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GREAT ARTISTS
_"Art manifests whatever is most exalted, and
it manifests it to all!"_--TAINE
GREAT ARTISTS
RAPHAEL
MURILLO
RUBENS
DURER
BY
JENNIE ELLIS KEYSOR
_Author of "Sketches of American Authors"_
EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY
BOSTON
NEW YORK CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO
COPYRIGHTED
BY EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY,
1899.
[Illustration]
A WORD TO THE TEACHER.
The following brief sketches are presented in fear and in hope--in
fear lest they prove in no wise adequate for so glorious a subject; in
the hope that they may encourage not only the pupil, but the teacher,
to study the lives and the works of the great artists and to make
every possible effort to have copies of masterpieces ever before them
to study and to love.
The field of art study is a wonderful one from which to draw for
language work. A double purpose is thus served. Interesting subjects
are secured and pupils are given a start in acquiring a knowledge of
the beautiful that fortifies them for the sorrows and cares of life;
and, what is even better, prevents their own life from being
commonplace.
Would the teacher wish to study further, a list of valuable reference
books is appended to each sketch, any one of which will greatly assist
in acquiring a more extended knowledge of the subject.
In the study of an artist, take care to have a liberal supply of
reproductions of his pictures at hand. These may be photographs,
half-tones, like the illustrations in this book, or engravings. Good
work cannot be done without such pictures.
Above all, work to cultivate a love for good pictures, not to fill
young minds with uninspiring facts. J. E. K.
[Illustration: SISTINE MADONNA. _Raphael._]
RAPHAEL SANTI
"THE PERFECT ARTIST, THE PERFECT MAN."
We are about to study Raphael, the most generally praised, the most
beautiful, and certainly the most loved of all the painters of the
world. When all these delightful things can be truthfully said of one
man, surely we may look forward with pleasure to a detailed study of
his life and works.
Often in examining the lives of great men we are compelled to pass
over some events which, to say the least, are not creditable. Of
Raphael this was not true. He was gifted with all admirable qualities,
and so many-sided was his genius that, while we think of him first as
a painter, we must not forget that he also carved statues, wrote
poems, played musical instruments, and planned great buildings.
So much was he endeared to his pupils that, after he grew to be
famous, he never went on the streets unless he was followed by an
admiring throng of these students, ever ready to do his bidding or to
defend his art from any possible attack by malicious critics. He lived
at a time when artists were fiercely jealous of each other, and yet
wherever he went harmony, like a good angel, walked unseen beside him,
making whatever assembly he entered the abode of peace and good-will.
It is a beautiful thing that such a strong, lovable man should have
had for his name that of the chief of the archangels, Raphael, a name
beautiful of sound and ever suggestive of beauty and loveliness.
There seemed to have been special preparation for the birth of this
unique character. Not only were his parents of the ideal sort, loving
the best things of life and thinking ever of how best to rear the
little son that God had given them, but the very country into which he
was born was fitted to still further develop his natural tenderness
and sweetness of disposition.
Webmo, the birthplace of Raphael, is a secluded mountain town on a
cliff on the east slope of the Apennines directly east of Florence. It
is in the division known as Umbria, a section noted for its gently
broken landscape, such as in later years the artist loved to paint as
background for his most beautiful Madonnas. Here the people were shut
off from much of the excitement known to commercial towns. They were
slower to take up new things than the people in the coast cities where
men live by the exchange of goods and, incidentally, of customs. The
inhabitants led simple, religious lives. We must remember, too, that
hardly fifty miles away was the village of Assisi, where Saint
Francis, the purest of men, had lived and labored and where, after his
death, a double church had been built to his memory.
To this day there is a spirit of reverence that inspires the visitor
to this region. No wonder that, in Raphael's time when this spirit was
fresh and strong, it gave a character of piety and sweetness to the
works of all the painters of Umbria. From these two causes, the
secluded position of the region and the influence of Saint Francis,
arose what is called the Umbrian school of painting. All painters
belonging to this school made pictures very beautiful and full of fine
religious feeling.
One April morning in 1483, to the home of Giovanni Santi, the painter,
and his wife Magia, a dear little boy came, as millions of boys and
girls have since come, to cheer and to bless. The father and mother
were very proud of their little son, and feeling perhaps that a more
than ordinary child had been given them, they gave him the name of
Raphael, as one of good omen.
If we were to visit, in Urbino, the house where Raphael was born, we
would be shown a faded fresco of a Madonna and Child painted by
Giovanni and said to be Magia and the child Raphael.
From the earliest years the child was carefully tended. When he was
only eight, the fond mother died and left the father to care for his
boy alone. In due time a step-mother was brought home. She was a kind
woman and loved and cared for the beautiful lad as if he were really
her own child. Later when the father died, leaving the boy Raphael and
his little half-sister, no one could have been more solicitous for the
boy's rights than his step-mother. She and his uncle together managed
his affairs most wisely.
We have no record that, like Titian, the boy Raphael used the juice of
flowers with which to paint pictures of his childish fancies, but we
do know that very early he became greatly interested in his father's
studio and went in regularly to assist. Now, it must be remembered
that, at this time, when a boy, wishing to learn to paint, went to the
studio of a master he did not at once begin to use colors, brushes,
and canvas. Instead, he usually served a long apprenticeship, sweeping
out the studio, cleaning the brushes, grinding colors, and performing
other common duties. Raphael's assistance to his father must have been
largely of this humble sort. We can imagine, however, that his fond
father did not make his hours long, and that there were pleasant
ramblings in the woods nearby, and that many a bunch of flowers was
gathered for the mother at home. There were happy hours, too, when the
father and his son read together great books of poetry in which tales
of love and knightly encounters were interesting parts. And then, I am
sure, there were other happy hours when, tuning their instruments
together, they filled the time with music's sweetest discourse.
[Illustration: RAPHAEL.]
This was indeed a happy childhood, a fit beginning for an ideal life.
Meanwhile the boy grew strong, and his beauty, too, increased. The
dark hair lay lightly upon his shoulders, and a certain dreaminess in
his eyes deepened,--he was about to feel a great sorrow, for the
father, so devoted, so exemplary, died when his boy was but eleven
years old. We cannot help wishing that he might have lived to see at
least one great picture painted by his son. We can easily imagine his
smile of joy "at the first stroke that surpassed what he could do."
Just what to do with the boy on the death of his father was an
important matter for the step-mother and uncle to decide. They showed
wisdom by their decision. Now, the greatest of all the Umbrian
painters, before Raphael, was a queer little miserly man named
Perugino, who at that time had a studio in Perugia, an Umbrian town
not far distant from Urbino. Although he was of mean appearance and
ignoble character, he had an unmistakable power in painting mild-eyed
Madonnas and spotless saints against delicate landscape back-grounds.
People disliked the man, but they could not help seeing the beauty of
his art, and so his studio was crowded. Hither was sent the boy
Raphael and when Perugino noted the lad and some of his work, he said,
"Let him be my pupil: he will soon become my master." As nearly as we
can learn, he remained in this studio nine years, from 1495 to 1504.
Perugino's style of painting greatly pleased Raphael. He was naturally
teachable and this, with his admiration for Perugino's pictures, made
his first work in the studio very much like his master's. Indeed it is
almost impossible to tell some of his earliest pictures from those of
his teacher. Let me tell you about one. It is called "_The Marriage of
the Virgin_"; and you would have to go to the Brera gallery in Milan
to see it.
The legend runs thus: The beautiful Mary had many lovers all wishing
to marry her. Now here was a difficulty indeed, and so the suitors
were required to put by their rough staves for a night. The promise
was that in the morning one would be in blossom, and its owner should
have Mary for his wife. We can imagine that these lovers were anxious
for day to dawn, and that all but one was sad indeed at the result. In
the morning there were the rods, all save one, brown and rough and
bare, but that one lay there alive with delicate buds and flowers,
and all the air was full of fragrance. This was Joseph's, and he went
away glad and brought his young bride. This first great picture of
Raphael's represented this marriage taking place at the foot of the
Temple steps. The disappointed lovers are present and, I am sorry to
say, one of them is showing his anger by breaking his barren rod even
while the marriage is taking place.
The first and the last work of a great man are always interesting,
and that is why I have told you so much about this picture. You
will be still more interested in Raphael's last picture, "_The
Transfiguration_."
While in the studio he made many friends. With one he went to Siena to
assist him in some fresco painting he had to do there. Of course you
know that fresco is painting on wet plaster so that the colors dry in
with the mortar.
The conversation of the studio was often of art and artists, and so
the beautiful city of Florence must often have been an engaging
subject. Think of what Florence was at this time, and how an artist
must have thrilled at its very name! Beautiful as a flower, with her
marble palaces, her fine churches, her lily-like bell-tower! What a
charm was added when within her walls Leonardo da Vinci was painting,
Michael Angelo carving, Savonarola preaching. In the early years of
Raphael's apprenticeship, the voice of the preacher had been silenced,
but still, "with the ineffable left hand," Da Vinci painted, and still
the marble chips dropped from Angelo's chisel as a _David_ grew to
majesty beneath his touch.
To Raphael, with his love of the beautiful, with his zeal to learn,
Florence was the city of all others that he longed to see. At last his
dream was to be realized. A noble woman of Urbino gave him a letter to
the Governor of Florence, expressing the wish that the young artist
might be allowed to see all the art treasures of the city. The first
day of the year 1505 greeted Raphael in Florence, the art center of
Italy. We can only guess at his joy in seeing the works here and in
greeting his fellow artists.
Angelo and Da Vinci had just finished their cartoons for the town
hall, "_The Bathing Soldiers_," and "_The Battle of the Standard_,"
and they were on exhibition. All Florence was studying them, and of
this throng we may be sure Raphael was an enthusiastic member. While
here he painted several pictures. Among them was the "_Granduca
Madonna_," the simplest of all his Madonnas--just a lovely young
mother holding her babe. It is still in Florence, and to this day
people look at it and say the Grand Duke, who would go nowhere
without this gem of pictures, knew what was beautiful.
[Illustration: RAPHAEL IN HIS STUDIO.]
Raphael did not stay long in Florence at this time, but soon returned
to Perugia. His next visit to Florence was of greater length. During
these years, 1506 to 1508, he painted many of his best known pictures.
In studying the works of Raphael you must never tire of the beautiful
Madonna, for it is said that he painted a hundred of these, so much
did he love the subject and so successful was he in representing the
child Jesus and the lovely mother. Some of his finest Madonnas belong
to this time. Let us look at a few of them.
One, called "_The Madonna of the Goldfinch_," shows Mary seated with
the Child Jesus at her knee and the young John presenting him with a
finch, which he caresses gently. The Madonna has the drooping eyes,
the exquisitely rounded face that always charm us, and the boys are
real live children ready for a frolic. Another, called "_The Madonna
of the Meadow_," represents the Virgin in the foreground of a gently
broken landscape with the two children playing beside her. We must not
forget, either, as belonging to this time, the very beautiful "_La
Belle Jardiniere_," or the "_Madonna of the Garden_" which now hangs
in the Louvre, the art gallery of Paris.
Like all his great Madonnas, the Virgin and Children are of surpassing
loveliness. It is finished in such a soft, melting style that to see
it in its exquisite coloring, one could easily imagine it vanishing
imperceptibly into the blaze of some splendid sunset. While we are
talking of Raphael's color it may be interesting to call your
attention to a very remarkable fact about his paintings. He lays the
color on the canvas so thin that sometimes one can trace through it
the lines of the drawing, and yet his color is so pure and beautiful
that he is considered one of the greatest colorists of the world. The
next time you see an oil painting, notice how thick or how thin the
paint is laid on, and then think of what I have told you of Raphael's
method of using color.
[Illustration: LA BELLE JARDINIERE. _Raphael._]
Now while Raphael was painting these drooping-eyed, mild-faced
Madonnas and learning great lessons from the masters of Florence, a
wonderful honor came to him. He was called to Rome by the Pope and
given some of the apartments of the Vatican to decorate in any way he
wished.
The Pope at this time was Julius II. and he was a very interesting
man. He was a warrior and had spent many years fighting to gain lands
and cities for the Church. When peace returned he was still anxious to
do honor to the Church and so, wherever he heard of a great architect,
painter, or sculptor, he at once invited him to Rome to do beautiful
work for the Church. Already he had set Michael Angelo to work on a
grand tomb for him. Bramante, a relative of Raphael's, was working
hard to make St. Peter's the most wonderful Church in all the world.
Now the young Raphael was to beautify still further the buildings
belonging to the church.
Julius did not pretend to be an artist or a scholar, and yet by his
patronage he greatly encouraged art and literature. The story is told
that when Angelo was making a statue of the Pope for the town of
Bologna, the artist asked Julius if he should place a book in the
statue's extended left hand, and the Pope retorted, almost in anger,
"What book? Rather a sword--I am no reader!"
In earlier years Florence had been a glorious sight to our artist and
now in 1508, standing in the "Eternal City," he was more awed than
when first he beheld the city of the Arno. Here the court of Julius,
gorgeous and powerful, together with the works of art, like St.
Peter's, in process of construction, were but a part of the wonders to
be seen. In addition, the remains of ancient Rome were scattered all
about--here a row of columns, the only remains of a grand temple,
there a broken statue of some god or goddess, long lost to sight, and
all the earth about so filled with these treasures that one had only
to dig to find some hidden work of art. The Roman people, too, were
awake to the fact that they were not only living out a marvelous
present, but that they were likewise, in their every day life, walking
ever in the presence of a still more wonderful past. I wish, while you
are thinking about this, that you would get a picture of the Roman
Forum and notice its groups of columns, its triumphal arches, its
ruined walls. You will then certainly appreciate more fully what
Raphael felt as he went about this city of historic ruins.
[Illustration: MADONNA OF THE FISH. _Raphael._]
The Pope received the young artist cordially and at once gave him the
vast commission of painting in fresco three large rooms, or _stanze_,
of the Vatican. In addition, he was to decorate the gallery, or
corridor, called the _loggia_, leading to these apartments from the
stairway. With the painting of these walls Raphael and his pupils were
more or less busy during the remainder of the artist's short life. A
great many religious and historic subjects were used, besides some
invented by Raphael himself, as when he represented _Poetry_ by Mount
Parnassus inhabited by all the great poets past and present. In these
rooms some of his best work is done. Every year thousands of people go
to see these pictures and come away more than ever enraptured with
Raphael and his work.
In the loggia are the paintings known collectively as Raphael's Bible.
Of the fifty-two pictures in the thirteen arcades of this corridor all
but four represent Old Testament scenes. The others are taken from the
New Testament. Although Raphael's pupils assisted largely in these
frescoes they are very beautiful and will always rank high among the
art works of the time.
Raphael's works seem almost perfect even from the beginning, yet he
was always studying to get the great points in the work of others and
to perfect his own. Perhaps this is the best lesson we may learn from
his intellectual life--the lesson of unending study and assimilation.
He was greatly interested in the ruins of Rome and we know that he
studied them deeply and carefully. This is very evident in the
Madonnas of his Roman period. They have a strength and a power to
make one think great thoughts that is not so marked in the pictures of
his Florentine period.
[Illustration: THE ARCHANGEL. Detail from _Madonna of the Fish_.
_Raphael._]
The "_Madonna of the Fish_" is one of the most beautiful of this time.
It was painted originally for a chapel in Naples where the blind
prayed for sight, and where, legend relates, they were often
miraculously answered. The divine Mother, a little older than
Raphael's virgins of earlier years, is seated on a throne with the
ever beautiful child in her arms. The babe gives his attention to the
surpassingly lovely angel, Raphael, who brings the young Tobias with
his fish into the presence of the Virgin, of whom he would beg the
healing of his father who is blind. On the other side he points to a
passage in the book held by the venerable St. Jerome. This is
doubtless the book of Tobit wherein the story of Tobias is related,
and which Tobias translated. Whatever the real purpose of the artist
was in introducing St. Jerome, a very beautiful result was attained in
contrasting youth and age. Like a human being of note, this picture
has had an eventful history. It was stolen from Naples and carried to
Madrid and then, in the French wars, it was taken to Paris. It has
since been restored to the Prado of Madrid, and there to-day we may
feast our eyes on its almost unearthly loveliness. In it the divine
painter showed that he knew the heart of a mother and the love of a
son; that he appreciated the majesty of age and the heavenly beauty of
the angels.
Hardly less beautiful is the "_Madonna Foligno_," so named from the
distant view of the town of Foligno seen under a rainbow in the
central part of the picture. In the upper portion, surrounded by angel
heads, is the Madonna holding out her child to us. Below is the scene
already referred to, the portrait of the donor of the picture, some
saints, and a beautiful boy angel. The latter is holding a tablet
which is to be inscribed, for this is one of that large class of
pictures in Italian Art called _votive_--that is, given to the church
by an individual in return for some great deliverance. In this case
the donor had escaped, as by a miracle, from a stroke of lightning.
In this short sketch there is time to mention only a few of Raphael's
great pictures, but I trust you will be so interested that you will
look up about others that are passed over here. There are many very
interesting books about Raphael in which you can find descriptions of
all of his pictures.
Among other paintings, Raphael made many fine portraits. An excellent
likeness of Julius was so well done that, skillfully placed and
lighted, it deceived some of the Pope's friends into thinking it the
living Julius.
The painting of portraits was not the only departure of our artist
from his favorite Madonna or historic subjects. We find him also
interested in mythology. Out of this interest grew his "_Galatea_,"
which he painted for a wealthy nobleman of his acquaintance. In this
picture Galatea sails over the sea in her shell-boat drawn by
dolphins. She gazes into heaven and seems unconscious of the nymphs
sporting about her.
[Illustration: GALATEA. _Raphael._]
Speaking of Raphael's use of mythological subjects, though not quite
in the order of time, we may here mention his frescos illustrating the
story of Cupid and Psyche, painted on the walls and ceiling of the
same nobleman's palace, the Chigi palace. The drawings for these
pictures were made by Raphael, but most of the painting was done by
his pupils. As we study these pictures of the joys and sorrows of this
beautiful pair, we are interested, but we regret that our
angel-painter was willing, even for a short time, to leave his own
proper subjects, the religious. We feel like saying, "Let men who know
not the depth of religious feeling, as did Raphael, paint for us the
myth and the secular story, but let us save from any earthly touch our
painter of sacred things."
In 1513 the great Julius died, and Leo X., a member of the famous
Medici family of Florence, succeeded to his place. Raphael was in the
midst of his paintings in the Vatican, and for a time it was uncertain
what the new Pope would think of continuing these expensive
decorations. Though lacking the energy of Julius, Leo continued the
warrior-pope's policy regarding art works. So Raphael went on
unmolested in his work, with now and then a great commission added.
During the life of Leo the power of the Church sunk to a low level,
and yet the angel-painter of the Vatican pursued in peace the
composition and painting of his lovely works.
The "_St. Cecilia_" was a very important work painted about the time
of Julius' death. It was painted for a wealthy woman of Bologna to
adorn a chapel which she had built to St. Cecilia, the patroness of
music. She had built this chapel because she thought she heard angels
telling her to do it; in other words she had obeyed a vision.
In the picture the saint stands in the centre of a group made up of
St. John, St. Paul, St. Augustine, and Mary Magdalene. She holds
carelessly in her hands an organ from which the reeds are slipping.
What charms can even her favorite instrument have for her when streams
of heaven's own music are reaching her from the angel choir above?
Every line of face and figure shows her rapt attention to the
celestial singers. The instruments of earthly music lie scattered
carelessly about.
While our attention is held most of all by the figure of St. Cecilia,
the other persons represented interest us too, especially St. Paul,
leaning on his naked sword. (See illustration.) His massive head and
furrowed brow show man at his noblest occupation--_thinking_. In
delightful contrast is the ever beautiful St. John, the embodiment of
youth and love.
[Illustration: ST. CECILIA. _Raphael._]
When the picture was completed Raphael sent it to his old friend
Francia, the artist of Bologna. It is related that Francia, on
seeing the wonderful perfection of the picture, died of despair,
feeling how poorly he could paint as compared with Raphael. Whether
this story be true or not, it is certain that the people of Bologna
were much excited over the arrival of the picture and gloried in
possessing the vision of St. Cecilia. The picture is still to be seen
in Bologna, where it retains its brilliant coloring, slightly mellowed
by the passing years.
The Sistine Chapel was the most beautiful apartment in the Vatican.
Its walls were covered with choicest frescos. Its ceiling, done by the
wonder-working hand of Michael Angelo, was a marvel. To add still more
to the beauty of this Chapel, Leo ordered Raphael to draw cartoons for
ten tapestries to be hung below the lowest tier of paintings. Now you
know that cartoons are the large paper drawings made previous to
frescos and tapestries to serve as patterns.
Raphael selected ten subjects from the Acts of the Apostles. His
designs were accepted and sent to Arras in Flanders where the most
beautiful tapestries were manufactured. The cartoons were cut into
strips that they might be more conveniently used. In 1518 the
tapestries, woven of silk, wool, and gold, were finished and brought
to Rome, where they were greatly admired.
[Illustration: MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. _Raphael._]
In 1527, Rome was sacked by savage soldiers and many of her choicest
things carried away. Among them were these tapestries. They were
sold and then restolen by Jews, who thought to separate the gold by
burning them. They tried this with one and found that the quantity of
gold was so small that it was not worth the trouble, and so the others
were spared and sold to a merchant of Genoa. They were finally
recovered in a faded condition and are now in the Vatican.
Meanwhile the cartoons were forgotten and three of them lost. The
Flemish artist, Rubens, came across those remaining, however, and
recommended Charles I. of England to purchase them for his palace at
Whitehall. Later Cromwell bought them for the nation, and today we may
see them pasted together and carefully mounted in South Kensington
Museum, London. "_The Miraculous Draught of Fishes_," (see opposite
page,) is one of the best known of the series. All are bold and strong
in drawing, and several are very beautiful, as "_Paul and John at the
Beautiful Gate_." One critic, in speaking of the cartoons, says they
mark the climax of Raphael's art.
We must not forget that all these years, while Raphael was making
these wonderful cartoons and pictures, the work on the rooms of the
Vatican was going steadily forward. He certainly was a busy man!
Probably the best known of Raphael's Madonnas is "_The Madonna della
Sedia_," so called because the mother sits in a chair. A delightful
story is told of the painting of this picture. It runs something like
this: Many years ago there lived in a quiet valley in Italy a hermit
who was greatly loved by all the people round about, for he taught
them and he helped them in sickness and in trouble. His hut was near a
giant oak tree that sheltered him from the sun of summer and the
biting winds of winter. In the constant waving of its branches, too,
it seemed to converse with him, and so he said he had two intimate
friends, one that could talk, and one that was mute. By the one that
could talk he meant the vine-dresser's daughter who lived near by and
who was very kind to him. By the mute one he meant this sheltering
oak.
Now, one winter a great storm arose, and when the hermit saw that his
hut was unsafe, his mute friend seemed to beckon him to come up among
the branches. Gathering a few crusts, he went up into the tree where,
with hundreds of bird companions, his life was saved, though his hut
was destroyed. Just as he thought he should die of hunger, Mary, the
vine-dresser's daughter, came to see her old friend and took him to
her home. Then the pious hermit, Benardo, prayed that his two friends
might be glorified together in some way.
[Illustration: MADONNA DELLA SEDIA. _Raphael._]
Time wore on. The hermit died, the oak tree was cut down and converted
into wine casks, and the lovely Mary married and was the mother of
two boys. One day as she sat with her children, a young man passed by.
His eyes were restless, and one might have known him for a poet or a
painter in whose mind a celestial vision was floating. Suddenly he saw
the young mother and her two children. The painter, for it was
Raphael, now beheld his vision made flesh and blood. But he had only a
pencil. On what could he draw the beautiful group? He seized the clean
cover of a wine cask near by and drew upon it the lines to guide him
in his painting. He went home and filled out his sketch in loveliest
color, and ever since the world has been his debtor for giving it his
heavenly vision. So the hermit's prayer was answered. His two friends
were glorified together.
Other honors, besides those coming from his paintings, were showered
upon Raphael at this time. He was now rich, and the Cardinal Bibbiena
offered him his niece Maria in marriage. It was considered a great
thing in those times to be allied by marriage to a church dignitary,
but Raphael had higher honors, and so, while he accepted the offer
rather than offend the cardinal, he put off the wedding until Maria
died. His heart was not in this contract because for years he had
loved a humble but beautiful girl, Margherita, who was probably the
model of some of his sweetest Madonnas.
Speaking of the honors thrust upon Raphael, we must not forget that
the Pope made him architect-in-chief of St. Peter's on the death of
Bramante. He was also appointed to make drawings of the ancient city
of Rome, in order that the digging for buried remains might be carried
on more intelligently.
In every Madonna we have described, we have had to use freely the
words _lovely_, _great_, _beautiful_, but one there remains which,
more than any other, merits all these titles and others in addition.
It is the "_Sistine Madonna_" in the Dresden Gallery. It was the last
picture painted wholly by Raphael's hand. It was painted originally as
a banner for the monks of St. Sixtus at Piacenza, but it was used as
an altar-piece. In 1754, the Elector of Saxony bought it for $40,000
and it was brought to Dresden with great pomp. People who know about
pictures generally agree that this is the greatest picture in the
world.
[Illustration: ST. PAUL. Detail from _St. Cecilia_. _Raphael._]
Let us see some of the things which it contains--no one can ever tell
you all, for as the years increase and your lives are enlarged by joy
and by sorrow, you will ever see more and more in this divine picture
and feel more than you see. Two green curtains are drawn aside and
there, floating on the clouds, is the Virgin full length, presenting
the Holy Child to the world. It is far more than a mother and child,
for one sees in the Madonna a look suggesting that she sees vaguely
the darkness of Calvary and the glory of the resurrection. This is no
ordinary child, either, that she holds, for He sees beyond this world
into eternity and that His is no common destiny;--at least, one feels
these things as we gaze at the lovely apparition on its background of
clouds and innumerable angel heads. St. Sixtus on one side would know
more of this mystery, while St. Barbara on the other is dazzled by the
vision and turns aside her lovely face. Below are the two cherubs, the
final touch of love, as it were, to this marvellous picture.
It is said that the picture was completed at first without these
cherubs and that they were afterwards added when Raphael found two
little boys resting their arms on a balustrade, gazing intently up at
his picture.
This painting has a room to itself in the Dresden Gallery, where the
most frivolous forget to chat and the thoughtful sit for hours in
quiet meditation under its magic spell. One man says, "I could spend
an hour every day for years looking at this picture and on the last
day of the last year discover some new beauty and a new joy."
There was now great division of opinion in Rome as to whether Angelo
or Raphael were the greater painter. Cardinal de Medici ordered two
pictures for the Cathedral of Narbonne, in France, one by Raphael and
one by Sebastian Piombo, a favorite pupil of Angelo's. People knew
that Angelo would never openly compete with Raphael, but they also
felt sure that he would assist his pupil. The subject chosen by
Raphael was "_The Transfiguration_." But suddenly, even before this
latest commission was completed, that magic hand had been stopped by
death. The picture, though finished by Raphael's pupils, is a great
work. The ascending Lord is the point of greatest interest in the
upper, or celestial part, while the father with his demoniac child,
holds our attention in the lower, or terrestrial portion. At his
funeral this unfinished picture hung above the dead painter, and his
sorrowing friends must have felt, as Longfellow wrote of Hawthorne
when he lay dead with an unfinished story on his bier,--
"Ah, who shall lift that wand of magic power,
And the lost clew regain?
The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower
Unfinished must remain."
[Illustration: TRANSFIGURATION. _Raphael._]
Raphael died suddenly on his birthday in 1520, from a fever contracted
while searching for remains among the ruins of Rome. He realized from
the first that his sickness was fatal, and he immediately set about
disposing of his property. His works of art he gave to his pupils, his
palace to Cardinal Bibbiena, and his other property was distributed
among his relatives, and to his sweetheart, Margherita. He was
buried with honors in the Pantheon at Rome, beside Maria Bibbiena.
For many years there was exhibited at St. Luke's Academy, in Rome, a
so-called skull of Raphael. In 1833 some scholars declared that they
did not believe this to be the skull of the artist. They urged the
authorities to open the grave to prove their position. After five days
of careful digging the coffin was reached and there lay the artist's
skeleton complete. For many days it was exposed to view in a glass
case. A cast was taken of the right hand and of the skull, and then,
with splendid ceremonies, they buried the artist a second time.
Mention has often been made of Raphael's personal beauty. Only
thirty-seven when he died, his seraphic beauty was never marred
by age.
In his palace he lived the life of a prince, and when he walked
abroad, he had a retinue of devoted followers. He had for friends
princes and prelates, artists and poets, while the common people loved
him for the fine spirit they knew him to be.
Judged by the moral standard of his time, he was absolutely spotless.
Seldom, in any man, have all good qualities joined with a versatile
genius to the extent that they did in Raphael. No wonder that his
friends caused to be inscribed on his tomb these words--"_This is that
Raphael by whom Nature feared to be conquered while he lived, and to
die when he died._"
REFERENCES FOR RAPHAEL.
Life of Raphael by Bell.
Life of Raphael by Sweetster.
Life of Raphael by Vasari.
Schools and Masters of Painting by Radcliffe.
History of Art by Luebke.
History of Art by Mrs. Heaton.
Great Artists by Mrs. Shedd.
The Fine Arts by Symonds.
Early Italian Painters by Mrs. Jameson.
SUBJECTS FOR LANGUAGE WORK.
1. The Boy Raphael at Home.
2. My Favorite Madonna.
3. Stories of St. Francis of Assisi.
4. What I know of Fresco Painting.
5. Looking for Buried Treasures in Rome.
6. A Day in the Roman Forum.
7. A Day with the Boy Raphael.
8. The Legend of the _Madonna della Sedia_.
9. Raphael and His Friends.
10. Raphael the Student.
[Illustration: COURT IN THE ALCAZAR.]
MURILLO AND SPANISH ART
"Velazquez is in art an eagle; Murillo is an angel. One admires
Velazquez and adores Murillo. By his canvasses we know him as if
he had lived among us. He was handsome, good and virtuous. Envy
knew not where to attack him; around his crown of glory he bore
a halo of love. He was born to paint the sky."
--DE AMICIS.
"Murillo could paint the sacred fervor of the devotee, or the
ecstasy of the religious enthusiast, as well as the raggedness
of the mendicant, or the abject suffering of Job."
--CHARLES BLANC.
[Illustration: MURILLO.]
MURILLO AND SPANISH ART.
Spain was not blessed as Italy was with one generation after another
of artists so great that all the world knows them even at this distant
day. Spain has only two unquestionably great painters that stand out
as world-artists. They are Velazquez and Murillo. The former painted
with unrivalled skill the world of noblemen among whom he lived. The
other, not surrounded by courtiers, looked into his own pure,
religious soul, and into the sky above, and gave us visions of
heaven--its saints and its angels.
It is impossible to study either of these men apart from the other, or
apart from the art records of Spain. To understand either, we must
know the land, teeming with rich and unique cities, we must have
glimpses of its history, and we must know something of the rules laid
down by the church to guide the painter in his work.
The climate of Spain, except in the south, is rigorous. Elevated
plains, rounded by snow-capped mountains, and swept during a large
part of the year by chilling winds, are not adapted to inspire men to
produce great works of art. On such a plain Madrid is situated, and
chilly indeed are its nature pictures, even though they are
over-arched by the bluest of skies and the most transparent of
atmospheres! In Andalusia, however, things were different. Here were
the olive, the orange, and the cypress, and here a sunny climate
encouraged the houseless beggar no less than the aspiring artist.
[Illustration: Velasquez de Silva.]
In speaking of Spain as a home of painting, we must not forget,
either, how very devoted the people were to their religion, for this,
perhaps more than anything else, gave a peculiar character to the art
of Spain. The doctrines of Luther, found no willing listeners in
Spain. Indeed, the Spaniards clung all the closer to the Church when
they knew that there were those who wished to change it, and so their
paintings are full of sad-faced, suffering saints, and rejoicing, holy
men and women who gave their lives to religion. In connection with
this extreme religious zeal, the Church found it necessary to impose
rules on the artists who would paint these holy personages. The
Virgin, whom all profoundly reverenced, should, according to
tradition, have fair hair and blue eyes. Her robes must be of pure
white and azure blue, and under no circumstances should her feet be
exposed. She should stand on the crescent moon with its horns pointing
downward. Many other similar rules were at that time thought
necessary, and they greatly limited the artists in their work, for
however good a churchman a man may be, it is impossible for him to
properly prescribe colors and forms for the artist, who, if he is any
thing at all, is the _see-er_ of his age. We want such things as the
artist sees them. We shall see how nearly Murillo got into trouble by
breaking some of these prescribed rules.
If we study the kings of Spain, Charles V. and the Philips, we shall
see two things that greatly influenced the art of Spain. First, they
were fond of art and spent great sums of money in buying fine
paintings by Italian and Flemish masters. Both Titian and Rubens were
favorites in Spain, and many of their pictures were painted expressly
for Spanish monarchs. Then, these rulers were vain and had a great
liking for having their portraits painted. This vanity extended to the
Courtiers and even to the dwarfs, several of whom were usually
connected with the court as a source of amusement. There are portraits
of some of these diminutive creatures so skillfully painted that we
cannot help wishing that more worthy subjects had been used. Thus the
vanity of monarchs and their courtiers gave a direction to Spanish
art which can be accounted for in no other way--their greatest artists
are always great portrait painters. So we see that, while genius in
artists is indispensable, yet is this same genius largely influenced
by climate, by religious enthusiasm, and even by the whims of kings
and queens.
[Illustration: AESOP. _Velazquez._]
Although Murillo stands out a superlatively great and beautiful
artist, yet we must not forget that Velazquez, only eighteen years his
senior, and like himself a native of Seville, lived during the greater
part of Murillo's lifetime and divided honors with him. As has already
been indicated, Velazquez's art was of a very different sort from
Murillo's. He was born into a home of plenty, and very soon went to
Madrid as court painter. We know how he gained renown for all time by
the accuracy of the portraits he painted of various members of the
court of Philip IV.--the king, the minister, Count Olivarez, the
princes, the dwarfs, and the buffoons. We remember, too, how he
thought that very ordinary personage, "_The Water-Carrier of
Seville_," with his wrinkles, his joy, and his beggarly customers, a
subject worth painting. Then we recall a goodly list of other
commonplace subjects which he treated so truthfully that they will
always stand among the great pictures of the world,--"_The Spinners_,"
where women labor in a dingy room, "_The Topers_," "_The Lances_,"
representing the great surrender of Breda, and the "_The Maids of
Honor_." Nor can we forget his ideal portrait of "_AEsop_," with his
book under his arm. How well we know that book of fables! The rugged,
good-natured face, homely as can be, holds us, as by a spell, and if
we have not already done so, we read his book because we _must_, after
looking into that dear old face.
One of the loveliest things we remember of Velazquez was his kindness
to Murillo when he came to Madrid, a poor art student. Although
Velazquez was rich and his pictures in demand, he took a keen interest
in the young Murillo, who should one day stand beside him--they two
the greatest artists of Spain. By the duties of his office, he was
obliged to take an active part in the festivities attending the
marriage of Louis XIV. and the Infanta, Maria Theresa, in 1660. The
fatigue and exposure caused his death. We are reasonable in presuming
that thus was Spain robbed of ten years of a strong artist's life and
work. Incomparable loss when we think of what his countrymen gained in
watching a passing pageant.
[Illustration: CATHEDRAL, SEVILLE, SHOWING THE GIRALDA TOWER.]
Spain is a land of unique cities. Perhaps this is because in so many
of them the works of Christianity were grafted on to works originally
built or begun by the Moors. As we study the wonderful buildings of
Spain, we cannot forget, however much we may abhor the religion of
the Arabs, that they were marvellous builders and profound scholars.
When the Spaniards sent them from their country, after they had lived
there for seven hundred years, they lost their best citizens, and the
most beautiful and highly cultivated part of Spain was henceforth to
be comparatively desolate. On all the great section of Andalusia, the
most southern part of Spain, the Moors left marks in buildings and in
cultivation, that it will take centuries yet to sweep away.
Of all the cities of this division, and it includes a goodly number of
Spain's most important towns, Seville, "the pearl of cities," the
birthplace of both Velazquez and Murillo, appeals most strongly to
everyone. Many superlative adjectives rise to our lips as we think of
its whiteness, of its sunny vineyard slopes, its orange and olive
groves, its salubrious climate, and its ancient associations. We think
of its wondrous cathedral, next in size to St. Peter's, of its storied
bell-tower, the Giralda, of that fairy palace, the home of generations
of Moorish kings, the Alcazar, of the Golden Tower by the river's
edge, where Christian rulers stored their treasure. And then to our
vision of Seville the beautiful, we add the silver Guadalquivir which
divides, and yet encloses this dream city of Andalusia. If we are not
interested in art, still must we be enthusiastic over Seville, for
its bewitching little women with their lustrous eyes, their glossy
dark hair, held by the ever present single rose. If it be
entertainment we seek, then Seville will furnish us the national
bull-fight in all its perfection. If the more refined delights of
music attract us, still more is this our chosen city, for here is the
scene of, Mozart's "_Don Juan_" and "_Figaro_," of Bizet's "_Carmen_,"
and many are the shops that claim to have belonged to the "_Barber of
Seville_."
It is most pleasing to our sense of appropriateness that out of this
beautiful white city of Andalusia, should have come, at about the same
time, the two greatest Spanish painters, the one to give us real
scenes and people, the other to give us ideals of loftiest type.
Here in the closing days of 1617, Murillo was born. His father and
mother were poor people. The house they lived in had formerly belonged
to a convent, and it was rented to them for a very small sum, on
condition that they would keep up the repairs. Even this Murillo's
father found to be a heavy burden. He was a mechanic and his income
very small.
[Illustration: THE GRAPE EATERS. _Murillo._]
Our artist's full name was Bartolome Esteban Murillo. His last name
seems to have come from his father's family, though it was even more
common in those days to take the mother's name for a surname, as in
the case of Velazquez. We know almost nothing of his early years
except that he was left an orphan before he was eleven, under the
guardianship of an uncle. Perhaps we should mention that Murillo early
showed his inclination to make pictures by scribbling the margin of
his school books with designs that in no wise illustrated the text
therein. With this as a guide his guardian early apprenticed him to
Juan del Castillo, another uncle, and an artist of some repute. Here
he learned to mix colors, to clean brushes, and to draw with great
accuracy.
When Murillo was about twenty-two, Castillo removed to Cadiz, down the
river from Seville, and the young artist was thrown wholly on his own
resources. Life with him in those days was merely a struggle for
existence. He took the method very generally taken by young artists.
He painted for the _Feria_ or weekly market. Here all sorts of
producers and hucksters gathered with their wares. We can imagine that
men of this sort were not very particular about the art objects they
purchased. They demanded two things--bright colors and striking
figures. Murillo, in common with other struggling artists, turned out
great numbers of these little bits of painted canvas. Some of them
have been discovered in Spanish America, whither they were undoubtedly
taken to assist in religious teaching.
If there was hardship in this _painting for the feria_, as people
slightingly spoke of such work, there were also immense advantages. As
he painted he could observe the people who came to buy and the people
who came to sell, and, mayhap, that other numerous class in Seville
who neither buy nor sell, but beg instead. From this very observation
of character must have come largely that skill which is so marked in
his pictures of beggar boys, who, with a few coppers, or a melon, or
some grapes, are kings of their surroundings. Then the demand for
striking figures cultivated a broad style in the artist which added
greatly to his later work.