❧ ARTICLE II.—THE MODERN PAINTERS ❧
THE collection of works of modern Dutch painters at the Guildhall is much more representative than that of the old masters, and is likely to be a revelation to those visitors who know only the few, and in many cases inadequate, examples of modern Dutch works which have been seen from time to time in London. In only one previous instance, that of the Glasgow exhibition, has such a representative collection of modern Dutch painters been brought together in this country. ¶ The chief interest of the collection is to be found in the works of the three brothers Maris and of Israels, for these painters are the leaders of the school, and the rest, though not without individualities of their own in technique and treatment, are followers. ¶ Joseph Israels is represented at the Guildhall chiefly by works of his later period, which are far better known in England than are the pictures in his earlier manner, which can be studied best at Amsterdam; these latter are distinguished by precision and detail rather than by the subtler and more sympathetic treatment of his mature work. ¶ The largest canvas of Israels shown is The Shipwrecked Fisherman (11), which, though impressive and well balanced, has a certain stagey effect. There are several tricks of technique, such as the parallel clouds and sky, which, however, add not a little strength to the general effect. Far superior to this picture is The Cottage Madonna (14), a vigorous painting of a woman with a child in a characteristically Dutch cottage interior. This fine work can hardly be considered a typical example of Israels, not indeed because it falls short of his other achievements, but rather for the opposite reason. It is a wonderful piece of sympathetic painting, full of feeling and pathos, and without those eccentricities which are apparent in such of his pictures as A Jewish Wedding (95), interesting as being the last picture which he has painted, and therefore reproduced here for this reason, but lacking in the opinion of the present writer the surpassing merits which many claim for it. It has become so much the mode to praise equally all the work of a particular painter or a particular school, that the sense of proportion and the power of discrimination have almost become extinct and criticism has been undermined. No painter of the modern Dutch school is more unequal than Israels, except perhaps Mauve; and one feels that if he has almost risen to the level of a great master in The Cottage Madonna, and perhaps in A Ray of Sunshine (7) and The New Flower (82), there is a particular group of works at the Guildhall which are sustained in estimation by the repute of greater achievements. ¶ The case of Jacob Maris is quite otherwise. The whole of his work is upon essentially legitimate lines, and inspires a feeling that he never produced a picture from a less than worthy motive. His pictures are full of the softness and delicacy of the Dutch atmosphere, and most people would consider it incredible that none of them were painted out-of-doors. Yet the present writer has been assured by one of Maris’s intimate friends that this was the case; when a particular view or picture struck him he was accustomed to stand with his hands in his pockets, and the picture was painted entirely from memory in his studio. Yet his works miss no essential truth. This stage was not reached without much experimentalizing and profound study. Jacob Maris began with a scrupulous striving after finish, which would do credit to any of the little masters of Holland of the seventeenth century. Take for example The Weary Watchers (90), painted in 1869, in which the child is painted with the finish of a Metzu, and the cat approaching the cradle with the minuteness of a Mieris. It is a long jump from this picture to A Windmill, Moonlight (125), the last work which he finished; but under the surface of the latter, in spite of the apparent dash, we perceive not one whit less regard for essential truth. ¶ There are three or four canvases at the Guildhall which display Maris in his very finest mood. Many will, perhaps, consider that the finest of all, at least as regards brush work, is Gathering Seaweed (44). The sky with its immense grey white clouds, through breaks in which glimpses of blue beyond are discernible, is the chief factor in the picture. This is in every respect one of Maris’s finest works, and he has never exceeded the delicious silveriness of sea and sky and the sense of moisture in the breeze which he here gives us; his rendering of the wet flat sand on which stand the horse and cart of the seaweed gatherers has been equalled only by Bonington. ¶ Of somewhat similar character is the beautiful little Storm Cloud (80), into which he has infused much the same feeling; but another phase of Maris is shown in the wonderful Bridge (92), which deservedly occupies a place of honour on the walls of the Guildhall gallery. Across a typical Dutch canal is thrown a wooden bridge, under which, away along the placid canal, can be seen a distant quay abutted with houses; little red-tiled houses fill the extreme left and right of the picture. It is a simple motive which in strict accordance with the principles of the painters of Holland demonstrates the innate beauty of the commonplace. Quite equal to this, both for intensity of feeling and realization, is the River and Windmill (101) on the side wall; the sense of stillness and calm which pervades this work is typical of the tranquillity of a mind whose sole delight was in nature and its portrayal. The artist is equally successful in a very different way in the bold and powerful Dutch Town (43), which seems to be a freely adapted view of Amsterdam. This is one of his latest works, and was painted in 1898. There is a delicate shimmer on the water with its lazy craft, and the ill-defined buildings are developed in an atmosphere shrouded by haze and darkened by smoke. These two works should be compared with The Ferry Boat (81), painted in 1870, which owes something to Van Goyen and Soloman Ruysdael; to his appreciation of the qualities of his predecessors, and his study of their art, Maris’s own achievements must in great measure be attributed. It is always unsafe to prophesy, but it is almost safe to say that Jacob Maris’s reputation will last. ¶ The representation at the Guildhall of Willem Maris is much less worthy, and a better series of his works could surely have been obtained; but in one small panel, Springtime (37), we have the best qualities of his art, and it may be doubted whether in the representation of the delicate and poetical charm of spring Willem Maris is surpassed even by Daubigny, except in a very few pictures. The trees awaken from their winter slumber and put forth in velvety green the leaves which hardly more than tinge the brownness of trunk and branch. The stream swollen with the recent rain affords refreshing drink to the cattle which have just emerged from the copse on the right. The meadow, with its carpet of tender green bordered by a row of pollard willows, recedes until it meets the sky line. Light clouds float over the blue sky and betoken weather fair but fickle. ¶ When one turns from these two kindred spirits to their brother Matthew Maris one is struck by the contrast. For Matthew lifts us at once from things earthly into a spiritual atmosphere; everything that he touches he envelops in mysticism and poetry. Yet perhaps his work is more difficult of appreciation; he appeals to a more exclusive circle. Yet what magic contour of line, what exquisite rhythm, what consummate balance of composition, we find in it. The Outskirts of a Town (39), for instance, enveloped in a bewitching gloom, commends itself to the artist and student, though not to the lover of pyrotechnics. That fine canvas entitled Montmartre (40) is another example of the same idealistic treatment. Among examples of his work which particularly puzzle the public are such efforts as A Study (58) and A Lady and Goats (59), the latter an idyl inadequately described by its prosy title. But perhaps the essence of his art is to be found in The Butterflies (62) and L’Enfant Couchée (70), which for typical presentment and delicacy of colour are among his finest achievements.
THE ARCHIVES AT VEERE, BY JAN BOSBOOM; IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. J. C. J. DRUCKER
A JEWISH WEDDING, BY JOSEPH ISRAELS; IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. J. C. J. DRUCKER
A FANTASY, BY MATTHEW MARIS; IN THE COLLECTION OF MADAME VAN WISSELINGH
THE NEW FLOWER, BY JOSEPH ISRAELS; IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. J. STAATS FORBES
WATERING HORSES, BY ANTON MAUVE; IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. J. C. J. DRUCKER
THE CANAL BRIDGE, BY JACOB MARIS; IN THE POSSESSION OF MESSRS. THOMAS AGNEW AND SONS
A WINDMILL, MOONLIGHT, BY JACOB MARIS; IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. J. C. J. DRUCKER
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LARGER IMAGE
THE BUTTERFLIES, BY MATTHEW MARIS; IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. WILLIAM BURRELL
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LARGER IMAGE
We are back once more upon the earth when we come to Anton Mauve, of whose works there are no less than twenty-one examples in the Guildhall exhibition. With the exception of Joseph Israels, he is the most unequal painter of modern Holland; there are occasions when he comes near to equalling Jacob Maris at least in atmospherical effect, and yet at other times he sinks into a mere technical repetition of his better self. Of his best phase we could not have better illustrations than The Hay Cart (2) and Driving in the Dunes (4). In both there is the same feeling for truth, the same adaptation of technique to the necessities of the occasion. Watering Horses (97) is another fine work, resplendent with harmonies of green and grey, and showing the same feeling for natural phenomena. ¶ After such work as that of the brothers Maris, and Mauve, and occasionally Israels, one is inevitably disappointed with Mesdag. Mesdag misses the mark not because of any deficiencies in technique, but because his works lack that essential quality of landscape painting—atmosphere. The consequence is that we never lose sight of the paint; it is paint everywhere. This is all the more to be regretted since he is a good draughtsman, and his scheme of colour is often satisfactory and truthful; moreover he has a profound knowledge of composition. Yet with all these qualities he generally fails. We do not want a sunset sky full of prismatic glow, nor a sea shimmering with opalescent tints, if we cannot feel that it is a real sky and a real sea, and that something other than paint fills up the intervening space. Mesdag’s deficiency is emphasized in the two pictures shown in the present exhibition, A Stormy Sunset (28) and A Threatening Sky (54), which give us nothing but the mere physical features of the scene, and leave us with an undefinable yearning for something for which we look in vain. ¶ The other men whose work is represented for the most part owe what is best in their art to the greater lights of their school. Of such is the work of Théophile de Bock, of which Evening (17) is an example of a plagiarism on the school of 1830, intermingled with a Dutch sentiment which renders it difficult to say with certainty whether it should be classified as French or Dutch in sentiment. That Bock has originality when it is brought into play is amply demonstrated in An Avenue in Holland (94). The sunlit road with its strongly painted trees conveys an admirable idea of summer heat and foliage, in which the artist boldly achieves his aim without any aid but his own sheer force. Such a work shows powers which are never brought into full play when he attempts to see with other eyes. Apart from landscape there is but little of interest in the exhibition. An exception, however, must be made in favour of the fine canvas by Christopher Bisschop, Prayer Disturbed (29), which is a strong and powerful piece of painting, and also intensely sympathetic in realization. Two other canvases are worthy of mention, that by Albert Neuhuys, Near the Cradle (96), a fine representation of a cottage interior painted with incisive truth and directness, and Bosboom’s Archives at Veere (128), an excellent example of the interiors to which he devoted himself; it has the spaciousness and grace characteristic of the work of a painter than whom no modern artist has shown a keener appreciation of the artistic possibilities of ancient buildings.
THE SEALS OF THE BRUSSELS GILDS[81]
❧ WRITTEN BY R. PETRUCCI ❧
MONSIEUR G. DES MAREZ, professor at the university and keeper of the records of the city of Brussels, has drawn attention lately to three seals which appeared to him to be worthy of special study. These consist, first, of the matrix of the seal of the Gild of Barbers in the fifteenth century, which forms part of the sigillographical collection of the Musées Royaux du Cinquantenaire; secondly, of the silver matrix of the seal of the Gild of Butchers in the sixteenth century, preserved in the archives of the city of Brussels; thirdly and lastly, of the matrix of the seal of the Gild of Bakers, in the private collection of M. Charles Lefébure: this last belongs, like the first, to the fifteenth century. Now the Brussels gilds were never called upon to seal deeds, a fact of which M. Des Marez was the better aware as he had just obtained a gold medal from the Royal Academy of Belgium for an important study, which is at this moment in the press, on the organization of labour in Brussels during the fifteenth century. Were the three existing matrices therefore false? And, if they did in reality date from the period to which everything contributed to ascribe them, how was their presence to be explained? Those were the questions which M. Des Marez set himself to adjudge and upon which he has succeeded in throwing a brilliant light. ¶ Thanks to M. Des Marez’ kindness, I have been able to take cognizance of his work and of the seals upon which it bears. M. Des Marez’ study will not be published until the end of August or September next, when it will appear in the annals of the Archaeological Society. My readers will therefore be the first to find here set forth the solution of an important historical and archaeological question. ¶ The juridical incompetence of the Brussels trading corporations is indisputable. In the second half of the thirteenth century, the artisans began to lay down the outlines of a corporate movement. This led to a privilege obtained from Duke John by the patricians invested with power, by which the craftsmen were subjected to their authority. The gilds were dependent upon the town council for all that concerned the making of their rules and regulations; at most, they enjoyed the right of presenting drafts for the approval and sanction of the aldermen; they were not able to sell, pledge or mortgage; and, although their wardens were invested with certain police functions, their jurisdiction was nevertheless extremely limited. Difficult cases were submitted to the judgement of the aldermen, and in no case could the wardens of their own initiative proceed to a forced execution upon the persons or goods of delinquents. ¶ The gild was unable to issue any act directly, and therefore the use of a seal, the attributive mark of jurisdiction, is inexplicable. Even the Drapers’ Gild was without it, although this gild constituted a powerful administrative and jurisdictive machinery by the side of the aldermen, of whom, at the time of its splendour, it was even independent. It issued acts, which the trading corporations were not able to do, and made regulations, far and near, for all those having to do with the woollen manufactures or cloth-making. The absence of a collective seal is to be explained, in this case, by the use made by the deacons of their personal seals, a use proved by documents in which it is explicitly mentioned. It was not until 1698 that the Drapers’ Gild ordered a collective seal to be made. The matrix of this seal is lost, but there remains an impression of it affixed to one side of the very sheet containing the text of the resolution relating to it, which document is preserved in the archives of the kingdom, where I have been able to consult it. ¶ The engraving of this seal is very poor. In a circular field is St. Michael, clad in a Roman breast-plate, his legs cased in buskins. His forehead is surmounted by a cross, and his wings are unfolded. He brandishes a sword in his right hand. Lucifer lies felled at his feet. St. Michael is seizing one of the demon’s horns with his hand. Lucifer raises his right hand with a defending gesture; his left arm is brought back against his body. He wears short wings, one of which covers a part of the saint’s arm. His lower limbs end in claws; a long tail is twined between his legs. The impression is made on a paper pulp which was previously moistened. Above this was laid a cut-out leaf of thin paper, on which the matrix of the seal was pressed with force. The paper shows stains of mould; the reliefs are weak and difficult to distinguish; to reproduce them by photography is almost impossible. These circumstances, added to the fact that this piece has absolutely no artistic value, account for the absence of a reproduction in these pages. Between the two circular fillets that run around the above figures is this inscription: SIGIL · DECANOR · ET OCTOJUDICUM · GILDÆ · BRUXELLENSIS. (Sigillum decanorum et octojudicium gildæ bruxellensis.) The text of the resolution says that the seal shall be inscribed with the words: Sigillum collegii decanorum, etc. The engraver could not find room for the word collegii, and was obliged to omit it. This is why a note added to the text of the resolution of December 4, ordering the execution of the seal, declares that a true impression of the seal is affixed on the other side and corrects the text by suppressing the word collegii. I may also mention that, whereas the seal shows the spelling GILDÆ, the text preserves the old mediaeval spelling GILDE. ¶ We find, therefore, that one alone of the corporations, the Drapers’ Gild, which was the most powerful, did unquestionably possess a seal, but at a late date, at the end of the seventeenth century. This innovation is due, on the one hand, to modifications introduced into the expedition of the acts, involving the abolition of the single or double parchment label separate from the sheet itself and bearing the seal; on the other, to the fact that the deacons abandoned the use of their personal seals, which served as a signature in the middle ages, for the customary employment of a manuscript signature. The personal seals of the deacons having been abandoned, it became necessary to have recourse to a collective seal. ¶ It is certain, therefore, that the juridical conditions under which the trading corporations were constituted give rise to very grave doubts as to the authenticity of the seals of the gilds. If we add the fact that the records contain no sealed document proceeding from any of the Brussels gilds, we shall feel greatly tempted to lend to these doubts the force of certainty. However, an examination of the three matrices of seals which are here for the first time reproduced scarcely permits us to believe in their falseness. Let me briefly analyse each of these three pieces.
SEAL OF THE GILD OF BARBERS
The matrix of the seal of the Barbers’ Gild is in the sigillographical collection of the Musées Royaux du Cinquantenaire. Two figures are standing on a circular ground; they represent St. Cosmas and St. Damian, the patrons of barber-surgeons. They are dressed in the costume of the fifteenth century. The right figure, clad in a tunic that comes down to mid-leg, carries in its left hand a mortar exactly similar to the mortars that were still in use in Flanders in the last century. In its right hand, it holds an instrument that might be either a pestle or a lancet; it is a long, thin instrument, spreading slightly at one end. Its right arm is bent, and from the wrist hangs a sort of case shaped like a purse, with an open clasp. This figure symbolizes the barber. By its side is a shield bearing a pair of open scissors, with an instrument in pale that appears identical with that which the figure holds in its right hand. The figure on the left is clad in a long robe adorned with a wide collar, which seems to point to a profession superior to that of the mere barber: this is a surgeon. In his right hand, he holds a round phial with a long, bell-mouthed neck. His left hand is folded over his breast; the extended fore-finger points to the phial. From his wrist hangs a bag or purse-shaped case, with open clasp. By his side is the escutcheon of the city of Brussels, which, in the fifteenth century, was a plain red shield. The two figures are standing on a grassy mound. In the upper half of the circumference of the seal we see a device that reads: S. barbitonsorū in brūx. This seal is the only one of the three that bears a Latin device, a fact quite in keeping with the learned profession of the surgeons and barbers.
SEAL OF THE GILD OF BAKERS
The matrix of the seal of the Bakers’ Gild is now in the private collection of M. Charles Lefébure. On the ground of the seal we see St. Aubert, Bishop of Cambrai, the patron of the Brussels bakers, clad in his pontifical vestments, with the mitre on his head. With his right hand he is giving the benediction; in his left he holds a peel, the shovel used for thrusting bread into the oven. The figure rises at half-length from behind a wide shield on which are represented, saltierwise, a peel, with two round loaves laid upon the blade, and a bar for raking the cinders. The circular inscription is in Flemish, it reads: S. d’s ambachts · der · beckers · in brussel · (‘Seal of the Gild of the Bakers in Brussels’). The seal displays all the characteristics of the fifteenth century.
SEAL OF THE GILD OF BUTCHERS.
The matrix of the seal of the Butchers’ Gild is in silver. It is kept in the archives of the city of Brussels. Its date must be carried back to the early sixteenth century; it is very beautifully engraved. St. Michael fells the dragon, represented as a shaggy monster with a bull’s head, which seizes the saint’s left leg in one of its claws; in the other, it clutches the escutcheon, which it bites in the lower corner. The saint is clad in armour. In his right hand, he brandishes his sword; with his left, he holds the escutcheon, which he uses as a buckler. On the shield figure the heads of three animals: an ox, a calf and a sheep. The exergue bears the device in Flemish: S. TSVLEESHOUWERS · A͡BACHT · IN BRUESSEL · (‘Seal of the Butchers’ Gild in Brussels’). ¶ M. Des Marez connects the making of these seals with the great impulse towards emancipation that stirred the trading corporations in the fifteenth century. In the second half of that century, the protests of the magistrates are constantly multiplying, and the trades seem to be progressing towards complete independence. On the accession of Mary of Burgundy, a violent popular agitation wrested from the young princess the privilege of June 4, 1477, which hallowed the triumph of democracy. But this victory lasted only a little while; and, in 1480, Maximilian of Austria restored the old constitution of 1421. The execution of the seals must, therefore, be ascribed to this emancipatory movement and, doubtless, to that short period of three years during which the gilds, as sovereign masters, were called upon to seal their acts. It is to be presumed that, if any acts were sealed, these were very rare and were probably destroyed; and it is also very possible that, after the matrices had been engraved, the reaction set in almost immediately and that they were never used. ¶ This concerns the seals of the Barbers’ and Bakers’ Gilds. That of the butchers must be attributed to the beginning of the sixteenth century. The gild had, since 1450, claimed a privileged situation consecrating the hereditary principle: none could be a butcher who was not sprung from butchers. This privilege, granted by Philip the Good, kindled a quarrel between the butchers and the town which sometimes led to bloodshed and which lasted for seventy years. In or about 1516, Charles V put an end to this state of things by perpetuating the privilege. The date of the execution of the seal corresponds with this victory for the gild. But the butchers were stopped in their too independent courses and were made to continue to recognize the authority of the town council in all that concerned the making of their rules and regulations and the management of their interests. ¶ I have shown how constitutional history and sigillography have together enabled M. Des Marez to solve a question debated to this day by proving the genuineness of the seals of the Brussels gilds. The question involved a two-fold problem, historical and archaeological. The interest attaching to it will be understood when I add that seals of gilds are exceedingly rare in Belgium. Hardly any are known to exist except for Bruges, Saint-Trond, Hasselt, Maastricht, Liége and Ardenbourg. Almost all the tradesmen were subject to the authority of the town magistrates. The seals of the Brussels gilds survive as eloquent witnesses of a temporary triumph in their struggle for independence.