Portraits

It is said that the first portrait ever made was the tracing of a man's shadow cast on a wall. This is a good thing to try for yourself. Sometimes the shadow of a profile will show a good deal of a likeness to the original. The first person who did it no doubt noticed that the shadow resembled, or had something of the character of, the one who cast it.

It is a good practice, too, to try cutting out the profiles of your friends from a small piece of paper. Before photography was invented these silhouettes were often the only family likenesses that people had.

But it is a long way from making a silhouette to painting a good portrait. It was probably only after very many failures that any one succeeded in drawing a good likeness. The earliest drawn or painted portraits were very crude.

If we were to look at a group of photographs of paintings of noted people, never having seen the photographs before, and knowing nothing about the people themselves, we should probably make poor work at first of finding out just what kind of people they were. But it would be an interesting thing to try, and after we had written out what we thought of a number of the portraits we should learn a good deal by comparing what we had guessed with what the real characters were. In many cases where we had been wrong at first we should be able to see why we had been wrong, and it would be a guide to us in judging other portraits and people.

If an artist were to paint a portrait of the greatest and best of men he would be right to show as much of the man's character in his picture as possible, even if the man himself did not always show his character in his face.

There are artists who would not agree to this. They would say that if the sitter had a defect on one side of his face they would paint that side—they would want it to be just as it really was, for they would be realists, while the man who ignored the little defects that were not essential to the likeness and tried to paint into the picture the true character and inner soul of the man would be called an idealist. We may see something of a mixture of both of these two methods in nearly all pictures and most men have something of both characteristics in themselves. There are as many kinds of artists as there are of other men and the same artist, like the rest of us, will probably not be the same every day. There are a few lines of verse—

To make a portrait there must be great exactness. Everything must be perfectly drawn and in the right place. To produce a good likeness, even without introducing any of the natural color, requires such closeness of observation and such care and skill in working that many hundreds of hours of hard preliminary work are necessary before one can hope to become a proficient artist.

But besides merely getting a true likeness, there is much more to be thought of in executing a good portrait.

One of the things we look for is the character of the man. As we develop our own characters in life, something of what we are is shown in our faces. If we sit on a platform and look at an audience, or if we watch people passing in the street, we can guess something of their lives by the kind of countenances we see. We often hear such remarks as, "He looks like an actor," or, "How scholarly he looks!" and these are indications of what the occupation of the mind will do to the face. Sometimes we think of a person, "He looks stern and cruel," or of another, "What a benevolent-looking gentleman!" These thoughts show one's conduct and life-work have an effect on his expression of countenance.

In addition to such easy distinctions there are thousands of grades of characters—no two persons look alike, and each has something of his character written in his face. The artist must be able to see what is most like the real man and to put this into his picture.

Besides the features, the posture must be characteristic and the costume suitable, for "the apparel oft proclaims the man." Frequently objects are introduced into a picture especially to suggest something about a sitter; as, for instance, a book if he is a teacher or an author, or a desk if he is a business man. These objects are called "accessories" and are often very important.

William II of Nassau

William II of Nassau. From the portrait by Van Dyck.

Turn now to the frontispiece. In the picture of this beautiful boy, who was William II of Nassau, we see a fine portrait by the great Flemish painter Van Dyck. There are the grace, refinement, and distinction which every one who has written of Van Dyck's work has mentioned. There is also the slight touch of effeminacy which we find in so many of his pictures. Despite his armor, this lad does not look like a boy who would care to fight very hard or very long. He would not go out of his way for a quarrel. His amusements would not be of the most strenuous kind, either. His nature seems refined and gentle, almost to girlishness; and Van Dyck has shown the character of the boy so that we feel we could not make a mistake about it.

This great artist won his place among the world's immortals by his portraits. He painted more than thirty of King Charles I, of England, and every one of them is said to be a masterpiece. Most of his portraits were of royal personages or noblemen, and to them all he gave grace and distinction.

He never painted scenes of domestic happiness, but preferred the pomp of the royal court. Even his own intimates he does not portray in their daily occupations. He is full of sentiment, always refined, often tender.

In Van Dyck's paintings we notice that the details are carried out quite fully. Turn again to the portrait of William II of Nassau. Look at the sleeve which shows the weave so plainly, the braid upon the clothing, and the hair upon the head; each is brought out with minuteness, and yet somehow it does not seem trivial or chromo-like. The "values" are truly studied and rendered, as artists or critics would say. And so now we must try to explain the meaning of the word "values," although it is not easy to do so. One who has never tried to draw may not easily understand, but to make it clear let us say that if you will take a cube or an egg and draw it carefully you will soon see that, to make it look exactly like the original, you must have exactly the right amount of light and shade in exactly the right places. It is the light reflected upon the objects by other objects and by the atmosphere that makes them appear round or square or oval, and one must look very carefully to get the light and shade just right. Everything that is near us is more plainly seen than what is farther away, especially if the latter is partly in shadow. The objects in the foreground therefore have a stronger "value" than those in the background, while between them are many planes and many variations in the strength of light and shadow.

Princess Mary Stuart and William II of Orange. From the portrait in the Ryks Museum, Amsterdam.

Another way of thinking of these values is by considering the way our artist at the easel usually works them out for himself. He looks at the object and decides what will be his strongest light, or say "high light." If a landscape-scene, this will very likely be a cloud or a spot in the sky which may be, say, mainly yellow and white with a little blue. He takes up his brush and puts in a dab of this tone. Then he studies his scene to find the darkest place. This will not be really black,  by any means, but perhaps a dark green or a brown in shadow.  Then he selects the paints on his palette that will give this color, and puts a dab of that in the proper place.

Look at the portrait by Van Dyck and select what seem to you the highest light and the deepest shade in it. Now all other parts of the picture come somewhere between these two extremes—and this relation expresses their  "value."

In music any given chord will have a highest note and a lowest note, and all the notes between must be struck correctly together, or we have a discord. In a picture if one place is too dark it is out of harmony, or if too light it is just as lacking in harmony and often seems to pop out of the picture. If, by reading this over, and by trying, in some simple drawing, to get the varying intensity of light in the different parts correct, you can learn to understand clearly the meaning of "values," you will have gained something worth knowing—something that always will be of great assistance to you in judging a picture or painting.

Anecdotes of Van Dyck.

Anthony Van Dyck was born in Antwerp in 1599, of wealthy parents. At fifteen he entered the studio of the great Rubens, who ever after befriended him. At nineteen he became a member of the guild of Antwerp painters, an unprecedented honor for one so young.

There is a good story of how some of the boys employed in Rubens's studio, in looking at one of his paintings they were not supposed to see, accidentally smudged over a part of the wet paint. What to do they did not know, but finally agreed that the young Van Dyck should try to repair it. The next day Rubens saw that the work had been changed and demanded an explanation. But he was so well pleased with what had been done that he let it stand as Van Dyck had repainted it, and, some historians say, he even declared that the pupil had improved upon his master.

Babie Stuart or Prince Jamie, afterward King James II. This is a celebrated figure taken from a large canvas.

Soon after this, Van Dyck began to have some reputation as a painter and was besought to go to England. He traveled there, and later, by the advice of Rubens, he set out on "the grand tour" through Italy, which every artist considered a necessary part of his education.

He visited the leading cities, and in Venice was so impressed by paintings by Titian and Tintoretto that he was much influenced by their work.

Throughout Italy he was received by the noble families and enjoyed the luxurious living, although he was unpopular among the students. In fact, he was called by them a prig. There was a reason for this, for Van Dyck did not like student ways of living, but preferred the company of his rich patrons. We have spoken of the kind of portraits he painted—portraits of men in rich clothing and laces, members of the aristocratic class. When a trait of this kind runs through all of an artist's work we may look for something of the same sort in his own life.

In Van Dyck's case it is true that he hated everything coarse and vulgar and gave up both his time and his fortune to the elegancies of life. He was early accustomed to expensive living at home and in the home of Rubens, as well as in Italy, where he lived for the most part in the palaces of his patrons.

When he began to have large sums of money he adopted an extravagant scale of entertaining. Kings, princes, and noblemen were his guests, and he surrounded himself with all the splendor and service he could buy.

During his Italian journey he painted over a hundred pictures, and after about six years' absence he returned to Antwerp, where he spent several years, in which his fame grew rapidly. In 1632 he again went to England and painted many of the great people of the time.

It was not to be Van Dyck's fortune to have long life, for he died at forty-one, the last two years probably being marked by failing health.

The three children of Charles I. From the portrait in the Dresden Gallery.

It is related that he once went to Haarlem to visit Frans Hals, whose work he greatly admired. Hals was more likely to be at a tavern than anywhere else, and Van Dyck, as we know, did not care for the comradeship of taverns. After waiting in vain and being unwilling to turn back without seeing Hals, he sent word to him that a stranger wished to have his portrait painted. Hals came, saying he could give but two hours to it. At the end of that time he showed his work to Van Dyck, who expressed his approval, and continuing, said: "This painting seems a simple process. I should like to try what I  can do with your  portrait." Hals consented to exchange seats, and soon saw that Van Dyck knew how to handle his colors. When he saw the result, however, he was amazed, and immediately embraced the stranger, saying: "You are Van Dyck! Nobody but he could do what you have done!"

Van Dyck liked to paint quickly, rarely giving over an hour at any one sitting. When the hour was up he would rise and bow, as much as to say that was enough for that time. In this way he often painted upon several portraits in a day.

His method of beginning was to sketch in the sitter in an attitude he had meditated and decided upon. With gray paper and black and white crayons, he drew perhaps in a quarter of an hour the figure and drapery which he arrayed in exquisite taste. He then turned the sketch over to skilful artists he always had about him who began the painting, putting in the clothes and background. The assistants having done their best, Van Dyck with ease and lightness went over it all, usually doing most of the face himself. Many of the artists of early times—and later too, when their time became valuable and their prices very high, adopted such methods as these to turn out a greater number of canvases. In some cases, and Van Dyck in his later years is one of them, the studio became more like a factory than anything else. Of course the less Van Dyck and the more assistance, the poorer the result.

Yet this very process often made admirable artists of the assistants and it has been said that if the system were still in vogue it might be better for the art of our time.

Portrait of Rembrandt

Rembrandt had a rare insight into people's characters. He did not care much for physical beauty.

In his way of putting on the paint and in his wonderful distribution of light and shade in a picture, Rembrandt has never been excelled. He has been called the painter of shadow. His portraits seem bathed in shadow—the figures peeping forth from a mysterious darkness, and yet a darkness in which we can see something. The shadows themselves are transparent, and the longer we look into them the more we seem to see. They provoke our curiosity; and study reveals things we have not seen at first.

Rembrandt had sympathy with humanity. He loved to portray common people and beggars. Besides a picturesqueness in their appearance, he saw also a pathos and poetry in their miserable lives. He not only had an insight into character, but he was a revealer of it as well.

Rembrandt was fond of painting his own portrait, for we have a number of such pictures to choose from. In these he has introduced all sorts of costumes, probably for the fun of painting them. Sometimes he is an officer with a dashing military air; again he wears jewels and ornaments, while sometimes he is a rough country fellow. He was a very accommodating model and did almost anything the artist desired! What the artist thought, he carried out before a mirror!

One of Rembrandt's portraits of himself.

Nearly every artist has painted at least one good portrait of himself. The Uffizi Gallery in Florence, one of the greatest treasure-houses of art in the world, has a room where portraits of famous artists by themselves are hung, and a most interesting room it is, as you will probably see for yourselves some day.

Nearly all the people who have written about Rembrandt agree that he seemed to be a man of two natures, as related to his painting—the idealist struggling with the realist.

By the realist we understand the painter who is willing to paint things as they are, without regard to their hidden meaning. In portrait-painting this would mean that the artist set down the physical facts, or appearance, of his sitter, just as he saw them.

By idealist, in portrait-painting, we should understand the man who made up his mind what kind of a character his sitter had—what his face showed of the inner soul—and who then made the picture express that kind of a character.

Anecdotes of Rembrandt.

Rembrandt was born at Leyden in 1607, of poor parents; but, humble as they were, they sent him to the Latin school in order that he might become a worthy and useful citizen. Studying in school was not to Rembrandt's mind, and his tendency toward art soon showed itself. He studied art for a time under a master of his native place, and was soon after sent to Amsterdam to learn. Six months later, he returned to Leyden, determined to study and practise painting alone in his own fashion, and kept at it for six years.

Man with a fur cap, by Rembrandt. Hermitage Gallery, St. Petersburg.

When about twenty-four Rembrandt went again to Amsterdam, this time to establish himself. Here two years later he painted his famous "Lesson in Anatomy," and in another two years he married his wife Saskia, whom he has immortalized in his portraits.

When he was about forty-eight he lost all his property, and for the rest of his life became a sort of wanderer, carrying with him little but what he needed to paint with.

Portrait of Elizabeth Bas, by Rembrandt. Ryks Museum, Amsterdam.

The old home is still pointed out on a quay of the Amstel, where he gathered together a whole museum of paintings, furniture, and beautiful things, and where he lived, full of the joy of living and working, during the years of his happy family life and while prosperity still smiled.

In the picture of himself we may study values again to advantage. Select the darkest dark and the highest light, and see how between the two extremes are all the quiet values of this wonderful portrait. Also notice how white and strong the highest light is. This we see in nearly all of Rembrandt's portraits. His father was a miller, and there is a story that in his boyhood Rembrandt spent much time in the old windmill, which was quite dark inside, with only a small window near the top. Certain objects in the mill would therefore receive a strong light in one part, rapidly shading into indistinctness. Gazing for hours at a time at these effects in the dim interior, and drawing them over and over, he came to love the brilliant contrast and to paint into the shadows of his pictures the forms and outlines faintly seen, which now are so loved and prized by the artistic world.

Principal figures from "The Sortie of the Banning Cocq Company of Musketeers," usually known as "The Night Watch," by Rembrandt. Ryks Museum, Amsterdam. A marvel of lights and shadows.

One picture of Rembrandt's is always mentioned—"The Sortie of the Banning Cocq Company of Musketeers"—for by it alone he would have immortalized himself. It represents the musketeers pictured in a rare and wonderful light, and it is one of the most famous pictures in the world. Above is a small reproduction of the part of the painting containing the principal figures.

When first discovered, Sir Joshua Reynolds called it the "Night Watch." The picture was so obscured by the dust of years that it seemed a picture of a night scene.

Rembrandt was also famous as an etcher. There is no one who excels him in this field. He has been called the Prince of Etchers, the King of Shadows, and the Shakspere of Painting.

For notable portraits in this volume but not included in this chapter, see pages 33, 34, 35, 38, 50, 61, 120, 140, 155, 159.