Part 2

We cannot wonder that Van Dyck was not much impressed by such of the Umbrian painters as he came in contact with. There was still left in these men the remains of that mysticism which was born of the intimate contact with religion in relation to life that had originally brought it into being. The religious art of the Netherlands--I am speaking now of that which arose after the middle of the sixteenth century--was built upon a purely human and materialistic basis. If a scriptural scene was represented it was brought before us as a subject from everyday life; a martyrdom with all its brutality, a crucifixion with all its physical horror, and a madonna and child simply as a peasant girl with a child, set in homely surroundings. Our artist, endowed with the same temperament as the men who had created such works, and who moreover was perhaps the best exponent of this school of painting, with the possible exception of Rubens himself, could not be expected to be touched with the subtleties of Botticelli or Filippino Lippi. Further, it is not unlikely that he found he could learn little from the technique of Raphael or Andrea del Sarto. But with the Venetians it was quite otherwise. From the early days of Giovanni Bellini they seem to have treated religious subjects in just as materialistic a manner, if less grossly and repugnantly, than the Flemings themselves. One has but to contemplate the life-work of Titian to see how little religious feeling, in the Florentine or mystical sense of the term, there was in his art. Even the two most impressive religious pictures he ever painted, the "Entombment," in the Louvre, and the "Christ crowned with Thorns," at Munich, would certainly not have pleased the patrons of Ghirlandajo or Pollaiuolo. But Titian and his contemporaries constitute the zenith attained by Italian materialistic art, at any rate in point of technique.

======================================================================

PLATE V.--PHILIPPE LE ROY, SEIGNEUR DE RAVEL

(In the Wallace Collection)

The masterpiece of Van Dyck's second Flemish manner. In it we see the culmination of the influences he had brought away with him from Italy sobered by a renewed contact with the productions of his illustrious master. The dignity of pose, probably derived from Moroni and Titian, united with the fact that his immense technical powers are brought into play in an unsurpassed degree, certainly proclaim it as one of the greatest portraits in the world. Van Dyck executed an etching of Philippe le Roy, probably based upon this portrait which ranks very high amongst his productions in this way.

======================================================================

It is more than probable that Van Dyck found certain points in his master's method crude compared with that of the Venetians, and although, as we shall see later, he endeavoured after his return to Flanders to retrace his steps in a measure, the influences he brought away with him from Italy remained during his whole life.

He went from Venice to Genoa, and there his style created such an impression that he found many of the nobility eager to have their portraits painted by him. Formerly, his Italian manner, as it is called, was to be best studied in that city, but as years have rolled on many of the finest examples have become scattered over Europe and America. The two fine portraits recently added to the National Gallery date from this period, and although, owing to their condition, they do not set forth his talents at their best, will give a good idea of the changes his method had undergone since he left Antwerp. Two of the noblest portraits of the Genoese period were formerly in the collection of Sir Robert Peel, but, after being sold at auction in London some few years ago, finally found a permanent home in the Berlin Gallery.

From Genoa he went to Rome, and, his reputation having preceded him, he was soon loaded with commissions for both historical subjects and portraits. It is said, however, that his residence here was rendered unpleasant by a number of artists persecuting him by reason of his not wishing to fall in with their methods of life. Be this as it may, he returned to Genoa, and after some time departed for Palermo; but the plague breaking out, some time after his arrival, he determined to return to Flanders. Van Dyck had reason to congratulate himself, not only upon the amount of benefit which he had received from his sojourn in Italy, but also on account of the flattering manner in which he had been received everywhere. His complete success in these two respects was calculated to infuse confidence in him for the future. He was now fully equipped in every way, and his good luck in the matter of patronage, so lavishly bestowed upon him in Italy, was destined to pursue him in his future career, until finally the immense amount of work he undertook in consequence had an adverse influence upon his later productions.

III

THE SECOND FLEMISH MANNER

The reputation of Van Dyck, great as it was prior to leaving Antwerp, had materially grown during his absence in Italy. From time to time reports reached his fellow-townsmen of the brilliant success he was achieving there, the high personages with whom he was mingling, and the flattering praise accorded to his productions. We may be sure that returning travellers would relate the astonishing progress he was making, and consequently his friends would await with eager anticipation the proofs of all they had heard. There could be no doubt that Rubens would be amongst those who would be most interested in his progress, and he would be curious to see the influence the Italians had exercised upon his technique.

His talents were soon put to the essay in the form of a commission for a large picture representing St. Augustine in ecstasy, surrounded by angels and saints, for the Church of the Augustines in Antwerp. As a result of this first effort, both his patrons and the public were delighted, and commissions for works of a similar character flowed in upon him from every side.

Rubens had fairly early in his career instituted an ingenious method for making his works widely known. He employed, under his own direction, a number of engravers whose names have become household words. Technically considered, they were as well equipped as any who have ever lived. The names of Paul Pontius, Lucas Vorsterman, the two Bolswerts, Peter de Jode are held in reverence by every admirer of engraving. Their remarkable fidelity in transcribing the works of Rubens render it frequently unnecessary to see the originals themselves in order thoroughly to study them. I am perhaps not going too far when I say that they understood the art of translating colour effects into black and white in a manner unknown previous to their time and never surpassed afterwards. The tone values of the paintings themselves are preserved. There is no doubt that this excellence was due to the guidance of Rubens. He superintended each plate in process of preparation and rectified with his own hand any errors that might have crept in. In this way Rubens rendered an immense service to art. Quantities of these prints went out to foreign countries and were prized by both artists and collectors, serving to stimulate the former to renewed efforts and to improve the taste of the latter. At the same time, he is to be credited with having brought the engraving art to a pitch which has never been surpassed.

When Rubens saw of what his pupil was now capable, he immediately turned the attention of his engravers to his works, and until Van Dyck practically ceased historical painting, we have as many plates worked after his designs as from those of his master. It was soon after his return to Antwerp that he received the commission to paint the celebrated picture at Malines representing the Crucifixion. Of this remarkable canvas we can but form an inadequate idea to-day. The exceeding negligence with which it has been kept, coupled with the continual covering up of the picture, thus depriving it of light, which every oil-painting requires for its preservation, has contributed to render it a wreck of its former self. The subject, to which we are so accustomed that we are but little moved when we encounter it in the great galleries, is here presented to us in a most terrible and essentially human aspect. The extraordinary expression of physical pain infused into the heads of the two thieves, one on each side of Christ, together with the energy of their efforts to detach themselves from their awful position, will cause a shudder to creep over even the most phlegmatic person. This is foiled by the superb treatment of the head of the Saviour. In the latter is an extraordinary mixture of pain, mental and physical, combined with a sublime look of resignation. Sir Joshua Reynolds regarded it as one of the masterpieces of the world, and there will be not a few who will concur in his judgment.

Van Dyck was not, however, content simply to exercise his powers in this way. An innumerable series of portraits date from this time, notably the well-known series representing the most prominent contemporary artists of Flanders. These productions are well known from the engravings executed after them; the originals are now distributed throughout the world.

It is said that Van Dyck's position in the Netherlands, in spite of the quantity of patronage bestowed upon him, was anything but pleasant. The jealousy of his rivals was particularly irksome to a man of his disposition. In the intrigues with which he was surrounded Rubens had no part; on the contrary, he always sustained the cause of his brilliant pupil with the utmost enthusiasm and fidelity, and it is probable, in view of this fact and the renown which Van Dyck himself had attained, that he would have worn down the opposition and caused the calumnies with which he was beset to fall upon the heads of their originators. But the taste for travel which he had developed in Italy probably impelled him to seek relief outside his own country. Accordingly we find him employed at the Hague--certainly not a great distance from the seat of his recent troubles, but sufficiently far to remove him from their reach. Here he painted the portrait of the Prince of Orange and innumerable personages of his Court, in addition to receiving ample encouragement from the foreign ambassadors.

It was not, however, to be expected that so small a city with its limited scope would long suffice for a man of his ambitions. His eyes were set upon England.

======================================================================

PLATE VI.--PORTRAIT OF ONE OF CHARLES I.'S CHILDREN

(In the Academy of Fine Arts, Rome)

Possibly the best known and one of the most deservedly popular of the master's child portraits. It will bear comparison for charm and delicacy of handling with any of the productions of our great English masters. In fact, it was largely after a study of Van Dyck's wonderful pictures of children that Gainsborough formed his last and greatest manner.

======================================================================

The encouragement which Charles I. extended to the fine arts, and his liberality in patronising them, induced him to think that a suitable field for the exercise of his talents was open to him in our country. Accordingly about 1632 he arrived in London. England was not, however, quite strange to him, for about eleven years previously--that is, before his departure to Italy--he had already been here upon a visit. Upon this occasion, however, he does not appear to have succeeded in attracting the attentions of the king, and consequently he did not meet with the success he had counted upon. Remaining but a few months, he decided to return to Antwerp, fully resolved to make it a permanent place of abode.

Meanwhile, however, Rubens had been sent by the Infanta Isabella on a diplomatic visit to Charles, who received him in the most gracious manner and created him a knight. The flattering attentions bestowed upon Rubens during his stay, coupled with his estimation of the king's character and taste, created a most favourable impression upon him, and when he returned to Antwerp he probably dispelled in a measure Van Dyck's antipathy to our country. Meanwhile Charles had seen the latter's portrait of Nicholas Lanière, his chapel master, and was so impressed with its qualities that he sent an invitation to Van Dyck to return.

An opportunity so favourable to advancement was not lightly to be passed over, and Van Dyck decided once more to try his fortune here.

This decision constituted a turning-point in the life and style of the artist, and we shall see him in England passing the most prosperous years of his life.

IV

VAN DYCK IN ENGLAND

There never was a time in the history of the English Court when such opportunities for advancement were presented to an artist possessing the genius of Van Dyck as during the reign of Charles I. He was one of the few monarchs of England who recognised the civilising influence of art on the nation and encouraged it in a manner quite beyond his means. It mattered not of what period, school, or nationality a work happened to be, so long as it possessed a high degree of merit, it appealed strongly to the king. We have only to consider the superb collection he brought together, only to be ruthlessly dispersed by the Commonwealth, to gauge the refinement of his taste. Many of the priceless possessions of foreign galleries formed part of his collection, and if England had only been in a position to retain her hold upon them we should no doubt to-day be in possession of the finest assemblage of Italian art in the world. I need only enumerate the sumptuous portrait of Alfonso of Ferrara and Laura d'Dianti and the "Entombment," by Titian, in the Louvre; the portrait of Erasmus, by Holbein, in the Louvre, and the marvellous portrait of a young woman, for so many years wrongly ascribed to the same master, at the Hague; the portrait of Albrecht Dürer by himself in the Prado, and the two masterpieces by Geertgen van St. Jans in the Imperial Gallery at Vienna, to demonstrate the quality of his many possessions. In England we still have retained a few of his treasures. Conspicuous among them are those masterpieces of Andrea Mantegna, the "Triumph of Julius Cæsar," at Hampton Court, the Albrecht Dürer, and the Lorenzo Lotto, in the same gallery, together with the "Mercury, Cupid and Venus," by Correggio, in the National Gallery.

Needless to say that a collector, who had sufficient taste to bring together such a notable assemblage, would demand a very high degree of talent indeed in a painter who was working for the Court. Charles had, moreover, been brought into contact with the brilliant achievements of Rubens, and would in consequence expect a great deal from a pupil whose merits he had heard so extolled.

The portrait of Nicholas Lanière appealed to him immediately. He saw in Van Dyck a man whose performances, even at this early age, far surpassed those of any painter then working in England. Charles, who immensely admired the portraits of Rubens, saw in those of his pupil an Italian quality lacking in the former, and this would additionally attract him.

Van Dyck's reception was most flattering. He was given a lodging at Blackfriars amongst the other painters, and was set to work immediately for the king. Charles was quite as much taken with the courtly qualities and conversation of his newly-found painter as by his talent, and greatly enjoyed his company. He was accustomed to go to Blackfriars by water, and to chat with Van Dyck whilst having his portrait painted. From this time date the innumerable portraits of Charles and his Queen, Henrietta Maria, with which we are so familiar.

The fashion thus set by the king was speedily taken up by his Court, and the nobility of England competed with one another for the privilege of having their portraits painted by the brilliant Fleming.

Soon after his arrival Van Dyck received the honour of knighthood, and, in addition to being appointed painter to his Majesty, had an annuity of £200 per annum settled upon him.

The quantity of commissions which now flowed in upon him was prodigious, and he was sorely taxed to keep pace with them. He was enabled in consequence to raise his prices considerably without in the least diminishing the patronage bestowed upon him. He commenced to entertain on a lavish scale, and his table was frequented by the highest in the land. It is said that after occupying the morning in painting portraits he would invite his sitters to dinner, and then, from the study he had made of their countenances during the meal, would work upon the portraits again in the afternoon.

Although Van Dyck had been accustomed to good society and living, the overwhelming good fortune which was now his lot appears to have developed bad habits in him. He soon acquired luxurious habits, which finally undermined his health. Passionately fond of music, he liberally encouraged all the professors of that art, and gratuitously painted the portraits of its most celebrated exponents.

The demands upon his purse at this time must have been enormous, and in order to increase his output, and consequently his income, he had recourse to the means he had seen Rubens so successfully employ in Antwerp. He brought together a school of painters, who worked under his directions. The portraits dating from this period consequently not only show the marked deterioration in his technique, but also, beyond the heads and hands and a few other essential details, contained but little of his own work. His assistants were so thoroughly trained that they were enabled to paint the draperies and their accessories in a style which welded perfectly with his own brushwork.

These facts have to be carefully remembered whenever we are contemplating a work of the English period of Van Dyck, for were we to form our judgment solely upon the portraits he had painted prior to going to England we should reject many of the former as not being from his hand. There is further the added difficulty that his assistants executed pictures in his manner on their own account, and it is only by the lack of that spark of genius he was enabled to infuse in those parts of a portrait he executed with his own hand that we are enabled to differentiate between them. Many of the portraits of the king and queen which were sent as presents all over Europe were but the productions of his studio.

======================================================================

PLATE VII.--PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST'S WIFE

(In the Pinakothek, Munich)

A remarkably good example of Van Dyck's power of depicting female character. Whenever he is faced with a sitter in whom he is interested he suited his technique to the points he wished to emphasise. It is the possession of this versatility which enables him to infuse so much seductive charm into his women portraits and such trenchant vigour into those of men.

======================================================================

It is only in such superb presentations of Charles as that in the Louvre, at Windsor, and in the National Gallery that we are enabled to judge of his capabilities at this period. He now almost entirely deserted historical painting. There was no demand for it in England, and his attention was exclusively devoted to portraiture. Moreover, if we may judge from the ever-increasing facility with which he was wont to paint, it may be fairly said that his attention during these years was being diverted from painting to pleasure. He never lost interest in his art, but he was impelled to adopt a more facile manner by the pressure of his engagements and his ever-increasing expenses.

He kept a country house at Eltham in Kent, where he spent the summer--a form of extravagance more defensible than many in which he was accustomed to indulge.

Meanwhile, he had contracted a marriage with Mary Ruthven, granddaughter of Lord Ruthven, Earl of Cowrie, by whom he had one daughter. His wife, however, brought him no dowrie, but was considered one of the greatest beauties of her time. Soon after his marriage he left England with his wife for the purpose of showing her his native country. They travelled for some time, visiting his family and friends. Then the idea occurred to him that he would proceed to Paris, with a view of sharing, if possible, in the contemplated decoration of the Louvre, and thus win laurels equal to those Rubens had gained by his works in the Luxembourg. He arrived, however, too late: Nicholas Poussin had been brought specially from Rome for the purpose, and the work was in hand. Disappointed in this, and still desiring to execute some great work by which he might secure a lasting renown, he returned to England and proposed to the king, through the medium of his old and trusty friend Sir Kenelm Digby, to embellish the wall of the Banqueting House at Whitehall with the history of the Order of the Garter. The ceiling of this sumptuous chamber had already been painted by Rubens, and Van Dyck no doubt considered that his work would blend admirably with that of his master. The sum he asked for, £8000, although considerable, would no doubt not have stood in the way of the execution of the project had it occurred at an earlier date in the reign of the unfortunate Charles. The kingdom, however, was already in a turbulent condition. Funds were scarce, and such as existed might have to be employed at any moment in raising an army to defend the king's cause. Charles was now occupied in a life-and-death struggle with his people, and had no time to devote to artistic pursuits. Van Dyck consequently waited in vain for an answer, and it is to be supposed that meanwhile commissions did not come to him as easily as formerly. Young as he still was, the effects of his past luxurious life were beginning to tell upon him, and, coupled with the disappointment occasioned by the rejection of his proposal, contributed to bring on gout. He began to have financial worries too, but these can hardly have been sufficiently great to have troubled him much, for he left at his death property to the value of £20,000. He therefore turned his attention, probably in emulation, or by the advice, of his friend Sir Kenelm Digby, to the pursuit of the philosopher's stone, and, needless to say, the results of his experiments and the money he expended upon them only aggravated the state of his health. He rapidly sickened, and died in London on December 9th, 1641, when forty-two years of age. He was accorded a magnificent funeral in St. Paul's Cathedral, and was buried in a tomb beside that of John of Gaunt.

V

VAN DYCK'S POSITION IN ART