GALLERY. (continued 2)

Idle tales have been told of the jealousy subsisting between these two great painters, while, on the contrary, every recorded instance seems to prove how close was their friendship. Rubens was most desirous that his talented pupil should proceed to Italy to study the works of the great masters, and extend his connection with the world, but in the meantime Vandyck received an invitation to England. The first visit he paid to our country was short and unsatisfactory; and there are so many discrepancies in the accounts given of the work done at that period, and his reasons for leaving somewhat abruptly, that we refrain from entering on the subject. From England he proceeded to the Hague, where he painted portraits of every class and denomination of person, commencing with the whole family and Court of the Stadtholder, 55Henry Frederic, including every member of the illustrious house of Nassau. Nobles, warriors, statesmen, burghers, all vied for the honour of sitting to him.

In 1622 the news of his father’s illness recalled him to Antwerp. He arrived just in time to receive that father’s last farewell, and listen to his last injunctions. Franz Vandyck made his son promise to paint an altar-piece for the chapel of the Dominican Sisters, who had nursed him tenderly during his illness,—a pledge nobly redeemed by Anthony, though the execution was postponed for a time. He then took leave of his master, to whom he presented, at parting, three pictures, one of which was the likeness of Rubens’s first wife.

Our painter now set his face towards Italy, but he did not get far on his road without a hindrance. The story of the little episode we are about to relate is so differently given, that we only pretend to offer the most likely version.

At Brussels, where Vandyck tarried, the Infanta Isabella gave him a commission to paint the mistress of her Highness’s favourite hounds, a beautiful girl, by the name of Anna von Orphen. We are not told why a maiden of lowly origin was chosen for a place, though not very exalted, about Court, unless it were on account of her loveliness. But the portrait was executed, and Anna appeared, surrounded by her pack, each dog having its name duly inscribed on the canvas.

The picture is mentioned as being at the castle of Tervueren, near Brussels, in 1763. Vandyck speedily fell a victim to the charms of the lovely villager of Saventheim, and at her cottage he whiled away some months, to the great indignation of Rubens, who continued to write and expostulate with his former pupil, pointing out to him the value and importance of the time he was losing. Vandyck, however, was not wholly idle while at Saventheim; he painted (it is said at the instigation of his mistress) two pictures: one a Holy Family, in which he introduced likenesses of Anna and her 56family, and the other a St. Martin, being his own portrait, riding a horse which Rubens had given him. The last-mentioned painting was held in such high estimation by the inhabitants of Saventheim, that on three separate occasions, at the interval of many years, the peasantry rose en masse to prevent the treasure from being carried away, either by fraud or purchase.

At length Rubens hit on an expedient to extricate his friend from the spells of his rustic Armida. He sent the Chevalier Nanni, who was en route for Italy, to urge on Vandyck the expediency of accompanying him thither. The arguments chosen were successful; the lovers parted with mutual regret. Poor Anna was left disconsolate, and Vandyck set forth on a journey which was destined to be a triumphal progress. We have no space to detail his residence at Venice, where he studied Titian and Veronese, or his still longer sojourn at Genoa, where he became the favourite guest of the proudest nobles of the proud city, in which almost every palace is enriched by the works of the great Fleming, chiefly consisting of portraits, with a sprinkling of sacred subjects. This was the period when, as Vandyck afterwards confessed, he painted for fame, and not alone for money. At Rome, where he remained several years, the first order he undertook was the world-renowned portrait of Cardinal Bentivoglio, which, when once seen, attracted crowds of sitters to the studio, as at Genoa, including not only the nobility of the city, but most of the visitors sojourning there at the time. A most curious portrait of that period may now be seen at Petworth, representing Sir Robert Shirley, who had come from the East on a mission to his Holiness, representing him and his Persian wife both in Oriental costume. In the Duke of Buccleuch’s invaluable collection of miniatures there is a most eccentric effigy of this same lady, in the dress—or shall we say undress?—of her country.

57On leaving Rome, many writers say driven thence by the jealousy of fellow-artists, especially among his own countrymen, Vandyck proceeded via Florence to visit the more northern cities of Italy, and after paying a second visit to his favourite Genoa, he sailed with his friend, the Chevalier Nanni, for Sicily, whither he had been invited by Prince Philibert of Savoy, who sat to him, as did also the famous painter Sofonisba Angusciola, celebrated alike for her talents and her romantic adventures. This remarkable woman was in her ninety-second year, and quite blind, but her mind was clear, and her love of art as keen as ever; and Vandyck said he had learned more from the conversation of this blind old lady than from all his former studies.

There is a charming portrait of her by her own hand, when young and handsome, in the collection of Earl Spencer at Althorp. Vandyck was driven from Sicily by the breaking out of the plague, and he once more set out for Antwerp, which he reached about the end of 1626. In his native city he at first shared the proverbial fate of the prophet in his own country; he found few patrons, and many cavilled at the prices, which were less than had been gladly paid him in Italy. Rubens came to his rescue by buying every completed picture in his studio, and, departing from Antwerp on diplomatic missions (from the Archduchess Isabella) to Portugal and England, left his friend Vandyck the undisputed master of the field.

His hands were now full. Orders from numerous religious fraternities in the city and neighbourhood, anxious to enrich their several churches and chapels, poured in on all sides, and the candidates for the honour of sitting to the great painter were incalculable. Yet Vandyck’s cup was mingled with gall, through the envy and jealousy of his fellow-artists, who attacked and traduced him on all occasions. He paid another short visit to England, where the Earl of Northumberland was his 58chief patron and employer, and afterwards to Paris; but it was not till 1632 that he listened to the persuasions of the Earl of Arundel (who many years before had admired the early promise of Vandyck’s talent), and once more went over to England. In consequence of the death of Buckingham, who literally ‘brooked no rival near the throne,’ Lord Arundel was in high favour with his Royal master, and King and subject were alike enthusiastic worshippers of art.

Vandyck was received at Court with every mark of distinction. Charles I. provided apartments for him, and in all respects treated him as a personal friend, taking the greatest delight in his society. It was supposed that his Majesty had even entertained the idea of building a house expressly for his guest, since among the State papers, in the handwriting of one of the officials, there is an entry, ‘Things to be done: to speak with Inigo Jones concerning a house for Vandike.’

The painter was however well lodged at Blackfriars, and a pleasant summer residence at Eltham was also allotted him. Indeed, wherever he went, Anthony Vandyck was the centre of attraction, the cynosure of all eyes. Pre-eminently handsome, brilliant in conversation, a good linguist, an enlightened traveller, even without the crowning quality of his splendid talent, the painter must assuredly have proved a shining light in the refined and aristocratic circles of the English capital. Courted in society, foremost in art, crowds resorted to his studio. The King himself was not only his constant sitter, but often dropped down the river in his royal barge as far as Blackfriars, to pass a pleasant hour, and gossip of art and artists with his newly-created knight, Sir Anthony Vandyck, to whom he had presented a valuable miniature of himself, splendidly set with diamonds. Neither of their Majesties ever appeared wearied of sitting for their portraits to their ‘Painter in Ordinary,’ and few records of a sad life can be more touching than the three heads (at Windsor Castle) of Henrietta Maria, 59in which Vandyck so truthfully delineated the mental and physical changes wrought by grief and misfortune.

Amongst Vandyck’s closest and most intimate friends may be reckoned the Earl of Strafford, whose noble and characteristic countenance gazes intently at us from the walls of so many dwelling-houses, and who was said to have sat oftener to his artist friend than any one in England, with the exception of Charles I. and his Queen. Sir Kenelm Digby was another of Sir Anthony’s chosen companions, and the portraits of the learned knight and his beautiful wife, Venetia Stanley, have become familiar to us by the magic touches of Vandyck’s brush. On the sudden and mysterious death of the ‘divine Venetia,’ her widower summoned the great painter to portray, for the last time, that lovely countenance in ‘a calm unbroken sleep, that hath no awakening,’—a beautiful and touching picture, which forms one of the gems of Lord Spencer’s collection. Notwithstanding the number of his sitters, and the large sums (by comparison) paid for his paintings, Sir Anthony was invariably in pecuniary difficulties. Luxurious in his manner of living, splendid even to ostentation in his dress and equipages, his hospitality was boundless, his generosity to struggling members of his own profession proverbial. Added to all his other expenses, there was invariably a Margaret Lemon, or one of her class, ever ready to drain his purse. On the subject of his monetary troubles, the noble knight was candid and outspoken. One day the King and Lord Arundel were sitting in intimate conversation with the painter in his studio at Blackfriars, when Charles began a sorrowful dissertation on his own lack of money. Turning to Sir Anthony, he said with a smile, ‘And you, Sir Knight, has it ever happened to you to be at a loss where to turn for one or two thousand pounds?’ ‘Sire,’ was the reply, ‘when a painter keeps an open house for his friends, and an open purse for his mistresses, he is not unlikely to have empty coffers.’ It was doubtless on account 60of these pecuniary difficulties that Vandyck in his latter days painted in so hurried and slovenly a manner, as might well have gained him the name of ‘Fa Presto.’ He got into the habit of intrusting many of the details of his paintings to the numerous scholars in his studio, and the similarity of the shape and character of the hands in his portraits, which has so often been remarked and marvelled at, may surely be accounted for by the fact that he usually painted the hands from those of models of both sexes retained by him for that purpose. Yet there were exceptions to this rule, for Vandyck, who had beautifully formed hands of his own, was a great admirer of that particular personal charm; and an amusing anecdote is told of him, when he had a no less noble sitter than Margaret de Bourbon, daughter to Henry IV. of France. The Royal lady, after watching Vandyck for some time, ventured the question, why he gave so much more attention to the painting of her hands than of her head, or indeed any other detail of the picture. ‘It is, Madam,’ replied Sir Anthony, with a sly smile, ‘that I anticipate a rich compensation from those beautiful white hands.’

It would not have been difficult, by all accounts, for Vandyck to have selected a bride from the noblest and most wealthy in the land, so generally admired was he by the fair sex; but his friends, the King and the Duke of Buckingham, had already arranged a suitable match, desirable in every way, excepting that the lady was poor, a fact which seemed an oversight in the circumstances, or rather in Vandyck’s circumstances.

Mary Ruthven was the granddaughter of the unfortunate Earl of Gowrie. Her father, suspected of complicity in the so-called conspiracy, had in consequence not only been imprisoned, but his property confiscated; therefore the winsome lady’s dower consisted of goodness, beauty, and gentle birth, but tocher the lassie had none, excepting a small portion 61given her as Lady of the Queen’s Household. She was much esteemed at Court. During his residence in England Vandyck had paid flying visits to his native country, and we hear of him, in 1634, serving as Dean of the Guild of St. Luke’s at Antwerp, which, be it remarked, is the date of the magnificent portrait, in this same gallery of Panshanger, of John of Nassau Siegen, and his family.

After his marriage he proceeded once more with his bride to his native city, where they were received with every possible demonstration of respect and affection. Sir Anthony, then, hearing that Louis XIII. intended to have the walls of the Louvre adorned with paintings, after the fashion of those by Rubens in the Luxembourg, went to Paris in hopes of obtaining the order, but in this design he was frustrated, and, disappointed and depressed, he returned to England. It was a dreary time. His Royal and private friends were all involved in trouble and perplexity, through the gathering of heavy clouds on the political horizon. His friend Lord Strafford had perished on the scaffold; the King was absent from London; the Queen had sought safety in France. Vandyck’s spirits sank, and he gave himself up to a fatal and visionary consolation.

In the pursuit of the philosopher’s stone, he became a professed alchemist, and, as it was well said, ‘the gold he had gained by his labours fast melted away in the crucible.’

He would stand for hours over a hot fire, which conduced not a little to undermine his failing health; he grew haggard and wrinkled while still in the prime of life. The King, on his return to England, hearing of his friend’s illness, sent his own physician to minister to the patient, holding out, it was said, a large sum of money in the event of a cure. But human aid was unavailing; a severe attack of gout, combined with other maladies, proved fatal, and on the 9th December 1641, the man who by many has been esteemed the chief of 62the world’s portrait-painters breathed his last. Followed by a large retinue of friends, he was buried in St. Paul’s Cathedral. It was but eight days before he died that a daughter was born to him, and on the very date of his death there was an entry in the register of St. Anne’s, Blackfriars, ‘Justiniana, daughter of Sir Anthony Vandyck and his lady, baptized 9th December 1641.’

Whatever ignorance or mismanagement of money matters the great painter had shown during his life, his last will was most praiseworthy and considerate in all points, and he had waited until the birth of his child to complete the same. There was not much to leave, but no one he loved or esteemed was forgotten; wife, child, sisters, servants, were all remembered; even the poor in the two parishes—that of his residence and that of his burial—had a small sum dealt out to them. Sir Anthony Vandyck’s widow married a Welsh baronet, Sir Robert Pryse, as his second wife, but they had no children. Justiniana married Sir John Stepney of Prendergast, Pembroke (their grandson was George Stepney, the poet), and her second husband was Martin de Carbonell. She received a pension from King Charles II.

63No. 10.

FRANÇOIS DUQUESNOY, DETTO IL FIAMMINGO, SCULPTOR.

Green, red, and white slashed dress. Black cloak. White collar and cuffs. He is sitting.

BORN 1594, DIED 1646.

By Nicholas Poussin.

A NATIVE of Brussels, his father was his first master, and while quite young he found a generous patron in the Archduke Albert of Austria. This Prince gave the youth a pension to enable him to go to Rome, and study the art of sculpture, for which he evinced a considerable talent. But the Duke dying when Fiammingo (as he was called at Rome) was only twenty-five, the young artist found himself in great poverty, and obliged to work very hard to keep the wolf from the door. In the same straits was at that moment the afterwards celebrated painter Nicholas Poussin, and the two students became friends and companions, sharing a scanty but common purse. The painter and the sculptor sympathised in their love of art, but differed in their taste of subjects. Poussin’s tendency was for the severe, Fiammingo’s for the tender; his admiration for the works of Albano led him to the execution of childish forms in every imaginable attitude of grace and beauty; these were seldom of large dimension, but he modelled the ‘Putti’ for the high altar in St. Peter’s, the Santa Susanna in the Church of Our Lady of Loretto, near the Trajan Column, and a colossal St. Andrew, also in St. Peter’s. Bernini, who was evidently jealous of Fiammingo’s talent and popularity, said he was incapable of executing anything more than a gigantic 64boy, but the admirers of pure art gave the palm to Fiammingo far and away before the mannerist Bernini. Added to his ability, the Flemish sculptor was a conscientious and indefatigable workman. He not only produced statues, but made careful studies in detail of the human figure, the hands and feet in particular; but in spite of his industry he never extricated himself from poverty. In 1646 he meditated going to France, where doubtless his faithful friend, Nicholas Poussin, would have befriended him, but a cruel death awaited him in Rome. He was poisoned by his own brother, Jerome Duquesnoy, himself a sculptor, who was jealous of Fiammingo’s increasing fame. But the murderer did not escape vengeance; found guilty of many crimes, he was (according to the barbarous practice of the age) burned alive at Ghent. Of a gentle, amiable disposition and winning manners, Fiammingo was much esteemed and respected. Poussin and Albano were among his closest friends.

No. 11.

THE WIFE OF CARLO DOLCE.

Red dress. Brown cap. Holds a scroll and an olive branch.

By Carlo Dolce.

THIS painter was born in 1616, and died 1686. His heads of Madonnas, female saints, and Herodias, are, for the most part, portraits of his wife or daughter. Of the latter there is a head in a Florentine palace, crowned with bay leaves, representing Poetry, which has more depth of colouring and expression than is generally observable in the works of this master.

65No. 12.

ELEANORA D’ESTE.

Blue and pink cap. White dress. Red drapery. Pearl necklace. Chain and pendant.

BORN 1537, DIED 1581.

By Pierin del Vaga.

SHE was the sister of Alfonso d’Este, the second Duke of Ferrara, but is immortalised in history and fiction, prose and verse, as the object of Torquato Tasso’s unfortunate passion. The story of his residence at her a brother’s Court, and at that of Urbino, where her elder sister, Lucrezia, was Duchess, has so often been told, and the details of his relations with the two Princesses so ill authenticated and so variously narrated, that we do no more than allude to the fact of the affection which subsisted between them, although by many writers it is questioned which of the two Princesses reigned supreme in the heart of the Laureate, who was never wearied of singing the praises of both these noble ladies.

This picture was bought in Italy by Emily, wife of the fifth Earl Cowper, and given by her to her husband at the time he was occupied in building the new picture gallery at Panshanger.

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LIBRARY.

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