Anthony van Dyck was another pupil of the great master, and the aristocrat of the famous seventeenth century Flemings. He was only a boy among boys, quite undistinguished, until one day chancing to rub against a painting of his teacher’s on which the paint was still wet, he retouched it so skilfully that it turned out better than before. In time he became so formidable a rival, in spite of his youth, that Rubens sent him off to Italy to study. He came back in four years, greater than ever. A few years later, Rubens contrived to have him called to England as court painter. During the time that he remained in Flanders he produced several religious pictures, among them the Raising of the Cross, at Courtrai, and a Crucifixion, which, before the war, was in the Cardinal’s palace at Malines. The same Red Cross worker who rescued the Rubens from destruction at Malines also brought away this composition, of which he says, that it had been cut out of its frame the day before, rolled up, and stowed away in the cellar. But van Dyck’s best work was done in portraiture, and in this he was “nearly the equal of Titian.”
CHARLES I AND HIS FAMILY.—VAN DYCK.
Van Dyck so quickly became a great favourite of Charles I that he was knighted within three months after going to England. He painted the King and Queen many times. The portrait of Charles I in the Louvre was done at the height of his skill. He loved to paint kings and nobles, in velvet and silken garments trimmed with rare old lace. For ten years he was court painter in England, and so many of his portraits are still in the great houses there that a family portrait by van Dyck is said to be “tantamount in England to a patent of nobility.” After the execution of Charles, he went to Flanders and to Paris seeking commissions, but his popularity had waned, and he returned to England broken in health and spirit, and died there in 1641. His body rests in St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Van Dyck painted cavaliers, and he himself belonged to that type. His work is so individual that it is easily recognized. A charming adventurer, a popular courtier, he was a favourite of kings, was fêted in foreign countries. At the close of his life, he is called “a man in ruins, who until his last hour has the good fortune, and this is the most extraordinary thing about him, to preserve his greatness when he paints.”
The annals of the seventeenth century are filled with the names of a host of artists of more or less renown, followers of Rubens and van Dyck. But “for the Flemish school, the eighteenth century is a long entr’acte, during which the stage, so nobly occupied of old, is sad and deserted.”
The modern Belgian school of art started in Antwerp after the Revolution of 1830. At first it corresponded to the romantic movement in France, of which Delaroche was one of the leaders, but with this difference, that the Belgians chose their subjects for the most part from the age-long battle for freedom waged by their country. The most distinguished of these “romantic” Belgian artists were Louis Galliat and Edouard Biefve.
The “historic” and “archaic” schools of these modern painters included Leys and his followers, whose work is interesting because they sought to reproduce the characteristics of van Eyck and Memling. The frescos in the Antwerp town hall by Leys, illustrating the charters and the privileges of that city in olden times, are called by Max Rooses, “monumental creations by a great master of the art of painting.” Henri de Braekeleer had the art of investing the most prosaic subjects with interest. He painted the ordinary things of daily life, a wine-shop, an old man at his printing, in a way that glorified them.
The insane artist, Wiertz, thought himself the second Rubens, and produced a number of huge canvases. The Wiertz Museum had an astonishing collection of the works of this artist—paintings on every imaginable theme, ranging from “wild nightmares of the brain” to such impressive compositions as the Contest for the Body of Patroclus, after the manner of Rubens, and the Triumph of Christ, a sublime work showing great originality and wonderful power of execution.
Much remarkably good restoration of paintings has been done by modern Belgian artists. An amusing story has come to me of an artist who was employed to touch up a large painting in an old church. When he presented his bill the committee in charge refused payment unless the details were specified. Whereupon he presented the items as follows: