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

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.

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.”

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?’

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.

IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

PORTRAIT OF FEDERIGO GONZAGA, BY 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.

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

IN THE ALTMAN COLLECTION, METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

OLD WOMAN CUTTING HER NAILS, BY REMBRANDT

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.

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IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

JAMES STUART, DUKE OF LENNOX, BY 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.

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IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

YOUNG WOMAN WITH A WATER JUG, BY 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.

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

IN THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

SALOME, BY 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.

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ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 9. SERIAL No. 157
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IN THE FLETCHER COLLECTION, METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART, NEW YORK

GLEBE FARM, WITH THE TOWER OF LANGHAM CHURCH, BY 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 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

MENTOR GRAVURES

YOUNG WOMAN WITH A WATER-JUG

By Vermeer

SALOME

By Regnault

GLEBE FARM, WITH THE TOWER OF LANGHAM CHURCH

By Constable

PORTRAIT OF HENRY G. MARQUAND. By John S. Sargent

Mr. Marquand was the second president of the Metropolitan Museum

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

VIRGIN AND CHILD ENTHRONED WITH SAINTS. By Raphael

Also called “The Madonna of St. Anthony”

MADONNA AND CHILD. By Andrea del Verrocchio

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).

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.

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.

MARIE MARGUERITE LAMBERT DE THORIGNY. By Largillière

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.

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.

ENGLISH LANDSCAPE. By Thomas Gainsborough

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!

LADY WILLIAMS. By Ralph Earle

BOY WITH A SWORD. By Edouard Manet

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.

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.

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.

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.

SAND DUNES, LAKE ONTARIO. By Homer Martin

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.

W. D. Moffat
Editor

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