A GROUP OF THREE, BY JAN MIENSE MOLENAER; IN THE COLLECTION OF MR. EDGAR SPEYER (See THE BURLINGTON MAGAZINE for June 1903, [page 52])
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LARGER IMAGE
THE DUTCH EXHIBITION AT THE GUILDHALL
❧ 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