returned he told such wonderful stories of the country and its art
works, that Murillo was more than ever inspired to go abroad to Rome
or to Flanders. He at once set about earning a little money to assist
him in the journey. Again he painted a great number of saints and
bright landscapes on small squares of linen, and sold them to eager
customers. Thus he provided himself with scant means for the journey.
He placed his sister in the care of a relative, and then started off
afoot across the Sierras to Madrid, without having told anyone of his
intentions. His little stock of money was soon exhausted, and he
arrived in Madrid exhausted and desperately lonesome. He at once
searched out Velazquez, his townsman, who was then rich, and honored
in the position of court painter to Philip IV. Velazquez received him
kindly, and after some inquiry about mutual acquaintances, he talked
of the young painter's plans for himself. Murillo spoke freely of his
ambition to be a great painter, and of his desire to visit Rome and
Flanders.
Velazquez took the young painter to his own house, and procured for
him the privilege of copying in the great galleries of the capitol and
in the Escurial. He advised him to copy carefully the masterpieces in
his own country. There were pictures by Titian, Van Dyck, and Rubens,
and Murillo began the work of copying them at once. When Velazquez
returned after long absence, he was surprised at the improvement in
Murillo's work. He now advised the young painter to go to Rome, but he
had been away from Seville for three years, and he longed to be again
at home in his beautiful native city. During his absence he had
learned much in art and in the ways of the world. He had met many
distinguished artists and statesmen in Velazquez's home.
[Illustration: FRUIT VENDERS. _Murillo._]
The first three years after his return to Seville, he busied himself
with a series of pictures for a small Franciscan convent near by.
Although he did the work without pay, the monks were loath to give him
the commission because he was an unknown artist. There were eleven
in the series, scenes from the life of St. Francis. They were
admirably done, and though the artist received no pay for them, they
did him a greater service than money could have bought--they
established his reputation, so that he no longer wanted for such work
as he desired.
Among his earliest and best known pictures are those charming studies
of the beggar boys and flower girls of Seville. Several of the best of
these are in the gallery at Munich where they are justly prized. Here
are some of the names he gives these pictures, "_The Melon Eaters_,"
"_The Gamesters_," "_The Grape Eaters_," "_The Fruit Venders_," "_The
Flower Girl_." They are true to life--the happiest, most interesting,
and self-sufficient set of young beggars one could well imagine.
Notice, too, the beauty of the faces, especially in "_The Fruit
Venders_," reproduced in this sketch. There are other interesting
things in this picture. With what eagerness the day's earnings are
counted! There is a motherliness in the girl's face that makes us sure
that she is at once mother and sister to the boy. What luscious
grapes--what a back-ground, unkempt like themselves, but thoroughly in
keeping with the rest of the picture! In his works of this sort what
broad sympathy he shows! so broad, indeed, that they prove him as
belonging to no particular nation, but to the world.
From the painting of these scenes from real life, he passed gradually
to the painting of things purely imaginary--to those visible only to
his own mind.
A dainty picture which belongs half and half to each of these classes
of pictures, represents the Virgin a little girl, sweet and quaint as
she must have been, standing by St. Anne's knee, apparently learning a
lesson from the open book. Both figures are beautiful in themselves
and, besides, they present the always interesting contrast of age and
youth. This was one of the pictures that well-nigh brought trouble on
Murillo from some zealous churchmen before referred to. They thought
that the Virgin was gifted with learning from her birth and never had
to be taught. They merely criticized the treatment of the subject,
however. It was an innovation in church painting.
[Illustration: THE MELON EATERS. _Murillo._]
By this time Murillo was wealthy. He had numerous commissions and, in
society, he mingled with the best in the land. He was now in a
position to marry, which he did in 1648. There is a story told of
Murillo's marriage which one likes to repeat. He was painting an
altar-piece for the church in Pilas, a town near by; while he was
working, wrapt in thoughts of his subject, a lovely woman came into
the church to pray. From his canvas, the artist's eyes wandered to the
worshipper. He was deeply impressed with her beauty and her
devotion. Wanting just then an angel to complete his picture, he
sketched the face and the form of the unsuspecting lady. By a pleasant
coincidence he afterwards made her the angel of his home--his good
wife. The painter doubtless proved the truth of Wordsworth's beautiful
lines--
"I saw her upon nearer view
A spirit yet a Woman too!
* * *
"A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright and good
For human nature's daily food.
* * *
"A perfect woman nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light."
However this may be, we know that she is often painted as the Virgin
in Murillo's great pictures. Her liquid eyes and dark hair inspired
him to forget the rigid rules laid down regarding the Virgin's having
blue eyes and fair hair or, at all events, to disregard them. We shall
see the Mary in some of his loveliest pictures with the dark hair and
eyes of his countrymen. Three children were born into Murillo's home,
two boys and one girl. One boy for a time practised the art of his
father, but he later became a clergyman. The other son came to
America, while the daughter devoted herself to religion and entered
a convent.
After Murillo's marriage, his house was the gathering place for the
most distinguished people of Seville. What a change was this from
Murillo's early condition, when he toiled at the weekly markets for
bread and shelter! His power in his work increased, so that every
new picture was an additional pledge of his greatness.
[Illustration: THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. _Murillo._]
It was in middle life that Murillo began painting the subject that
more than any other distinguished him. It was to glorify a beautiful
idea, that Mary was as pure and spotless as her divine son. It is
called the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, and so much did it
appeal to Murillo that he painted it over and over again. He has left
us at least twenty different pictures embodying this doctrine. The one
most familiar is perhaps the greatest. It is the one that now graces
the gem-room of the Louvre. I so name this room, for in it, within a
few feet of one another, are pictures by Raphael, Da Vinci, Correggio,
Rembrandt, Veronese, in short, by the foremost masters of the world.
Among all these the vision of Murillo takes an equal rank. To many,
the idea which the picture represents is of secondary importance, save
perhaps as giving a reason for the name it bears. But all can see the
exquisite loveliness of this young woman in her blue mantle and her
white robe, with her feet concealed by the voluminous folds of her
drapery, and with the crescent moon, the symbol of all things earthly,
in the midst of a throng of child-angels "hovering in the sunny air,
reposing on clouds, or sporting among their silvery folds"--"the
apotheosis of womanhood." It is as if an unseen hand had suddenly
drawn aside an invisible curtain and we, the children of earth, were
for a moment permitted to view the interior of heaven itself. In this
vision of a poet, so masterfully painted, the lover of pictures
rejoices.
How did the Louvre come by this magnificent monument of Spanish art
when so much that is glorious has been kept within the boundaries of
Spain? We have but to turn to the wars of Napoleon and the campaigns
in the Spanish peninsula, when the marshals of the mighty warrior
swept everything before them. One of these, Marshal Soult, brought
back, after his victorious invasion, pictures enough to enrich a Czar.
One of these stolen treasures was the picture we are studying. In
1852, the French government bought it of him for more than $120,000.
There is but one mitigating thought regarding this rapine of the
French, and that is that many art treasures, heretofore virtually
locked to the public, were opened to the world--were made easily
accessible.
From this fair vision of womanhood let us turn to another, fairer
still, where a little child is the central figure, "_St. Anthony of
Padua_." Although he did not repeat this subject so often as he did
the Conception, yet he has left us several representations of this
beautiful and much adored saint.
[Illustration: HEAD OF VIRGIN, FROM THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION.
_Murillo._]
In the life of Raphael we saw how great an influence was exerted on
art by St. Francis of Assisi. His most devoted follower was St.
Anthony of Padua, from whose lips sweet words fell like drops of
honey, and whose ready hands ever dispensed deeds of love. Any man
whose life abounds in such acts must be devout. Such was the character
of St. Anthony, and he added to this a vivid imagination. Many were
the beautiful visions that rewarded and encouraged his deeds of mercy
and kindness. One of the loveliest is the one Murillo caught from the
depths of his own pure soul, and held long enough to transfer it to
canvas to delight the people of his own day, and us of this later time
who no longer see visions. It is still in the cathedral of Seville for
which it was painted. It is merely called "_St. Anthony of Padua_."
Never was a more soul-thrilling vision sent to man to illumine his
earthly pathway. There is the kneeling saint with outstretched arms
reaching forward to embrace the Christ child, who comes sliding down
through the nebulous light from among a host of joyous angels. From
the ecstatic look on St. Anthony's face we know that the Child of God
has been drawn to earth by the prayerful love in the saint's heart. We
feel certain that the open book on the table near by is none other
than the best of all good books. The vision has come to Saint Anthony
on the earth, for that is common daylight that streams in through the
open door, and those are perishable lilies in the vase there by the
open book. By the painting of this picture Murillo gained for himself
the title of "The Painter of Heaven." The picture has always been
highly prized, and even the hardships of war did not tempt the men of
the Cathedral to accept the Duke of Wellington's offer to literally
cover the canvas with gold to be given in exchange for the precious
picture. The English general was obliged to keep his money, and in the
cathedral still we may view Murillo's masterpiece. Treasures tempt
thieves even when they are in the form of pictures. In 1874, the
figure of the Christ Child was cut from this painting. It was brought
to New York, where the thief, in trying to dispose of it, was caught.
The figure was returned to Seville, and carefully inserted in the
injured painting.
It may not be out of place to stop here and notice the wonderful
variety of holy children that Murillo has given us. His Madonnas
invariably hold very beautiful children, not so heavenly, perhaps, as
Raphael's in the Sistine Madonna, but nevertheless, children that
charm us into loving them. From the holy babe, with all his lovely
qualities, let us turn to that dear little boy of older growth, that
Joseph and Mary hold so tenderly by either hand in the picture of the
"_Holy Family_" in the National Gallery in London, or to those other
boys, "_The Divine Shepherd_" and "_St John_." Better than all,
however, are those beautiful children known as "_The Children of the
Shell_," where the little Christ offers to his playfellow, John, the
cooling draught from a conch shell they have picked up in their play.
They are children drawn from the sky quite as much as the Jesus in the
famous St. Anthony picture.
Among his children there are little girls, too. We have already
noticed the Virgin as a child, and there is that other, led by the
guardian angel sure and safe along life's uncertain way. Even in our
practical time we all have more or less faith in the guardian spirit
that watches over every little child. If by some miracle these
children could all come to life, what a joyous yet thoughtful assembly
it would be! Difficult indeed would it be to select the one beyond all
others precious. No more certain proof exists of Murillo's high
appreciation of spiritual things, of the simplicity and purity of his
own life and thought than this selfsame throng of little children that
he has given us.
[Illustration: ST. ANTHONY OF PADUA. _Murillo._]
Murillo had always thought that a public academy of painting was very
much needed in Seville. In his youth he had greatly felt the need of
such an institution. Finally, in 1660, the year of Velazquez's death,
several of the artists united with Murillo in starting an academy. It
lived only as long as its founder and never produced a great artist.
In 1671 our artist seemed in the very prime of his power. In that year
he began the wonderful series of pictures for the Charity Hospital of
Seville. It was an old institution of the city, but it had been
neglected until it was almost in ruins. In Murillo's time a wealthy
and pious citizen set about restoring it. For the beautifying of the
restored hospital Murillo was commissioned to paint eleven works. They
are among his very best. Two of them we must notice in particular,
"_Moses Striking the Rock_" and "_Elizabeth of Hungary Tending the
Sick_."
In the first of these the artist shows himself in a new capacity, that
of illustrator. Nothing could better express the thirst of that vast
assembly in the wilderness than this picture. From a mighty, towering
rock the coveted water gushes forth in a generous, crystal stream, by
its very abundance making a pool beneath. All degrees of thirst are
represented in man and beast, from that which is not pressing to that
which, in its intensity, makes a mother seize the cup from the babe
in her arms.
In the "_St. Elizabeth_" we admire the composition of the work, but
the subject rather repels than holds us. With the diadem of a queen
upon her head, with the delicate hands of a gentlewoman, and from a
costly basin St. Elizabeth bathes the scrofulous head of a beggar. Her
ladies-in-waiting turn from the loathsome object of her care, while
other patients await their turn. In the distance is the court feast
that goes on joyously in the palace while Elizabeth, the mistress of
the feast, serves the diseased beggars at the portal.
I have said that we could not stop to notice more than two of this
notable series. Yet, as I run my photographs over, I cannot refrain
from the mention of one other, the noble and wonderfully beautiful
"_Liberation of St. Peter_." It is simply a magnificent angel
awakening Peter who languishes in prison. The suddenly aroused
prisoner, the broken fetters, and above all, that glorious angel,
extending a helping hand--his presence making a light in that dark
cell--tell in no uncertain accents of the power of our beloved
painter.
[Illustration: MADONNA. _Murillo._]
Thus might we go on from picture to picture, and from year to year,
for the list ever strengthens as it lengthens. Two more, at least,
should claim our attention before this sketch is closed. They are
"_St. Thomas_ _giving Alms_" and "_The Madonna of the Napkin_." The
St. Thomas is rightly the companion of that other great charity
picture, "_St. Elizabeth_." The one represents the abnegation of self
in woman's way--she gives service. The other represents man's way--he
gives money. At the portal of the church stands the pale-faced,
spiritual St. Thomas, dispensing his alms to beggars and cripples. In
composition and drawing this is one of Murillo's greatest works. We
are interested to know that it was his own favorite among his
pictures.
"_The Madonna of the Napkin_" is both beautiful and curious. While
Murillo was painting a series of pictures for a Capuchin convent of
Seville, the cook became very much attached to him. When his work was
done and he was about to leave the convent, the cook begged a memento.
But how could he paint even a small picture with no canvas at hand?
The cook, bent on obtaining his wish, presented him with a table
napkin and begged him to use that instead of canvas. With his usual
good nature, the artist complied, and before evening he produced a
beautiful Virgin holding the infant Christ. Though done thus hastily,
this Madonna is one of his best in design and coloring. His other
Madonnas we know well, the one holding a rosary, and the other marked
by nothing but its own surpassing grace and beauty, and known simply
as Murillo's Madonna.
According to the subject he was painting, Murillo used three distinct
styles of work, known as the _cold_, the _warm_, and the _aerial_. The
first, in which the line or drawing is marked by strength, he used in
his studies of peasant life. The second he used in his visions, while
the third he reserved for his Conceptions--his heavenly effects. So
fine a colorist was he, however, and so indispensable a part of his
art did he consider the coloring that even the pictures classed as
_cold_ are radiant with his lovely, mellow colors.
[Illustration: VIRGIN OF THE MIRROR. _Murillo._]
Through the greater part of Murillo's life he painted for his
beautiful Seville. In 1680, however, he went to Cadiz to paint
pictures for the Capuchins at that place. He began on the largest one
of the number. It was to represent the marriage of St. Catherine, a
favorite subject of the time. Events proved that this was to be his
last picture, for, while trying to reach the upper part of it, he fell
from the scaffolding, receiving injuries from which he died two years
later. Gradually his physical power deserted him until he did not
attempt to paint at all. Then he spent much of his time in religious
thought. In the church of Santa Cruz near by his home, was a picture
of the "_Descent from the Cross_" by Campana. Before this picture he
spent many hours, so much did he admire it. One evening he remained
later than usual. The Angelus had sounded, and the Sacristan wished to
close the church. He asked the painter why he lingered so long. He
responded, "I am waiting until those men have brought the body of our
blessed Lord down the ladder." When Murillo died he was buried,
according to his wish, immediately under this picture.
He died in April, 1682. His funeral was of the sort that draws all
classes--a beloved man and a profound genius had passed away. His
grave was covered with a stone slab on which were carved but few words
beside his name. The church was destroyed during the French wars, and
the Plaza of Santa Cruz occupies its place. In later years a statue of
bronze was erected in one of the squares of the city in honor of
Murillo; there it stands, through all changes, the very master spirit
of the city.
If this sketch has implied anything, it has emphasized over and over
again the sweet and lovable character of Murillo. His religious zeal
was great, yet no one could ever justly write fanatic beside his name.
There was too much love in his soul for that. His pictures are
indisputable proof of the never-dying love that permeated his life.
He left a great number of pictures, and his habit of not signing them
made it easy to impose on unwary seekers after his paintings. Passing
by all the work the authorship of which is uncertain, yet is there
enough left to make us marvel at his productiveness.
SUBJECTS FOR LANGUAGE WORK.
1. Seville, the City of Music.
2. A Day in Seville.
3. Some Stories of the Alcazar.
4. The Giralda--Its History and Its Architecture.
5. The Children of Murillo's Paintings.
6. Murillo and Velazquez.
7. Some Spanish Portraits.
8. My Favorite Picture by Murillo.
9. Some Visions Seen by Murillo.
10. The Escurial--Its History.
REFERENCES FOR THE STUDY OF "MURILLO AND SPANISH ART."
De Amicis Spain.
Hoppin Murillo.
Minor Murillo.
Stirling Annals of Spanish Art.
Stowe Velazquez.
Washburn Early Spanish Masters.
[Illustration]
RUBENS
[Illustration: PETER PAUL RUBENS]
PETER PAUL RUBENS.
1577-1640.
In our study of Raphael, we had a glimpse of the golden age of art in
Italy. In our work on Murillo, we saw what Spain was able to produce
in pictures when the whole of Europe seemed to be trying its hand at
painting. Moving north, we are to see in this sketch what the little
country now known as Belgium produced in the same lines. For this we
need hardly take more than the one name, Peter Paul Rubens, for he
represented very completely the art of Flanders or Belgium, as we call
it to-day.
If we love to read of happy, fortunate people, as I am sure we do, we
shall be more than pleased in learning about Rubens. You know there is
an old story, that by the side of every cradle stand a good and an
evil fairy, who by their gifts make up the life of the little babe
within. The good fairy gives him a wonderful blessing, perhaps it is
the power to write poems or paint pictures. Then the bad fairy, ugly
little sprite that he is, adds a portion of evil, perhaps it is envy
that eats the soul like a canker. And so they alternate, the good and
evil, until the sum of a human life is made up, and the child grows up
to live out his years, marked by joy and sorrow as every life must be.
As we look at the men and women about us we feel, often, that one or
the other of these fairies must have slept while distributing their
gifts and so lost a turn or two in casting in the good or ill upon the
babe, so happy are some lives, so sorrowful are others. At Rubens'
cradle the evil fairy must well nigh have forgotten his task, for the
babe grew up one of the most fortunate of men.
In order to understand as we should any great man, we must always
study his country and his time. No man can be great enough not to be
like the nation that produced him, or the time when he came into the
world. For these reasons we love to study a man's time and country,
and, indeed, find it quite necessary if we would understand him
aright.
It is impossible to think of Rubens without associating him with
Flanders and with Antwerp, his home city. Here, then, is just a little
about the history of this most interesting country: One of the richest
possessions of Spain in the sixteenth century was known as the
Netherlands. When the doctrines of Luther began to spread many of the
Netherlanders accepted them. Philip II., the terrible and gloomy king
of Spain, seized this opportunity to persecute them cruelly. Many of
them resisted, and then Philip sent his unscrupulous agent, the Duke
of Alva, to make the people submit. This he partially accomplished by
the greatest cruelty. The northern provinces, which we know as
Holland, declared their independence. The southern, of which Flanders
was the most flourishing province, longed so for peace and the
prosperity that accompanies it, that they submitted to Spain. The
people then grew rich as weavers, merchants and traders. Splendid
cities like Bruges, Ghent and Antwerp became the seats of commerce and
their artists and workmen of all sorts were known throughout Europe
for their thrift and the excellence of their workmanship. We recall
how Raphael's cartoons were sent to Flanders to be copied in tapestry
the finest in the world.
[Illustration: RUBENS' MOTHER _Rubens_]
Of all the cities dear to Flemish hearts Antwerp was, perhaps, the
most beautiful and the most prosperous. It was situated on the river
Scheldt about twenty miles from the sea. In the time of its greatness
one might count almost at any time twenty-five hundred ships and boats
riding at anchor in front of the city, and within her walls, two
hundred thousand people lived in plenty. There were marble palaces,
beautiful churches, a magnificent town hall (Hotel de Ville); and the
houses of the humble showed by their cleanlines and comfortable
surroundings that enjoyment of life was restricted to no one class.
This matter of religious faith, however, was bound to come up again
and bring, as it proved, ruin upon the city. A body of people who
thought it wrong to have pictures and statues of saints, and of Mary
and her Son, gathered together and for four days went from one Flemish
town to another and destroyed everything of the sort to be found in
the churches. Four hundred places of worship were desecrated, many of
them within the city of Antwerp. Because of their zeal against the use
of so-called _images_ they were called _Iconoclasts_.