No. 9.
SIR ANTHONY VANDYCK.
Black dress. White collar.
BORN 1599, DIED 1641.
A Head by Himself.
A NATIVE of Antwerp, his father, a merchant in silk and woollen stuffs, was himself a painter in glass, whose first wife, Cornelia Kerseboom, dying without children, he married again one Maria Cuypers, by whom he had a large family, Anthony being the seventh, a proverbially magic number. The Vandycks were strenuous adherents of the Church of Rome, and two of our painter’s sisters became nuns, while one of his brothers took Holy Orders. Maria Vandyck was a skilful artist in embroidery, her works being much admired, and she encouraged her boy’s taste for drawing, in the rudiments of which he received instruction from his father. When about ten years of age he was placed under the tuition of Henry van Balen, a much-esteemed painter, who had studied in Italy. Here young Vandyck remained some time, but he had fixed his heart on becoming the pupil of his already famous fellow-citizen, Peter Paul Rubens; and that desire was fulfilled. His remarkable talent and his untiring industry made him a favourite both with master and scholars, when an incident happened which brought the youth into prominent notice. It so chanced that one afternoon, when Rubens was absent, that the students invaded the sanctity of the private studio, and in the exuberance of animal spirits began to indulge in some rough play. An unfinished Holy Family stood on the easel, the colours not yet dry, and in the course of the ‘bear-fight’ one of his companions pushed Van Diepenbeke so heavily against the precious canvas that the arm of the Magdalene and the head of the Virgin were nearly effaced, and the colours all smudged. The general consternation may be easily conceived; a council of war was held, and the decision arrived at that the most skilful among the students should endeavour to repair the mischief as best he could. Jan van Hoeck proposed Vandyck for the work, and the choice was unanimously approved, for in such a case there was no room for rivalry. Anthony set to work in right earnest; there was not a moment to be lost. He had but a few hours of daylight to complete his task, but he accomplished it before nightfall. Early next morning the dreaded moment arrived. Rubens entered his studio in order to examine the work of the preceding evening, when he pronounced the memorable words, which seemed to bestow a diploma on his young disciple,—‘Why, this looks better than it did yesterday!’ Then, approaching nearer, he detected the traces of a strange hand. Investigation and explanation followed, and Vandyck came in for great praise from the lips of his loved master.
Idle tales have been told of the jealousy subsisting between these two great painters, while, on the contrary, every recorded instance seems to prove how close was their friendship. Rubens was most desirous that his talented pupil should proceed to Italy to study the works of the great masters, and extend his connection with the world, but in the meantime Vandyck received an invitation to England. The first visit he paid to our country was short and unsatisfactory; and there are so many discrepancies in the accounts given of the work done at that period, and his reasons for leaving somewhat abruptly, that we refrain from entering on the subject. From England he proceeded to the Hague, where he painted portraits of every class and denomination of person, commencing with the whole family and Court of the Stadtholder, Henry Frederic, including every member of the illustrious house of Nassau. Nobles, warriors, statesmen, burghers, all vied for the honour of sitting to him.
In 1622 the news of his father’s illness recalled him to Antwerp. He arrived just in time to receive that father’s last farewell, and listen to his last injunctions. Franz Vandyck made his son promise to paint an altar-piece for the chapel of the Dominican Sisters, who had nursed him tenderly during his illness,—a pledge nobly redeemed by Anthony, though the execution was postponed for a time. He then took leave of his master, to whom he presented, at parting, three pictures, one of which was the likeness of Rubens’s first wife.