Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net









The Mentor, No. 28, The Wife in Art




THE MENTOR

“A wise and Faithful Guide and Friend”

    Vol. 1         No. 28




THE WIFE IN ART

    LUCREZIA FEDI--ANDREA DEL SARTO

    LUCREZIA BUTI--FRA FILIPPO LIPPI

    HELENA FOURMENT--RUBENS

    SASKIA VAN ULENBURG--REMBRANDT

    MARIA RUTHVEN--VAN DYCK

    ELIZABETH SIDDAL--ROSSETTI

[Illustration]

_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):

    In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more chance--
    Four great walls in the New Jerusalem,
    Meted on each side by the angel’s reed,
    For Leonard, Raphael, Angelo, and me
    To cover--the three first without a wife,
    While I have mine! So--still they overcome
    Because there’s still Lucrezia,--as I choose.

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: DETAIL OF THE VIRGIN AND CHILD BY FRA FILIPPO LIPPI

_Lucrezia Buti was the model for the Virgin._]

[Illustration: 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:

    I could not paint all night--
    Ouf! I leaned out of window for fresh air.
    There came a hurry of feet and little feet,
    A sweep of lute-strings, laughs, and whifts of song--
                                     … Round they went.
    Scarce had they turned the corner with a titter,
    Like the skipping of rabbits by moonlight,--three slim shapes,
    And a face that look’d up.… Zooks, Sir, flesh and blood,
    That’s all I’m made of! Into shreds it went,
    Curtain and counterpane and coverlet,
    All the bed furniture--a dozen knots,
    There was a ladder! Down I let myself
    Hands and feet, scrambling somehow, and so dropped,
    And after them.

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

[Illustration: PETER PAUL RUBENS, BY HIMSELF

_In Windsor Castle, England._]

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 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

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 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?

[Illustration: REMBRANDT AND SASKIA, BY REMBRANDT

_In the Royal Gallery, Dresden._]


VAN DYCK’S PORTRAIT OF MARIA RUTHVEN

[Illustration: VAN DYCK, BY HIMSELF

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

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: MARIA RUTHVEN, BY VAN DYCK]


ROSSETTI’S “BLESSED DAMOZEL”

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: 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

[Illustration: 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.

[Illustration: BEATA BEATRIX, BY ROSSETTI

_A portrait of Elizabeth Siddal._]


_SUPPLEMENTARY READING_

[Illustration]

    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_

[Illustration]

_QUESTIONS ANSWERED_

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

_The Mentor Association_

_381 Fourth Avenue, New York City_




[Illustration: LUCREZIA FEDI, BY ANDREA DEL SARTO]




_THE WIFE IN ART_

_Andrea del Sarto and Lucrezia Fedi_

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.

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




[Illustration: THE VIRGIN ADORING THE CHILD. BY FRA FILIPPO LIPPI

PAINTED FROM LUCREZIA BUTI]




_THE WIFE IN ART_

_Fra Lippo Lippi and 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.

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




[Illustration: HELENA FOURMENT. BY RUBENS]




_THE WIFE IN ART_

_Peter Paul Rubens and Helena Fourment_

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.

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




[Illustration: SASKIA VAN ULENBURG. BY REMBRANDT]




_THE WIFE IN ART_

_Rembrandt and Saskia Van Ulenburg_

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.

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




[Illustration: MARIA RUTHVEN. BY VAN DYCK]




_THE WIFE IN ART_

_Anthony Van Dyck and Maria Ruthven_

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




[Illustration: THE BLESSED DAMOSEL. BY ROSSETTI

PAINTED FROM ELIZABETH SIDDAL]




_THE WIFE IN ART_

_Rossetti and 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.

    “Her eyes were deeper than the depth
    Of waters stilled at even.”

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