract was drawn up and signed, whereby +it was provided that the "infant" should remain with +Philipon for three years, on a yearly salary of five +thousand francs, with the proviso that the lad should +attend the school, Lycee Charlemagne, for four hours +every day.</p> + +<p>Thus, while yet a child, without discipline or the +friendly instruction that wisdom might have lent, he +<a name="IV_Page_336"></a>was launched on the tossing tide of commercial life.</p> + +<p>His "Hercules" was immediately published and +made a most decided hit—a palpable hit. Paris wanted +more, and Philipon wished to supply the demand. The +new artist's pictures in the "Journal pour Rire" +boomed the circulation, and more illustrations were in +demand. Philipon suggested that the four hours a day +at school was unnecessary—Gustave knew more already +than the teachers.</p> + +<p>Gustave agreed with him, and his pay was doubled. +More work rushed in, and Gustave illustrated serial +after serial with ease and surety, giving to every picture +a wildness and weirdness and awful comicality. The +work was unlike anything ever before seen in Paris: +every one was saying, "What next!" and to add to the +interest, Philipon, from time to time, wrote articles for +various publications concerning "the child illustrator" +and "the artistic prodigy of the 'Journal pour Rire.'"</p> + +<p>With such an entree into life, how was it possible +that he should ever become a master? His advantages +were his disadvantages, and all his faults sprang +naturally as a result of his marvelous genius. He was +the victim of facility.</p> + +<p>Everything in this world happens because something +else has happened before. Had the thing that happened +first been different, the thing that followed would not +be what it is.</p> + +<p>Had Gustave Dore entered the art world of Paris in the +<a name="IV_Page_337"></a>conventional way, the master might have toned down +his exuberance, taught him reserve, and gradually led +him along until his tastes were formed and character +developed. And then, when he had found his gait and +come to know his strength, the name of Paul Gustave +Dore might have stood out alone as a bright star in the +firmament—the one truly great modern.</p> + +<p>Or, on the other hand, would the ossified discipline and +set rules of a school have shamed him into smirking +mediocrity and reduced his native genius to neutral +salts?</p> + +<p>Who will be presumptuous enough to say what would +have occurred had not this happened and that first +taken place?<a name="IV_Page_338"></a></p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Before Gustave Dore had been in Paris a +year his father died. Shortly after, the Strassburg +home was broken up, and Madame +Dore followed her son to Paris. Gustave's +tireless pencil was bringing him a better income than +his father had ever made; and the mother and three +sons lived in comfort.</p> + +<p>The mother admonished Gustave to apply himself to +pure art, and not be influenced by Philipon and the +others who were making fortunes by his genius. And +this advice he intended to follow—not yet, but very +soon. There were "Rabelais" and Balzac's "Contes +Drolatiques" to illustrate. These done, he would then +enter the atelier of one of the masters and take his time +in doing the highest work.</p> + +<p>But before the books were done, others came, with +retainers in advance. Then a larger work was begun, to +illustrate the Crimean War, in five hundred battle-scenes.</p> + +<p>And so he worked—worked like a steam-engine—worked +without ceasing. He illustrated Shakespeare's +"Tempest" as only Dore could; then came Coleridge, +Moore, Hood, Milton, Dante, Hugo, Gautier, and great +plans were being laid to illustrate the Bible.</p> + +<p>The years were slipping past. His brothers had found +snug places in the army, and he and his mother lived +together in affluence. Between them there was an +affection that was very loverlike. They were comrades +<a name="IV_Page_339"></a>in everything—all his hopes, plans and ambitions were +rehearsed to her. The love that he might have bestowed +on a wife was reserved for his mother, and, fortunately, +she had a mind strong enough to comprehend him.</p> + +<p>In the corner of the large, sunny apartment that was +set apart for his mother's room, he partitioned off a +little room for himself, where he slept on an iron cot. +He wished to be near her, so that each night he could +tell her of what he had done during the day, and each +morning rehearse his plans for the coming hours. By +telling her, things shaped themselves, and as he +described the pictures he would draw, others came to +him.</p> + +<p>The confessional seems a crying need of every human +heart—we wish to tell some one. And without this +confessional, where one soul can outpour to another +that fully sympathizes and understands, marriage is a +hollow, whited mockery, full of dead men's bones.</p> + +<p>There is a desire of the heart that makes us long to +impart our joy to another. Corot once caught the sunset +on his canvas as the great orb sank, a golden ball, +behind the hills of Barbizon. He wished to show the +picture to some one—to tell some one, and looking +around saw only a cottage on the edge of the wood a +quarter of a mile away, and thither he ran, crying to +the astonished farmer, "I've got it! I've got it!"</p> + +<p>When Dore did a particularly good piece of work, in +the first intoxication of joy he would run home, kiss his +<a name="IV_Page_340"></a>mother on both cheeks, and picking her up in his strong +arms run with her about the rooms.</p> + +<p>At other times he would play leap-frog over the chairs, +vault over the piano, and jump across the table. And +this wild joy that comes after work well done he knew +for many years. In the evening, after a particularly +good day, he would play the violin and sing entire +scenes from some opera, his mother turning the leaves.</p> + +<p>As to his skill as a musician, is this testimonial on the +back of a fine photograph I once had the pleasure of +handling: "As a souvenir of tender friendship, presented +to Gustave Dore, who joins with his genius as a painter +the talents of a distinguished violinist and charming +tenor.—G. Rossini."</p> + +<p>The illustrations for Dante's "Inferno" were done in +Dore's twenty-second year, and for this work he was +decorated with the Cross of the Legion of Honor. He +never did better work, and at this time his hand and +brain seemed at their best.</p> + +<p>Every great writer and every great artist makes +vigorous use of his childhood impressions. Childhood +does not know it is storing up for the days to come, but +its memories sink deep into the soul, and when called +upon to express, the man reaches out and prints from +the plates that are bitten deep; and these are the +pictures of his early youth—or else they tell of a time +when he loved a woman.</p> + +<p>The first named are the more reliable, for sex and love +<a name="IV_Page_341"></a>have been made forbidden subjects, until self-consciousness, +affectation and untruth creep easily into +their accounting. All literature and all art are secondary +sex manifestations, just as surely as the song of birds +or the color and perfume of flowers are sex qualities. +And so it happens that all art and all literature is a +confession; and it occurs, too, that childhood does not +stand out sharp and clear on memory's chart until it is +past and adolescence lies between. Then maturity gives +back to the man the childhood that is gone forever.</p> + +<p>Many of the world's best specimens of literature are +built on the impressions of childhood. Shakespeare, +Victor Hugo, and I'll name you another—James Whitcomb +Riley—have written immortal books with the +autobiography of childhood for both warp and woof.</p> + +<p>Gustave Dore's best work is a reproduction of his childhood's +thoughts, feelings and experiences—all well +colored with the stuff that dreams are made of.</p> + +<p>The background of every good Dore picture is a deep +wood or mountain-pass or dark ravine. The wild, +romantic passes of the Vosges, and the sullen crags, +topped with dark mazes of wilderness, were ever in his +mind, just as he saw them yesterday when he clutched +his father's hand and held his breath to hear the singing +of the wood-nymphs 'mong the branches.</p> + +<p>His tracery of bark and branch, and drooping bough +held down with weight of dew, are startlingly true. The +great roots of giant trees, denuded by storm and flood, +<a name="IV_Page_342"></a>lie exposed to view; and deep vistas are given of shadowy +glade and swift-running mountain torrent. All is +somber, terrible, and tells of forces that tossed these +mountain-tops like bowls, and of a Power immense, +immeasurable, incomprehensible, eternal in the heavens.</p> + +<p>Dore's first exhibition in the Salon was made when +he was eighteen, and a few years later, when he was +presented with the Cross of the Legion of Honor, the +decoration made his work exempt from jury examination. +And so every year he sent some large painting to +the Salon.</p> + +<p>His work was the wonder of Paris, and on every hand +his illustrations were in demand, but his canvases were +too large in size and too terrible in subject to fit private +residences.</p> + +<p>Patrons were cautious.</p> + +<p>To own a "Dore" was proof of a high appreciation of +art, or else a lack of it—buyers did not know which.</p> + +<p>They were afraid of being laughed at.</p> + +<p>His competitors began to hoot and jeer. Not being able +to make pictures that would compete with his, they +wrote him down in the magazines.</p> + +<p>His name became a jest.</p> + +<p>Various of his illustrations for the Bible were enlarged +into immense canvases, some of which were twenty feet +long and twelve feet high. All who looked upon these +pictures were amazed by the fecundity in invention +and the skill shown in drawing; but the most telling +<a name="IV_Page_343"></a>criticism against them was their defect in coloring. Dore +could draw, but could not color, and the report was +abroad that he was color-blind.</p> + +<p>The only buyers for his pictures came from England and +America. Paris loved art for art's sake, and the Bible +was not popular enough to make its illustration worth +while. "What is this book you are working on?" asked +a caller.</p> + +<p>It was different in London, where Spurgeon preached +every Sunday to three thousand people. The "Dores" +taken to London attracted much attention—"mostly +from the size of the canvases," Parisians said. But the +particular subject was the real attraction. Instead of +reading their daily "chapter," hard-working, tired +people went to see a Dore Bible picture where it was +exposed in some vacant storeroom and tuppence +entrance-fee charged.</p> + +<p>It occurred to certain capitalists that if people would go +to see one Dore, why would not a Dore gallery pay?</p> + +<p>A company was formed, agents were sent to Paris and +negotiations begun. Finally, on payment of three hundred +thousand dollars, forty large canvases were +secured, with a promise of more to come.</p> + +<p>Dore took the money, and, the agents being gone, ran +home to tell his mother. She was at dinner with a little +company of invited guests. Gustave vaulted over the +piano, played leap-frog among the chairs, and turning +a handspring across the table, incidentally sent his heels +<a name="IV_Page_344"></a>into a thousand-dollar chandelier that came toppling +down, smashing every dish upon the table, and frightening +the guests into hysterics.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing," said Madame Dore; "it's nothing—Gustave +has merely done a good day's work!"</p> + +<p>The "Dore Gallery" in London proved a great success. +Spurgeon advised his flock to see it, that they might +the better comprehend Bible history; the Reverend +Doctor Parker spoke of the painter as "one inspired +by God"; Sunday-schools made excursions thither; +men in hobnailed shoes knelt before the pictures, +believing they were in the presence of a vision.</p> + +<p>And all these things were duly advertised, just as we +have been told of the old soldier who visited the Gettysburg +Cyclorama at Chicago and looking upon the +picture, he suddenly cried to his companion, "Down, +Bill, down! by t' Lord, there's a feller sightin' his gun +on us!"</p> + +<p>Barnum offered the owners twice what they paid for +the "Dore Gallery," with intent to move the pictures to +America, but they were too wise to accept.</p> + +<p>Twenty-eight of the canvases were eventually sold, +however, for a sum greater than was paid for the lot, yet +enough remained to make a most representative display; +and no American in London misses seeing the Dore +Gallery, any more than we omit Madame Tussaud's +Wax-Works.</p> + +<p>In Eighteen Hundred Seventy-three, Dore visited<a name="IV_Page_345"></a> +England and was welcomed as a conquering hero. The +Prince of Wales and the nobility generally paid him +every honor. He was presented to the Queen, and +Victoria thanked him for the great work he had done, +and asked him to inscribe for her a copy of the "Dore +Bible."</p> + +<p>More than this, the Queen directed that several Dore +pictures be purchased and placed in Windsor Castle.</p> + +<p>Of course, all Paris knew of Dore's success in England. +Paris laughed. "What did I tell you?" said Berand. +And Paris reasoned that what England and America +gushed over must necessarily be very bad. The directors +of the Salon made excuses for not hanging his pictures.</p> + +<p>Dore had become rich, but his own Paris—the Paris +that had been a foster-mother to him—refused to +accredit him the honor which he felt was his due.</p> + +<p>In Eighteen Hundred Seventy-eight, smarting under the +continued gibes and geers of artistic France, he modeled +a statue which he entitled "Glory." It represents a +woman holding fast in affectionate embrace a beautiful +youth, whose name we are informed is Genius. The +woman has in one hand a laurel-wreath; hidden in the +leaves of this wreath is a dagger with which she is about +to deal the victim a fatal blow.</p> + +<p>Dore grew dispirited, and in vain did his mother and +near friends seek to rally him out of the despondency +that was settling down upon him. They said, "You are +only a little over forty, and many a good man has never +<a name="IV_Page_346"></a>been recognized at all until after that—see Millet!"</p> + +<p>But he shook his head.</p> + +<p>When his mother died, in Eighteen Hundred Eighty-one, +it seemed to snap his last earthly tie. Of course he +exaggerated the indifference there was towards him; +he had many friends who loved him as a man and +respected him as an artist.</p> + +<p>But after the death of his mother he had nothing to +live for, and thinking thus, he soon followed her. +He died in Eighteen Hundred Eighty-three, aged fifty +years.</p> + + + +<hr /><p><a name="IV_Page_347"></a></p> +<p>SO HERE ENDETH "LITTLE JOURNEYS TO THE HOMES +OF EMINENT PAINTERS," BEING VOLUME FOUR OF THE +SERIES, AS WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD: EDITED +AND ARRANGED BY FRED BANN; BORDERS AND +INITIALS BY ROYCROFT ARTISTS, AND PRODUCED BY +THE ROYCROFTERS, AT THEIR SHOPS, WHICH ARE IN +EAST AURORA, ERIE COUNTY, NEW YORK, MCMXXII</p> + +<hr> + +<p><small>Transcriber's Note:</small></p> + +<p><small>Inconsistencies in the original (e.g., Arnola/Arnold; Edgcumbe/Edgecumbe; +geers/jeers) have been retained in this etext.</small></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Journeys to the Homes of the +Great, Volume 4 (of 14), by Elbert Hubbard + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE JOURNEYS TO THE HOMES *** + +***** This file should be named 18118-h.htm or 18118-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/1/18118/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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