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                    THE MENTOR 1918.06.15, No. 157,
                    The Metropolitan Museum of Art




                            LEARN ONE THING
                               EVERY DAY

                   JUNE 15 1918      SERIAL NO. 157

                                  THE
                                MENTOR

                           THE METROPOLITAN
                             MUSEUM OF ART

                           By SYDNEY P. NOE

                      DEPARTMENT OF      VOLUME 6
                      FINE ARTS          NUMBER 9

                          TWENTY CENTS A COPY




DOES ART PAY?


“Art is a vain pursuit,” says the shop-keeper. In that conviction many
an immortal painter, like Corot, has, in his youth, been packed off
from home by a shop-keeping parent, and made to shift for himself. “The
stomach must be filled,” exclaims the shop-keeper, “let Art wait on
that.” To which the young painter answers, “Art must find expression
first. Let the stomach wait.” And so the shop-keeper and painter pursue
their separate ways, and it often happens, in the course of time,
that they come together again. The painter gains recognition, and his
pictures make him famous. The shop-keeper rises to be a millionaire
merchant--and becomes a patron of Art.

[Illustration]

It is all very well to talk, as some cultured people do, about Art as a
kind of goddess that calls into existence paintings, statues, temples,
and museums, but, as William C. Prime observed some years ago, “Art is,
after all, a practical work. Her noblest products and her homeliest
always did and do cost money. That was a wise thought, in the earliest
days of Art, of the monarch who recorded on the Great Pyramid the
quantity of onions, and radishes, and garlic consumed by its builders.”

[Illustration]

There are still left some who ask, ‘What is the use of beauty? What
is the practical good of increasing art production? How does it pay?’
The life blood of modern commerce and industry is the love of beauty.
A great city, its wealth and power, rest on this foundation--trade in
beauty, buying and selling beauty. Is there any exaggeration in this?
Begin with the lowest possible illustration and ask the questioner,
‘Why are your boots polished? Why did you pay ten cents for a shine?
How many thousand times ten cents are paid every day in a city for
beauty of boots?’

[Illustration]

Take from the people their love of color, their various tastes in
cotton prints, and one factory would supply all the wants supplied by
fifty. Consider for one instant what is the trade that supports your
long avenues of stores crowded with purchasers, not only in holiday
times, but all the year around. Enumerate carpets, upholstery, wall
papers, furniture, handsome houses, the innumerable beauties of life
that employ millions of people in their production, and you will
realize that, but for the commercial and industrial love of beauty, a
city would be a wilderness, steamers and railways would vanish, wealth
would be poverty, population would starve. Yes, there is money in
teaching people to love beautiful things.




[Illustration: IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

PORTRAIT OF FEDERIGO GONZAGA, BY FRANCIA]




_THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART_

_Francia_

ONE


Though Francia can hardly be ranked with the giants of Italian art, he
has given us a number of placid altarpieces and a few exceptionally
attractive portraits. The portrait of Federigo Gonzaga is one of the
best from his brush. Francia, a shortening of Francesco, was born in
Bologna, Italy, in the year 1450 or thereabout. He took the family
name of the goldsmith, Raibolini, to whom he was apprenticed at the
beginning of his artistic career. As a worker in metal he did some
die-cutting for medals, and designed some highly decorative pieces of
jewelry. We have an indication of his interest in this phase of art in
the necklace worn by Federigo Gonzaga. When Lorenzo Costa, later known
as the head of the Bolognese School of painters, settled in Bologna,
Francia became his intimate friend, and from that time on seems to
have devoted his attention to painting. As regards the graceful pose
and expression of his figures, he belonged among the followers of
Perugino, a painter who had a strong influence upon the work of his
most illustrious pupil, Raphael. Francia’s earliest dated altarpiece
was completed when he was about forty-five, but he had probably been
working in conjunction with Costa for a number of years before that
time. Professor John C. Van Dyke, in his “History of Painting,” tells
us that Francia’s “color was usually cold, his drawing a little sharp
at first, as showing the goldsmith’s hand, the surfaces smooth, the
detail elaborate.” Francia died in the year 1517.

The tale of the way in which the commission was received to paint the
portrait shown in this gravure is interesting. Federigo was the son of
Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua, and Isabella d’Este, the famous
art patron. While fighting in the company of the Milanese against
the Venetians at Legnago, the Marquis was captured, but through the
intervention of the pope was liberated. However, the pope demanded as a
hostage Francesco’s son, Federigo, then ten years of age, stipulating
that he be sent to the papal court at Rome. The boy’s mother, on being
parted from him, insisted that she have a portrait of him, and on the
journey to Rome, in July, 1510, he halted at Bologna, where his father
was, and visited the studio of Francia. In ten days the artist had
completed the portrait with the exception of the background, which was
finished later. The noble mother was much pleased with the result, and
in expressing her gratification to the painter sent him thirty ducats
of gold. We have in her own words the statement that “it is impossible
to see a better portrait or a closer resemblance.”

The panel, a singularly perfect example of Francia’s careful manner
of painting, passed from Isabella d’Este to a gentleman who had done
her a service, and thereafter remained in obscurity until, over three
centuries later, it appeared in a London auction room in the collection
of Prince Jerome Bonaparte. Later it came into the possession of Mr.
Altman, who bequeathed it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

    PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
    ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 9. SERIAL No. 157
    COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: IN THE ALTMAN COLLECTION, METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART,
NEW YORK

OLD WOMAN CUTTING HER NAILS, BY REMBRANDT]




_THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART_

_Rembrandt van Rijn_

TWO


The keeping of a few dates in mind greatly aids in understanding
Rembrandt’s pictures. His birth date has been variously given as
1605, 1606, and 1607. Rembrandt’s story has been told at length in
previous numbers of The Mentor. It is said that “whatever he turned to
was treated with that breadth of view that overlooked the little and
grasped the great.” His earliest work dates from 1627. In 1632 came
his first great success, the famous “Lesson in Anatomy.” He was at
that time living in Amsterdam, having moved there from his birth city,
Leyden, Holland. Pupils and patrons flocked to his studios, and the
world was very bright. He became the best-known portrait painter of the
richest art and commercial center of Holland. In 1634 he married Saskia
van Uylenborch, daughter of an aristocratic family and a young girl of
attractive qualities, who brought him many friends and bore him four
children. Rembrandt loved his wife devotedly. He made many portraits
of her, including one of her with himself that hangs in the Royal
Gallery at Dresden. In 1641, the fourth child was born, a son, whom
they named Titus. A portrait of this “Golden Lad,” as his father liked
to call him, hangs in the Metropolitan Museum. It was painted when he
was fourteen: “The wide-set eyes and full upper lids mark his artistic
inheritance, but the far-away haunting expression seems a premonition
of his death in early manhood.” Saskia’s death came in 1642, when Titus
was less than a year old.

Broken by the loss of his wife, Rembrandt continued to paint under
increasingly bitter circumstances, but his work showed no diminution in
merit, only a deeper feeling. When he was about thirty-five he received
an order to paint Captain Banning Cock’s company of Dutch musketeers.
His manner of handling the lights and shadows of this renowned
masterpiece was misunderstood by French writers of a later period, who
called it “The Night Patrol,” and Sir Joshua Reynolds, falling into the
same error, named it “The Night Watch,” instead of “The Day Watch.”
Great dissatisfaction followed the original exhibition of this sortie
of the civic guards through the jealousy of those that thought they had
been slighted in the composition of the grouping. This dissatisfaction
cost Rembrandt much subsequent patronage, and thereafter he was no
longer the darling of Amsterdam, but a man saddened by personal griefs
and overwhelmed by adversity.

“The Mill,” now in the Widener Collection in Philadelphia, was executed
during this dark period of Rembrandt’s life. Under the same influences
he painted “The Old Woman Cutting Her Nails,” judged one of the rarest
gems of all the Rembrandt pictures owned in this country. It portrays
the sympathetic feeling of the artist for old age, and is “typical of
the careworn, sorrow-wrecked woman of all time.” Says a critic, “This
picture is simply of a poor old woman intent on cutting her nails, with
a pair of sheep-shears it seems, yet we are overcome with the power of
it--no details, dull in color, homely in subject, but bathed with a
light that never was on land or sea. Rembrandt’s light! What cared he
for poverty or neglect with such a comforter at hand?” The “Portrait of
Rembrandt” in the Museum was painted by himself when he was fifty-four,
and is one of about sixty self-portraits. In 1668, he painted the “Man
with a Magnifying Glass.” This, too, hangs in the Museum, and also the
grim “Pilate Washing His Hands.” The last picture purchased by Mr.
Altman, whose entire collection was obtained in the space of a few
years, was “The Toilet of Bathsheba,” thought by many judges to be the
loveliest of Rembrandt’s pictures that tell a story. It was painted in
1643.

Rembrandt died in 1669. Twelve years before, he had been sold out
of house and home. It is said that there are in America today more
paintings by this greatest of Dutch masters than in any one country of
Europe. Thirteen pictures signed by him became a part of the Altman
Collection. There are now about one hundred Rembrandt paintings owned
in this country. The “Orphan Girl at Window” is in the Art Institute,
Chicago. Mr. Frick, of New York, acquired the so-called “Polish Rider”
and “Rembrandt Seated.” Other examples of Rembrandt’s genius are in
galleries in Boston, Philadelphia, New York, and Cincinnati.

    PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
    ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 9. SERIAL No. 157
    COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

JAMES STUART, DUKE OF LENNOX, BY VAN DYCK]




_THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART_

_Anthony van Dyck_

THREE


The Metropolitan Museum offers an unusual chance for the study of
Van Dyck’s (dike) portraits, though it possesses none of his figure
subjects. In point of time, the “Portrait of a Man” from the Marquand
Collection in the Museum is probably the earliest of the eight
portraits attributed to him. For a long time it was attributed to
Van Dyck’s master, Rubens. The “Portrait of a Lady” (holding a black
feather fan) from the same source, seems also to belong to the first
Antwerp period. Van Dyck was born in Antwerp on March 22, 1599. In
1621, when he was twenty-two years of age, Rubens advised him to visit
Italy. Aside from some occasional journeys, he seems to have spent
his time at Genoa, and for nearly five years he painted the nobility
of that thriving port. It was during these years that the “Marchesa
Durazzo” of the Altman Collection was done, as was also the portrait of
his friend and fellow-townsman, Lucas van Uffel, whose activities as
a merchant had brought him to Genoa. Upon his return Van Dyck worked
for five years in Antwerp, painting during that time many altarpieces
and religious subjects for the churches and chapels of the city. The
portrait of Baron Arnold Le Roy (Hearn Collection) was probably painted
within this period.

From Antwerp, Van Dyck went to London at the invitation of Charles
I. Many portraits of the king, of Queen Henrietta and their children
testify to the high esteem in which he was held. His popularity was so
great and his commissions so numerous that he was compelled to hire a
number of assistants. The helpers painted the costumes and draperies of
the portraits, while their employer limited his brush to the painting
of the faces and hands.

The portraits of the famous art patron, The Earl of Arundel and his
grandson, and of James Stuart, Duke of Lennox, came in this period,
when the artist’s short life of forty-two years was drawing to a close.
The Duke of Lennox was a cousin of the king, who created him first Duke
of Richmond. The Duke is said to have offered to ascend the scaffold
in the place of his noble cousin when Charles I was condemned. Whether
the rank of the sitter prevented Van Dyck from allowing his assistants
to have anything to do with the portrait we cannot know positively,
but seldom has a more superb portrait come from his brush. How
remorselessly the weakness of his character is given! Note the mastery
in the placing of the star of the Order of the Garter, and the emphasis
given to the devotion of the superbly painted greyhound.

There came into the market a few years ago a number of portraits
from one of the old Genoese palaces, where they had hung since Van
Dyck painted them. A majority of these pictures passed into American
collections. Two were secured by Mr. Frick, and three more became a
part of the Widener Collection in Philadelphia, where they hang in the
company of two others of this master’s fine canvases.

    PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
    ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 9. SERIAL No. 157
    COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

YOUNG WOMAN WITH A WATER JUG, BY VERMEER]




_THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART_

_Jan Vermeer_

FOUR


Less than two score of Vermeer’s pictures are known to us today, and,
of these, eight or nine are now in the United States. Any one of them
is worth a fortune. In this case artistic and commercial values go
together. Little is known about Vermeer. The dates of his birth and
death (1632-1675) have been found in his native Delft. There he lived
and worked for forty-three years. An early traveler, describing Delft,
mentions Vermeer, and states that his pictures were much sought after.
They were originally valued at six hundred livres, equivalent to about
one hundred and fifty dollars, in those days considered a large sum.
Vermeer’s family was large, and he was fairly prosperous. But after his
death, for some unknown reason, he seems soon to have been forgotten.
Houbraken, the chronicler of the Dutch painters, did not mention him,
and this neglect possibly accounts partly for the oblivion into which
his work sank.

The reason why Vermeer’s contemporary fame was not greater is not far
to seek. The Dutch artists were all finished craftsmen. De Hooch,
Terborch, and Metsu are painters of the same high rank as Vermeer.
Jan Steen, the Van Ostades, and some of the lesser men were hardly
inferior. Moreover, not only was there little traveling on the part of
the art patrons in those days, but the artist could seldom think of
moving from one town to another because he would have had to purchase
burgher-rights and guild-rights in each new place of residence. After
settling, and having once established a demand for their pictures, we
seldom find the Dutch artists moving on to evils they knew not of in
other cities. In consequence, the artist’s fame, however well-deserved,
rarely spread beyond a very limited range. Vermeer’s early death and
the small number of pictures finished by him prevented his work from
being widely known, and contributed more than anything else to its
being soon forgotten.

In 1866, interest in Vermeer revived through the publications of E. T.
J. Thore, who wrote under the pen name of W. Bûrger. The greater part
of Vermeer’s pictures consist of light-flooded interiors, with usually
but a single figure. Sometimes a “Music Lesson” will show master and
pupil, but seldom are there more than three or four figures. There are
two famous outdoor scenes--the smaller in the Jan Six Collection at
Amsterdam, the larger in the Maritshuis (marits-heuse) at The Hague.
Then there are three or four portraits, surrounded by atmosphere, and
brilliant in lighting. Lastly there are a few canvases very different
from any of these others, painted with a broad brush on a larger scale
and with great fluency. This seems to be the style towards which
Vermeer was changing when he died. Five of this artist’s pictures were
shown at the Hudson-Fulton Exhibition. The one in the Altman Collection
has suffered seriously through cleaning and restoration, and is not so
fine as the subject of this gravure.

    PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
    ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 9. SERIAL No. 157
    COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

SALOME, BY REGNAULT]




_THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART_

_Henri Regnault_

FIVE


This picture, “Salome” (sa-lo´-mee), is the masterpiece of a French
artist of great promise who was killed in battle at the close of the
Franco-Prussian War. Born at Paris, October 30, 1843, Henri Regnault
(rane-yoe) was brought up in surroundings where the best of taste
reigned, his father being connected with the porcelain establishment
at Sèvres (sayvr). He early showed artistic promise, and after three
trials carried off the _Prix de Rome_ at the age of twenty-three. The
income from this prize, together with the additional funds which his
family provided, enabled him to travel in Spain and Morocco after he
had finished his novitiate at Rome. He had been drawn to the study of
oriental color through having come under the influence of Fortuny’s
work while at Rome, an influence which affected all of his later
pictures.

His love of color is well shown in the “Salome.” The model was an
Italian gypsy girl of the Campagna (cam-pan-yuh), and it was not until
the picture was well advanced that this title was given to it. It is
hardly as a characterization of the light-footed daughter of Herodias
that the painting charms, though the naming was apt. Its attraction
lies in the marvelous harmony of yellows, and in its daring reversal of
the Rembrandt method. Rembrandt surrounded his light with shadow--here
there is the shining black of the touseled head in the midst of
gleaming silk and radiant spangles.

Everything superfluous has been eliminated. What detail there is,--the
chest, the salver, the rug, is all in keeping with the design as a
whole. No description can do justice to the handling of the textiles,
or suggest the accuracy of their values. The marvel of it is how
so many tones of yellow could be heaped one upon the other without
wearying the eye.

Regnault’s death was deeply mourned by his fellow-artists. He was
exempt from military duty because of having won the _Prix de Rome_, but
at the outbreak of the war he insisted that he was needed, and enlisted
as a private in the 60th Battalion. When urged to accept a commission
he replied, “I cannot allow you to make of a good soldier an inferior
officer.” Just a few days before the capitulation of Paris, he was
killed in a sortie at Buzenval, January 19, 1871.

Two of his pictures, a portrait of General Prim and the “Execution
without Judgment under the Caliphs,” are in the Louvre. One of his
finest canvases, “Automedon with the Horses of Achilles,” is in the
Boston Museum of Fine Arts. A study for the Boston picture is in a
private gallery in Philadelphia.

    PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
    ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 9. SERIAL No. 157
    COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: IN THE FLETCHER COLLECTION, METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART,
NEW YORK

GLEBE FARM, WITH THE TOWER OF LANGHAM CHURCH, BY CONSTABLE]




_THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART_

_John Constable_

SIX


That the Metropolitan Museum should have so splendid an example of
Constable’s style is most fortunate. For it is just the richness
and glow of color that are seen in the “Glebe Farm” that make the
“Cornfield,” the “Hay Wain” and the “Valley Farm” of the London
National Gallery so supremely fine. While not so ambitious as these or
the much larger “White Horse,” shown at the time the paintings of the
J. Pierpont Morgan Collection were on exhibition, it is quite in the
same class.

Constable’s struggle for recognition was long and arduous. After
persistent opposition on the part of his fiancée’s family, he was
married when forty years old. There followed twelve years of happiness;
the death of his wife at the end of that time was a blow from which
Constable never recovered. His election as an Academician came within
three months of her death, but his reply to the announcement was, “It
has been delayed until I am solitary and cannot impart it.”

Constable was born in Suffolk County, England, June 11, 1776, and
lived to be sixty-one years of age. He became a student at the Royal
Academy when he was twenty-three. Three years later he exhibited his
first picture. Strangely enough, his work was appreciated in France
before it won its way at home. He exerted a marked influence upon the
rising school of French landscape painters. A medal was awarded him for
pictures exhibited at the Salon in 1824, and the next year the “White
Horse” won another for him at Lille. During the early years of his
career, commissions for portraits were undertaken as a temporary relief
to his finances. One of the best of these portraits hangs in the Hearn
Collection at the Metropolitan Museum.

Constable’s pictures are very uneven in merit, but whether successful
or not, there is always evident a sturdy love for nature and a faithful
effort to record her moods. He never painted anything but his beloved
England, and few of her artist-lovers have surpassed him in depicting
her rural beauties. Many of his canvases are as glowing with color as a
hillside after a shower. His compositions are seldom grandiloquent, as
are some of Turner’s, but even Turner did not have a better eye for the
dramatic placing of a thunder-cloud. Like Corot, Constable portrayed
again and again a few scenes and localities that he knew thoroughly,
painting first from one angle and then changing to a new point of view.
The sincerity of the artist speaks from even the hastiest sketch.
England no longer withholds her admiration for his work; his pictures
now command the prices brought by “old masters.”

    PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
    ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 9. SERIAL No. 157
    COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




THE MENTOR · · JUNE 15, 1918

DEPARTMENT OF FINE ARTS

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

By SYDNEY P. NOE

    _MENTOR GRAVURES_

    PORTRAIT OF FEDERIGO GONZAGA

    By Francia

    OLD WOMAN CUTTING HER NAILS

    By Rembrandt

    JAMES STUART, DUKE OF LENNOX

    By Van Dyck

    [Illustration]

    _MENTOR GRAVURES_

    YOUNG WOMAN WITH A WATER-JUG

    By Vermeer

    SALOME

    By Regnault

    GLEBE FARM, WITH THE TOWER OF LANGHAM CHURCH

    By Constable

    [Illustration]

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF HENRY G. MARQUAND. By John S. Sargent

Mr. Marquand was the second president of the Metropolitan Museum]

    Entered as second-class matter March 10, 1913, at the
    postoffice at New York, N. Y., under the act of March 3, 1879.
    Copyright, 1918, by The Mentor Association, Inc.

    NOTE.--In choosing the illustrations for this number, we have
    selected, for the most part, pictures that have not been
    reproduced in The Mentor heretofore. The Mentor has drawn
    largely on the Metropolitan Museum for illustrations, many of
    the well-known masterpieces there having been reproduced in
    one number or another. A list of Metropolitan Museum pictures
    already published in The Mentor will be supplied on request.


The Metropolitan Museum of Art, among all the art collections in our
country, undoubtedly has the best claim to first importance, and is
becoming more and more a place of pilgrimage for the hosts that visit
New York each year.

The Metropolitan Museum has grown so that it is no longer to be
compassed in a morning visit. The pictures alone require more than
that, many times more, and they form but one department. Much greater
benefit will come from part of a day or a whole day spent with a single
school of painting. As far as possible, this is the way in which the
pictures are hung, but several bequests have been conditional upon
their being kept intact, and a trip from one end of the building to
the other is sometimes necessary to compare pictures by the same
artist. The paintings now owned number about twelve hundred. Not all of
these are on exhibition, but loaned pictures bring the total to about
that figure.

[Illustration: TITUS, SON OF REMBRANDT. By Rembrandt]

New York was founded by the Dutch, and it is a singular coincidence
that the Dutch School is the strongest at the Metropolitan Museum. Both
Hals and Rembrandt, the leaders of this school, are well represented,
and in few European museums can Rembrandt and his school be studied to
better purpose. Hals was born in 1584, Rembrandt in 1606. Rembrandt
worked in Amsterdam, Hals at Haarlem, only fourteen miles away. There
are several pictures attributed to Hals, the elder and younger, and
the number is sometimes increased by loans. “The Merry Company,” in
the Altman Collection, is more pretentious than the others, but if it
could be hung between the two portraits in the Marquand Room at the
head of the main stairway, it would seem garish alongside the masterly
treatment of the blacks in the “Portrait of a Man,” or the wonderful
drawing of the hands in the “Portrait of a Woman.”

[Illustration: WHEATFIELDS. By Jacob van Ruisdael]

The pictures by Rembrandt and his school are the chief glories of the
Museum--no less than sixteen pictures are attributed to his hand. In
an earlier number of The Mentor, Rembrandt’s three styles have been
clearly distinguished. It is to the first or “gray” period that the
“Portrait of a Man” belongs, and most admirably does it represent the
class. “The Man with a Steel Gorget” falls in the middle or “golden”
period. The greater part of the pictures belong to the late period--the
years in which fortune no longer smiled, and sorrow succeeded sorrow.
The portrait of Titus, his son, while still a lad, must have come
early in this period, and before troubles thickened. A few years later
comes the “Old Woman Cutting Her Nails,” hailed by many as the finest
of the Museum’s Rembrandts, but different from anything else by him
there. Hanging beside it is the “Lady with a Pink”--a portrait with
an overpowering sense of reserve force. What luminous shadows and
what living color it has! So also with its companion piece, though to
a lesser degree. Compare them with the two portraits of men in the
Dutch Room at the other end of the building. They too come in the
late period. What tremendous dignity and poise show forth from these
canvases!

Gerard Dou (dow) worked under Rembrandt in the “gray” period. The
small, crisp “Portrait of the Artist” shows his change of style
after leaving the studio. Dou trimmed his sails to catch the wind
of fashion, a thing that Rembrandt refused to do. Another pupil,
Nicolaes Maes, worked with Rembrandt during the “golden” period. He
gives us a brilliant piece of color, a “Young Girl Peeling Apples,” in
which the glow of red warms all the panel. Aert de Gelder portrays a
sturdy “Dutch Admiral,” and there is one of the far-stretching Dutch
landscapes by Philip de Koninck.

[Illustration: A VISIT TO THE NURSERY. By Gabriel Metsu]


_Dutch Masters_

The “Little Masters of Holland” are present in strength. Metsu’s
“Visit to the Nursery,” which came from the Morgan Collection, is his
masterpiece. It is an intimate glimpse of home life that attracts
everyone, and is painted with a mastery that strengthens its human
appeal. But Metsu is far surpassed by Vermeer. Less than two score of
his pictures are known; the Metropolitan Museum already owns two of
them, and of these, the “Young Woman with a Water-Jug,” is of first
rank.

The landscape men should not be overlooked. Cuyp (koip) has three
of his cattle pictures, filled with sunlight; and Hobbema, one of
the rarest-met of the Dutchmen, has a view of a Dutch village.
“Wheatfields,” by Jacob van Ruisdael (rize´-dale), shows him at the
summit of his powers. It is superior to anything by him to be found in
the European collections. With its low-lying horizon and broad sky, it
is typical of the best in the Dutch treatment of landscape.

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF A MAN. By Dirk Bouts]

Next to the Dutch, the Flemish is the one best represented among
the older schools. High finish and purity of color are the chief
characteristics of these careful brushmen. There is a tiny fragment
by Jan van Eyck (ike) (?-1440), usually identified as a portrait of
Thomas à Becket. A monumental “Annunciation” is by Roger van der
Weyden, with rich velvets and brocades and careful painting of details.
In the Altman Collection there are four panels by Memling. All are of
superior quality--in fact, the “Portrait of an Old Man” was for a long
time attributed to Jan van Eyck. Another portrait, by Dirk Bouts, has
the same directness and force, and is almost equally fine. This is
portraiture of the highest order.

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF AN OLD MAN. By Hans Memling]

Rubens (1577-1640) brought a new spirit to the school. One may obtain
at the Metropolitan a fairly clear idea of his power and of the
influence of his style upon his fellow-artists, although there are none
of his finest creations present. Rubens relied upon the help of his
assistants more than most other artists. Indicating his intentions,
whether by a small sketch or roughly on the canvas itself, he would
leave the carrying out to his pupils, and afterwards correct or retouch
the parts that did not satisfy him. The large “Wolf and Fox Hunt” was
probably handled in some such way, as were a number of these hunting
pictures. The “Holy Family,” nearby, is in his first style, and some
of Rubens’ brushwork may still be recognized in the figure of the
Christ-child. Rubens’ skill in another field is upheld by two good
portraits of men. There are several school pieces[1] of merit, and an
early copy of his “Susannah.”

    [1] A school piece is a picture done by a pupil, closely
    following the style of his master.

[Illustration: THE ANNUNCIATION. By Roger van der Weyden]

Van Dyck, Rubens’ best pupil, is even better represented than his
master. We may trace his development in no less than eight portraits.
Two in the Altman Collection were done during his visit to Genoa,
and betray some of the influence of Italy. But Van Dyck hardly ever
surpassed the full-length of James Stuart, Duke of Richmond and Lennox.


_Italian Masterpieces_

Most of the masterpieces of the Italian School had been absorbed into
Europe’s national collections before the Metropolitan Museum entered
the field. It is quite remarkable that the present showing is possible,
in view of the difficulties in the way. Most of the works of the
“primitives”[2] are fixed on the walls of the palaces and churches
of Italy, but there is a scattering of them here. In the case of
Pollajuolo’s (polla-yoo-o´-lo) “St. Christopher,” the whole wall has
been transported. It has great value for the study of fresco technic.
An “Epiphany,” simple in its appeal, attributed to the School of Giotto
(jot´-to), but possibly by Giotto himself, has great charm of color and
composition.

    [2] The pioneers of a nation’s art. In Italy, Giotto and Duccio
    are the two great primitives.

One of the most important possessions of the Museum is Raphael’s
“Madonna of St. Anthony,” the gift of Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan. It was
painted before the artist had fully developed, and lacks the spirit
and brilliancy of his later productions. But study its composition.
Note the dignity in the single figures of St. Peter and St. Paul. How
exquisitely the adoring angels fill the lunette![3] The picture was
intended for the high altar, and, in its original position, it would
have been possible to see it only from a distance and from below, and
not close at hand as now. The central group shows some of the promise
so richly fulfilled in the years that followed.

    [3] The upper, semi-circular portion. The word refers to the
    half-moon shape of the composition.

[Illustration: VIRGIN AND CHILD ENTHRONED WITH SAINTS. By Raphael

Also called “The Madonna of St. Anthony”]

[Illustration: MADONNA AND CHILD. By Andrea del Verrocchio]

[Illustration: GIRL WITH CHERRIES. By Ambrogio de Predis]

Of the other Florentines, the pensive “Madonna” by Verrocchio
(ver-roke´-kee-o) is very attractive, and the Fra Angelico panel
and the circular composition by Mainardi should not be overlooked.
Neither of the subjects by Botticelli (bot-tee-chel´-lee) conveys
a fair conception of his artistic significance, although they are
well authenticated. There is a highly finished portrait of Federigo
Gonzaga (fed-er-ee-go gon-tha-ga) by Francia (fran´-cha), in perfect
preservation. The “Girl with Cherries,” now assigned to Ambrogio
de Predis, was for a long time thought to be by Leonardo da Vinci
(vin´-chee).

[Illustration: ST. GEORGE. By Carlo Crivelli]

There are several large and important altarpieces. One, by Correggio
(kor-red´-jo), was painted early in his career. It is rich in coloring
and is an important link in his artistic development. On the opposite
wall there is an “Entombment” by Moretto of Brescia, a leader in the
North Italian School. He is noted for the gray tone that pervades many
of his canvases. A “Pieta” (pee-ay´-ta), by Crivelli (kree-vel´-lee),
shows tragic power combined with great beauty of color and strength of
drawing.

The late Venetian is the most satisfactorily represented of the Italian
Schools. There is an early “Madonna” ascribed to Giovanni Bellini
(jo-van´-nee bel-lee´-nee), firm in drawing and harmonious in color
scheme, but failing to show the strength to which he attained later in
his career. Titian’s (tish´-an) portrait of Filippo Archinto (fil-ee-po
ar-keen´-to), Bishop of Milan, is fine as a study of character--we must
hope that some of the more decorative pieces by Titian will some day be
secured. Like most of the portraits painted by Giorgione (jor-jo´-nee),
the one in the Altman Collection has suffered from restoration, but
anything by this rare painter is priceless. Carpaccio’s (kar-patch´-o)
mystic “Meditation on the Passion” is very important historically.

[Illustration: SCENE IN VENICE. By Antonio Canaletto]

There are no less than three canvases by Tintoretto. “A Doge in Prayer
Before the Redeemer” came from Ruskin’s collection. Though only a
sketch, and therefore less finished than the pretentious “Miracle
of the Loaves,” it is for that very reason the more convincingly
Tintoretto’s own handling. Paolo Veronese’s (pah-o-lo vay-ro-naze´-ee)
“Mars and Venus” shows what a late Venetian could do with a subject
that gave full play to a love of color and gorgeous textiles. By
Canaletto there is a “Scene in Venice” which is unsurpassed by anything
that represents him elsewhere. The “Investiture of Bishop Harold” is
the finest of several paintings by Tiepolo (tee-ay-po´-lo) in the
Museum. There are excellent portraits by Torbido (tor-bee´-do) and
Montagna (mon-tan´-yuh), who do not belong strictly to the Venetians.
They are much finer in workmanship than pictures sometimes attributed
to their more famous brethren.

Both of the great men of the German School are well represented.
Dürer’s training as an engraver is very apparent in his “Madonna and
Child with St. Anne”--the sleeping Christ-child is delightful. Of
the three Holbeins, the early “Portrait of a Man” is perhaps the
best. According to the inscription, it must have been painted when the
artist was twenty years old. There are other fine portraits by Cranach
(kran´-ack) the elder and Beham.


_Early English Art_

The early English School is strong in numbers--it was greatly
strengthened by the Fletcher bequest. The large portrait group of The
Honorable Henry Fane with his Guardians shows Sir Joshua Reynolds
attempting a group on an ambitious scale. His half-lengths, especially
that of Elizabeth Reynolds, are more pleasant--in that particular
one he pays tribute to the style of Rembrandt. Gainsborough, Sir
Joshua’s most successful rival, shows his ability in the portrait of
“Miss Sparrow” and, in another field, in the “Landscape” in the Hearn
Gallery. He used to paint these landscapes as relaxation from the
portrait pieces. Romney and Opie (o´-pee) have attractively pictured
Lady Hamilton for us. One of the best pictures that ever came from
Lawrence’s brush is his portrait of the Reverend William Pennicott.

[Illustration: MARIE MARGUERITE LAMBERT DE THORIGNY. By Largillière]

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF A LADY. By François Boucher]

There are some good canvases by the landscape men. Constable has an
unusual portrait, as well as the gorgeous “Glebe Farm” in the Fletcher
Collection. John Crome, in his “Hautbois Common,” shows the influence
of the principles of the Dutch School. Wilson has an unusually rich
“Italian Landscape.” Turner, the greatest of the English landscapists,
is responsible for three pictures. The early “Saltash” is rich and
luminous; the “Grand Canal, Venice,” is one of the best of his pictures
of the island city, and the “Whale Ship” is in his late style. There
are some wonderful water-colors by him on loan.

[Illustration: ARABS CROSSING A FORD. By Eugène Fromentin]

The French School of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is
represented by pictures few in number, but excellent in quality.
Boucher (boo´-shay), Largillière (lar-geel´-yare), Nattier
(nat´-ee-ay), Drouais (droo´-ay)--all these men show amazing strength
on the decorative side, and, always, exquisite taste. Chardin
(shar´-dahn) has a beautiful low-toned still-life, “Preparations for
a Breakfast.” David’s portrait in the Fletcher Gallery is a marvel of
directness. In the Morgan Wing there are eight decorative landscapes by
Hubert Robert well worth looking up in this connection.


_Modern French Artists_

Some of the modern French artists were appreciated by Americans before
their genius was recognized at home. Certainly the Modern French
Section is one of the strongest in the Museum. Romanticism, realism and
impressionism are all to be seen in the work of their chief exponents.
An afternoon might profitably be spent with the men of Barbizon
(bar´-bee-zong). Corot’s (kor´-ro) poetic outlook upon nature is plain
in each of twelve landscapes. The “Lane Through the Trees,” with a
sense of cool shadow after the heat of a dusty road, is perhaps the
best of them.

[Illustration: ENGLISH LANDSCAPE. By Thomas Gainsborough]

[Illustration: LANDSCAPE WITH FIGURES. By George Morland]

Rousseau (roos-so) speaks a more rugged and direct language in
the fifteen subjects by him. The sober “Gorges d’Apremont (gorge
da´-pre-mong); Evening,” with a still luminous sky above the hills, is
magnificent. Millet (mee´-yay) is represented by the famous “Sower,”
with its rhythm and swing, an almost equally fine “Water-Carrier,”
the impressive “Autumn” in the Fletcher Collection, and half a dozen
others. Dupré (dyu´-pray) and Diaz (dee´-ath) have good pictures, and
when has Troyon ever surpassed his superb “Holland Cattle”? Daubigny
(daw-been´-yee), though he comes a bit later, is usually associated
with these men. There are eight or nine of the subjects he used to find
in punting about among the streams and back-waters of the Seine (sane)
and Oise (wahz)--how intimate they seem!

[Illustration: LADY WILLIAMS. By Ralph Earle]

[Illustration: BOY WITH A SWORD. By Edouard Manet]

[Illustration: LANDSCAPE. By Charles François Daubigny]

The Museum is fortunate in owning a number of pictures that are
recognized as the masterpieces of their respective artists.
Bastien-Lepage’s (bas-tee-en lah-pazsh´) “Joan of Arc” is one of
these. Realism?--yes, but so combined with imagination that the
result is gripping. Rosa Bonheur’s “Horse Fair” is one of the
best-known pictures in the Museum. Many are familiar with it in black
and white reproduction, in which it shows to good advantage. The
original painting is somewhat disappointing in color. Meissonier’s
(may-sone-yay) “Friedland, 1807” is an example of his careful
brushwork, but is less successful than some of his smaller panels that
are shown in the Museum. Regnault’s (rane´-yoe) “Salome,” a daring
harmony in yellow, shows the dancer awaiting her reward from Herod.
“Madame Charpentier (shar-pen´-tee-ay) and her Children,” by Renoir
(ren´-wahr), is one of the most charming groups to be found anywhere.
Renoir employed the methods of the impressionists, but he never
allowed his subject to become secondary to the medium--a thing his
brother-impressionists sometimes seemed to do. There are pictures by
the other exponents of these principles to speak for themselves, and
some of them speak very well. Manet (mah-nay) in the “Boy with a Sword”
is following Velasquez to good advantage. A portrait by Fantin-Latour
(fahn´-tang-la-toor´) depicts the wonderfully sensitive face of a lady
in black. A turquoise brooch gives a piquant touch of color that is
repeated in the other jewels she wears. There are many other pictures
that one could ill afford to pass by--Couture’s “Day Dreams,” for
example, and “Arabs Crossing a Ford” by Fromentin (fro-mahn-tang), or
the pictures by Delacroix (del-lah-krwah), Courbet (koor-bay), Jacque
(zshock), and Dagnan-Bouveret (dahn´-yahn-boo´-ver-ray), to mention
only the more important. Last, but far from being least, is the group
by Puvis de Chavannes (poo´-vee de sha-van´) to show the power of that
great mural painter.

[Illustration: FORENOON, ADIRONDACKS. By Alexander H. Wyant]


_American Artists_

Naturally, American artists are well represented in the Metropolitan
Museum. Nine pictures stand sponsor for Gilbert Stuart’s skill, and
several are surprisingly fine. Such work as John Singleton Copley’s
“Mrs. Bowers” and Stuart’s “Mrs. Anthony” do not suffer from comparison
with the productions of the English School of their time. Indeed,
Ralph Earle’s “Lady Williams,” sometime previous to its purchase in
London, masqued as a Gainsborough! Its simplicity and slightly awkward
directness are captivating. Do not fail to observe, however, that
the table accessories are exceedingly well painted. One of the most
interesting of these early pictures is a group of pupils in the studio
of Benjamin West. As president of the Royal Academy, his aid was sought
by almost every American with any artistic ability who could obtain
passage money to London. Matthew Pratt, one of those whom West helped,
here shows him criticizing the sketch of one of a group. Prominent
among the men of the next generation is Morse, the inventor of the
telegraph, but also a painter of no mean order, and the author of good
portraits of Henry Clay and De Witt Clinton. Sully, another man of
exceptional taste for his time, has ten pictures, including the sketch
for his portrait of Queen Victoria.

[Illustration: MARBLE QUARRY AT CARRARA. By John S. Sargent]

Nowhere else can the “Hudson River School”[4] be studied so well. To
our eyes these beginnings seem a bit hard and crude, but such canvases
as F. E. Church’s “Heart of the Andes” and “Parthenon” are really
impressive. But most of these men interest us today chiefly as the
forbears of a later group. Inness, Wyant, Homer Martin and Blakelock
have only a point of view in common, and yet they form a transition
group that leads out of the “Hudson River School” to the landscape
men of the present day. In no other gallery is the work of these four
artists so well represented. In some of the canvases the inspiration
of the Barbizon men is very apparent. Inness succeeds best, perhaps,
in his oft-reproduced “Autumn Oaks” or his “Delaware Valley.” Wyant’s
work is very even--“An Old Clearing” is the best of his ten pictures.
Blakelock’s “Pipe Dance” is fine in a very different way. Homer Martin,
perhaps the most interesting figure of them all, reached his highest
level in the “View on the Seine,” or as his wife named it, “The Harp of
the Winds.” That picture may fairly claim to be the best-known and most
loved landscape by any American artist. His sight was almost gone when
the last touches were added. No less impressive, to some, is his “Sand
Dunes, Lake Ontario.” All the desertedness and barrenness of the dunes
seem to have been caught and expressed on his canvas.

    [4] The Hudson River School of Art is considered at length in
    Monograph Six, Mentor No. 136, “The Story of the Hudson.”

Sargent, Whistler, La Farge, Chase--all are here, and in many phases.
Sargent’s portraits are fine, but do not miss his water-colors, or
his “Marble Quarry at Carrara.” Winslow Homer was one of the first
Americans to realize the possibilities of the sea as a subject,
and there are eight paintings by him, as well as a dozen forceful
water-colors. Carlsen, Dougherty (dock´-er-tee) and Waugh (wah) are
sea-lovers too. And as for the figure-painters, Dannat’s (dan´-nah)
“Quartette,” Abbey’s “Lear” and Mary Cassatt’s “Mother and Child”
should not be omitted. Among the landscapists come Twachtman and Tryon,
Groll with his Arizona mesa, Lie with “Culebra Cut” for his subject,
and Ben Foster with a fine “Late Summer Moonrise.” Here is a rich
assemblage of American art.

[Illustration: SAND DUNES, LAKE ONTARIO. By Homer Martin]


SUPPLEMENTARY READING

    THE ART OF THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF NEW YORK _By David C. Preyer_

    WHAT PICTURES TO SEE IN AMERICA              _By Lorinda M. Bryant_

    A HISTORY OF THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART   _By Winifred E. Howe_
    Issued by the Museum.

    CATALOGUE.
    Issued by the Museum.

⁂ Information concerning the above books may be had on application to
the Editor of The Mentor.




THE OPEN LETTER


[Illustration: THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK CITY]

The story of the Metropolitan Museum of Art begins with an address by
John Jay before a company of Americans at a Fourth of July dinner in
Paris in 1866. In the course of his address Mr. Jay stated that “it
was time for the American people to lay the foundation of a national
institution and gallery of art.” This suggestion commended itself
to a number of notable American gentlemen who were present, and who
formed themselves into a committee for inaugurating the movement. This
committee subsequently addressed an appeal to the Union League Club of
New York City, urging the importance of founding a permanent national
gallery of art and museum of historical relics for the benefit of
the people at large, and suggesting that the Union League Club might
properly institute the means for promoting this great object.

Mr. Jay, on returning home from Paris, was elected president of the
Union League Club, and the letter from the committee came up for his
own official notice. The result was a meeting at the Union League Club
on November 23, 1869, to consider the founding of a museum, and a
committee of fifty, made up of some of the most distinguished men of
the day, was appointed to carry out the project.

It is interesting to read today that the sum of money that the founders
placed before them as the goal of their ambition with which to
establish this great art institution was only $250,000--a sum $100,000
less than the present administration’s expenses for one year. And yet
this distinguished committee, after more than a year’s effort, raised
less than half of the desired sum--only $106,000. Such, financially,
was the modest beginning of the great Metropolitan Museum which now,
besides its extensive buildings and its priceless collections, has an
endowment for a purchase fund of over ten million dollars.

The idea of locating the art museum in Central Park originated with
Andrew H. Green, known as the father of that great park. From 1870
until 1879 the Museum was housed, first on Fifth Avenue, and then
on Fourteenth Street. The original building, in Central Park, was
completed in 1880, and was opened by President Rutherford B. Hayes.
Additions were erected in 1888, 1894 and 1902. Since then more
contributions have been made to the complete plan which, when realized,
will comprise a group of buildings that will cover an area of 18½
acres, and will cost about $20,000,000. The architects were Calvert
Vaux, then Theodore Weston, Richard M. Hunt and McKim, Mead & White.
The Museum had first to rely largely upon voluntary service. This ended
in 1879 with the election of a salaried director, General di Cesnola.
At his death, in 1904, he left a valuable memorial in the collection
of antiquities that he gathered together while United States consul
in Cyprus, and which includes over 30,000 specimens. A new era in the
affairs of the Museum began with the election of Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan
as president. Under Mr. Morgan’s presidency the Metropolitan became
one of the richest museums in the world, and on his death, in 1914, it
received for exhibition his great collection of art objects, valued at
$50,000,000. Of this, the greatest private collection in the world,
a large part has now become the property of the Museum through the
princely gift of Mr. Morgan’s son, the present J. Pierpont Morgan, and
is being installed by itself in a wing called the Pierpont Morgan Wing.
The Museum has been the recipient of many large endowments, and many
fine private collections. Notable among the benefactors may be named
three of New York’s most distinguished merchants, A. T. Stewart, James
A. Hearn and Benjamin Altman.

During its existence many of the most prominent citizens of New York
City have been connected in some active capacity with the Museum. The
past presidents of the Institution were John Taylor Johnston, Henry
G. Marquand, Frederick W. Rhinelander and J. Pierpont Morgan. Mr.
Robert W. de Forest, for many years secretary of the Museum, is now
its president. Among the vice-presidents were William Cullen Bryant,
Andrew H. Green, General John A. Dix, A. T. Stewart, John S. Kennedy,
D. O. Mills, Joseph H. Choate, and others. The affairs of the Museum
were directed during the first years by General di Cesnola, then by Sir
Casper Purdon Clarke, and now by Mr. Edward Robinson.

Under the direction of the present secretary, Mr. Henry W. Kent, the
history of the Metropolitan Museum has been written by Winifred E.
Howe, and published in a luxurious volume of 360 pages. This beautiful
book affords a most interesting and instructive lesson in what can be
accomplished in less than fifty years in the development of a great art
institution.

[Illustration: W. D. Moffat

EDITOR]




A Letter From Japan


I have been interested in The Mentor ever since a warm morning in
June four years ago when, as a delegate to the General Federation of
Women’s Clubs held that year in Chicago, I found in my seat a sample
copy. “American Sculptors” was the title of the number. I was delighted
with it. I asked if it would be all right to take some extra copies,
and I was told “yes.” So I loaded myself down with them, thinking of
the many young men in Tokyo with whom we were in touch, who would be
so delighted to have them. This was exactly the case. Every Mentor I
brought was used in the best way possible, and many of the pictures
were given out singly, so that more could have them.

Fortunately my mother has been sending The Mentor to me. She began
to take it through seeing my copy, and it is one of the delightful
visitors to our home.

I have been much interested in the letters that you have printed. No
one has said how helpful The Mentor is to a missionary. First: to keep
one from forgetting what has been seen and known; second, to make
friends for one of the things one ought to know; third, for the sake of
one’s children, who find a great education in the twice-a-month text
and pictures.

Aside from the personal value to the missionary and his children, is
the value to the foreign people with whom he associates. His home is a
center, and many an ideal of a foreign home comes from his. Those of us
that teach students, and children especially, are forming standards of
taste. The Mentors on the library table are valuable because they are
attractive to look at, and the brief descriptions on the backs of the
pictures are easy to understand by anyone who knows a bit of English.

I have at present a very interesting class of university men, with whom
I talk once a week. We have had some delightful times using The Mentor
pictures. The foreign things shown in Japan are usually crude. With
such a heritage of good art of her own, Japan should know more of our
best things--and The Mentor gives this to them. This is my plan for
our own seven-year-old lad: I have six frames the size of The Mentor
gravures, and I change the pictures as often as new ones come.

With every good wish for your continued success,

F. ELIZABETH COLEMAN.

10 Hinoki Cho, Ahasaka, Tokyo.

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