met a painter of harbours and shipping scenes called Boudin. Through
his influence Monet studied out-of-door effects, and was beginning to
do fairly good work, when he was drawn as a conscript and sent to
Algeria. It is written that Monet discovered that "green, seen under
strong sunshine is not green, but yellow; that the shadows cast by
sunlight upon snow or upon brightly lighted surfaces are not black,
but blue; and that a white dress, seen under the shade of trees on a
bright day, has violet or lilac tones." This only means that these
things have been scientifically determined, not that the naked eye
ever perceives them, and it is for the natural, unscientific eye that
art exists. None of us see the separate colours of the spectrum, as we
look about in every-day fashion upon every-day objects.
Professor Rood managed to produce an intelligent effect by putting
separate colours on discs and whirling these round so that the colours
mingled. Monet tried to do the same by dotting his original colours
close together, and leaving the picture to its own destruction. It
ought to revolve, if the scientific idea is to be carried out.
Nothing desirable can be made out of his pictures even when viewed
from far off, while at close range they are simply grotesque, and
photographs of them give the impression that the entire landscape is
wabbling to the ground.
I wonder if anyone, small or grown up, can understand this: "It was
indeed a higher kind of impressionism that Monet originated, one that
reveals a vivid rendering, not of the natural and concrete facts, but
of their influence upon the spirit when they are wrapped in the
infinite diversities of that impalpable, immaterial, universal medium
which we call light, when the concrete loses itself in the abstract,
and what is of time and matter impinges on the eternal and the
universal." Monet's pictures look just as that explanation of them
sounds!
The same writer says that Monet was greater than Corot because he was
more sensitive to colour; but if Monet had been as sensitive to colour
as Corot, he could not have lived and looked at his own pictures.
PLATE--HAYSTACK IN SUNSHINE
The main feature of this picture is such a hay stack as never existed
anywhere, of indescribable lurid colour, against a background of blue
such as never was seen. All about there are violet and rose-coloured
trees, and it is a picture that every child should know, because he is
likely never to have another such opportunity.
Monet has made two interesting pictures of churches, one at Vernon,
the other at Varangeville.
XXXI
MURILLO (BARTOLOME ESTEBAN)
(Pronounced Moo-reel'oh Bar-tol-o-may' A-stay'bahn)
_Andalusian School_
1617-1682
_Pupil of Juan del Castillo_
The story of Murillo has been delightfully told by Mrs. Sarah Bolton.
Like Velasquez, he was born in Seville, a city called "the glory of
the Spanish realms," and was baptised on New Year's day, 1618, in the
Church of the Magdalen.
Murillo's father paid his rent in work, instead of in money. He made a
bargain with the convent who owned his house that he would keep it in
repair if he might have it free of rent, so there Gaspar Estéban and
his wife, Maria Perez, settled. "Perez" was the family name of
Murillo's mother, who had very good connections; one of her brothers,
Juan del Castillo, being a man who encouraged all art and had an art
school of his own. Little Murillo therefore had encouragement from the
start, an unusual circumstance at a time when parents rarely wished to
think of their sons as painters. As a matter of fact, his mother would
have preferred that he should become a priest, but she was kind and
sensible, and put no difficulties in the way of the little Murillo
doing as he wished.
The story goes that the Perez family had been very rich, but, however
it may have been, that was not the case when the artist was born. One
day after his mother had gone to church, Murillo being left at home
alone, retouched a picture that hung upon the wall. It was a picture
of sacred subject--"Jesus and the Lamb." He thought he could make some
improvements in it, so he painted his own hat upon the head of Jesus
and changed the lamb into a little dog. His mother was a good deal
shocked at what seemed to her an irreligious act, though it showed the
family genius. After that the boy was found to be painting upon the
walls of his schoolroom, and making sketches upon the margins of his
books, though he did little else at school.
He had one sister, Therese, and they were left without father or
mother before the artist was eleven years old.
It was at that time that he received the name of "Murillo" by which he
is known.
It came about thus: After the death of his parents he went to live
with his mother's sister, the Doña Anna Murillo, who had married a
surgeon called Juan Agustin Lagares, and since the little artist was
to live with his aunt, he soon became known by her family name. There,
in her home, he and his sister Therese, were brought up, but he was
not to become a surgeon like his uncle-in-law, but an artist like his
uncle Juan, the teacher in Seville. That uncle took him in hand,
taught the boy to draw, to mix colours, to stretch his canvas, and
soon Murillo's genius won the love of master and pupils.
In peace and reasonable comfort he served a nine years apprenticeship,
and painted his first important, if not especially great,
pictures. These were two Madonnas, one of them "The Story of the
Rosary." St. Dominic had instituted the rosary; using fifteen large
and one hundred and fifty small beads upon which to keep record of the
number of prayers he had said; the large beads representing the
_Paternosters and Glorias_ and the small ones, the _Aves_. This
practical way of indicating duties helped the heedless to concentrate
their attention, and did much to increase the number of prayers
offered. Indeed, it is said that "by this single expedient Dominic did
more to excite the devotion of the lower orders, especially of the
women, and made more converts, than by all his orthodoxy, learning,
arguments, and eloquence." It was this incident in the history of the
Catholic Church that Murillo commemorated.
When the artist was twenty-two years old, his uncle, Juan del
Castillo, broke up his home and went elsewhere to live, leaving the
artist without home or means, and with his little sister to take care
of. Without vanity or ambition, but with only the wish to care for his
sister and to get food, the marvellous painter took himself to the
market place, and there, wedged in between stalls, old clothes,
vegetables, all sorts of wares, like a wanderer and a gypsy, he began
his career.
At the weekly market--the _Feria_ or fair, opposite the Church of All
Saints--his brotherly, kindly feeling for the vagabonds he daily met
is shown in the treatment he gives them in his wonderful
pictures. During the two years that he worked in that open-air studio
he had flower-girls, muleteers, hucksters all about him, and he
painted dozens of rough pictures which found quick sale among the
patrons of the market. What Velasquez was doing in the court of
Madrid, Murillo was doing in the streets of Seville; the one painting
cardinals, kings, and courtiers; the other painting beggars, _gamins_,
and waifs. Between the two, the world has been shown the social
history of Spain as it then existed.
Through a peculiar happening, the American Indian saw the beauties of
Murillo's work before Europe was even conscious there was such a
man. In his old home, his uncle's studio, Murillo had had a dear
comrade, Moya. They had not met for two years or more, and when they
did come together again Moya told Murillo he had been travelling, that
he had been to Flanders with the Spanish army, and thence to London,
in both places seeing gorgeous paintings and other inspiring
things. He opened the eyes of Murillo to the splendours the world
contained, and the artist became wild with desire to go and see them
for himself, but he had no money. He was painting pictures in the
market place of Seville and getting so little for his hasty work that
he could barely support himself and little Therese. What must he do in
order to get to London and see the world?
What he did do was to buy a piece of linen, cut it into six pieces and
hide himself long enough to paint upon them "saints, flowers, fruit
and landscapes," and then he went forth to sell them.
He actually sold those pictures to a ship-owner who was sending his
ship to the West Indies. Eventually they were hung upon the walls of a
mission in wild, far off America. It is said that after this Murillo
made no little money by painting such pictures, destined to give the
American savage an idea of the Christian religion. One cannot but
wonder if there may not be, all unknown to us, Murillo pictures, made
in the market-place of Seville nearly three hundred years ago, hidden
away in the remains of those old Spanish missions, even to-day. Such a
picture would be more rare than the greatest that he ever painted.
After selling his six pictures Murillo started a-foot, not to London
but on a terrible journey across the Sierra Mountains, to Madrid--the
home of Velasquez. Murillo knew that this native of Seville had become
a famous artist. He was powerful and rich and at the court of Philip
II., while Murillo had no place to lay his head, and besides he had
left Therese behind in Seville in the care of friends. He had no claim
upon the kindness of Velasquez but he determined to see him; to
introduce himself and possibly to gain a friend. It was under these
forlorn circumstances he made himself known to the great Spanish court
painter.
The story of their meeting is a fine one. For Murillo Velasquez had a
warm embrace, a kind and hospitable word. The stranger told Velasquez
how he had crossed the mountains on foot, was penniless, but could use
his brush. Instead of jealousy and suspicion, the young man met with
nothing but the most cheerful encouragement, found the Velasquez home
open to him, took up his lodging there and established his workshop
with nothing around him but friendship and the sympathy his nature
craved.
From the market-place to the home of Velasquez and the Palace of
Philip II.! It was a beautiful dream to Murillo.
With what splendour of colour and mastery of design he illuminated the
annals of the poor! Coming forth from some dim chancel or palace-hall
in which he had been working on a majestic Madonna picture, he would
sketch in, with the brush still loaded with the colours of celestial
glory, the lineaments of the beggar crouching by the wall, or the
gypsy calmly reposing in the black shadow of an archway. Such
versatility had never before been seen west of the Mediterranean, and
it commanded the admiration of his countrymen.
All his beggarly little children, neglected and houseless, appeared
only to be full of cheer and merriment, with soft eyes and contented
faces. It was a happy, care-free, gay, and kindly beggardom that he
painted, with nothing in it to sadden the heart.
Thus he lived for three years; working in the galleries of the king,
making friends at court, painting beautiful women, gallant cavaliers
and fascinating little beggars.
In the course of time, however, he grew restless, and Velasquez wished
to give him letters of introduction to Roman artists and people of
quality, advising him to go to Rome to study the greatest art in the
world. This was an alluring plan to Murillo, but after all he longed
for his own home and chose to return there rather than go to
Rome. Besides, his sister Therese was still in Seville.
Once more in his home, at one stroke of his magic brush Murillo raised
himself and a monastic order from obscurity to greatness. In his
native city was the order of San Francisco. The monks had long wished
to have their convent decorated in a worthy manner by some artist of
repute; but they were poor and had never been able to engage such a
painter. When Murillo got back home, he was as badly in need of work
as the Franciscans were in want of an artist. The monks held a council
and finally agreed upon a price which they could pay and which Murillo
could live upon. Then he began a wonderful set of eleven large
paintings. Among them were many saints, dark and rich in colouring,
and no sooner was it known that the paintings were being made than all
the rich and powerful people of Seville flocked to the convent to see
the work. They gathered about the young artist, overwhelmed him with
honours and praise, and the monastery was crowded from morning till
night with those who wished to study his work. From that moment
Murillo's fame, if not his fortune, was made.
He married a rich and noble lady with the tremendous name of Doña
Beatriz de Cabrera y Sotomayer. He had fallen in love with her while
painting her as an angel.
About that time he formed a strange partnership with a landscape
painter, who agreed to supply the backgrounds that his pictures
needed, if Murillo would paint figures into his landscapes. This plan
did very well for a little time, but it did not last long.
Murillo painted in three distinct styles, and these have come to be
known as the "warm," the "cold," and the "vaporous." He painted
pictures in the great cathedral of the Escorial and the "Guardian
Angel" was one of them. Also, he painted "St. Anthony of Padua," and
of this picture there is one of those absurd stories meant to
illustrate the perfection of art. It is said that the lilies in it are
so natural that the birds flew down the cathedral aisles to pluck at
them. Many artists have painted this saint, but Murillo's is the best
picture of all.
When the nephew of his first master, Murillo's cousin, saw that work
he said: "It is all over with Castillo! Is it possible that Murillo,
that servile imitator of my uncle, can be the author of all this grace
and beauty of colouring?"
The Duke of Wellington offered for this picture as many gold pieces
"as would cover its surface of fifteen square feet." This would have
been about two hundred and forty thousand dollars; but we need not
imagine that Murillo received any such sum for the work. This picture
has a further interesting history. The canvas was cut from the frame
by thieves in 1874, and later it was sold to Mr. Schaus, the
connoisseur and picture dealer of New York. He paid $250 for it, and
at once put it into the hands of the Spanish consul, who restored it
to the cathedral.
The story of the saint whom Murillo painted is as interesting as
Murillo's own. Among the many wonderful things said to have happened
to him was that a congregation of fishes hearing his voice as he
preached beside the sea, came to the top and lifted up their heads to
listen.
While Murillo was doing his work, he was living a happy, domestic
life. He had three children, and doubtless he used them as models for
his lively cherubs, as he used his wife's face for madonnas and
angels.
He founded an academy of painting in Seville, for the entrance to
which a student could not qualify unless he made the following
declaration: "Praised be the most Holy Sacrament and the pure
conception of Our Lady."
The most delightful stories are told of Murillo's kindness and
sweetness of disposition. He had a slave who loved him and who, one
day while Murillo was gone from the studio, painted in the head of the
Virgin which the master had left incomplete. When Murillo returned and
saw the excellent work he cried: "I am fortunate, Sebastian"--the
slave's name--"For I have not created only pictures but an artist!"
This slave was set free by Murillo and in the course of time he
painted many splendid pictures which are to-day highly prized in
Seville.
This is a description of Murillo's house which is still to be seen
near the Church of Santa Cruz: "The courtyard contains a marble
fountain, amidst flowering shrubs, and is surrounded on three sides by
an arcade upheld by marble pillars. At the rear is a pretty garden,
shaded by cypress and citron trees, and terminated by a wall whereon
are the remains of ancient frescoes which have been attributed to the
master himself. The studio is on the upper floor, and overlooks the
Moorish battlements, commanding a beautiful view to the eastward, over
orange groves and rich corn-lands, out to the gray highlands about
Alcala."
Murillo's fame brought fortune to his little sister, Therese. She
married a nobleman of Burgos, a knight of Santiago and judge of the
royal colonial court. He became the chief secretary of state for
Madrid.
Murillo made money, but gave almost all that he made to the poor,
though he did not make money in the service of the Church, as
Velasquez made it in the service of the king.
His work of more than twenty pictures in the Capuchin Church of
Seville occupied him for three years, and in that time he did not
leave the convent for a single day.
Of all the charming stories told of this glorious artist, one which is
connected with his work in that church is the most picturesque. It
seems that every one within the walls loved him, and among others a
lay brother who was cook. This man begged for some little personal
token from Murillo and since there was no canvas at hand, the artist
bade the cook leave the napkin which he had brought to cover his food,
and during the day he painted upon it a Madonna and child, so natural
that one of his biographers declares the child seems about to spring
from Mary's arms. This souvenir made for the cook of the Capuchin,
convent has been reproduced again and again, as one of the artist's
greatest performances.
Toward the close of his happy life, he became more and more devout,
spending many hours before an altar-piece in the Church of Santa Cruz
where was a picture of "The Descent from the Cross," by Pedro
Campana. "Why do you always tarry before 'The Descent from the
Cross?'" the sacristan once asked of him.
"I am waiting till those men have brought the body of our blessed Lord
down the ladder." Murillo answered. His wife had died, his daughter
had become a nun, and all that was left to him was his dear son
Gaspar, when in his sixty-third year he began his last work, "The
Marriage of St. Catherine." He had not finished this when he fell from
the scaffolding upon which he was working, and fatally hurt
himself. He died, with his son beside him. He was a much loved man,
and when he was buried, his bier was carried by "two marquises and
four knights and followed by a great concourse of people." He chose to
be buried beneath the picture he loved so much--"The Descent from the
Cross," and upon his grave was laid a stone carved with his name, a
skeleton and an inscription in Latin which means "Live as one who is
about to die."
The church has since been destroyed, and on its site is the Plaza
Santa Cruz, but Murillo's grave is marked by a tablet.
Each country seems to have had at least one man of beautiful heart and
mind, to represent its art. Raphael in Italy, Murillo in Spain, were
types of gentle and greatly beloved men. Leonardo in Italy and Dürer
in Nuremberg, were types of forceful, intellectual men, highly
respected and of great benefit to the world.
Of all the painters who ever lived, Murillo was the one who painted
little children with the most loving and fascinating touch.
PLATE--THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION
Besides the little angels in this picture, we have a bewildering
choice among many other beauties.
Many pictures of this subject have been painted, and many were painted
by Murillo, but the one presented here is the greatest of all. It
hangs in the Louvre, Salle VI. Mary seems to be suspended in the
heavens, not standing upon clouds. Under the hem of her garments is
the circle of the moon, while there is the effect of hundreds of
little cherub children massed about her feet, in a little swarm at the
right, where the shadow falls heaviest, and still others, half lost in
the vapoury background at the left, where the heavenly light streams
upon them, and brilliantly lights up the Virgin's gown. In this
picture are all Murillo's beloved child figures, some carrying little
streamers, their tiny wings a-flutter and all crowding lovingly about
Mary. Far below this gorgeous group we can imagine the dark and weary
earth lost in shadow.
Among Murillo's most famous paintings are: "The Birth of the Virgin,"
"Two Beggar Boys," "The Madonna of the Rosary," "The Annunciation,"
"Adoration of the Shepherds," "Holy Family," "Education of Mary," "The
Dice Players," and "The Vision of St. Anthony."
XXXII
RAPHAEL (SANZIO)
(Pronounced Rah'fay-el (Sahnt'syoh))
1483-1590
_Umbrian, Florentine, and Roman Schools_
_Pupil of Perugino_
It was said of Raphael that "every evil humour vanished when his
comrades saw him, every low thought fled from their minds"; and this
was because they felt themselves vanquished by his pleasant ways and
sweet nature.
Imagine his beautiful face, with its sunny eyes, reflecting no shadow
of sadness or pain. Such a one was sure to be beloved by all.
The father of Raphael was Giovanni Santi, himself an able artist. Both
he and Raphael studied in many schools and took the best from
each. The son was brought up in an Italian court, that of Guidobaldo
of Urbino, where the father was a favourite poet and painter, so that
he had at least one generation of art-lovers behind him, at a time
when learning and art were much prized. Nothing ever entered into his
life that was sad or sorrowful; his whole existence was a triumph of
beautiful achievements. There were three great artists of that time,
the other two being Michael Angelo and Leonardo da Vinci, both of whom
were absolutely unlike Raphael in their art and in their characters.
Raphael was born on April 6th at Contrada del Monte in the ducal city
of Urbino. His mother's name was Magia Ciarla, and she was the
daughter of an Urbino merchant. She had three children besides the
great painter, all of whom died young, and when Raphael was but eight
years old his mother died also. It is said that it was from her
Raphael inherited his beauty, goodness, mildness, and genius. His
father's patron, the Duke of Urbino, was a fine soldier, but he also
cherished scholarship and art, and kept at his court not less than
twenty or thirty persons at work copying Greek and Latin manuscript
which he wished to add to his library.
Raphael had a stepmother, Bernardina, the daughter of a goldsmith, a
good and forceful woman, but not gentle like the first wife; and when
Raphael was eleven years of age his father, too, died. By his father's
will Raphael became the charge of his uncle Bartolommeo, a priest, but
the property was left to the stepmother so long as she remained
unmarried. Almost at once the priest and the stepmother fell to
quarreling over the spoils, and thus Raphael was left pretty much to
his own devices, but just when life began to look dark and sad for
him, his mother's brother took a hand in the situation. He settled the
dispute between the priest and the second wife, and arranged that
Raphael should be placed in the studio of some great painter, for the
loving lad had already worked in his father's studio, and had given
promise of his wonderful gifts. So he became the pupil of Perugino, a
painter noted for his fine colouring and sympathetic handling of his
subjects. At that time, Italian schools were less wonderful in
colouring than in other matters of technique.
"Let him become my pupil," said Perugino, when Raphael was brought to
him and some of his work was exhibited; "soon he will be my master." A
very different attitude from that of Ghirlandajo toward Michael
Angelo.
Raphael and his master became friends and worked together for nine
years.
His first work was not conceived until Raphael was seventeen. It was
to be a surprise to his master who had gone to Florence. A banner was
wanted for the Church of S. Trinita at Citta di Castello, and Raphael
undertook it, painting the "Trinity," on one canvas and the "Creation
of Man" on another. Then he painted the "Crucifixion," which was
bought by Cardinal Fesch, who lived in Rome. That painting is now in a
collection of the Earl of Dudley. It was sold away from Rome in 1845,
for twelve thousand dollars--or a little more. No one will deny that
this is an unusual sum for an artist's first work, but about the same
time he did a much more wonderful thing.