of the Zenon Gallery, Cadiz, and represents the little girl, daughter
of Ferdinand II, who became the wife of Philip IV in 1649 and who had
first been betrothed to Philip’s son, Don Balthazar Carlos. The latter
died in 1646. Three years later Philip IV sent for the little Grand
Duchess to be his second wife. The reason for this marriage was a
dynastic one, for it united the Spanish branch of the House of Hapsburg
with the German branch of the House of Hapsburg, Marianne being a
descendant of Ferdinand, brother of Charles V, and, therefore, of
exactly the same blood as Philip IV.
[Illustration:
_Collection of Mr. Philip Lehman_
MARIANNE OF AUSTRIA
--_Velasquez_]
Velasquez was one of those painters favored by the gods. Like Rubens,
he early attracted Royal patronage and held it all his life. There
were no struggles of genius for recognition: all he had to do was to
complete and develop his gifts and talents. In 1623 he was introduced
to Philip IV by Olivares and Philip took him into his service.
Rubens, visiting Madrid in 1628, begged Velasquez to go to Italy.
Velasquez did so and spent a year in Rome, visited Naples, where he
met his countryman, Ribera. On his return to Madrid, he was given a
painting-room in the Royal Palace. Velasquez visited Italy several
times in the future; and on one visit to Rome painted the famous
portrait of Pope Innocent X, now in the Doria Gallery (with a replica
in The Hermitage). Back again in Madrid, Velasquez was decorated with
the Cross of St. Iago by Philip IV, who made him Aposentador Major
(grand marshal of the palace). To the last period belong his most
important portraits, the series of court freaks, and the famous _Las
Hilanderas_ and _Las Meninas_.
Velasquez died in Madrid in 1660.
PHILIP IV OF SPAIN.
_Velasquez_
(_1599–1660_).
_Collection of the late
Mr. Henry Clay Frick._
This portrait known as the “Parma Velasquez,” because it belonged
to the Grand Duke of Parma, is painted in oils on canvas (38¾ × 52½
inches). It was painted in 1644 in Cataluna, where Philip had gone to
try to raise the siege of Lerida invested by the French. Velasquez
went with the King and painted the picture in a dilapidated hovel,
which was fitted up for the purpose of a studio. A contemporary record
says: “The King dressed as a soldier posed to Velasquez in fitted hose
edged with silver embroidery, sleeves of same, plain buck jerkin, red
sash edged with silver, cape of red fustian, falling collar, and black
_sombrero_ with crimson plumes.”
The King was kept amused by his dwarf, El Primo, while the portrait was
being painted. The costume is the one that Philip usually appeared in
before his army as commander-in-chief.
“From the figure itself,” says Carl Justi, “it is evident that it was
taken far from the atmosphere of the Alcazar. It is freer than those
tall figures in black, which are perpetually receiving despatches, and
which are the incarnation of unrelenting monotony, of the weariness of
etiquette. To this effect the color contributes much, for the picture
is all light and brightness. The legs seem to stand in profile, but the
body and head face to the right; the white _bâton_ in the right
hand is planted against the hip; the elbow of the left which holds
the hat, rests on the hilt of the sword, and, curiously enough, both
arms are disposed in a somewhat parallel position. The lines of the
King’s features, now in his thirty-ninth year, are firmer, the color
fresher than hitherto. The otherwise inseparable _golilla_ is here
replaced by a broad lace collar falling on the shoulders; the hands
are white in unison with the white sleeves, the most luminous parts
of the whole picture--well nurtured, royal hands, ringless, but by no
means ‘washed out,’ as has been supposed by those unacquainted with the
master’s habit of dispensing with shade to indicate the fingers.
[Illustration:
_Collection of the late Mr. Henry Clay Frick_
PHILIP IV OF SPAIN
--_Velasquez_]
“Philip wears a rich, light red doublet with hanging sleeves, the
narrow opening showing the leather jerkin underneath. Of like color and
also covered with silver embroidery are the _bandolier_ and hose.
The only patch of gold is the Golden Fleece, all else--collar, sleeves
of jerkin (pearl tone), lace cuffs, lace ruffle of boots, silver
sheath--being white. This white on the red produces the well-known
effects of a lighter or ‘camellian red.’ The hat alone is black, which
is not in keeping with the costume, and may probably be due to license
on the part of the artist, who here wished to avoid white on white,
and who needed a dark part in softening contrast to the silvery red
of the whole. At the same time the red of the _bandolier_ and
plume on the red of the doublet shows the painter’s indifference to
such matters. To all this must be added the full flood of daylight
which even projects an oblique shadow from the _mustachios_ on to
the cheek. The stupendous relief is effected by the empty, dark-grey
surface of the ground and by the spare brown shadows, which help to
bring out the collar, arm, and hat.”
When the portrait was finished “it was hung in the church under a
canopy embroidered in gold where much people congregated to see it.”
The record adds that “copies thereof are already being made.” The one
in the Dulwich Gallery, England, is one of these.
The picture was sent by Ferdinand VI, King of Spain, to his
step-brother, the Grand Duke of Parma; and it remained in the Parma
Palace until recent times, when it was sold by Prince Elias.
Philip IV was born in 1605, died in 1665, and ascended the throne when
he was only sixteen. He was a solemn person, with coarse tastes and
was fond of horse-play. He, however, gave his patronage to Velasquez,
Calderon, and Lope de Vega, which is much to his credit.
GENERAL NICOLAS GUYE.
_Goya_
(_1746–1828_).
_Collection of
Mr. J. Horace Harding._
The Spanish General represented in oils on canvas (33⅜ × 41¾ inches)
wears a brilliantly colored uniform resplendent with gold lace and
decorated with medals. His knee-breeches are white, and he holds his
_chapeau bras_ in his hand. The picture was given to Vincent Guye,
the General’s brother, in 1810.
Francisco José de Goya y Lucientes was born in Fuendetodos in Aragon,
March 30, 1746. His parents were humble cottagers and he worked in the
fields until he was eighteen. Through the interest of a monk he was
sent to Zaragoza to the studio of José Martinez. Goya distinguished
himself both in the studio and in quarrels, which sometimes resulted in
bloodshed. After a fight Goya fled to Madrid, where he copied Velasquez
and became embroiled in more disturbances. He escaped to Italy; and in
1772 took the second prize for painting at the Academy in Parma. Back
in Zaragoza in 1771, he painted a fresco in the Cathedral. Revisiting
Italy he formed a friendship with Jacques Louis David. In 1774 he
returned to Spain, married the sister of a painter, and began to paint
furiously. In 1789 Goya became painter of the Chamber--“_pinter de
camera_”--to Charles IV, with a large salary. During the occupation
of Spain by the French and the expulsion of the latter by Wellington,
Goya lived quietly without taking any part in the exciting events; but
he had been observing. On the return of Ferdinand VII, he published
his series of _Desastres de la Guerra_, in which the horrors
and bestialities of war are set forth in so frank a manner and with
such commanding technique that they make a magnificent appeal for the
abolition of war.
[Illustration:
_Collection of Mr. J. Horace Harding_
GENERAL NICOLAS GUYE
--_Goya_]
Goya had previously published his series of prints, _Los Caprichos_,
a most amazing presentation of humanity in brutal and revolting
caricatures, the origin and significance of which are neither
fully known nor understood; but, mingled with the demonology and
repulsiveness, there are occasional gleams of beauty. Equally
celebrated are his plates, the _Tauromachia_, dealing with the
bull-ring.
Goya had an uncanny facility for every medium,--etching, lithographs,
drawings, and aquatints, as well as oil-paintings. Goya spent the year
1825 in Bordeaux and returned to Madrid, where he died in 1828.
“My only masters have been Nature, Velasquez, and Rembrandt,” Goya
said. Being so independent Goya left no pupils and founded no school.
He was always hostile to the academic: “Always lines and never
_body_,” he exclaimed when criticising his contemporaries, “but
where do we find these lines in Nature? I can only see masses in light
and masses in shadow, planes which advance or planes which recede,
reliefs or backgrounds. My eye never catches outlines or details. I do
not count the hairs on the head of the man who passes me in the street.
The buttons on his coat are not the chief object to catch my glance. My
brush ought not to have better eyesight than its master!”
PEPITO COSTA Y BONELLA.
_Goya_
(_1746–1828_).
_Collection of
Mrs. William Hayward._
This delightful picture, oils on canvas (33¼ × 41⅝ inches), is
brilliant with many colors delightfully harmonized and contrasted. The
little boy, with fair hair and dark complexion, wears a green velvet
jacket with gilt braid, lace collar, white trousers, rose-colored
stockings, light-yellow slippers, and red and white plumes in his dark
hat. The drum is blue.
[Illustration:
_Collection of Mrs. William Hayward_
PEPITO COSTA Y BONELLA
--_Goya_]
The picture comes from the Collection of the Countess Uda de Gandomar
of Madrid.
FRENCH, EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
_FRENCH, EIGHTEENTH CENTURY_
We have now come to the age of elegance in painting. In the preceding
sections of this book we have passed through many periods and many
schools and have brought forward superb examples of great masters of
several countries, but we now come to a time when the Art of Painting
may be said to have reached _perfection_. The French Painters
of the Eighteenth Century show us something entirely new in manner
and in subject. They have grace, elegance, delicacy, style, beauty,
brilliancy, clarity, and translucence of color. What can, for instance,
equal the lightness of Watteau and Fragonard, or the dewy freshness of
Greuze?
There are such things as the floating silk of the thistle’s parachute;
such things as the feathery dust on the wings of “painted butterflies”;
such things as the velvet pile on the petals of flowers; such things
as the purple bloom on the plum and the grape; such things as the down
on the breast of the cygnet; such things as the roseate gleam of the
Oriental pearl; such things as the prismatic twinkle of the morning
dew; and such things as the liquid silver of the moon’s bright ray.
All these most precious and evanescent beauties Watteau, Lancret,
Pater, Fragonard, Drouais, Chardin, and other painters of the
Eighteenth Century caught upon their palettes.
It was the genius Antoine Watteau (1684–1721) who opened the magic
casements into this new world of fairy-like color and fairy-like
lightness.
In the reaction from the heavy solemnity and gloom of the last years
of Louis XIV, when the Sun-King was setting under the dark clouds of
the bigoted and severe Madame de Maintenon’s influence, French taste
swung to the other extreme of gaiety, fancy, gallantry, and caprice.
Law’s Mississippi Bubble, while it lasted, enabled a great many persons
to become suddenly rich; and, as is always the case with a new state
of society, new styles of fashion came to meet its requirements.
Moreover, the tastes of the Regent--the Duc d’Orléans--and the young
King Louis XV were gay and playful; and, consequently, they were both
glad to see all the traditions of Louis XIV swept away. The _Art
nouveau_ of the period was most graceful and charming in its early
expression. The playful curves and fantastic motifs from the Far
East--pagodas, mandarins, umbrellas, monkeys, little bells, dripping
water, and strange, wreathing vines, were all transmuted by the great
decorative artists and designers into that delicious and delightful
French _mélange_ known as _Chinoiserie_, which is, perhaps, more
_French_ than Chinese. The riotous curves, most of which were derived
from the volutes of the shell, the shell itself, and the dripping water
(or hanging icicles), were used so prolifically and so universally
that their name _rocaille_ (rock and shell) or _rococo_, is almost
synonymous with that of the “_style Louis Quinze_,” although it does
not include all the motifs nor all the spirit of the age.
Watteau was followed in his fascinating portrayal of _pastorales
galantes_, _fêtes champêtres_, and all the light pleasures of society
and its beautifully dressed men and women, by Nicolas Lancret
(1690–1743) and Jean Baptiste Joseph Pater (1695–1736); and to this
group belongs Jean Baptiste Huet (1745–1811), who in his first years
followed Watteau closely; and as a decorative designer, he also
expressed the taste of the Directoire and Empire period through which
he lived.
Of the portrait painters, Jean Marc Nattier (1685–1766) stands first
as Court-Painter and portrayer of lovely ladies in flowing draperies,
rose-colored or blue scarfs, and wreaths and garlands of flowers,
appearing as Hebe, Diana, Flora and other goddesses of Grecian
mythology. Close to him comes Maurice Quentin de la Tour (1704–1788),
who early abandoned oil-painting for pastels (his masterpiece, the
portrait of Madame de Pompadour is now in the Louvre), was called a
magician by Diderot and his work is described by de Goncourt as “a
magic mirror, in which is seen all the talent, all the glory, all the
wit, and all the grace of the reign of Louis XV.”
Carle Van Loo (1705–1765) is another portrait-painter of delicate
and distinguished taste and performance. François Hubert Drouais
(1727–1775) also expresses all the beauty, charm, and grace of the day
in his presentations of the fashionable world.
François Boucher (1703–1770), the friend and successor of Carle Van Loo
as first painter to the King, is so idyllic and fanciful that he has
been characterized as the “Anacreon of Painting.”
Alexandre François Desportes (1661–1743), painter of hunting-scenes
and animals, and Jean Baptiste Oudry (1686–1755), painter of
hunting-scenes, animals, flowers, fruit, and still-life, blazed
the trail for Jean Baptiste Siméon Chardin (1699–1779), one of the
greatest colorists in the entire history of painting. Jean Baptiste
Greuze (1725–1805), full of grace, charm, and freshness, painter
_par excellence_ of pretty girls, and Jean Honoré Fragonard
(1732–1806), pupil of Chardin and Boucher, famous for his delicate
color and lightness of touch, lived into the new _régime_ and
their work became unappreciated. Hubert Robert (1733–1808), painter
of delicate and highly decorative garden-scenes and classical ruins,
and Madame Labille-Guiard (1749–1803) also lived into the Directoire
and Napoleonic period when they were forced to leave their quarters
in the Louvre formerly accorded to them by Royal permission. Madame
Labille-Guiard was in her day ranked with Madame Vigée LeBrun
(1755–1842), wife of the grand-nephew of the great painter, Charles
LeBrun, who won distinction for her portraits, her brilliant
_salon_, and her charming personality.
JUPITER AND CALISTO.
_Nicolas Poussin_
(_1594–1665_).
_Collection of
Mr. Carroll Tyson._
This famous picture was first owned by the great painter Charles
LeBrun. It subsequently belonged to the Collections of Baron Holback,
1789; Baron Clary, 1868; and Baron de Tournelle in Paris. Painted
about 1635, this large canvas (53½ × 70½ inches), is in a fine state
of preservation, the colors, in consequence, appearing richer than
is usual in Poussin’s works. The greens, browns, and pinks are warm;
the flesh tints are glowing; and the draperies and the sky are a deep
_lapis-lazuli_ blue.
The puzzle is to find Jupiter! In Smith’s _Catalogue raisonné_ we
read:
“The god under the form of Diana is represented sitting on a shady bank
embracing the beautiful nymph, who sits by his side with a spear in
her hand; seven Cupids are sporting around them, one of which, while
flying, is discharging an arrow from his bow; a second is playing with
the hounds of the supposed huntress; a third holds up the blazing torch
of love; and two others, buoyant among the trees, are casting flowers
on the heads of the lovers.
“In his very beautiful pictures illustrative of ancient mythology
Poussin has treated the various subjects in a style that proves he
perfectly understood the mystery of the allegories therein contained
and employed with the happiest effect the numerous symbolical
figures to denote qualities, places, and things. His style, although
unquestionably of French origin, owes all its beauty to his subsequent
study of a few of the great Italian Masters, and of ancient sculpture.
To such an extent was he carried in his enthusiastic admiration of
the latter, that most of the celebrated statues and monuments, both
of Greek and Roman origin, may be recognized in his pictures. This
fondness for the chaste beauty of the antique may have led him in
some instances so far as to give to his figures a rigidity which ill
accords with the elasticity of nature. This defect (if it be one),
is amply compensated by the grace and dignity of attitude and the
chaste correctness of drawing which pervades his works. Execution,
that medium by which the conceptions of a painter are embodied, and by
which the connoisseur is frequently enabled to judge of the originality
of a picture, is distinguished in the Artist (in his best period) by
breadth and precision of hand, and a firm and decided outline; every
touch of the pencil appears the result of consideration and profound
knowledge, and in this respect it is the very reverse of that rapidity
and dexterous freedom of hand observable in the works of Rubens, Paul
Veronese, and Giordano.”
[Illustration:
_Collection of Mr. Carroll Tyson_
JUPITER AND CALISTO
--_Nicolas Poussin_]
Poussin spent almost his entire life in Rome. Born at Villiers near
Les Andelys in Normandy in 1594, he went to Paris at the age of
eighteen to study art, having had some training under Quentin Varin
at Les Andelys. In Paris he studied under Ferdinand Elle, a Flemish
portrait-painter, and L’Allemand, a native of Lorraine. In 1620 he
started for Rome, but only got as far as Florence. Compelled to return
to Paris he now formed a friendship with Philippe de Champaigne (also
a pupil of L’Allemand) and worked with him on the decorations of the
Luxembourg under Duchesne. Four years later Poussin arrived in Rome,
his long desired goal, and plunged enthusiastically into the study of
ancient art, also working in the studio of Domenichino. For a long time
Poussin had to struggle with poverty, illness, and Italian hatred,--for
the Italians and French were enemies at this time. Marriage with the
daughter of a wealthy compatriot changed matters and Poussin bought
with his bride’s dowry a handsome house on the Pincian Hill. Cardinal
Barberini’s patronage now brought Poussin fame, for the Cardinal
commissioned two paintings, _The Death of Germanicus_ and _The
Capture of Jerusalem_--besides other important orders. Poussin’s
reputation soared rapidly and in 1640 Louis XIII called him to Paris,
appointed him first painter-in-ordinary, and gave him a residence in
the garden of the Tuileries for life. For two years Poussin worked
industriously, producing many paintings, cartoons for tapestries, and
illustrations for books; but he longed for his beloved Rome and in
1642 returned to that city, where he spent the remainder of his life
in the tranquil pursuit of his art. Poussin painted for twenty-three
more years and died in Rome in 1665. His works are numerous; and, with
the exception of a few portraits, are chiefly devoted to mythological,
classical, historical, and Biblical subjects. Titian was his idol.
However, despite his Italian inspiration and taste, Poussin is regarded
as the head of the French School. His devotion to classical subjects
and his deep study of the antique in all its expressions make Poussin
one of the most scholarly of painters.
Sir Joshua Reynolds says: “In contemplating his classical pictures the
mind is thrown back into antiquity or remote ages; and it would be
no difficult matter for the spectator to imagine that such pictures
were coeval, or nearly so, in their production with the mythological
metamorphosis and Bacchanalian festivals that are set before him. His
shepherds, fauns, nymphs, satyrs, and Bacchanals appear a primitive
progeny, the native inhabitants of the mountains and woodlands of the
genial climate of Greece and of that Golden Age when Hellas and Asia
Minor may be supposed to have been overspread with aboriginal forests
and life was careless resignation to present enjoyment.”
From Nicolas Poussin and Claude Lorrain (1600–1682), landscape-painter
of idealized Classic scenes, poetic in spirit and suffused with
dreamful, golden light, the Eighteenth Century French painters may be
said to have found their fountain-head of inspiration.
LA DANSE.
_Antoine Watteau._
(_1684–1721_).
_Collection of
Mr. Charles A. Wimpfheimer._
With the exception of the superb _Embarquement pour l’Ile de Cythère_,
we do not think of individual paintings of Watteau. We consider his
work as a whole and we have a composite picture in our minds of
_assemblées galantes_ under the trees in beautiful parks and gardens.
Although he derived his themes from his master, Gillot, who was
painting all the fashionable follies and fancies of the time, Watteau
surpassed him so entirely in his approach to these subjects, as well
as in his technique, that we are wont to look upon Watteau as the
originator of _fêtes champêtres_, _pastorales galantes_, _concerts
champêtres_, monkeys in all kinds of attitudes and costumes satirizing
the modes and manners of the day, ladies and gentlemen playing Blind
Man’s Buff (_Colin Maillard_) under the trees, ladies swinging or
flirting with their fans, love-scenes beside statues in leafy dells,
members of the Italian Comedy--Pierrot, Arlequin, Scaramouche, Mezetin,
Columbine, and Scalpin--and charming people making music or dancing
under the trees.
This characteristic picture which came from the S. R. Bertron
Collection to its present owner, is a charming illustration of
Watteau’s style. Here we have dancing and music and merry conversation.
The light is concentrated on the chief figure--the dancer--clad in
that white satin that Watteau painted so marvellously. But why single
out any special object for that facile and versatile brush? Did not an
eminent critic of the Nineteenth Century proclaim that Watteau was “the
most brilliant and vivid painter the world has ever seen”?
Watteau created an Arcadia of his own--a Watteau world; and it is not
without reason that another critic called him “the Shakespeare and the
Aristophanes of Art.”
The world has long recognized that Watteau was a poet. Élie Faure asks
why it is that the _ensemble_ always produces the sensation so
near to sadness, and then he gives the reason: