“CE QUE JE CHERCHE AVANT TOUT DANS UN TABLEAU, C’EST
UN HOMME ET NON PAS UN TABLEAU”
_ZOLA_
GERMANY has been strongly affected by the French movement, as in fact
has been the whole of the Continent. Any person who can remember the
state of art in the Fatherland twenty years ago will notice the great
change now taking place. He need only revisit the country and wander
through the great annual exhibitions held in the larger cities, such as
Berlin, Munich, and Dresden. In 1878 the “Gazette des Beaux-Arts,”
referring to the German school of painting, said: “There are one or two
artists of the first rank, and many men of talent, but in other respects
German painting is still upon the level of the schools which had their
day amongst us thirty years ago; this is the solitary school of painting
which does not seem to perceive that the age of railways and World
Exhibitions needs an art different from that of the age of philosophy
and provincial isolation.” Since that date, in the manner of viewing
nature, in the choice of subject, in the style, composition, technique,
and colour of pictures, the main trend of German art has been completely
altered. Until quite recently Teutonic artists delighted in the
allegorical. The output of fabulous monsters, fauns, unicorns, satyrs,
was enormous. Every young painter turned his hand to the production of
these fantastic mythological subjects. Happily a saner view of the
mission of art has come over the land, and the fauns and satyrs are
being gradually relegated to oblivion. From an absurd pseudo-classical
style (the effect of teaching from men like Couture and Munkacsy),
together with unlimited use of bitumen and black, a national school of
painting has been evolved which follows “la peinture claire,” giving
promise that in time it will travel, as regards purity of colour and
brilliance of effect, far beyond the bounds Monet has restricted himself
to. Work “en plein air” is the vogue, and no longer the exception,
whilst the sun is recognised at his true worth in the universal scheme
of nature. Hitherto King Sol has been disregarded, and his presence but
rarely indicated in some low-toned sunrise, or a sunset effect—the
conventional chrome-yellow band across a deep Prussian-blue hill
distance. Following the lead of the artists, both critics and public are
being gradually weaned from the love of black shadows, although it
cannot be said that they are wholly converted. Still their education is
in rapid progress, and the German people will soon be abreast of the
times in matters artistic.
One man, Max Liebermann, has brought about this healthy state of things
almost single-handed. A consideration of his lifework is of the highest
importance and interest to all concerned either with the progress of
German art or the movement of French impressionism, for Liebermann is a
master, head and shoulders above all his colleagues. His artistic
history is easy to trace. The greatest painters are always primarily
attracted by the work of other great men. They copy the models of their
choice, and, missing some of the peculiar qualities enshrined therein,
gradually replace them in their own works with something equally fine.
These fresh qualities will in their turn find admirers, and, fanning the
zeal of newcomers, keep alight throughout the ages the sacred flame of
art. If Delacroix borrowed from Constable, Manet borrowed from
Delacroix, and Liebermann from Manet. In his turn, Liebermann has
influenced a large and increasing number of young German and Dutch
artists.
With his pre-eminent position as a representative German painter, Max
Liebermann combines a commanding and active personality. More than any
other man of his time, his work has provoked discussion and attracted
attention from the commencement. During the last thirty years he has
fought strenuously the battle of light in painting. Strongly influenced
by Manet, Monet, together with Millet and the Barbizon school, he has
succeeded in inculcating amongst his brother artists a love of actuality
in subject, a desire to work direct from nature (contrary to that old
method of painting in the semi-gloom of the studio from incongruous
models in more or less correct costume), together with the
simplification and purification of the palette. Liebermann has taught
German artists to look at nature as it is, and not to represent it as
seen through the veil of a deadening academic tradition; he has taught
them that art does not consist in a minute finish, that there is no
finality in nature, and that the last impression which a true work of
art should convey is that of excessive industry.
[Illustration:
THE COBBLERS · MAX LIEBERMANN
]
Max Liebermann was born in Berlin, July 29, 1849, the son of a wealthy
merchant. At an early age he decided to become an artist, but the
fulfilment of his wish was opposed by his father, who suggested a course
of philosophy at the University of Berlin as an antidote. Young
Liebermann joined the faculty of philosophy, but at the same time worked
in Steffeck’s studio where he made quick progress. He assisted his
master, we are told, in the battle picture _Sadowa_, painting guns,
sabres, uniforms, and hands, with much approbation from Steffeck. He
frequented the galleries and museums in preference to the class-rooms,
and preferred to sketch in the streets and parks of Berlin rather than
sit at the feet of a professor at the University. In 1869, with parental
authority, he deserted philosophy altogether, and joined the Academy at
Weimar, then in high repute as a school of art producing the regulation
painters of orthodox pattern. Here he worked for three years under
Thumann and Pauwels, beginning pictures in their style which were left
unfinished. The petrified classicalism which reigned in Weimar was
little acceptable to a youth who had keenly studied the life around him,
and who had developed a strong love for natural effects as well as
modernity in technique. These heretical tendencies were sternly
repressed by his respectable and erudite teachers. At last Liebermann
threw aside artificiality, and, quitting the circles of the conservative
Academy, occupied himself in painting in the open air.
In 1873 he finished his first great picture, _Women plucking Geese_, now
in the National Gallery, Berlin. It was more or less academic as to
technique, and black tones predominated throughout in accordance with
the fashion of the period. The subject brought the canvas into immediate
notoriety, the picture was condemned as a gross vulgarity, and
Liebermann was described as “the apostle of ugliness.” This hostile
reception was entirely unexpected by the sensitive artist, who was much
affected by it, and determined to leave Berlin for Paris.
Thirty years ago the bituminous method of Munkacsy was the most popular
art in Germany, and influenced many of the younger painters, Liebermann
included. Upon his arrival in Paris the artist sought out the great
Hungarian, and asked for advice. The result of the interview was that
Liebermann quitted Paris for Holland. Munkacsy was at that time, as Dr.
Muther remarks, under the influence of Ribot, and confirmed Liebermann
in his preference for heavy Bolognese shadows. It was not until he came
to know the works of Troyon, Daubigny, and Corot, that he liberated
himself from the influence of the school of Courbet. As subsequent
events proved, the advice given by Munkacsy was good and to the point,
and Liebermann acknowledges his great obligation to the painter of
_Christ before Pilate_.
The first motive of importance which Liebermann found in the Low
Countries resulted in the picture _Women preserving Vegetables_,
completed at Weimar in 1873, and exhibited at the Salon of the same
year. The subject represents a group of women in a dimly lit barn busily
engaged in preserving cabbages and other vegetables. The canvas,
although a great advance upon its predecessors, was ungraciously
received in Germany. So little appreciation did Liebermann receive that
he definitely removed to Paris, where he knew a welcome awaited him. In
“la ville lumière” he worked in the schools and museums, studied Troyon,
Daubigny, and Millet, whilst the influence of Manet, Monet, and the
other Impressionists, was an important factor in the development of his
art.
[Illustration:
ASYLUM FOR OLD MEN, AMSTERDAM · MAX LIEBERMANN
]
[Illustration:
WOMAN WITH GOATS · MAX LIEBERMANN
]
So strong was his admiration for Millet that he went down to Barbizon,
where he arrived shortly before the death of that great artist. Under
the influence of Millet he painted _Labourers in the Turnip Field_, and
_Brother and Sister_, which appeared in the Paris Salon of 1876. He now
reached the turning-point of his career, for he had made up his mind
that at all costs he must perfect his own individual style. A great
unrest, useless to battle against, disorganised his movements. He
travelled through Belgium, Holland, Germany, and Italy, studying and
searching for the inspiration which should place him in the right path.
During these travels he met at Venice Lenbach, the portrait-painter, who
told him to study in Munich. Tired of wandering he acted upon the
suggestion, and passed six years in the Bavarian capital. For a period
his art assumed a religious character, and he painted many biblical
compositions. These works were coldly received, and in Munich they were
strongly and adversely criticised. The clergy objected to them as
profane, and a debate on the subject followed in the Bavarian Assembly.
The life of the artist becoming exceedingly uncomfortable, Liebermann
settled in Amsterdam, where he found a freer artistic atmosphere more
congenial to his temperament. Disdaining the critical capacity of his
native city, Liebermann forwarded all his finest works to Paris, and in
the Salon of 1881 exhibited _An Asylum for Old Men_, which gained a
medal in the third class, the first honour awarded to German art since
the war. Having received the official imprimatur of Paris, his
countrymen began to realise that an artist had grown up amongst them
they could no longer afford to neglect. Liebermann’s works found
purchasers throughout the Continent, and his future was assured. He was
elected a member of the “Cercle des Quinze,” of which Alfred Stevens and
Bastien-Lepage were prominent supporters, and he exhibited annually at
the Salon Petit and other French collections. Since 1884 he has divided
his time between Berlin and the little village of Zandvoort, near
Hilversum, in Holland. Perhaps his early experiences account for the
fact that when in the German capital he mixes little with its artistic
society.
Liebermann has practised with success and ability every variety of
artistic expression. His portraits alone would class him amongst the
masters, taking as examples the _Burgomeister Petersen_, the _Professor
Virchow_, and the _Gerhart Hauptmann_. He is equally facile with the
burin, the needle, the pastel, or with water-colours. His activity is
ceaseless, and his production, in consequence, enormous; he possesses
robust health, uncommon strength, enormous fertility, traits common to
the great artists of all ages.
In his fine canvas of the _Courtyard of the Orphanage, Amsterdam_,
painted in 1881, Liebermann shows for the first time complete
emancipation from the thrall of Munkacsy’s influence. The picture was
exhibited in the Salon of 1882, and in it appears that peculiar note of
red, now one of the distinguishing features of the artist’s work. Of
this canvas Hochédé, the Parisian art critic, said that Liebermann must
surely have been stealing sunbeams to paint with. Then commenced a long
series of pictures such as the _Ropeyard_, the _Netmenders_, now one of
the most valued pictures in the modern section of the Gallery at
Hamburg, in which the Impressionist spirit is clearly manifested. The
unimportant has been omitted, and the pith of the subject only is given.
The point of view is focused, the inconsequent suppressed, and the “mise
en scène” proves the artist to be an irreproachable draughtsman, as well
as a colourist of the first rank. Liebermann’s pictures of “sous bois”
are particularly pleasing, strikingly painted and original; they were
the first of their kind in Germany, and disconcerted the whole artistic
community.
In following the progress of Liebermann’s art, one notes that he is
attracted unceasingly by problems of light. If Manet is the great
apostle of “plein air” painting, surely no one has yet surpassed the
marvellous style in which Liebermann succeeds in rendering the
attenuated scheme of interior lighting in conjunction with extraordinary
powers of sunlight painting. His gradual emancipation from tradition may
be easily traced from the days of _Women plucking Geese_, when he was
with justice called a “son of darkness”; through the “sous bois”
pictures, to the present period of vivid sunlight and violet shadows
across open country, sea, and the human figure.
Liebermann headed the party which revolted from the National Salon, and
of the Secessionists he is the president. Similar cleavages of the young
and progressive from the old and reactionary have taken place in most
countries with equally important results. In Max Liebermann Germany has
an artist of most exceptional gifts. “I do not seek for what is called
the pictorial,” he writes, “but I would grasp nature in her simplicity
and grandeur—the simplest thing and the hardest.”
[Illustration]
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