The Mentor, No. 28, The Wife in Art

The Mentor

“A wise and Faithful Guide and Friend”

THE WIFE IN ART

By GUSTAV KOBBÉ

It may be that he who rides alone rides fastest; and that the man
encumbered with wife and family feels his pace slacken and the goal
as far away as ever. Andrea (ahn´-dree-ah) del Sarto, in the closing
lines of Browning’s poem, utters the same thought. He is addressing his
wife, Lucrezia Fedi, whose extravagant and wayward tastes, many think,
ruined his career and prevented his ranking with Leonardo (lay-o-nar´-do),
Raphael (rah´-fay-ell), and Angelo (ahn´-jel-o):

LUCREZIA FEDI, BY DEL SARTO

In the Royal Gallery, Berlin.

And so, in that supreme painting contest with his three rivals, he
still is distanced, “because there’s still Lucrezia” (loo-crate´-see-ah). But
note that he adds, “as I choose.” He had
rather fail with her than triumph without her.

Indeed, my point in mentioning Andrea
and Lucrezia is to assert that he rode faster
for not riding alone; that he was not the
equal of the three artists he aspired to rival;
and that, if it is sometimes thought he might
have rivaled them, this is due to the works
he painted under the inspiration of his love
for Lucrezia. She kept him in a constant
state of impecuniosity and jealousy; but it
was “as I choose.” And well it might have
been! His art seems to rise to a higher
plane from the moment her dark, imperious
beauty—a new note in religious painting—looks
out at us from works like the
“Madonna of the Harpies” and the youthful
Saint John. For from her face he
painted the faces not only of women, but also of boys and youths,
and always it is her beauty that dominates the picture.

ANDREA DEL SARTO, BY HIMSELF

In the Pitti Gallery, Florence.

INFLUENCE OF THE WIFE

If she, in character the worst kind of
wife a man can have, so inspired her husband,
how rare and exquisite must have
been the influence of Lucrezia Buti (boo´tee)
over Fra Filippo Lippi (lip´pee), of
Helena Fourment (hel-en-ah fur´-ment) over
Rubens (roo-benz), of Maria Ruthven over
Van Dyck, of Saskia over Rembrandt, of
Elizabeth Siddal over Rossetti! For these
women were devoted to their artist-husbands,
and were in turn adored by them.
Doubtful, indeed, if any of these men would
have subscribed to the doctrine that he rides
fastest who rides alone.

Lucrezia Buti, who was the wife of Fra
Filippo Lippi, must not be confused with
the Lucrezia Fedi (fay´-dee) whom Andrea
married. Moreover, the circumstances
under which Fra Filippo wooed and won
his Lucrezia were far more romantic. He was
a man whose great talent manifested itself
early in life, and, although he had been put
in a monastery because his relatives were too
poor to educate him, his evident genius for
art earned him many liberties. In fact, he
was decidedly gay, and the hero of numerous
escapades, the most famous of which has
been immortalized by Browning, who found
in the two Italian artists, Andrea and
Lippo, subjects for two of his finest poems.

DETAIL OF THE VIRGIN AND CHILD
BY FRA FILIPPO LIPPI

Lucrezia Buti was the model for the Virgin.

FRA FILIPPO LIPPI

The adventure of which Browning
writes occurred upon the triumphant return
to Florence of Cosimo de’ Medici (med´-e-chee)
and his patronage of Fra Filippo.
Cosimo, frequently annoyed by the friar’s
loose habits, and despairing of his ever
finishing an important picture that he had
commissioned him to paint, caused him to
be locked up in a room of the Medici Palace. Fra Filippo stood this for
a few days. Then one night, wearying of his confinement, he escaped.
The friar’s own pleading in Browning’s
poem tells the story:

Notwithstanding his conduct, so out of
keeping with his cloth, he was appointed
chaplain to the nuns of the convent of
Santa Margherita (mahr´-gare-ee-tah) in
Prato (prah´-to) and commissioned by the
abbess to paint a picture of the Madonna
for the altar of the convent church. It
chanced that there was in the nunnery a
novice to whom convent life was just as
ill suited as monastic life would have been
to Fra Filippo had he been obliged to abide
by its tenets.

FILIPPO AND LUCREZIA BUTI

The name of the novice was Lucrezia
Buti, and, struck by the grace and beauty
of this young woman, the artist begged
that she might be allowed to pose for him
for the picture, and the request was granted.
It may indeed have been diplomacy on
the part of the abbess; for it is not unlikely
that Lucrezia, who had no vocation whatsoever
for conventual life, had proved herself refractory,
and that the convent authorities saw
a chance of getting rid of her, which they
could not do by returning her to her
family, because she had been consigned
to them against her will by a stepbrother,
anxious to get rid of her care and expense.
In any event, the friar Lippi fell in love
with her and she with him. Profiting by
the crowd and confusion attendant on
the festival of the Madonna of the Girdle,
which is celebrated in Prato on the first of
May, Fra Filippo carried off Lucrezia, appealed
to his patron, Cosimo de’ Medici,
and through the latter’s intercession received
from the Pope, Pius II., a special
brief, absolving both himself and the
novice from their ecclesiastical vows and
granting them dispensation to marry. He
and Lucrezia had two children;
their son, Filippino
Lippi, more than rivaling
his father’s fame as a
painter. The Madonna
that Fra Filippo painted
for the convent may still
be seen in Prato, and there
are other pictures in which
Lucrezia’s lovely face is
discernible.

THE TWO WIVES OF RUBENS

PETER PAUL RUBENS, BY HIMSELF

In Windsor Castle, England.

HELENA FOURMENT, BY RUBENS

Rubens was so happy
with his first wife, Isabella
Brandt, who died after
eighteen years of blissful
married life with him, that
he could not endure the
loneliness of being a widower,
but four years after
Isabella’s death took as
his second wife Helena
Fourment. This marriage
proved to be as happy as
the first; although he was
already fifty-three and
she barely sixteen. Their
union was blessed with five
handsome children; so that his declining years found him surrounded by
youth and beauty, and with a splendid young wife as comrade.

HELENA FOURMENT, BY RUBENS

A portrait of the artist’s second wife and two of their children, hanging
in the Louvre, Paris.

During the eighteen years of his first marriage Isabella appeared
in nearly all his large pictures. She was of a more refined type than
Helena; so that, with his second marriage, when he began to introduce
his second wife into his pictures, his style becomes broader and more
vigorous. For Helena had a strong, fully developed figure of pronounced
contour, rosy flesh tints, golden hair, and lips that seemed always partly
open to show the flash of pure white teeth. These were her attractions.
She was obviously more beautiful, more brilliant, than Isabella, although
in her youth her development was somewhat too luxuriant,—a picture
of healthy, bursting, buoyant young womanhood.
Indeed, so proud does Rubens seem
of having, at his age, won a woman of her
pronounced and youthful charms, that in
some of his pictures he expresses them too
freely, as, for example, in the Helena in a
fur pelisse in the Imperial Gallery, Vienna.
That Rubens drew a vast amount of inspiration
from his two wives, Isabella and
Helena, is obvious to anyone familiar with
his work; for they appear in picture after
picture from his brush. His married life,
first with Isabella and then with Helena,
was a constant stimulus to his best work.

REMBRANDT AND SASKIA

SASKIA, BY REMBRANDT

Rembrandt, too, was married twice, and
although his first wife was refined and aristocratic
and his second far from it, having
been a servant in his household, he was intensely happy with both and
painted them many times. Saskia van Ulenburg, although not strictly
speaking a beauty from the casual point of
view, lent herself admirably, nevertheless,
to pictorial treatment, especially that pictorial
treatment of lights and deep shadows
of which her husband was the greatest
master that ever lived. Indeed, the pictures
in which she appears are almost too
numerous to mention. There is the delightful
portrait of her in the gallery at
Cassel, said to have been painted in her
own home in 1633, the year before she and
Rembrandt were married. Her face in profile,
the features delicately delineated, is
shown against a background of deep, rich
colors. With the lightest touch her wavy
chestnut hair lies upon her cheek and forehead.
A spray of rosemary in her hand
rests across her heart. This, the emblem
of a Dutch maiden’s betrothal, tells its
own story.

REMBRANDT, BY HIMSELF

In the Royal Gallery, Berlin.

Probably, however, the most famous portrait ever painted of an
artist and his wife is that by Rembrandt in the Dresden Gallery, of Saskia
seated on his knees while he clasps her waist with his left hand and
raises in his right a half-filled glass. The joy on their faces gives witness
to the pride and pleasure they found in each other. Saskia was a wealthy
woman, and while she lived want never entered Rembrandt’s house.
But, alas! she was delicate, and died in 1642, less than a year after giving
birth to the son who was
christened Titus. Rembrandt
had spent much
money in filling his house
with objects of art,—prints,
rich stuffs for costumes,
and other things—and not
long after Saskia’s death
he found himself impoverished.
Some idea of the
richness of his collections
is obtained from the adornments
with which Saskia
appears in the picture
known as the “Jewish
Bride,” and in the genre
portrait, “Minerve,” in
which she is shown as a
learned lady in the richest
of costumes, seated at a
beautiful table and reading
from an ancient tome.

Rembrandt ranks with
the greatest masters in art.
“He rides fastest who rides
alone.” Is it possible that
Rembrandt could have ridden
faster or reached a farther goal without Saskia and Hendrikje?

REMBRANDT AND SASKIA, BY REMBRANDT

In the Royal Gallery, Dresden.

VAN DYCK’S PORTRAIT OF MARIA RUTHVEN

VAN DYCK, BY HIMSELF

This portrait, which hangs in the Hermitage,
St. Petersburg, shows the artist as a
young man.

VAN DYCK, BY HIMSELF

Van Dyck, the favorite pupil of Rubens,—so much so that when some
romping pupils in Rubens’ absence brushed against a partly finished
picture and marred it he was asked to retouch it in order that the master
might not notice the defect,—also was a favorite in the world of women, and
much influenced by them. Even in youth a love adventure is said to
have sent him from Rubens’ atelier to Italy. In England, where no one
is more closely identified than he with the period of Charles I., “die
schönen ladies,” as a German writer on Van
Dyck expresses it, fairly fought for the
honor of being painted by him.

If his works lack the vital vigor and
joyous abandon of the typical Flemish masters,
it must be remembered that his Italian
sojourn, passed largely in court circles,
greatly refined his style, and that he, the
painter of aristocrats, is also an aristocrat
among painters. His output for his short
life (1599-1641) was great, and of the 1,500
works catalogued as his 300 are portraits of
women. Walpole speaks of their beautiful
hands. But Van Dyck had special models
for the hands, for those of both the men and
the women. The elegance and refinement
of his work is, however, undoubted, and,
though he lacks the power of a Rembrandt
and the tremendous verve of a Rubens,
much of his work (within the limitations
imposed by elegance) is executed in the “large” manner.

It is said that his ability to accomplish so much was due to the fact
that he never allowed a sitter to weary him, obviating this by dismissing
them at the end of an hour. At the time
appointed for the sitting the artist appeared in
his studio. At the end of the hour he rose,
made his obeisance, and appointed the hour for
the next sitting. A servant cleaned the brushes
and reloaded the palette, while the artist received
and entertained the next sitter. He had
many love affairs in England, and especially one
with Margaret Lemon, who threatened, when
his love began to cool, to cut off his hand.
The world is the richer by a beautiful portrait
for this love affair, and fortunately, instead
of cutting off his hand or even attempting
to, Margaret went to Holland with friends.
Van Dyck’s gay life, however, seriously alarmed
the king, who, being genuinely attached to him and also admiring his art,
feared for his health. Accordingly, his Majesty chose for him a wife, a
beautiful young woman, Maria Ruthven, daughter of Lord Ruthven.
Van Dyck painted her several times, and one of his best known portraits
is that of her with her violoncello, which is in the old Pinakothek
(pin´-a-ko-thek), Munich. His married life seems to have been happy,
though brief. He died within two years of his nuptials, leaving us the
portraits of Maria as souvenirs of his happiness.

MARIA RUTHVEN, BY VAN DYCK

ROSSETTI’S “BLESSED DAMOZEL”

ROSSETTI, BY HIMSELF

Painted in 1855.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti, who was poet as well as painter, buried the
manuscript of his poems, although they had been announced for publication,
in the coffin of his wife, who died in February,
1862. Not until October, 1869, was the
manuscript resurrected and the publication of his
poems made possible. It is doubtful if poet or
painter has ever paid a greater tribute than
Rossetti thus paid to Elizabeth Siddal.

ROSA TRIPLEX, BY ROSSETTI

Rossetti was introduced to Elizabeth by a
brother artist, who had
discovered her in a milliner’s
shop in London.
She consented to pose
for Rossetti. His
brother, in some charming
reminiscences of
her, writes that to fall
in love with Elizabeth
Siddal was a very easy
performance, and that
Dante Gabriel did it at
an early date. The name Elizabeth, however,
was never on Dante’s lips; but rather Lizzie or
Liz, and fully as often Guggums, Guggum, or
Gug. Mrs. Hueffer, the younger daughter of
Ford Madox-Brown, says that when she was a
small child she saw Rossetti at his easel in her
father’s house uttering momentarily, in the
absence of the beloved one, “Guggum, Guggum!”
After awhile “Guggum” became a settled
institution in Rossetti’s studio, and other
people, his brother included, understood they
were not wanted there. Dante was constantly
drawing from Guggum, and she designing under
his tuition. He was unconventional, and she, if
not so originally, became so in the course of her companionship with him.
In her appearance, as in her character, she was a remarkable young woman.

THE BEAUTY OF ELIZABETH SIDDAL

ELIZABETH SIDDAL,
BY ROSSETTI

The artist’s brother writes of her that she was truly a beautiful girl,—tall,
with a stately throat and fine carriage, pink and white complexion,
and massive, straight, coppery golden
hair. Her heavy-lidded eyes were
large and greenish blue. But, as this
narrator says, it is not necessary to
speak much about her appearance,
“as the designs of Dante Rossetti
speak for it better than I could do.”
Her whole manner, in spite of her
great beauty, was reserved, self-controlling,
and “alien from approach.”
Rossetti’s brother says that her talk
was, in his experience, scanty; slight
and scattered, with some amusing
turns, and little to seize hold upon;
little clue to her real self, or anything
determinate.

But, alas! the beautiful Elizabeth
was a sufferer from consumption,
accompanied by neuralgia. For
the neuralgia frequent doses of laudanum
had been prescribed. Her
condition was such toward the end
that sometimes she was obliged to
take one hundred drops at a time. On February 10, 1866, she dined at
a hotel in London with her husband and Swinburne. She and Rossetti
returned to their home about eight o’clock. She was about to go to
bed at nine, when Dante Gabriel went out again. When he came back
at half-past eleven the room was in darkness. He called to his wife; but
received no reply. He found her in bed, unconscious. On the table
was a vial. It had contained laudanum—it was empty.

He paid her the tribute of burying his poems with her. He had
already paid her the great tribute of painting her, and that often. Those
large, greenish blue eyes of hers were his guiding stars. Let him who will
say that he rides fastest who rides alone. There are six great artists—and
many more—to say him nay.

BEATA BEATRIX, BY ROSSETTI

A portrait of Elizabeth Siddal.

SUPPLEMENTARY READING

Fra Filippo Lippi	Edward C. Strutt
Rembrandt and His Work (8 vols.)	Wilhelm Bode
Rembrandt	R. Muther
The Rossettis	Elisabeth Luther Cary
L’Oeuvre de P. P. Rubens	Maximilian Rooses
Rubens (Masterpieces in Color Series)	S. L. Bensusan
Andrea del Sarto	H. Guinness
Sir Anthony Van Dyck	Lionel Cust

QUESTIONS ANSWERED

Subscribers desiring further information concerning this
subject can obtain it by writing to

The Mentor Association

381 Fourth Avenue, New York City

LUCREZIA FEDI, By Andrea del Sarto

ONE

“The Faultless Painter,” though his paintings
seem faultless, led a life that was by no means free
from mistakes. All went well with him up to the
age of twenty. He was born near Florence in 1486,
and when but a seven-year-old goldsmith’s apprentice began
to show such skill that he was soon afterward sent to Piero de
Cosimo, one of the best artists in Florence.
He was only twenty years old when he
painted the seven frescos in the Annunziata
from the life of Saint Philip.

Andrea was the son of Angelo the tailor.
His name, Andrea del Sarto, means “the
tailor’s Andrew,” and was not his real
name at all, which was Andrea d’Angelo di
Francesco. Sometimes he called himself
Andrea del Sarto, sometimes Andrea d’Angelo,
and again Andrea d’Angelo del Sarto.
Andrea made his first great mistake by
marrying the widow of a hatmaker. Lucrezia
Fedi’s cold face was indeed the
glory of his pictures, where she is nearly
always to be seen in the robes of virgin,
saint, or angel. As his model she was all
that could be desired; yet when he married
her the “faultless painter” lost many
of his best friends and pupils, and worst of
all the ideals of art. Blinded by her
beauty, he could not see the failings that
were plain to everyone else. All his life
Andrea worked hard to support her and
her sisters in their extravagances. Yet he
went on painting faultlessly.

His fame spread so far that King Francis I
invited him to France, and gave him
important commissions there. But Lucrezia
persuaded him to return to Italy. He
was granted a month in which to return
and bring his wife to France. Francis also
intrusted him with money to buy Italian
works of art for the royal palace.

A month passed. Andrea did not return;
but purchased a plot of ground in
Florence with the king’s money, and on it
built a house for Lucrezia. King Francis
never received his paintings, and the
“faultless painter” had thrown away a
chance of achieving supreme greatness.

In 1531 Andrea del Sarto died of the
plague. As he lay on his deathbed Lucrezia
fled from the house for fear of infection.
Yet he left her all his property, and,
so far as known, never ceased to believe
in her.

Lucrezia lived forty years after the
death of her husband. A former pupil of
Andrea’s was at work one day copying
frescos, when a withered old woman came
into the hall. She asked him who had
painted the fresco.

He replied, “Andrea del Sarto.”

“I was the original of that angel,” she
said. “I was Lucrezia Fedi, the wife of
Andrea del Sarto.”

Even to the last she was proud of the
husband whom she had deserted on his
deathbed, and whose genius she alone had
dwarfed.

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THE VIRGIN ADORING THE CHILD. By Fra Filippo Lippi

PAINTED FROM LUCREZIA BUTI

TWO

The painter of divine beauties, Filippo Lippi, or as he
is often called, Fra Lippo Lippi, was not himself a
handsome man. He had rather a full face, large
features, and thick lips. Laziness and love were
always interfering with his work. As a result of extravagance
he was usually in debt, and not always careful to get out honestly.
Yet the people of his time were
kind-hearted enough to overlook boyish
faults in an artist who brought so much
renown to their country.

Filippo was born into a Florentine
butcher’s family about 1402, and his father
died soon afterward. He seems to have
had little care from his mother, who may,
however, have died during his infancy. An
aunt took care of him; but, finding the boy
too great a burden for her slender means,
turned him over to be educated by the
Carmelite friars. The abbot was lenient;
for he had the wisdom to see that a boy
who drew pictures all over the walls and
on his books when he should have been
studying would probably become an artist.
Artists were highly thought of in those
days, when the church taught by means of
pictures. Filippo, therefore, never learned
to write good Latin. He studied the frescos
of the chapel instead. Later, when he
had finished his studies and gained a name
for himself among painters, the abbot
granted him permission to leave the monastery
in order to give his genius full scope.
Monks who had learned to paint were
often allowed this privilege.

So Fra Filippo became a great painter.
When he went to Prato and saw Lucrezia
Buti he was already nearly fifty years old,
while she was hardly more than twenty.
She also was an orphan. Her father, who
had been a silk merchant in Florence, left
his daughters in the care of Antonio Buti:
evidently a harsh guardian, for he put
Lucrezia and Spinetta, both beautiful
girls, into the convent of Santa Margherita
against their will, in order to save himself
some expense. Filippo saw her, used
her as a model, and later married her by
permission of the Pope. The virgins and
saints of his paintings had a new spiritual
radiance after he saw Lucrezia’s face. He
used her for all manner of subjects, from
the Virgin to the “Dancing Daughter of
Herodias,” changing her features to suit
as many different characters.

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HELENA FOURMENT. By Rubens

THREE

The extraordinary beauty of Helena Fourment won
for her the love of a world famous painter when she
was only sixteen years old. Peter Paul Rubens
married this girl, and immortalized her charms on
many a precious canvas. It was a most fortunate match.
Helena was not only beautiful; she had also every attraction
of nature and education, and belonged to
a wealthy family. Rubens was a widower,
and one of the most celebrated painters
in Europe. More than that, he was a distinguished
and successful statesman.

Fortunate throughout his life, brilliant,
handsome, and of good family, Rubens
was never in doubt of his future. His talent
for painting showed itself in boyhood.
At the age of twenty-three he went to
Italy, where he soon attracted the notice
of the Duke of Mantua. Partly as art
expert, partly as diplomat, he went in the
Duke’s service to all the important cities
of Italy. He spent eight years in that
country, sometimes painting for his patron,
but more often travelling on political missions.

Recalled to Antwerp by the serious illness
of his mother in 1608, Rubens arrived
too late to see her again alive, and, no
doubt feeling the strength of home ties,
resigned from the service of the Duke immediately.
High positions and great honors
awaited him in his native city. His
fame grew year by year.

Isabella Brandt became his wife in 1608.
She is described as a rather heavy Flemish
woman, and her face and figure appear
frequently in Rubens’ work of that period.
After her death and before his second marriage
he was called upon to arrange terms
of peace between England and Spain. It
was the most important event of his life.
In Spain he met Velasquez and earned the
friendship of King Philip. He was honored
in England by Charles I, who presented
him with a string of valuable diamonds
in appreciation of his services. The
painter also strengthened a friendship already
established with the Duke of Buckingham.

After the successes abroad Rubens retired
to a home in the country, devoting
himself more than ever to the work of
painting. An alchemist went to him one
day, claiming to have discovered the
philosopher’s stone, which turned everything
it touched into gold.

“But,” objected Rubens, “I have discovered
it myself.”

“The philosopher’s stone?” exclaimed
his visitor.

“Yes, and you shall see it,” answered
the painter.

Leading the astonished guest into his
studio, Rubens showed his palette.

Helena Fourment was still young when
Rubens died. She did not remain long in
widowhood; but married the Count of
Bergeyck, with whom, so far as is known,
she lived in peace and happiness.

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SASKIA VAN ULENBURG. By Rembrandt

FOUR

Rembrandt Van Rijn and Saskia Van Ulenburg
were married in 1634. Saskia, the daughter of a
rather wealthy burgomaster who had died some
years before, had been living with one after another
of her sisters; for they, were all married except herself. Once
when she was in Amsterdam a relative, who was posing for a
portrait, took her to Rembrandt’s studio,
where she met the sullen Hollander and
saw him at his work. He must have been
an odd figure in those days, awkward and
shy, doing everything in his own queer
way. Saskia returned again and again,
making a deep impression on the artist.
She posed for him several times. Once she
was a queen, another time she was a flower
girl. Rembrandt centered his whole
thought and energy upon her, and as he
had just passed the first breathing spell of
success they were soon able to marry.

Saskia thought only of her husband’s
happiness. He in turn was so deeply in
love with her that he spent most of his
leisure hours painting her portrait and
much of his money buying jewels and gold
ornaments and rich dresses of every description
to adorn her.

Up to the time of his marriage Rembrandt
had been stubborn and morose, not
caring for society nor for ordinary pleasures.
He was born on the outskirts of
Leyden in 1607. His father, a miller, was
hardly able to give the boy that education
which is usually needed to become skilful
in art. However, Rembrandt did study
under Van Swanenburch, who taught him
to draw, paint, and make etchings. He
set up a studio in the mill, where he
painted portrait after portrait of his
mother, his sister, and himself. The artist
liked better than anything to paint a well
known face over and over again, by new
lights and with new expressions.

After his first success, “Lesson in Anatomy,”
Rembrandt moved his studio to an
old warehouse in Amsterdam. His work
became popular. The people of Holland
fairly begged for sittings, and soon he was
foremost among painters. Yet he paid
little attention to anyone but Saskia; and
his stubbornness offended patrons and
made enemies of those who should have
been his friends.

For nine years Rembrandt lived in happiness.
Then came misfortune. Extravagance
carried him into debt. His children
died, and soon after his beloved Saskia followed
them. His enemies barred his pictures
from exhibitions. At last all his
property was sold to satisfy creditors. His
paintings went out of fashion. Their owners
even used the frames again by covering
up Rembrandt’s canvases, of incalculable
value, with the work of some other
artist whose pictures were in vogue at the
time.

A law in Holland now forbids the removal
of a “Rembrandt” from that country.
His countrymen feel that no honor
is too high to bestow on the memory of
that unfortunate artist who in 1669 died
unrecognized and was buried by
charity.

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ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 1, NO. 28, SERIAL NO. 28

MARIA RUTHVEN. By Van Dyck

FIVE

Anthony Van Dyck’s marriage might be called
one of convenience. He married Maria Ruthven
because King Charles I, of England, wishing him to
settle down, decided on a wife for him. The courtly
painter was a spendthrift. He loved company and entertainment,
was handsome, refined, well dressed, and, all things considered,
a thorough gentleman. He attracted
to his society the greatest of English
nobility. Gossip had him in love with
so many of the court ladies that the king,
fearing his portrait painter would get into
serious difficulties, determined once for all
to save him by a marriage with a Scottish
beauty in the queen’s retinue.

Van Dyck offered no objection. The
lady, Maria Ruthven, was young and very
beautiful. Although she brought no dowry
except that given by royal generosity, she
was considered a very good match for the
artist, who came of burgher stock. Maria’s
family was related to the Stuarts;
but had been for a long time in disgrace.
Van Dyck’s only claim to distinction was
his art.

His father, a well-to-do merchant in
Antwerp, where Van Dyck was born in
1599, gave Anthony every opportunity to
follow up the art of painting. The boy
was for several years a pupil of Rubens,
whom he made a little jealous by his success
in portrait painting. Some of his pictures
were better than Rubens’. A few
years in Italy gave Van Dyck a still higher
position among artists. Some said he was
the best portrait painter in Europe.

Yet in spite of his skill Van Dyck was
disliked by most painters. They lounged
around the taverns in ragged clothes, put
on boorish manners, and made fun of any
kind of refinement. To this behavior he
was entirely opposed. They called him
the “Cavalier Painter” because he saw
only the noble side of life, and ignored
what was low or common. One could
hardly have been found who was better
fitted by nature to live and paint among
the light-hearted courtiers of Charles I.
He welcomed an offer from England, and
left Antwerp to make his home thereafter
on foreign soil.

When he married Maria Ruthven, Van
Dyck was forty years old. He painted
some portraits of her; but not many, for
his death was near at hand. A journey to
Paris, in the hope of receiving important
commissions there, failed in its object,
and brought on a severe attack of the disease
from which he had been suffering for
years.

The painter returned to England. King
Charles offered his physician three hundred
pounds if he could save Van Dyck’s
life; but to no purpose. He died the second
year after his marriage, one of the
greatest portrait painters that ever lived.
To his wife he left a considerable fortune,
which he had managed to save in spite of
an extravagant life. Maria afterward married
Sir Richard Pryse, a Welsh
baronet.

PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 1, NO. 28, SERIAL NO. 28

THE BLESSED DAMOSEL. By Rossetti

PAINTED FROM ELIZABETH SIDDAL

SIX

One day when Rossetti was painting in his studio,
Deverell, a fellow artist, rushed in and exclaimed
that he had found the ideal woman. She was working
in a milliner’s shop, he said; but she was a wonderful
girl of stately dignity, with blue-green eyes and coppery
tinted hair. This girl was Elizabeth Siddal, and from that
time on she was the model for Rossetti’s
mystical dreams in color. She later became
his wife.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti was born in
England in 1828, the son of an Italian
refugee. His parents lived simply, almost
in poverty, but with refinement suited to
the fostering of art and poetry in their
children. The mother believed that one
good picture on a plain wall was more
beautiful than many worthless decorations.
Rossetti used this simplicity in his
paintings. He and a number of other artists
formed the Preraphaelite Brotherhood.
This was an organization that took a love
of simplicity as its motto, and believed in
using simplicity in everything.

Besides being an artist of great genius,
Rossetti was a poet. He and his sister
Christina were the leaders in the Preraphaelite
movement in poetry. Before
he was nineteen he wrote “The Blessed
Damozel,” a poem that expressed his ideal
in womanhood. Elizabeth Siddal proved
to be his ideal woman. Ruskin spoke of
her as a “noble, glorious creature.” Later
the artist painted a picture to go with the
poem, and his model was Elizabeth
Siddal.

When Rossetti first asked her to pose
for him the ideal beauty thought that he
wanted her for fashion plates. She little
thought that she was to be made the object
of a great artist’s lifework.

Her death plunged Rossetti into lifelong
misery, almost insanity. Up to the
moment of his own death in 1882 he never
ceased to grieve for her.

PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 1, NO. 28, SERIAL NO. 28