Chapter II: Part 2

When the duke was driven out of Milan by the new French king, Leonardo spent several years in Florence, where he painted the famous “Mona Lisa,” and other portraits. Then followed a few years of travel through Italy. At the request of the French king, Francis I, Leonardo joined his court in France, and there he spent the last years of his life, regarded with great reverence and respect, and loved by all.

Among the other great pictures painted by Leonardo da Vinci are: “Mona Lisa,” “The Christ,” “Madonna of the Rocks,” “St. Anne,” and “John the Baptist.”

=Questions about the artist.= Tell what you can of the boyhood of Leonardo da Vinci. What talents did he have? How did these sometimes prevent his completing his work? Tell the legend about the angel he painted for Verrocchio; the wooden shield. What did the pope say of Leonardo? why? Where was “The Last Supper” painted? In what way was Leonardo an addition to the duke’s court? How was Leonardo regarded as a sculptor? What are some of his most famous paintings?

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ALEXANDER AND DIOGENES

=Questions to arouse interest.= Where are these dogs? Which one seems at home? In what is he lying? What makes you think the sun is shining brightly? Which dog looks the best cared for? How does he seem to feel toward the first dog? To which class do the other dogs in the picture belong? What seems to be their attitude toward the two principal dogs? Which dog looks the proudest? the most content? the vainest? What different kinds of dogs are represented in this picture? How many know the story about Alexander and Diogenes? Why was this picture so named?

=Original Picture=: National Gallery, London, England
=Artist=: Sir Edwin Landseer (lănd´sēr).
=Birthplace=: London, England.
=Dates=: Born, 1802; died, 1873.

=The story of the picture.= Into the streets of Athens, bright with the life and brilliant colors of its gayly dressed people, came the uncouth figure of the philosopher Diogenes, ridiculing all that the Athenian held most dear. On his head he carried the tub in which he ate and slept. At first he also carried a cup, but after seeing a boy drink from the hollow of his hand, he broke his cup on the pavement, preferring the “simpler way.” His ugly, cynical face, awkward figure, bare feet, and ragged clothing made him an object of astonishment and ridicule. Independent, surly, and ill-natured, he continued to be an outcast throughout his long life. He taught in the streets as did many of the philosophers in those days, and spoke so plainly and so contemptuously of the life of the people that but for his ready wit he must have been driven out of the city. He himself cared nothing for abuse and insult, and went so far in showing his contempt for pride in others that he acquired the same fault himself, and grew proud of his contempt for pride. He loved to show the contempt he felt for all the little courtesies of polite society.

The story is told that Diogenes came, uninvited and unannounced, to a dinner which Plato, a great philosopher, was giving to a select number of his friends, and, rubbing his dirty feet on the rich carpets, called out, “Thus I trample on the pride of Plato.” To which that philosopher quickly retorted, “But with greater pride, O Diogenes.”

One day he went about the streets carrying a lantern, though the sun was shining brightly. He seemed to be looking earnestly for something, and when asked what he was searching for he replied, “I am searching for an honest man.”

Plato gave lectures to his pupils in the Academic Gardens, and one day Diogenes was present. Plato defined man as “a two-legged animal without feathers.” Diogenes immediately seized a chicken and, having plucked its feathers, he threw it among Plato’s pupils, declaring it to be “one of Plato’s men.”

Once he was captured by pirates and sold as a slave, but even this did not subdue him, for on being asked what he could do he declared he could “govern men,” and urged the crier to ask, “Who wants to buy a master?” The man who bought him set him free, and afterwards employed him to teach his children. That is how Diogenes happened to be in Corinth when Alexander the Great was passing that way. To that great Macedonian king, who considered himself the “son of a god” and to whom all had knelt in homage almost worship, the visit to Diogenes was something of a shock. He found him in one of the poorer streets, seated in his tub, enjoying the sun and utterly indifferent as to who his visitor might be. Astonished, the king said, “I am Alexander.”

The answer came as proudly, “And I am Diogenes.”

Alexander then said, “Have you no favor to ask of me?”

“Yes,” Diogenes replied, “to get out of my sunlight.”

Far from being angry with him, Alexander seemed to respect and admire a man strong enough to be indifferent to his presence, and said, “Were I not Alexander, I would be Diogenes.”

It happened one day that the artist, Sir Edwin Landseer, passing along one of the narrower streets of London, caught a glimpse of a dirty tramp dog resting comfortably in an empty barrel and looking up with an impish gaze at a well-cared-for dog. The well-kept dog was surveying the tramp with looks of mingled haughtiness and annoyance because of his lack of respect. Immediately the thought came to the artist that here were another Alexander and Diogenes.

The well-fed and carefully cared-for pet, with his fine collar and snow-white coat, sniffs with disgust at the dirt and poverty of the tramp dog, yet is held in spite of himself by the look of indifference and disrespect on the other’s face. He, the envied dog of the neighborhood, upon whom all honors have been showered, has found here for the first time a dog who dares to disregard him. And what a dog! He is amazed, yet held, waiting to see what the tramp dog will do.

Those smaller dogs do not share the indifference of Diogenes at the presence of this great personage. They seem ready to run at the first sign of danger, yet they remain near enough to see and hear all that might happen.

The two hounds in the background, waiting so solemnly for the master, hold their heads high in the air as if the neighborhood were not good enough for them, and they of course could have no interest in what is going on.

Probably Sir Edwin Landseer meant this picture to call attention to the vanities of human nature, and to make us smile at them. The expressions on the faces of these dogs are almost human, so well do they tell their story.

The hammer and nails lying on the rough pavement near the barrel would indicate that this is not a permanent home for the tramp dog, but rather a temporary place of shelter into which he has strayed.

Notice how Landseer has centered our attention on the more important dog, by color, size, and position in the picture. The other spots of light, even that on the edge of the barrel, draw our eyes back to the proud Alexander. We might not discover Diogenes so soon if we did not follow the gaze of Alexander.

Landseer delighted in telling stories in his pictures of animals. Rosa Bonheur and other animal painters aimed to make the animals appear natural and lifelike, but Landseer wished most of all to show their relation to human beings.

This picture hangs in the National Gallery, London, England.

=Questions to help the pupil understand the picture.= Who was Alexander the Great? Who was Diogenes? Tell about the life and philosophy of Diogenes. Describe his personal appearance; Plato’s dinner and his reply to Diogenes. Why did Diogenes carry a lantern in the daytime? What happened after he was captured by the pirates? How did he happen to be in Corinth when Alexander the Great was there? What opinion did Alexander have of himself? Where did he find Diogenes? What conversation did they have? Why was this picture called “Alexander and Diogenes”? Why is the name appropriate? To which class do the other dogs in the picture belong? What are they doing? Where is the scene of this picture laid? Why is this appropriate? What is there unusual about this picture? What impression do you think the artist wished to leave with us? What devices has he used to center our attention upon the more important dog? upon Diogenes? Where is the original painting?

=The story of the artist.= Sir Edwin Landseer’s grandfather was a jeweler, and his father also learned the jeweler’s trade. The jewelers of that day were often asked to engrave the copper plates that were used in printing pictures. Sir Edwin’s father soon decided he would rather engrave pictures than sell jewels, and he became a very skillful engraver.

At that time few people realized what an art it was to be able to cut a picture in copper so that a great many copies of it could be made from one plate. They did not even consider it an art as we do, and so engravers were not allowed to exhibit at the Royal Academy and were given no honors at all. Edwin’s father thought this was not right, and gave several lectures in defense of the art. Engraving, he said, was a kind of “sculpture performed by incision.” His talks seemed to be of no avail at the time, but in the year following his death, engravers at last received the recognition due them.

His eldest son, Thomas, also became famous as an engraver, and it is to him we are indebted for so many good prints of Sir Edwin Landseer’s paintings. This son is the one who made the engraving of the “Horse Fair” for Rosa Bonheur. Few people can afford to own great paintings, but the prints come within the means of almost all of us.

Edwin’s father taught him to draw, and he learned so quickly that even when he was only five years old he could draw remarkably well. Edwin had three sisters and two brothers. The family lived in the country, and often the father went with his boys for a walk through the fields. There were two very large fields separated from each other by a fence with an old-fashioned stile. This stile had about four steps and was built high, so that the sheep and cows pastured in the fields could not jump over. One day Edwin stopped here to admire these animals and asked his father to show him how to draw them. His father took a piece of paper and a pencil from his pocket, and showed Edwin how to draw a cow. This was the boy’s first drawing lesson. After this Edwin came here nearly every day, and his father called these two fields “Edwin’s studio.”

When he was only thirteen years old two of his pictures were exhibited at the Royal Academy. One was a painting of a mule, the other of a dog and puppy. Edwin painted from real life always, not caring to make copies from the work of others. All the sketches he made when he was a little boy were carefully kept by his father, and now, if you go to England, you may see them in the South Kensington Museum, in London.

Landseer was only sixteen years old when he exhibited his wonderful picture called “Fighting Dogs Getting Wind.” A very rich man, whose praise meant a great deal at that time, bought the picture, and Edwin’s success was assured. So many people brought their pets for him to paint that he had to keep a list and each was obliged to wait his turn.

It was about this time, too, that he painted an old white horse in the stable of another wealthy man. After the picture was finished and ready to deliver, it suddenly disappeared. It was sought everywhere, but it was not found until twenty-four years afterwards. A servant had stolen it and hidden it away in a hayloft. He was afraid to sell it, or even to keep it in his home, for every one would recognize the great artist’s work.

For a number of years Landseer lived and painted in his father’s house in a poor little room without even a carpet. All the furniture, we are told, consisted of three cheap chairs and an easel. Later he had a fine studio not far from Regent’s Park. There were a small house and garden, and the barn was made over into a studio.

Sir Edwin was not a very good business man, so he left all his financial affairs to his father, who sold his pictures for him and kept his accounts.

At twenty-four Landseer became a member of the Royal Academy, which was an unusual honor for so young a man.

This story is told of him. At a social gathering in the home of a well-known leader of society in London, where Landseer was present, the company had been talking about skill with the hands, when some one remarked that no one had ever been found who could draw two things at once. Landseer replied, “Oh, I can do that; lend me two pencils and I will show you.” Then with one hand he quickly drew the head of a horse, at the same time drawing with the other hand a deer’s head and antlers. Both sketches were so good that they might well have been drawn with the same hand and with much more care.

Landseer made a special study of lions, too. A lion died at the park menagerie, and Landseer dissected its body and studied and drew every part. He painted many pictures of lions. He modeled the lions at the base of the Nelson Monument in Trafalgar Square, London, unveiled in 1867.

When Sir Edwin Landseer went to visit Scotland one of his fellow travelers was Sir Walter Scott, the great novelist. The two became warm friends. Sir Walter Scott tells us: “Landseer’s dogs were the most magnificent things I ever saw, leaping and bounding and grinning all over the canvas.” Landseer painted Sir Walter Scott’s handsome dog, “Maida Vale,” many times, and named his studio for the dog.

Although Landseer painted so many wild animals, birds, and hunting scenes, he did not care to shoot animals or to hunt. His sketchbook was his only weapon. Sometimes he would hire guides to take him into the wildest parts of the country in search of game. But they felt quite disgusted with him when, a great deer bounding toward them, he would merely make a sketch of it in his book. He knew how to use a gun, though, and sometimes did so with great success.

But it was the study of live animals that interested him most. Sir Edwin Landseer felt that animals understand, feel, and reason just like people, so he painted them as happy, sad, gay, dignified, frivolous, rich, poor, and in all ways, just like human beings.

Landseer did and said all he could against the custom of cutting, or “cropping,” the ears of dogs. He held that nature intended to protect the ears of dogs that “dig in the dirt,” and man should not interfere. People paid attention to what he said, and the custom lost favor.

In 1850 the honor of knighthood was conferred upon the artist.

Landseer was popular alike with lovers of art and simple lovers of nature who had no knowledge of painting. No English painter has ever been more appreciated in his own country.

He died in London in 1873, at the age of seventy-one.

Other noted pictures by Landseer are: “The Highland Shepherd’s Chief Mourner,” “Suspense,” “The Connoisseurs,” “A Distinguished Member of the Royal Humane Society,” “Saved,” “My Dog,” “Dignity and Impudence,” “Sleeping Bloodhound,” “Shoeing the Bay Mare,” “Monarch of the Glen,” and “A Deer Family.”

=Questions about the artist.= What did Sir Edwin Landseer’s father do for a living? Tell about Edwin’s boyhood and first “studio.” For what did he name the studio “Maida Vale”? With whom did he travel through Scotland? What was Sir Edwin Landseer’s idea of hunting, and why? How did he feel about animals? What skill did he have with his left hand? Name some of his paintings.

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RUBENS’S SONS

=Questions to arouse interest.= Of whom is this a portrait? What are the boys doing? What expressions do you see on their faces? How does this picture show that the artist gave careful attention to details? In what ways does the picture grow more attractive the longer you look at it? How are we made to feel that the artist was in perfect sympathy with his subject? What has the pillar in the background to do with balancing the composition? Where is the center of interest and how is it held? What can you say of the light and shade? of the variety and kind of lines?

=Original Picture=: Dresden, Germany.
=Artist=: Peter Paul Rubens (rōō´bĕnz).
=Birthplace=: Siegen, Germany.
=Dates=: Born, 1577; died, 1640.

=The story of the picture.= The paintings of Peter Paul Rubens were in such demand that he employed a great number of skilled assistants to help him paint them. He himself worked some on each picture, making the first sketch and adding the finishing touches, but in many of them his carefully trained assistants put in the details of costume, background, and even the hands and faces. Rubens worked out a system of his own by which all were kept busy, and a remarkably large number of pictures finished in a short time. Some critics have spoken of his studio as a “manufactory for the production of religious and decorative pictures.” Knowing this, it can be readily understood how much more this picture, called “Rubens’s Sons,” is valued because the artist painted every stroke himself. He would not allow any one else to touch it, and later, owing to its great popularity, it is believed he made a copy of the painting, as there are two in existence.

The brothers, Albert and Nicholas, are so lifelike that they almost seem to breathe and move. The elder son, Albert, was twelve years old when this picture was painted, and his brother Nicholas, eight. Albert, always a studious boy, looks thoughtfully at us as he half leans against the pillar. In his gloved right hand he holds a book, while in his bare left hand, resting on his brother’s shoulder, he holds the other fur-edged glove.

The younger boy, Nicholas, is absorbed in his plaything, a goldfinch fastened by a string to a wooden perch. He shrewdly calculates the distance he must let out the string, and his alert, eager attention tells us much of the stirring, restless life of this healthy, active boy. It is difficult to keep him standing still very long.

Rubens delighted in painting rich velvets, brocades, silks, and satins, and especially in representing his wife and their children in beautiful clothes. In this picture he has certainly satisfied that desire, for the boys are dressed in most elaborate costumes even for that day, and especially so if we compare them with the simple dark suits of boys of the same age to-day. Nicholas’s suit is of gray and blue, with puffs of yellow satin, rosettes below his knees and on his shoes, lace collar and cuffs, and innumerable little buttons. Albert wears black satin slashed with white, white ruched collars and cuffs, and a soft black felt hat. At a glance we would judge them to be the sons of a gentleman, well brought up, healthy, happy, and manly.

The great studio in which Rubens worked was like a school, for many young artists came there to learn how to draw and paint. Rubens worked away at his own easel while the students and helpers were seated about the room, each carefully working out some part on the canvas before him. Occasionally he would stop his painting long enough to look at the others’ work, correct their mistakes, and help them. Often, as he worked, Rubens would have some one read aloud to him in Latin, for he was a fine scholar and liked to keep up his knowledge. The boy Albert loved to sit on a stool near his father, watching and listening, and as soon as he was able to write at all he could read and write in Latin. Always fond of reading and studying, he gained such a reputation for scholarship that when he was only sixteen years old the king of Spain, Philip IV, appointed him to a very important position—secretary to the Privy Council.

Whenever Rubens went on a long journey he brought back many curios, such as cameos, jewels, old coins, and relics of all kinds. Soon he had so many collected he put them all in one room, which he called the “museum room.” Albert loved to study the curious things in this room, and spent hours alone here while Nicholas was romping out in the great yard. When Albert grew up he wrote several books about antiquities and curios.

=Questions to help the pupil understand the picture.= Who painted this picture? How old were these two boys? What were their names? Which one looks the more studious? the more active? How are they dressed? Tell something of Rubens’s studio and manner of working. Who helped him? why? In what did the elder son, Albert, become proficient? To what important position was he appointed? What books did he write? Tell about the museum.

=The story of the artist.= The great Flemish painter, Peter Paul Rubens, was born at Siegen, Germany, during the forced exile of his parents from their home in Antwerp, Belgium. But Rubens always claimed citizenship at Antwerp, and spent most of his life there after the death of his father.

His mother sent him to a Jesuit college, where, besides his religious training, he gained a mastery of languages. According to the customs of those times he was next sent as a page to the home of a great lady; but this was not to his liking and he soon returned home. His mother wished him to be a lawyer, as his father had been, but Rubens persuaded her to help him in his ambition to be a painter.

The next ten years he spent at home, studying under the direction of local artists, until at the age of twenty-three he was so filled with the desire to visit Italy that he set out for Venice. He spent much time copying the paintings of the Venetian masters, and it was while he was working on one of these copies that a gentleman belonging to the court of the Duke of Mantua found him, and praised his work so highly to the duke that Rubens was sent for. Then for eight years Rubens held the position of court painter for the Duke of Mantua.

In appearance he was tall, well built, and good looking, carrying himself with grace and an air of distinction. Cultured, with pleasant manners and such unusual talent, it is not strange that he made friends wherever he went.

The story is told that one day as he was painting a picture the subject of which he had chosen from Virgil, “The Struggle of Turnus with Æneas,” he recited the Latin aloud to himself. The duke, happening to pass that way, heard him, and coming into the studio spoke to him in Latin, not for an instant believing he would understand, but Rubens answered in perfect Latin. The duke was amazed, for his idea of painters did not include their having a knowledge of the classics. He then inquired about the artist’s birth and education, and so Rubens, with his great talent, was held in even greater favor at court.

Rubens made a journey to Spain for the Duke of Mantua, taking with him as presents copies of some of the celebrated Italian paintings and a number of horses to be presented to King Philip III and to the Duke of Lerma. The Duke of Mantua was famous throughout Europe for his fine horses, and it is said that those appearing so often in Rubens’s paintings were chosen from among the duke’s favorites. On this journey Rubens took the wrong road, crossing the Alps with great difficulty. The baggage, drawn by oxen over the steep mountain roads, delayed him, and the paintings were almost ruined by heavy rains, which made it necessary for him to spend many days retouching them before they could be presented. He was so successful in this task, and the journey had given them such an appearance of age, that the king thought they must be the “genuine originals of the old masters.”

The horses, however, arrived in fine condition, for, as the story goes, they had been bathed in wine several times during the journey, which greatly improved the glossiness of their coats.

After his return Rubens continued his travels through Italy, whenever he could secure a leave of absence from the duke, but was finally called back to Antwerp by the death of his mother. When he would have returned to the duke’s court he was persuaded by the Archduke Albert and his wife to remain in Antwerp, where he was offered the position of court painter at a most generous salary.

He then built a magnificent home and married Isabella Brant, whose portrait he has painted so often. This house was so arranged that he could use part of it for his school, to which students came from all parts of Europe. Each student was taught to do a certain part of a picture well, and most of them had their part in the great paintings, which were first planned and then retouched by Rubens. For this work Rubens always gave them credit, and in his list of pictures he has permitted no deception. Thus we find among his notes:

“A Prometheus bound—with an eagle who gnaws his liver. Original by my hand, eagle by Snyder.

“Leopards, painted from life, with Satyrs and Nymphs. Original by my hand, except a very beautiful landscape done by a very distinguished artist in that style.

“The Twelve Apostles and Christ, painted by my pupils after originals by my hand—they could all be retouched by my hand.”

Such a great number of pictures are attributed to Rubens and his helpers that some are to be found in every gallery in Europe.

His paintings were in demand not only in the Netherlands but in other countries. In France, Maria de Medici commissioned him to paint pictures illustrating the chief events in her life, to be placed in the gallery of the Luxembourg Palace. There were twenty-one of these pictures in all besides three portraits.

A beautiful friendship existed between the two artists, Rubens and Velasquez, although Rubens was twenty-two years older than his young friend.

Other paintings by Rubens are: “Adoration of the Magi,” “The Garland of Fruit,” “The Descent from the Cross,” “The Last Communion of St. Francis,” “Judgment of Paris,” and “Peace and War.”

=Questions about the artist.= Where was Rubens born? Where did he claim citizenship? why? Tell about his early education. Where did he study drawing and painting? Describe his personal appearance. Why was he such a favorite at court? Tell about his journey to Spain and the paintings and horses he took with him. Tell something of his life after his return from this journey. Name some of his important paintings.

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SONG OF THE LARK

=Questions to arouse interest.= What has the girl been doing? Why has she stopped? What did she hear? How does the girl seem to feel? Is she singing or listening? Why do you think so? How is she dressed? Where is she going? What has she in her hand? What occupation would this suggest? What time of day do you think it is? What can you see in the distance? What is the name of this picture?

=Original Picture=: Art Institute, Chicago, Illinois.
=Artist=: Jules Adolphe Breton (brẽ tôN´).
=Birthplace=: Courrières, France.
=Dates=: Born, 1827; died, 1906.

=The story of the picture.= It is said that the artist, Jules Breton, was walking in the fields of France early one morning when suddenly there burst forth the joyous song of a lark singing high in the air. As he looked about him, trying to discover the bird, he soon found it by following the rapt gaze of a peasant girl who had stopped to look and listen. As you know, an English lark sings while flying high in the air instead of in the treetops as other birds do. Its song, too, is longer and far more beautiful than that of our lark, and has been the subject of many poems. Perhaps the best known are “Hark, Hark, the Lark,” by Shakespeare, and “To a Skylark,” by Shelley.

The last line of this verse by Shelley is often quoted:

“Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest
Like a cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.”

Jules Breton has tried to show us what he saw that morning, and to help us find the lark through the joyous expression on the girl’s face. Her lips are parted as she listens breathlessly to the exquisite song of praise the lark is pouring forth. The sun, a huge, fiery ball, is rising just behind the trees of the distant village, and all the earth is flooded with its golden light.

This sturdy, healthy peasant girl, sickle in hand, is going forth to her work in the fields. She walks along briskly in the narrow path, her head thrown back, breathing in the fresh morning air, when suddenly her little friend, the lark, gives her the morning greeting. As we look at her we do not feel that this is the first time she has heard his sweet song, but rather that it is something she has learned to look and listen for each morning as she starts out to her day’s work.

Another Frenchman, Millet, painted the French peasant so that our feelings of pity are aroused, but Breton shows us such strong, happy, peasant girls that we are apt rather to envy them their life of outdoor freedom and healthful labor.

Millet says of these peasants, “Breton paints girls who are too beautiful to remain in the country.” Other critics declare that Breton’s wonderful sunrises and sunsets would make any figure stand out transfigured, and as he chooses as models only the most favored in strength and beauty, of course the results are unusual.

This picture is so full of joy and song that it fills us with wonder and appreciation of all that is beautiful in nature. First, there is the bird with its wonderful power to soar so high and to so fill the air with its beautiful song. Then the sun, and all that it makes possible for us in life and growth. It seems indeed a privilege for this happy-hearted peasant girl to be permitted to go out in the fields on this bright, fresh morning to do her little share in the work of the world.

Her apron is caught up about her waist to hold the heads of wheat, for, as her sickle indicates, she is going into the wheat field. A large handkerchief is fastened about her hair to protect it from the dust and dirt of the field. She is dressed for a warm day in summer. Her large, coarse hands and feet, hardened by exposure and toil, suggest health and strength and give us a feeling of admiration rather than of pity.

The details of the field and even of her dress are made secondary and unimportant compared with her face, upon which is centered our chief interest and to which our eyes are continually drawn.

In the little village faintly seen in the distance we catch a glimpse of the homes of the peasants,—simple, rude homes, yet, if we may judge by this girl’s expression, cheerful and happy homes.

Breton has avoided all possibility of monotony in his picture by the unequal division of space. Had the figure of the girl been placed exactly in the center of the landscape, or the earth and sky spaces been made equal, the picture would have lost much in interest, as you will soon discover if you cover up parts of the composition with a piece of paper. Although there is no rule stating that the center of interest should not be in the middle of a picture, most artists seem to prefer centering their interest on some person or object a little to one side of the middle.

=Questions to help the pupil understand the picture.= How did the artist happen to paint this picture? How does an English lark differ from the larks in our country? What time of day is represented in this picture? What is the girl doing? Compare the paintings of peasants by Millet and Breton. How is this girl dressed? How does she seem to feel? What can you say of the composition of this picture as to: (1) division of land and sky space; (2) center of interest; (3) placing of the figure; (4) lack of detail—the simplicity?

=The story of the artist.= Jules Adolphe Breton was the son of cultured, well-to-do parents. When he was only four years old his mother died and he was brought up, with other children, by his father and an uncle who came to live with them at this time. In the great yard or park about his father’s house there were four statues representing the four seasons of the year—spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Jules loved to look at these statues, and when one day a painter came and repainted them a bright green, he watched every movement of the brush with great delight. He was only six years old, but that night he announced to his father that he was going to be an artist.

When he was ten years old his father sent him to a religious school. At this school there was a large black dog named Coco, a general favorite, whose picture Jules often drew. One day he drew Coco in a black gown like the priest’s, and standing on his hind feet, holding a book in his paws. He named his picture “The Abbé Coco Reads His Breviary.” The priest, his teacher, happening to see this picture, was much displeased, and demanded, “Did you do this through impiety or to laugh at your masters?” Jules was frightened, and not knowing exactly what “impiety” meant, but feeling sure that to “laugh at your masters” would be a serious offense, he answered tremblingly, “Through impiety.”

For this he was severely whipped, much to the indignation of his father, who promptly took him out of the school. Jules was then sent to another school, where he was taught drawing, and from that time on he painted pictures which won for him great popularity.

He has received medals and other honors in England, France, and America. Some of his best pictures are in the United States, among them “The Song of the Lark,” which is usually considered his masterpiece.

Other noted pictures are: “The Vintagers,” “Return of the Gleaners,” “Blessing the Grain,” “Women Weeding,” “The Turkey Keeper,” and “The Shepherd’s Star.”

=Questions about the artist.= Who painted this picture? By whom was he brought up? What helped him decide to be an artist? How old was he when he made this resolve? Tell about the drawing of Coco. What happened because of this drawing? What was the outcome of this happening? How successful was he as an artist? Where is the original painting of the “Song of the Lark”? What else has Breton painted?

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BEATA BEATRIX

=Questions to arouse interest.= What is there about this picture that suggests a mystery? Where is this lady sitting? What has been brought to her? Of what is the dove a symbol? the poppy? To what hour does the sundial point? What can you see in the distance?

=Original picture=: National Gallery of British Art, London.
=Artist=: Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
=Birthplace=: Portland Place, London, England.
=Dates=: Born, 1828; died, 1882.

=The story of the picture.= Long ago, in the age of chivalry, there lived a beautiful Florentine lady named Beatrice Portinari. A great poet, Dante, has described her to us from her childhood to her death.

In those days when all true knights served their ladies, and even small boys were required to choose objects of devotion, it was not strange that a boy of nine years should choose a little neighbor girl for this honor. She was only a year younger than he when her father, Folco Portinari, a rich nobleman of Florence, gave a festival in her honor, inviting all his neighbors and friends. Dante went with his father. Here for the first time he met Beatrice, whom he afterwards described as “the youngest of the angels.”

“‘People called her Beatrice then,’ he explains, ‘without knowing how truly the name belonged to her, for it means ‘one who blesses.’” The artist, Rossetti, must have been thinking of this when he named his picture “Beata Beatrix,” which means “happy or pleasing; one who blesses.” Beata sometimes has another meaning—“the elect of Paradise”—and Dante suggests this meaning as he tells us how the people remarked, as she passed, that “she seemed not to be the daughter of a mortal man, but of God.” Indeed, he tells us that whoever looked at her was made better, for all ill thoughts must vanish before her,—“the destroyer of all evil, and the queen of all good.”

She must have been a fairylike little creature as she moved among her father’s guests, dressed in deep crimson, with a few beautiful ornaments which brought out her delicate coloring. At any rate she became the ideal of the small boy, Dante. He became a poet through this meeting and from that time on wrote verses to her. We probably never would have known there was such a person as Beatrice, if he had not told us about her in his poems. Now she will never be forgotten, for not only the poet Dante, but the artist Rossetti, made her name immortal.

It was not until nine years after this first meeting that Dante met Beatrice face to face again. She was walking on the street between two older women, and turned to greet him pleasantly. Dressed in white this time, she seemed to him the fairest and most beautiful lady in all Florence.

This meeting had such an effect upon Dante that he declared he felt as if he had reached the “furthest limit of blessedness.” Hurrying to his room, he spent hours in thinking of Beatrice;—finally he fell asleep and dreamed of her. As soon as he awoke, he commenced a sonnet, which he addressed, not to her, but to his fellow-poets. It was not until later that he ventured to address his verses to Beatrice, usually speaking of her as “my lady.”

After each meeting or new thought of Beatrice, Dante wrote his poems, until at last he put them all into a book which he called “Vita Nuova,” meaning “new life.” He declared that from the time of his first meeting with Beatrice he had begun a new life, and this book would contain the record of it. Here he tells all his inmost thoughts and feelings, for in those days it was the fashion for poets to tell of their loves.

So we hear how Dante spent his days and nights thinking of the lovely Beatrice, until his health began to fail and his friends questioned, even taunted him, as to the cause. He did not wish them to know who it was that so affected him, and was wondering how to keep his secret when an accident showed him the way. As he sat in church looking across to where his beloved Beatrice sat unconscious of his presence, his glance was returned by a lady sitting half way between. She thought his glances were for her. She looked around several times, and other people, noticing her, soon decided she must be the lady Dante loved. Dante then decided to use her as a screen, and though he continued to write his verses to Beatrice, he did so in such a way that all believed they were directed to the screen lady.

This did very well for several years, until the screen lady moved to another city. Then Dante chose another screen lady, but she got him into trouble. False rumors spread rapidly and soon the gentle Beatrice heard them. So one day, when she passed Dante on the street, she did not give him the customary greeting. He was nearly heartbroken, for this greeting was all the recompense he had ever had or hoped to have for his love. He tells how much it meant to him, how kindly it made him feel toward even his enemies, and that it was the inspiration and hope of his life.

A friend took him to a wedding feast at which Beatrice was one of the guests. At the sight of her he grew faint and was obliged to return home. As he passed a group of women, they stopped him and inquired what kind of a love his was that made him numb and speechless in the mere presence of the loved one. He told them that until the day when Beatrice refused it, the end and aim of his love had been “her salutation”; but now his desire had changed to something that could not fail him: His happiness now lay “in the words which praise my lady.”

Is it any wonder then that one so gentle and beautiful as Beatrice, and to whom the attention of all Florence was directed by the adoration of so beloved a poet as Dante, should become a kind of goddess or queen in that city? Dante tells us that people came to the corners of the streets to see her pass. Her companions, too, were honored for her sake, and it seemed as if Beatrice herself was “the only creature in Florence unaware of her own perfections.” It gave him the most exquisite pleasure to think that he had helped bring this about.

At the death of Beatrice’s father, Dante’s grief was almost as deep as for his own father, and he remained near the house in the vain hope that he might comfort his lady in some way. Shortly after this, Dante became very ill, and as he thought of death, he realized that some day his beloved Beatrice must die. The thought drove him into a frenzy of despair; and when at last he fell asleep, it was only to dream of her approaching death. This dream proved to be a true omen, for only once more was Dante permitted to see his Beatrice; then one day as he was composing a sonnet to her, the news of her death was brought to him. He was prostrated with grief, and it was some time before he could write again.

Dante was then twenty-seven years old, and left, as he said, “to ruminate on death, and envy whomsoever dies.” To console himself he read religious philosophy, and from thinking of Beatrice as a saint upon earth, he began to think of her in heaven in company with saints and angels. And so almost before he knew it he had started to write his masterpiece, “The Divine Comedy.” In this, Beatrice, still the object of his adoration, leads him from circle to circle in Paradise, and for the first time we hear her speak.

It is strange how very little is known of Beatrice from other sources. Beyond the fact of her birth and parentage little is given. Many authorities state she was the wife of Simone de’ Bardi, but as many vigorously deny this. Dante does not mention her marriage, and indeed gives us quite the opposite impression.

Dante has represented his Beatrice as so perfect, so absolutely without fault in every way, that many have questioned whether she was a real woman or an ideal. Perhaps the doubt as to her reality started when people began to ask more about her and her interest in Dante. Living in Florence, she must have known of his devotion, yet we have no way of knowing whether she knew or not. And then we are permitted to see Beatrice only at a distance, and usually surrounded by her bodyguard of gentle ladies. We know how she affected other people, the beauty and sweetness of her presence, yet we are never brought close enough to see even the hint of an imperfection of any kind. And the poet himself does not address his poems directly to her, but “to other poetic souls who will understand.”

Yet who can read his “Vita Nuova” and fail to be convinced that Beatrice was an actual woman? Here we find her beautiful, gentle, modest, and smiling, walking with others, prayerful in church, weeping at funerals, and merry at festivals. All the little events of her life, and even the peace of her death, are sympathetically told by one who knew her to be real, yet has made her truly ideal.

The “Vita Nuova” was written in Italian, and one of the best English translations was made by Rossetti, who painted this picture as one of the many illustrations for the book. No one could have been more in sympathy with this subject than Rossetti; both because of his great admiration for Dante, and because he had suffered a similar affliction in the loss of his beloved wife.

Dante sought to prove in verse that death is but passing from one world into another, and Rossetti wished to show Beatrice in that transition stage, or swoon, in which she is about to pass into another life. In his own words Rossetti tells us, “The picture illustrates the ‘Vita Nuova,’ embodying symbolically the death of Beatrice as treated in that work. The picture is not intended at all to represent death, but to render it under the semblance of a trance in which Beatrice, seated at a balcony overlooking the city, is suddenly rapt from earth to heaven.”

We are supposed to be in an adjoining room in the home of Beatrice, and to be looking out upon the balcony where she is sitting. Her closed eyes, half-closed lips, and listless hands make her appear to be half sleeping, half waking, yet conscious of some heavenly vision we cannot see. The dove, crowned with a halo to show that it is a heavenly messenger, brings the poppy to Beatrice. This flower is the symbol of death; the dark heart of the flower stands for mystery and the white petals for purity.

The sundial represents the hour as close at hand. Dante was quite superstitious about the number nine, and in his book refers to that number so often that this picture would not be complete without some indication of it. He was nine years old when he met Beatrice; nine years later he received her salutation; it was usually on the ninth hour that he saw or dreamed of her; and it was at the ninth hour that she passed away.

As we glance away from Beatrice, beyond the balcony we catch a glimpse of the Florence in which she lived, with its river Arno, its bridge, and some of the towers and palaces in the dim distance. The two figures gazing sadly at one another represent Dante and Love. In his “Vita Nuova,” Dante always speaks of Love as an actual person appearing to him in different forms. First he appeared as a traveler dressed in coarse clothes; then as a youth in white who came and sat on the edge of his bed and comforted him; and on those rare occasions when Dante saw Beatrice he was always present. Dressed in vermilion in this picture, he stands holding a flaming heart and pointing upward, as if he would beckon Dante to follow. Critics generally agree that the figure of Love in this picture represents the spiritual Beatrice, who beckons Dante to follow as she passes upward. Dante, dressed in scholarly gown, gazes fixedly at the figure as if he would not fail to get the message.

The colors in which this picture is painted add much to its air of mystery. The purplish tints of late sunset linger in the distant view of the city and bring out the golden auburn hair of Beatrice, suggesting a halo made radiant against the twilight distance. Yet Rossetti has been very careful to make Beatrice appear as a real person and not as a vision. To accomplish this, he has made the figure stand out clearly against the brilliant light, yet lost in the half shadows of the balcony, so she appears to be both of this world and of the next. He has represented life and death again in the colors of her dress,—green and purple. She wears a loose-fitting green garment over a purple dress. The bird is a deep rose color. It carries the purplish white poppy to her lap.

This picture of Beata Beatrix is dated 1863, but was not finished until two years later. Nine years afterwards, Rossetti painted a copy of it, adding the meeting of Beatrice and Dante in Paradise. He painted several other copies, but none of them have been considered equal to this first picture. The original was painted in oils and sold to Lord Mount Temple, whose widow gave it as a memorial to the National Gallery, London, where it now hangs.

Rossetti designed nearly all the frames for his pictures, because he liked to show on them some of the things that suggested the picture. He took unusual pains in designing the frame for this painting. On the sides are circles showing clouds, stars, and skies, representing the two worlds. Below the painting he has printed the date of the death of Beatrice, June 9, 1290, and a quotation in Latin from the Bible illustrating the effect of her death upon Florence:

“How doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people!
How is she become as a widow! She that was great among the nations!”

=Questions to help the pupil understand the picture.= Of whom is this a picture? Where did she live? By whom was she made famous? How? Explain the meaning of her name, and the name of this picture. Why were these names appropriate? In what age did Beatrice live? What influence did chivalry have upon Dante? When and where did Dante and Beatrice meet? How old were they? What was the result of this first meeting? Tell about the next meeting and its effect. What is the “Vita Nuova,” and why was it written? Tell about the screen ladies. How was Dante punished? What was the end and aim of his love for Beatrice? How was Beatrice regarded in Florence? why? What was Dante’s dream? Of what was it an omen? What was the effect of Beatrice’s death upon Dante? Why do some people think Beatrice was not a real woman? What is your opinion? Why did Rossetti wish to paint this picture? Does it represent death or life? Where is Beatrice sitting? Describe the picture; its coloring. What part has the number nine in the life of Beatrice? Explain the figures in the background. Where is the original painting? How is it framed?

=The story of the artist.= Daniel Gabriel Rossetti was the eldest son of Gabriele Rossetti, a poet and Italian exile. Gabriel, for that was the name he was usually called, was born at Portland Place, London, and had two sisters and one brother. He was first sent to a private school, then to King’s College School. When he was but fourteen, because of his marked ability to draw he was sent to Cary’s Art Academy. Here he did so well that three years later he gained admission to the Royal Academy Antique School.

He was only twenty years old when with some other young artists he started a new art movement which they agreed, half in jest, to call Pre-Raphaelitism. They themselves were called Pre-Raphaelites. When they began to exhibit their paintings, they were very severely criticized and ridiculed; but a popular young art critic of that day, John Ruskin, came to their aid by writing a long letter in which he praised them heartily. This letter was published and turned the tide of popular opinion. Meanwhile, Rossetti was developing his literary talents, his writings being published in the leading magazines of that time.