known as a great artist. The family must have been rich in spirit that
gave so much genius to the world. Hobbema certainly loved his art
above all things, for he had no return during his lifetime, save what
was given by the joy of work. There are those who complain that
Hobbema was a poor colourist. True, he used little besides grays and a
peculiar green, which seemed especially to please him; but since that
colouring belonged to the subjects he chose, one cannot complain on
the ground that what he did was unsatisfying. For lack of knowledge
about him we can think of him as a man of moods, sad, desolate ones at
that; because his work is too extreme and uniform in its character for
us to believe his method was affected.
PLATE--THE AVENUE, MIDDELHARNIS, HOLLAND
This perhaps is one of the most characteristic of Hobbema's
pictures. Note a strange hopelessness in the scene, as well as
beauty. The tall and solemn trees, the high light upon the road,
suggesting to us all sorts of joys struggling through the
cheerlessness of life. What other artist would have chosen such a
corner of nature for a subject to paint? To quote a fine description:
"He loved the country-side, studied it as a lover, and has depicted it
with such intimacy of truth that the road to Middelharnis seems as
real to-day as it did over a hundred years ago to the artist. We see
the poplars, with their lopped stems, lifting their bushy tops against
that wide, high sky which floats over a flat country, full of billowy
clouds as the sky near the North Sea is apt to be. Deep ditches skirt
the road, which drain and collect the water for purposes of
irrigation, and later on will join some deeper, wider canal, for
purposes of navigation. We get a glimpse on the right, of patient
perfection of gardening, where a man is pruning his grafted fruit
trees; farther on a group of substantial farm buildings. On the
opposite side of the road stretches a long, flat meadow, or "polder,"
up to the little village which nestles so snugly around its tall
church tower; the latter fulfilling also the purpose of a beacon, lit
by night, to guide the wayfarer on sea and land; scene of tireless
industry, comfortable prosperity, and smiling peace. ... Pride and
love of country breathe through the whole scene. To many of us the
picture smiles less than it thrills with sadness. Perhaps it speaks
thus only to those who find a kind of hurt in the revival of the
spring, which promises so much and may fulfill so little."
Hobbema's "Watermill" is very well-known and so are his "Wooded
Landscape," and "Haarlem's Little Forest."
XXI
WILLIAM HOGARTH
_School of Hogarth (English)_
1697-1764
William Hogarth, like Watteau, originated his own school; in short
there never was anybody like him. He was an editorial writer in
charcoal and paint, or in other words he had a story to tell every
time he made a picture, and there was an argument in it, a right and a
wrong, and he presented his point of view by making pictures.
English artists in literature and in painting have done some great
reformatory work. Charles Dickens overthrew some dreadful abuses by
writing certain novels. The one which has most interest for children
is the awful story of Dotheboys' Hall, which exposed the ill treatment
of pupils in a certain class of English schools. What Dickens and
Charles Reade did in literature, Hogarth undertook to do in
painting. He described social shams; painted things as they were, thus
making many people ashamed and possibly better.
Italians had always painted saints and Madonnas, but Hogarth pretended
to despise that sort of work, and painted only human beings. He did
not really despise Raphael, Titian, and their brother artists, but he
was so disgusted with the use that had been made of them and their
schools of art, to the entire exclusion of more familiar subjects,
that he turned satirist and ridiculed everything.
First of all, Hogarth was an engraver. He was born in London on the
10th December, 1697, and eighteen days later was baptised in the
church of St. Bartholemew the Great. His father was a school teacher
and a "literary hack," which means that in literature he did whatever
he could find to do, reporting, editing, and so on.
Hogarth must early have known something of vagabond life, for his
father's life during his own youth must have brought him into
association with all sorts of people. He knew how madhouses were run,
how kings dined, how beggars slept in goods boxes, and many other
useful items.
Hogarth said of himself: "Shows of all sorts gave me uncommon pleasure
when an infant, and mimicry, common to all children, was remarkable in
me.... My exercises, when at school, were more remarkable for the
ornaments which adorned them, than for the exercises themselves." He
became an engraver or silver-plater, being apprenticed to Mr. Ellis
Gamble, at the sign of the "Golden Angel," Cranbourne Alley, Leicester
Fields.
Engraving on silver plate was all well enough, but Hogarth aspired to
become an engraver on copper, and he has said that this was about the
highest ambition he had while he was in Cranbourne Alley.
The shop-card which he engraved for Mr. Ellis Gamble may have been the
first significant piece of work he undertook. The card is still among
the Hogarth relics. He set up as an engraver on his own account,
though he did study a little in Sir James Thornhill's art school; but
whatever he learned he turned to characteristic account.
He continued to make shop-cards, shop-bills, and book-plates. Finally,
in 1727, a maker of tapestry engaged Hogarth to sketch him a design
end he set to work ambitiously He worked throughout that year upon the
design, but when he took it to the man it was refused. The truth was
that the man who had commissioned the work had heard that Hogarth was
"an engraver and no painter," and he had so little intelligence that
he did not intend to accept his design, however much it might have
pleased him. Hogarth sued the man for his refusal and he won the
suit. He next began to make what he called "conversation pieces,"
little paintings about a foot high of groups of people, the figures
being all portraits. These were very fashionable for a time and made
some money for the artist. Both he and Watteau were fond of the stage,
and both painted scenes from operas and plays.
In time he moved into lodgings at the "Golden Head," in Leicester
Fields, and there he made his home. He had already begun the great
paintings which were to make him famous among artists. These were a
series of pictures, telling stories of fashionable and other life. His
own story of how he came to think of the picture series was that he
had always wished to present dramatic stories--present them in scenes
as he saw them on the stage.
He had married the daughter of Sir James Thornhill, and had never been
thought of kindly by his father-in-law till he made so much stir with
his first series. Then Sir James approved of him, and Hogarth found
life more pleasing.
There are very few anecdotes to tell of the artist's life, and the
story of his pictures is much more amusing. One of his first satires
was made into a pantomime by Theophilus Gibber, and another person
made it into an opera. Many pamphlets and poems were written about it,
and finally china was painted with its scenes and figures. There was
as much to cry as to laugh over in Hogarth's pieces and that is what
made them so truly great. One of his great picture series was called
the "Rake's Progress" and it was a warning to all young men against
leading too gay a life. It showed the "Rake" at the beginning of his
misfortunes, gambling, and in the last reaping the reward of his
follies in a debtor's prison and the madhouse. There are eight
pictures in that set.
In this series, especially in the fifth picture, there are
extraordinary proofs of Hogarth's completeness of ideas. Upon the wall
in the room wherein the "Rake" marries an old woman for her money, the
Ten Commandments are hung, all cracked, and the Creed also is cracked
and nearly smudged out; while the poor-box is covered with
cobwebs. The eight pictures brought to Hogarth only seventy guineas.
One of his pictures was suggested to him by an incident which greatly
angered him. He had started for France on some errand of his own, and
was in the very act of sketching the old gate at Calais, when he was
arrested as a spy. Now Hogarth was a hard-headed Englishman, and when
he was hustled back to England without being given time for argument,
he was so enraged that he made his picture as grotesque as possible,
to the lasting chagrin of France. He painted the French soldiers as
the most absurd, thin little fellows imaginable, and that picture has
largely influenced people's idea of the French soldier all over the
English-speaking world.
As Hogarth grew old he grew also a little bitter and revengeful toward
his enemies, often taking his revenge in the ordinary way of
belittling the people he disliked, in his paintings.
Hogarth came before Reynolds or Gainsborough; in short, was the first
great English artist, and his chief power lay in being able instantly
to catch a fleeting expression, and to interpret it. An incident of
Hogarth's youth illustrates this. He had got into a row in a pot-house
with one of the hangers-on, and when someone struck the brawler over
the head with a pewter pot, there, in the midst of excitement and
rioting, Hogarth whipped out his pencil and hastily sketched the
expression of the chap who had been hit.
Hogarth was friends with most of the theatre managers, and one of his
souvenirs was a gold pass given him by Tyers, the director of Vauxhall
Gardens, which entitled Hogarth and his family to entrance during
their lives. This was in return for some "passes," which Hogarth had
engraved for Tyer.
Upon one occasion Hogarth set off with some companions for a trip to
the Isle of Sheppey. Incidentally Forest wrote a sketch of their
journey and Hogarth illustrated it. That work is to be found,
carefully preserved, in the British Museum. The repeated copying and
reproduction for sale of his pictures brought about the first effort
to protect his works of art by copyright. But it was not till he had
done the "Rake's Progress" that he was able to protect himself at all,
and even then not completely.
Just before his death he was staying at Chiswick, but the day before
he died he was removed to his house in Leicester Fields. He was buried
in the Chiswick churchyard; and in that suburb of London may still be
seen his old house and a mulberry tree where he often sat amusing
children for whom he cared very much. Garrick wrote the following
epitaph for his tomb:
If Genius fire thee, Reader, stay;
If Nature touch thee, drop a tear;
If neither move thee, turn away,
For Hogarth's honour'd dust lies here.
Farewell, great Painter of Mankind!
Who reached the noblest point of art,
Whose pictured Morals charm the Mind
And through the Eye correct the Heart.
PLATE--THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT
The picture used in illustration here is part of probably the very
greatest art-sermon ever painted, called "Marriage à la Mode." The
story of it is worth telling:
"The first act is laid in the drawing-room of the Viscount
Squanderfield"--is not that a fine name for the character? "On the
left, his lordship is seated, pointing with complacent pride to his
family tree, which has its roots in William the Conqueror. But his
rent roll had been squandered, the gouty foot suggesting whither some
of it has gone; and to restore his fortunes he is about to marry his
heir to the daughter of a rich alderman. The latter is seated
awkwardly at the table, holding the marriage contract duly sealed,
signed and delivered; the price paid for it, being shown by the pile
of money on the table and the bunch of cancelled mortgages which the
lawyer is presenting to the nobleman, who refuses to soil his elegant
fingers with them. Over on the left is his weakling son, helping
himself at this critical turn of his affairs, to a pinch of snuff
while he gazes admiringly at his own figure in the mirror. The lady is
equally indifferent; she has strung the ring on to her finger and is
toying with it, while she listens to the compliments being paid to her
by Counsellor Silver-tongue. Through an open window another lawyer is
comparing his lordship's new house, that is in the course of building,
with the plan in his hand. A marriage so begun could only end in
misery." This is the first act, and the pictures that follow show all
the steps of unhappiness which the couple take. There are five more
acts to that painted drama, which is in the National Gallery, London.
XXII
HANS HOLBEIN, THE YOUNGER
(Pronounced Hahntz Hol'bine)
_German School_
1497-1543
_Pupil of Holbein, the Elder_
There were three generations of painters in the Holbein family, and
the Hans of whom we speak was of the third. His grandfather was called
"old Holbein," and when more painters of the same name and family came
along it became necessary to distinguish them from each other thus:
"old Holbein," the "elder Holbein," and "young Holbein." The first one
was not much of an artist; still, in a locality where at best there
was not much art he was good enough to be remembered.
"Young Holbein" was born in Augsburg, which is in Swabia, in southern
Germany; "elder Holbein" and his father, Michael, "old Holbein," had
moved there from Schonenfeld, a neighbouring village, about forty
three years before little Hans was born, the old Michael bringing his
family to the larger town where it was easier to make a living.
The "elder Holbein" was a really good artist and well thought of in
Augsburg, and when little Hans's turn came he had no teacher but his
father, unless indeed we were to call him also a pupil of his elder
brother, Ambrosius. His uncle Sigismund, too, taught him something of
art, for the whole Holbein family seem to have been artists. Young
Holbein was never regularly apprenticed to any outsider.
Art was not then taught as it is now. The work of a beginner was often
to paint for his master certain details which it was thought that he
might handle properly, while the master occupied himself with what he
thought to be some more important part of the picture. It is said that
Hans often painted the draperies of his father's figures when his
father was engaged upon the altar pieces so fashionable at the
time. The Holbeins one and all must have been bad managers or
improvident; at any rate, Hans did not turn out well as a man and we
read that his father was always in debt and difficulty although he
received much money for his work and was not handicapped, like Dürer's
father, by a family of eighteen children.
The story of the Holbeins is quite unlike that of the Dürers, and not
nearly so attractive.
Some time before Hans was twenty years of age, the entire family had
packed up and gone to live in Lucerne, while Hans and his brother,
Ambrosius, went travelling together, as most young Germans went at
that time before they settled down to the serious work of life. The
last we hear of Ambrosius he had joined the painters' guild in Basel,
and probably he died not long afterward, or at any rate while he was
still young. There was in Basel a certain Hans Bar, for whose wedding
occasion Hans Holbein designed a table, on which he pictured an
allegory of "St. Nobody." This was very likely such work as our
cartoonists do to-day, but being the work of Holbein, it had great
artistic value. Besides that, he painted a schoolmaster's sign to be
hung outside the door.
As an illustrator, Holbein made the acquaintance of several authors
about that time and started on the high road to fame. He was a man of
very little conscience or fine feeling, and there could hardly be a
greater contrast than that between the clean sweet life of Dürer and
the brawling, unfeeling one that Hans Holbein led.
Dürer married, had no children, but tenderly loved and cared for his
wife, taking her with him upon his journeys and making her happy.
Holbein married and beat his wife; had several children and took care
of none of them. His wife grew to look old and worn while he remained
a gay looking sport, quite tired of one whom he had had on his hands
for ten years. He wandered everywhere and left his family to shift for
itself. One writer in speaking of the two men says:
"Dürer would never have deserted his wife whom he took with him even
on his journey to the Netherlands; and he was bound by the same
tenderness to his native town. However much he rejoiced to receive a
visit from Bellini at Venice, or when at Antwerp, the artists
instituted, a torch-light procession in his honour, nothing could have
moved him to leave Nuremberg." Dürer loved his home; Holbein hated
his.
Holbein had a cold, light-blue eye; Dürer a soft and tender
glance. While Dürer lived he was the mainstay of his family--father
and brothers. Holbein's father died in misery and his brother's life
was disastrous, Hans doing nothing to serve them and looking on at
their sufferings indifferently.
There is a court document in existence which tells the particulars of
Hans Holbein's arrest for getting into a brawl with a lot of
goldsmiths' apprentices during a night of carousal. The court warned
him that he would be more severely punished if he did not cease his
lawless life and he was made to promise not to "jostle, pinch, nor
beat his lawful spouse." When he died he made no provision in his will
for his family. There is a picture of his wife, Elizabeth Schmidt, to
be seen in his "Madonna" at Solothurn Holbein used her for the
model. She then was young and blooming and the model for the child was
his own baby; at that time he found them useful.
His life of folly can hardly be excused by impulsiveness or emotion,
for his pictures show little of either. He was best at portrait
painting. At that time guilds and town councils wanted the portraits
of their members preserved in some way, and it was the habit of
painters like Holbein to form picturesque groups and give to such
dramatic groupings the features of townsmen. Rembrandt did this much
later than Holbein, when he painted the "Night Watch," or as it is
more properly called, "The Sortie."
Probably Holbein's first important work was to make title pages for
the second edition of Martin Luther's translation of the New
Testament. This MS. was made about the time that Holbein's work began
to be of interest to the public, and so the commission was given to
him.
After a time this artist went to England with letters of introduction
to Sir Thomas More, Chancellor to King Henry VIII. Sir Thomas treated
him very kindly and set him to work making portraits of his own
family. During the time he was living at More's home in Chelsea, the
King himself, used frequently to visit there, and on one occasion he
saw the brilliant portraits of the More family and inquired about the
artist. Sir Thomas offered the King any of the pictures he liked, but
Henry VIII. asked to see the artist. When brought before him,
Holbein's fortune seemed to be made for the King asked him to go to
court and paint for him, remarking that "now he had the artist he did
not care about the pictures."
Holbein seems to have been a favourite with Henry and many anecdotes
are told of his life at Whitehall, where he went to live. Once while
Holbein was engaged upon a portrait, a nobleman insisted upon entering
his studio, after the artist had told him that he was painting the
portrait of a lady, by order of the King. The nobleman insisted upon
seeing it, but Holbein seized him and threw him down the Stairs; then
he rushed to the King and told what had happened. He had no sooner
finished than the nobleman appeared and told his story. The King
blamed the nobleman for his rudeness.
"You have not to do with Holbein," he said, "but with me. I tell you,
of seven peasants I can make seven lords, but of seven lords I cannot
make one Holbein. Begone! and remember that if you ever attempt to
avenge yourself, I shall look upon any injury offered to the painter
as done to myself."
It was Holbein who, visiting a brother artist and finding a picture on
the easel, painted a fly upon it. When the artist returned he tried to
brush the fly off, then set about looking for the one who had deceived
him.
His portrait painting was so superb that he received many commissions.
Meantime, Sir Thomas More had fallen into disfavour with the King and
was to lose his head, but it is written that the artist's portraits
"betray nothing of this tragedy." He was as ready to climb to fame by
the favour of his generous patron's enemies as he had been to accept
the offices of Sir Thomas More. He painted the portraits of several of
the wives of Henry VIII., and it may be said that there was a good
deal of that monarch's temperament to be found in Holbein
himself. Take him all in all, Hans was as detestable as a man as he
was excellent as a painter.
In his adopted home in Lucerne, Holbein had painted frescoes, both on
the inside and the outside of a citizen's house, and this house stood
until 1824, when it was torn down to make way for street improvements,
but several artists hastily copied the frescoes so that they are not
entirely lost.
Before he left Germany for England, Holbein had been commissioned to
decorate the town hall in Basel, and a certain amount of money was
voted for the work, but after he had finished three walls, he decided
that the money was only enough to pay him for what he had already
done. The councillors agreed with him, but as money was a little
"close" in Basel at that time, they felt unable to give him more, and
so voted to "let the back wall alone, till further notice."
He painted one Madonna whom he surrounded with the entire family of
Burgomaster Meyer, including even the burgomaster's first wife, who
was dead. This work is called the "Meyer Madonna."
It is said that after Holbein's return to Basel he, with others, was
persecuted for his "religious principles," but if this were true, his
persecutors went to considerable pains for nothing, because Holbein
was never known to have any sort of principles, religious or
otherwise. He was neither a Protestant, nor a Catholic but a painter,
a man without convictions and without thought. He did not care for
family, country, friends, politics, religion, nor for anything else,
so far as any one knows.
When he was asked why he had not partaken of the Sacrament, he
answered that he wanted to understand the matter better before he did
so. Thus he escaped punishment, and when matters were explained to
him, he did whatever seemed safest and most convenient under the
circumstances.
On his return to England, he settled among the colony of German and
Netherland merchants, who were in the habit of meeting at a place
called "The Steelyard," as their home and warehouses were grouped in
that locality, with a guild hall and a wineshop they alone patronised.
While associated with his compatriots Holbein made portraits of many
of them, and these are magnificent works of art. He painted them
separately or in groups; in their offices and in their guild hall, as
the case might be. The men whom he thus painted were: Gorg Gisze, Hans
of Antwerp, Derich Berck, Geryck Tybis, Ambrose Fallen, and many
others. He designed the arch which the guild erected upon the occasion
of Anne Boleyn's coronation, and he painted Henry's next Queen, Jane
Seymour.
Holbein painted many portraits of Henry VIII. and probably all those
dated after 1537 were either copies or founded upon the portrait which
Holbein made and which was destroyed with Whitehall.
While he painted for Henry, Holbein received a sort of retainer's fee
of thirty pounds a year, but he may have received sums for outside
commissions which he undertook. On one occasion, when he took a
journey to Upper Burgundy to paint a portrait of the Duchess whom
Henry contemplated making his next wife, the King gave him ten pounds
out of his own purse. We have no record of vast sums such as Raphael
received.