CHILDREN BORN TO THE PURPLE.
The children of a royal family lead a strange and somewhat lonely life.
Impressed, almost from infancy, with a sense of their superiority, and
recognizing no equals among their companions and playmates, they live
apart in princely isolation, preparing for the future honors which
await them. But even the grave responsibilities of their rank cannot
altogether extinguish the inherent joyousness of youth, and children
will be children to the end of time. The stately ceremonies of the court
have to yield in turn to innocent amusements, and childhood reasserts
its natural right to simple and spontaneous happiness.
The combination of royal dignity with pure childishness is a unique
subject for art, and one which few have had the genius to portray. Two
great painters are famous in history for their remarkable success in
this line of work,--Van Dyck, of Belgium, and Velasquez, of Spain.
In many respects the lives of these two painters ran in parallel lines.
They were born in the same year, 1599; and beginning their art studies
when still very young, with great opportunities for the development of
their talent, both had won an enviable reputation by the time they had
reached early manhood. Both held appointments as the court painters
of kings who were unusually liberal and appreciative in their
patronage,--Van Dyck under Charles I. of England, and Velasquez under
Philip IV. of Spain. Both artists drew great inspiration from the
Italian masters, whose works they studied in Venice and Rome,
particularly the great Titian. Here, however, the comparison may end;
for the nature of the subjects which each chose, the influence of their
nationality upon their style, and, above all, their own personal
individuality as artists, have rendered their work strikingly
dissimilar.
Van Dyck was in every sense a man of the world and a courtier; widely
travelled, broadly cultured, fond of music, brilliant in conversation,
handsome of face, and graceful in bearing, by turns an elegant host and
a distinguished guest. Thus all his thoughts, interests, and pleasures
were thoroughly identified with the court life, and he was peculiarly
fitted for the artistic interpretation of royalty.
The family of Charles I. of England afforded a most attractive field for
the exercise of the court painter's talent, and many and varied are the
groups in which they were represented.[2] Some of the most interesting
of these are in the collection at Windsor. In one, the king and queen
are seen, with their two sons, Prince Charles and Prince James; while
another portrays the same boys, with their mother, Henrietta Maria. The
latter painting is an exceedingly beautiful work, repaying long study.
The boys have that indefinable air of nobility which Van Dyck knew so
well how to impart to his subjects, and which none can imitate or
explain. Even Prince James, who is an infant in arms, holds his little
head erect, like the prince that he is. The artist has shown us,
however, that royal dignity is by no means incompatible with the true
child nature, and the two young princes are always depicted as genuine
children, with frank, winning faces.
[Illustration: HEAD OF JAMES, DUKE OF YORK.--VAN DYCK.]
The most popular of Van Dyck's portraits of the Stuart children is the
famous group at Turin, in which the two young princes, Charles and
James, stand one on each side of their sister Mary. All three bear
themselves with an air of conscious superiority, a gentle and serene
dignity born of their faith in the divine right of kings. Prince Charles
is dressed in scarlet satin, richly embroidered with silver lace, with a
broad lace collar falling over his shoulders. His large round eyes look
out towards the spectator with the dreamy expression of one who builds
splendid air-castles. The Princess Mary is in white satin, and is a
dainty little figure, a second edition of her queen mamma, with ringlets
carefully ranged on each side of her pretty forehead, and her exquisite
hands holding lightly the lustrous folds of her dress.
The little Prince James is so short that he stands on a platform at the
side, to bring his figure into harmonious relation to the group. His
dress is blue satin, of stiff, full skirt, which, with the close white
cap on his head, makes him a quaint little figure. A chubby, innocent
looking baby, he is nevertheless a personage who fully realizes the
important place he occupies in the family group, and is determined to
fill it with becoming gravity.
Next in popularity to the Turin picture is a group of five children, the
original of which is at Windsor, and a replica at Berlin. The painting
is dated 1637, fixing the age of Prince Charles as seven. Having now
outgrown the frocks of the earlier pictures, he stands in a graceful
boyish attitude, wearing satin knickerbockers and waistcoat, and still
retaining the beautiful lace collar on his aristocratic shoulders. His
eyes have the same dreamy look as in other portraits. On his right are
his sisters Mary and Elizabeth, the former demurely complacent as
before, the latter timid and dainty. On the left the little Princess
Anne frolics with Prince James in simple childish fashion. As a
composition, the picture is somewhat stiff and artificial, but the
single figures are all rendered with characteristic beauty.
It is sad to place beside Van Dyck's glowing canvases, the dark pictures
in which historians have painted the after-life of these charming
children. The dreamy-eyed Prince Charles grows at length into the
corrupt and unprincipled King Charles II., whose tyrannies are limited
only by his indolence. The sweet, round-faced baby, Prince James,
becomes King James II., whose reign is even more inglorious than that of
the brother whom he succeeds. The Princess Mary has in the mean time
married Prince William II. of Orange, and now, in England's hour of
need, it is her son, William III. of Orange, who is summoned to the aid
of his mother's native land. With his cousin wife Mary, the daughter of
the unworthy king, he assumes the head of affairs, and wisely conducts
the interests of the people throughout a prosperous reign.
The fact that the Princess Mary's marriage with William II. of Orange
was productive of so great a benefit to England gives special interest
to Van Dyck's painting of the betrothed lovers, which may now be seen at
Amsterdam. The princess stands on the left side of the picture, bearing
herself with characteristic dignity. Prince William, beside her, holds
her left hand lightly in his right, and turns his face to meet our gaze
with steadfast, serious eyes. He is a fine, manly figure, in every way
the true Prince Charming for his pretty lady-love. Both children have a
thoughtful, intelligent look, far beyond their years, as if conscious
that England's destiny turns upon their union.
[Illustration: PRINCESS MARY AND PRINCE OF ORANGE.--VAN DYCK.]
From Van Dyck's exquisitely idealized portraits of royal children we
turn to the work of Velasquez, to find a faithful reproduction of the
totally different type of child-life represented at the court of Spain.
Appointed court painter at the age of twenty-four, and retaining this
connection until his death, in 1660, the Spanish artist has left to
posterity a vivid panorama of the royal life at Madrid during a period
of nearly forty years. His delineations are so realistic, his technique
is so masterly, his posing of figures so entirely natural, that his
pictures seem to place the living reality before us. Often representing
the characters he painted as occupied in their customary daily pursuits,
his works are a truthful reflection of the life of his times, and are as
full of historical interest as of artistic merit.
The court to which the young painter was introduced in 1623 might almost
be called A Court of Boys, the king, Philip IV., being but eighteen
years of age, and his two brothers, the Cardinal Infant Don Fernando,
and the Prince Carlos, seventeen and thirteen respectively. The youthful
king was, of course, his first royal patron, and was painted in a
magnificent equestrian portrait, which at once established the artist's
fame.
With the birth of the king's first child, the Prince Balthasar Carlos,
in 1629, the court painter's duties began in earnest; and from that time
on he was most assiduous in portraying the royal family.
Prince Balthasar was represented in almost every imaginable position,
first as a tiny child in frocks, and later as a young boy in court
dress,[3] military costume, or hunting-garb.
In his most attractive portraits he is a gallant young horseman, seated
with an easy grace, as if born to the saddle. Two of these are scenes
in the riding-school, and are admirable compositions. The most
remarkable, however, is that in the Madrid Museum, in which the little
prince rides alone on a bright bay. The beautiful pony bounds out of the
picture with great spirit and grace, guided by his happy, round-faced
rider, whose right hand lifts a baton, and whose left holds the bridle.
The brilliant colors of his riding-costume make the picture exceedingly
effective in rich, warm tints,--the green velvet jacket and the
red-and-gold scarf,--while the young cavalier's fluttering streamers and
the horse's sweeping mane and tail give a swift breezy motion to the
whole scene.
Next in age to Prince Balthasar came the Princess Maria Theresa, who
afterwards became the queen of Louis XIV. of France. Velasquez painted
various portraits of this little princess to be sent to the European
courts where negotiations for her marriage were under consideration;
but, unhappily, the fate of most of these is shrouded in mystery. One
interesting painting, however, may be seen in the Royal Gallery at
Madrid.[4] The child has a sweet, demure face, which seems very narrow
and delicate-looking in its broad frame of elaborately arranged hair.
Her bearing is dignified, in spite of her uncomfortable dress. In one
hand she carries an immense handkerchief, and in the other a rose, both
resting lightly on the outer edge of the huge hemisphere, of which her
slender figure forms, as it were, the central axis. Her sad and lonely
after-life as a neglected queen, in the gay and dissolute French court,
makes the picture singularly pathetic. There is a look of sweet patience
in the face, which seems to anticipate the coming years.
[Illustration: PRINCESS MARIA THERESA.--VELASQUEZ.]
By King Philip's second marriage he brought to the Spanish court as
his wife the Princess Mariana of Austria, who was then only fourteen
years of age. The young queen was of course frequently portrayed by the
court painter, but she did not make a very attractive subject for his
skill, with her rather dull eyes and her full lips, and cheeks
plentifully bedaubed with rouge.
As there was a difference of but three years in the ages of the
child-wife and the Princess Maria Theresa, the two were constant
companions; and when the Princess Margaret was christened, the elder
sister stood as godmother with great dignity. A pretty story is related
that on the way to the chapel for the christening, Maria Theresa let
slip from her finger a costly ring, which a poor woman picked up to
return to her. "Keep it," said the little princess, with true royal
tact; "God has sent it to you."
The Princess Margaret became the darling of the court, and her blonde
beauty is immortalized in many portraits by Velasquez. The most famous
of these is the picture called "Las Meninas," or The Maids of Honor, in
which the young princess is the central figure of a group of devoted
attendants. The composition is a veritable masterpiece, representing
with perfect naturalness a daily scene in the palace. The princess rules
with a sweet, complacent smile, and one can well imagine what an object
of admiration her fair hair and blue eyes must have been among the
swarthy, dark-eyed Spaniards.
[Illustration: PRINCESS MARGARET.--VELASQUEZ.]
Another celebrated painting of the same child is in the Louvre at Paris,
where it is a centre of attraction for art lovers and copyists, on
account of the exquisite delicacy of its technique. It is a half-length
portrait, showing a winning face, with wide, earnest eyes, and a
demure little mouth. The fair hair is parted at one side, where it is
caught back with a ribbon bow,--a style which the princess is said to
have retained even after her marriage with the Emperor Leopold.
From an artist's point of view, the beauty of the Velasquez child
portraits is greatly injured by the grotesque fashions of the times. A
long stiff corset and an immense oval hoop entirely precluded any
possibility of grace in the attitude of the little princesses, while a
ridiculously artificial style of dressing the hair completed the
absurdity of a costume which was the laughing-stock of Europe.
Van Dyck was in this respect far more fortunate in his surroundings, and
the full, lustrous folds of satin in which the English royal children
were arrayed, gave him ample scope for an exquisite disposition of light
and shade.
Independently of purely artistic principles, we should be sorry to
lose from the pictures of either artist that element of interest and
fascination which the costumes of an earlier epoch always arouse. The
Princess Maria Theresa would be less interesting without her big hoop,
and the Princess Mary less dignified without her voluminous satin;
Charles would scarcely be the prince that he is, if lacking his broad
lace collar, and Prince Balthasar would lose much of his charm, deprived
of his red and green bravery. There is, in fact, no detail in any of
these pictures which does not throw light upon the phase of life which
they portray.
Other great masters besides Van Dyck and Velasquez have been called to
the portraiture of royalty,--Titian,[5] Holbein,[6] Rubens,--but for
various reasons they painted but few pictures of royal children, and
these are by no means notable when compared with their other works.
Van Dyck and Velasquez, therefore, stand out the more prominently for
this unique class of court portraits, and so long as their works endure,
they will take first rank as a revelation of the peculiar grace and
charm of the life of children born to the purple.
III.
THE CHILDREN OF FIELD AND VILLAGE.
O for boyhood's painless play,
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor's rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools,
Of the wild bee's morning chase,
Of the wild-flower's time and place,
Flight of fowl, and habitude
Of the tenants of the wood;--
For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks,
Part and parcel of her joy,--
Blessings on the barefoot boy!
WHITTIER.