Читать книгу Women in the fine arts, from the Seventh Century B.C. to the Twentieth Century A.D - Clara Erskine Clement Waters - Страница 3

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In studying the subject of this book I have found the names of more than a thousand women whose attainments in the Fine Arts—in various countries and at different periods of time before the middle of the nineteenth century—entitle them to honorable mention as artists, and I doubt not that an exhaustive search would largely increase this number. The stories of many of these women have been written with more or less detail, while of others we know little more than their names and the titles of a few of their works; but even our scanty knowledge of them is of value.

Of the army of women artists of the last century it is not yet possible to speak with judgment and justice, although many have executed works of which all women may be proud.

We have some knowledge of women artists in ancient days. Few stories of that time are so authentic as that of Kora, who made the design for the first bas-relief, in the city of Sicyonia, in the seventh century BC We have the names of other Greek women artists of the centuries immediately preceding and following the Christian era, but we know little of their lives and works.

Calypso was famous for the excellence of her character pictures, a remarkable one being a portrait of Theodorus, the Juggler. A picture found at Pompeii, now at Naples, is attributed to this artist; but its authorship is so uncertain that little importance can be attached to it. Pliny praised Eirene, among whose pictures was one of "An Aged Man" and a portrait of "Alcisthenes, the Dancer."

In the annals of Roman Art we find few names of women. For this reason Laya, who lived about a century before the Christian era, is important. She is honored as the original painter of miniatures, and her works on ivory were greatly esteemed. Pliny says she did not marry, but pursued her art with absolute devotion; and he considered her pictures worthy of great praise.

A large picture in Naples is said to be the work of Laya, but, as in the case of Calypso, we have no assurance that it is genuine. It is also said that Laya's portraits commanded larger prices than those of Sopolis and Dyonisius, the most celebrated portrait painters of their time.

Our scanty knowledge of individual women artists of antiquity—mingled with fable as it doubtless is—serves the important purpose of proving that women, from very ancient times, were educated as artists and creditably followed their profession beside men of the same periods.

This knowledge also awakens imagination, and we wonder in what other ancient countries there were women artists. We know that in Egypt inheritances descended in the female line, as in the case of the Princess Karamat; and since we know of the great architectural works of Queen Hashop and her journey to the land of Punt, we may reasonably assume that the women of ancient Egypt had their share in all the interests of life. Were there not artists among them who decorated temples and tombs with their imperishable colors? Did not women paint those pictures of Isis—goddess of Sothis—that are like precursors of the pictures of the Immaculate Conception? Surely we may hope that a papyrus will be brought to light that will reveal to us the part that women had in the decoration of the monuments of ancient Egypt.

At present we have no reliable records of the lives and works of women artists before the time of the Renaissance in Italy.

M. Taine's philosophy which regards the art of any people or period as the necessary result of the conditions of race, religion, civilization, and manners in the midst of which the art was produced—and esteems a knowledge of these conditions as sufficient to account for the character of the art, seems to me to exclude many complex and mysterious influences, especially in individual cases, which must affect the work of the artists. At the same time an intelligent study of the art of any nation or period demands a study of the conditions in which it was produced, and I shall endeavor in this résumé of the history of women in Art—mere outline as it is—to give an idea of the atmosphere in which they lived and worked, and the influences which affected the results of their labor.

It has been claimed that everything of importance that originated in Italy from the thirteenth to the seventeenth century bore the distinctive mark of Fine Art. So high an authority as John Addington Symonds is in accord with this view, and the study of these four centuries is of absorbing interest.

Although the thirteenth century long preceded the practice of art by women, its influence was a factor in the artistic life into which they later came. In this century Andrea Tan, Guido da Siena, and other devoted souls were involved in the final struggles of Mediæval Art, and at its close Cimabue and Duccio da Siena—the two masters whose Madonnas were borne in solemn procession through the streets of Florence and Siena, mid music and the pealing of bells—had given the new impulse to painting which brought them immortal fame. They were the heralds of the time when poetry of sentiment, beauty of color, animation and individuality of form should replace Mediæval formality and ugliness; a time when the spirit of art should be revived with an impulse prophetic of its coming glory.

But neither this portentous period nor the fourteenth century is memorable in the annals of women artists. Not until the fifteenth, the century of the full Renaissance, have we a record of their share in the great rebirth.

It is important to remember that the art of the Renaissance had, in the beginning, a distinct office to fill in the service of the Church. Later, in historical and decorative painting, it served the State, and at length, in portrait and landscape painting, in pictures of genre subjects and still-life, abundant opportunity was afforded for all orders of talent, and the generous patronage of art by church, state, and men of rank and wealth, made Italy a veritable paradise for artists.

Gradually, with the revival of learning, artists were free to give greater importance to secular subjects, and an element of worldliness, and even of immorality, invaded the realm of art as it invaded the realms of life and literature.

This was an era of change in all departments of life. Chivalry, the great "poetic lie," died with feudalism, and the relations between men and women became more natural and reasonable than in the preceding centuries. Women were liberated from the narrow sphere to which they had been relegated in the minstrel's song and poet's rhapsody, but as yet neither time nor opportunity had been given them for the study and development which must precede noteworthy achievement.

Remarkable as was the fifteenth century for intellectual and artistic activity, it was not productive in its early decades of great genius in art or letters. Its marvellous importance was apparent only at its close and in the beginning of the sixteenth century, when the works of Leonardo, Michael Angelo, Raphael, Titian, and their followers emphasized the value of the progressive attainments of their predecessors.

The assertion and contradiction of ideas and theories, the rivalries of differing schools, the sweet devotion of Fra Angelico, the innovations of Masolino and Masaccio, the theory of perspective of Paolo Uccello, the varied works of Fabriano, Antonello da Messina, the Lippi, Botticelli, Ghirlandajo, the Bellini, and their contemporaries, culminated in the inimitable painting of the Cinquecento—in works still unsurpassed, ever challenging artists of later centuries to the task of equalling or excelling them.

The demands of the art of the Renaissance were so great, and so unlike those of earlier days, that it is not surprising that few women, in its beginning, attained to such excellence as to be remembered during five centuries. Especially would it seem that an insurmountable obstacle had been placed in the way of women, since the study of anatomy had become a necessity to an artist. This, and kindred hindrances, too patent to require enumeration, account for the fact that but two Italian women of this period became so famous as to merit notice—Caterina Vigri and Onorata Rodiana, whose stories are given in the biographical part of this book.

In Flanders, late in the fourteenth and early in the fifteenth centuries, women were engaged in the study and practice of art. In Bruges, when the Van Eycks were inventing new methods in the preparation of colors, and painting their wonderful pictures, beside them, and scarcely inferior to them, was their sister, Margaretha, who sacrificed much of her artistic fame by painting portions of her brothers' pictures, unless the fact that they thought her worthy of thus assisting them establishes her reputation beyond question.

In the fifteenth century we have reason to believe that many women practised art in various departments, but so scanty and imperfect are the records of individual artists that little more than their names are known, and we have no absolute knowledge of the value of their works, or where, if still existing, they are to be seen.

The art of the Renaissance reached its greatest excellence during the last three decades of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century. This was a glorious period in the History of Art. The barbarism of the Middle Ages was essentially a thing of the past, but much barbaric splendor in the celebration of ceremonies and festivals still remained to satisfy the artistic sense, while every-day costumes and customs lent a picturesqueness to ordinary life. So much of the pagan spirit as endured was modified by the spirit of the Renaissance. The result was a new order of things especially favorable to painting.

An artist now felt himself as free to illustrate the pagan myths as to represent the events in the lives of the Saviour, the Virgin and the saints, and the actors in the sacred subjects were represented with the same beauty and grace of form as were given the heroes and heroines of Hellenic legend. St. Sebastian was as beautiful as Apollo, and the imagination and senses were moved alike by pictures of Danae and the Magdalene—the two subjects being often the work of the same artist.

The human form was now esteemed as something more than the mere habitation of a soul; it was beautiful in itself and capable of awakening unnumbered emotions in the human heart. Nature, too, presented herself in a new aspect and inspired the artist with an ardor in her representation such as few of the older painters had experienced in their devotion to religious subjects.

This expansion of thought and purpose was inaugurating an art attractive to women, to which the increasing liberty of artistic theory and practice must logically make them welcome; a result which is a distinguishing feature of sixteenth-century painting.

The sixteenth century was noteworthy for the generous patronage of art, especially in Florence, where the policy of its ruling house could not fail to produce marvellous results, and the history of the Medici discloses many reasons why the bud of the Renaissance perfected its bloom in Florence more rapidly and more gloriously than elsewhere.

For centuries Italy had been a treasure-house of Greek, Etruscan, and Byzantine Art. In no other country had a civilization like that of ancient Rome existed, and no other land had been so richly prepared to be the birthplace and to promote the development of the art of the Renaissance.

The intellectually progressive life of this period did much for the advancement of women. The fame of Vittoria Colonna, Tullia d'Aragona, Olympia Morata, and many others who merit association in this goodly company, proves the generous spirit of the age, when in the scholastic centres of Italy women were free to study all branches of learning.

The pursuit of art was equally open to them and women were pupils in all the schools and in the studios of many masters; even Titian instructed a woman, and all the advantages for study enjoyed by men were equally available for women. Many names of Italian women artists could be added to those of whom I have written in the biographical portion of this book, but too little is known of their lives and works to be of present interest. There is, however, little doubt that many pictures attributed to "the School of" various masters were painted by women.

Art did not reach its perfection in Venice until later than in Florence, and its special contribution, its glorious color, imparted to it an attraction unequalled on the sensuous plane. This color surrounded the artists of that sumptuous city of luxurious life and wondrous pageants, and was so emphasized by the marvellous mingling of the semi-mist and the brilliancy of its atmosphere that no man who merited the name of artist could be insensible to its inspiration.

The old Venetian realism was followed, in the time of the Renaissance, by startling developments. In the works of Tintoretto and Veronese there is a combination of gorgeous draperies, splendid and often licentious costumes, brilliant metal accessories, and every possible device for enhancing and contrasting colors, until one is bewildered and must adjust himself to these dazzling spectacles—religious subjects though they may be—before any serious thought or judgment can be brought to bear upon their artistic merit; these two great contemporaries lived and worked in the final decades of the sixteenth century.

We know that many women painted pictures in Venice before the seventeenth century, although we have accurate knowledge of but few, and of these an account is given later in this book.

We who go from Paris to London in a few hours, and cross the St. Gothard in a day, can scarcely realize the distance that separated these capitals from the centres of Italian art in the time of the Renaissance. We have, however, abundant proof that the sacred fire of the love of Art and Letters was smouldering in France, Germany, and England—and when the inspiring breath of the Renaissance was wafted beyond the Alps a flame burst forth which has burned clearer and brighter with succeeding centuries.

From the time of Vincent de Beauvais, who died in 1264, France had not been wanting in illustrious scholars, but it could not be said that a French school of art existed. François Clouet or Cloet, called Jehannet, was born in Tours about 1500. His portraits are seen in the Gallery of the Louvre, and have been likened to those of Holbein; but they lack the strength and spirit of that artist; in fact, the distinguishing feature of Clouet's work is the remarkable finish of draperies and accessories, while the profusion of jewels distracts attention from the heads of his subjects.

The first great French artists were of the seventeenth century, and although Clouet was painter to Francis I. and Henry II., the former, like his predecessors, imported artists from Italy, among whom were Leonardo da Vinci and Benvenuto Cellini.

In letters, however, there were French women of the sixteenth century who are still famous. Marguerite de Valois was as cultivated in mind as she was generous and noble in character. Her love of learning was not easily satisfied. She was proficient in Hebrew, the classics, and the usual branches of "profane letters," as well as an accomplished scholar in philosophy and theology. As an author—though her writings are somewhat voluminous and not without merit—she was comparatively unimportant; her great service to letters was the result of the sympathy and encouragement she gave to others.

Wherever she might be, she was the centre of a literary and religious circle, as well as of the society in which she moved. She was in full sympathy with her brother in making his "Collège" an institution in which greater liberty was accorded to the expression of individual opinion than had before been known in France, and by reason of her protection of liberty in thought and speech she suffered much in the esteem of the bigots of her day.

The beautiful Mlle. de Heilly—the Duchesse d'Etampes—whose influence over Francis I. was pre-eminent, while her character was totally unlike that of his sister, was described as "the fairest among the learned, and the most learned among the fair." When learning was thus in favor at Court, it naturally followed that all capacity for it was cultivated and ordinary intelligence made the most of; and the claim that the intellectual brilliancy of the women of the Court of Francis I. has rarely been equalled is generally admitted. There were, however, no artists among them—they wielded the pen rather than the brush.

In England, as in France, there was no native school of art in the sixteenth century, and Flemish, Dutch, and German artists crossed the channel when summoned to the English Court, as the Italians crossed the Alps to serve the kings of France.

English women of this century were far less scholarly than those of Italy and France. At the same time they might well be proud of a queen who "could quote Pindar and Homer in the original and read every morning a portion of Demosthenes, being also the royal mistress of eight languages." With our knowledge of the queen's scholarship in mind we might look to her for such patronage of art and literature as would rival that of Lorenzo the Magnificent; but Elizabeth lacked the generosity of the Medici and that of Marguerite de Valois. Hume tells us that "the queen's vanity lay more in shining by her own learning than in encouraging men of genius by her liberality."

Lady Jane Grey and the daughters of Sir Anthony Cooke are familiar examples of learned women, and many English titled and gentlewomen were well versed in Greek and Latin, as well as in Spanish, Italian, and French. Macaulay reminded his readers that if an Englishwoman of that day did not read the classics she could read little, since the then existing books—outside the Italian—would fill a shelf but scantily. Thus English girls read Plato, and doubtless English women excelled Englishmen in their proficiency in foreign languages, as they do at present.

In Germany the relative position of Art and Letters was the opposite to that in France and England. The School of Cologne was a genuinely native school of art in the fourteenth century. Although the Niebelungen Lied and Gudrun, the Songs of Love and Volkslieder, as well as Mysteries and Passion Plays, existed from an early date, we can scarcely speak of a German Literature before the sixteenth century, when Albert Dürer and the younger Holbein painted their great pictures, while Luther, Melanchthon and their sympathizers disseminated the doctrines of advancing Protestantism.

At this period, in the countries we may speak of collectively as German, women artists were numerous. Many were miniaturists, some of whom were invited to the English Court and received with honor.

In 1521 Albert Dürer was astonished at the number of women artists in different parts of what, for conciseness, we may call Germany. This was also noticeable in Holland, and Dürer wrote in his diary, in the above-named year: "Master Gerard, of Antwerp, illuminist, has a daughter, eighteen years of age, named Susannah, who illuminated a little book which I purchased for a few guilders. It is wonderful that a woman could do so much!"

Antwerp became famous for its women artists, some of whom visited France, Italy, and Spain, and were honorably recognized for their talent and attainments, wherever they went.

In the later years of the sixteenth century a difference of opinion and purpose arose among the artists of Italy, the effects of which were shown in the art of the seventeenth century. Two distinct schools were formed, one of which included the conservatives who desired to preserve and follow the manner of the masters of the Cinquecento, at the same time making a deeper study of Nature—thus the devotional feeling and many of the older traditions would be retained while each master could indulge his individuality more freely than heretofore. They aimed to unite such a style as Correggio's—who belonged to no school—with that of the severely mannered artists of the preceding centuries. These artists were called Eclectics, and the Bolognese school of the Carracci was the most important centre of the movement, while Domenichino, a native of Bologna—1581–1631—was the most distinguished painter of the school.

The original aims of the Eclectics are well summed up in a sonnet by Agostino Carracci, which has been translated as follows: "Let him who wishes to be a good painter acquire the design of Rome, Venetian action and Venetian management of shade, the dignified color of Lombardy—that is of Leonardo da Vinci—the terrible manner of Michael Angelo, Titian's truth and nature, the sovereign purity of Correggio's style and the just symmetry of a Raphael, the decorum and well-grounded study of Tibaldi, the invention of the learned Primaticcio, and a little of Parmigianino's grace; but without so much study and weary labor let him apply himself to imitate the works which our Niccolò—dell Abbate—left us here." Kugler calls this "a patchwork ideal," which puts the matter in a nut-shell.

At one period the Eclectics produced harmonious pictures in a manner attractive to women, many of whom studied under Domenichino, Giovanni Lanfranco, Guido Reni, the Campi, and others. Sofonisba Anguisciola, Elisabetta Sirani, and the numerous women artists of Bologna were of this school.

The greatest excellence of this art was of short duration; it declined as did the literature, and indeed, the sacred and political institutions of Italy in the seventeenth century. It should not, however, be forgotten, that the best works of Guercino, the later pictures of Annibale Carracci, and the important works of Domenichino and Salvator Rosa belong to this period.

The second school was that of the Naturalists, who professed to study Nature alone, representing with brutal realism her repulsive aspects. Naples was the centre of these painters, and the poisoning of Domenichino and many other dark and terrible deeds have been attributed to them. Few women were attracted to this school, and the only one whose association with the Naturalisti is recorded—Aniella di Rosa—paid for her temerity with her life.

In Rome, Florence, Bologna, Venice, and other Italian cities, there were, in the seventeenth century, many women who made enviable reputations as artists, some of whom were also known for their literary and musical attainments. Anna Maria Ardoina, of Messina, made her studies in Rome. She was gifted as a poet and artist, and so excelled in music that she had the distinguished honor of being elected to the Academy of Arcadia.

Not a few gifted women of this time are remembered for their noble charities. Chiara Varotari, under the instruction of her father and her brother, called Padovanino, became a good painter. She was also honored as a skilful nurse, and the Grand Duke of Tuscany placed her portrait in his gallery on account of his admiration and respect for her as a comforter of the suffering.

Giovanna Garzoni, a miniaturist, conferred such benefits upon the Academy of St. Luke that a monument was there erected to her memory. Other artists founded convents, became nuns, and imprinted themselves upon their age in connection with various honorable institutions and occupations.

French Art in the seventeenth century was academic and prosaic, lacking the spontaneity, joyousness, and intensely artistic feeling of Italian Art—a heritage from previous centuries which had not been lost, and in which France had no part. The works of Poussin, which have been likened to painted reliefs, afford an excellent example of French Art in his time—1594–1665—and this in spite of the fact that he worked and studied much in Rome.

The Académie des Beaux-Arts was established by Louis XIV., and there was a rapidly growing interest in art. As yet, however, the women of France affected literature rather than painting, and in the seventeenth century they were remarkable for their scholarly attainments and their influence in the world of letters.

Madame de Maintenon patronized learning; at the Hôtel Rambouillet men and women of genius met the world of rank and fashion on common ground. Madame Dacier, of whom Voltaire said, "No woman has ever rendered greater services to literature," made her translations from the classics; Madame de Sevigné wrote her marvellous letters; Mademoiselle de Scudéry and Madame Lafayette their novels; Catherine Bernard emulated the manner of Racine in her dramas; while Madame de Guyon interpreted the mystic Song of Solomon.

Of French women artists of this period we can mention several names, but they were so overshadowed by authors as to be unimportant, unless, like Elizabeth Chéron, they won both artistic and literary fame.

The seventeenth century was an age of excellence in the art of Flanders, Belgium, and Holland, and is known as the second great epoch of painting in the Netherlands, this name including the three countries just mentioned.

After the calamities suffered under Charles V. and Philip II., with returning peace and prosperity an art was developed, both original and rich in artistic power. The States-General met in 1600, and the greatest artists of the Netherlands did their work in the succeeding fifty years; and before the century closed the appreciation of art and the patronage which had assured its elevation were things of the past.

Rubens was twenty-three years old in 1600, just ready to begin his work which raised the school of Belgium to its highest attainments. When we remember how essentially his art dominated his own country and was admired elsewhere, we might think—I had almost said fear—that his brilliant, vigorous, and voluptuous manner would attract all artists of his day to essay his imitation. But among women artists Madame O'Connell was the first who could justly be called his imitator, and her work was done in the middle of the nineteenth century.

When we turn to the genre painting of the Flemish and Dutch artists we find that they represented scenes in the lives of coarse, drunken boors and vulgar women—works which brought these artists enduring fame by reason of their wonderful technique; but we can mention one woman only, Anna Breughel, who seriously attempted the practice of this art. She is thought to have been of the family of Velvet Breughel, who lived in the early part of the seventeenth century.

Like Rubens, Rembrandt numbered few women among his imitators. The women of his day and country affected pleasing delineations of superficial motives, and Rembrandt's earnestness and intensity were seemingly above their appreciation—certainly far above their artistic powers.

A little later so many women painted delicate and insipid subjects that I have not space even for their names. A critic has said that the Dutch school "became a nursery for female talent." It may have reached the Kindergarten stage, but went no farther.

Flower painting attained great excellence in the seventeenth century. The most elaborate masters in this art were the brothers De Heem, Willem Kalf, Abraham Mignon, and Jan van Huysum. Exquisite as the pictures by these masters are, Maria van Oosterwyck and Rachel Ruysch disputed honors with them, and many other women excelled in this delightful art.

An interesting feature in art at this time was the intimate association of men and women artists and the distinction of women thus associated.

Gerard Terburg, whose pictures now have an enormous value, had two sisters, Maria and Gezina, whose genre pictures were not unworthy of comparison with the works of their famous brother. Gottfried Schalken, remarkable for his skill in the representation of scenes by candle light, was scarcely more famous than his sister Maria. Eglon van der Neer is famous for his pictures of elegant women in marvellous satin gowns. He married Adriana Spilberg, a favorite portrait painter. The daughters of the eminent engraver Cornelius Visscher, Anna and Maria, were celebrated for their fine etching on glass, and by reason of their poems and their scholarly acquirements they were called the "Dutch Muses," and were associated with the learned men of their day. This list, though incomplete, suggests that the co-education of artists bore good fruit in their co-operation in their profession.

In England, while there was a growing interest in painting, the standard was that of foreign schools, especially the Dutch. Foreign artists found a welcome and generous patronage at the English Court. Mary Beale and Anne Carlisle are spoken of as English artists, and a few English women were miniaturists. Among these was Susannah Penelope Gibson, daughter of Richard Gibson, the Dwarf. While these women were not wanting in artistic taste, they were little more than copyists of the Dutch artists with whom they had associated.

In the early years of the seventeenth century there were a number of Danish women who were painters, engravers, and modellers in wax. The daughter of King Christian IV., Elenora Christina, and her daughter, Helena Christina, were reputable artists. The daughter of Christian V., Sophie Hedwig, made a reputation as a portrait, landscape, and flower painter, which extended beyond her own country; and Anna Crabbe painted a series of portraits of Danish princes, and added to them descriptive verses of her own composition.

The Art of Spain attained its greatest glory in the seventeenth century—the century of Velasquez, Murillo, Ribera, and other less distinguished but excellent artists.

In the last half of this century women artists were prominent in the annals of many Spanish cities. In the South mention is made of these artists, who were of excellent position and aristocratic connection. In Valencia, the daughter of the great portrait painter Alonzo Coello was distinguished in both painting and music. She married Don Francesco de Herrara, Knight of Santiago.

In Cordova the sister of Palomino y Vasco—the artist who has been called the Vasari of Spain on account of his Museo Pictorio—was recognized as a talented artist. In Madrid, Velasquez numbered several noble ladies among his pupils; but no detailed accounts of the works of these artists is available—if any such exist—and their pictures are in private collections.

The above outline of the general conditions of Art in the seventeenth century will suggest the reasons for there being a larger number of women artists in Italy than elsewhere—especially as they were pupils in the studios of the best masters as well as in the schools of the Carracci and other centres of art study.

Italian artists of the eighteenth century have been called scene painters, and, in truth, many of their works impress one as hurried attempts to cover large spaces. Originality was wanting and a wearisome mediocrity prevailed. At the same time certain national artistic qualities were apparent; good arrangement of figures and admirable effects of color still characterized Italian painting, but the result was, on the whole, academic and uninteresting.

The ideals cherished by older artists were lost, and nothing worthy to replace them inspired their followers. The sincerity, earnestness, and devotion of the men who served church and state in the decoration of splendid monuments would have been out of place in the service of amateurs and in the decoration of the salons and boudoirs of the rich, and the painting of this period had little permanent value, in comparison with that of preceding centuries.

Italian women, especially in the second half of the century, were professors in universities, lectured to large audiences, and were respectfully consulted by men of science and learning in the various branches of scholarship to which they were devoted. Unusual honors were paid them, as in the case of Maria Portia Vignoli, to whom a statue was erected in the public square of Viterbo to commemorate her great learning in natural science.

An artist, Matilda Festa, held a professorship in the Academy of St. Luke in Rome, and Maria Maratti, daughter of the Roman painter Carlo Maratti, made a good reputation both as an artist and a poetess.

In Northern Italy many women were famous in sculpture, painting, and engraving. At least forty could be named, artists of good repute, whose lives were lacking in any unusual interest, and whose works are in private collections. One of these was a princess of Parma, who married the Archduke Joseph of Austria, and was elected to the Academy of Vienna in 1789.

In France, in the beginning of this century Watteau, 1684–1721, painted his interesting pictures of La Belle Société, reproducing the court life, costumes, and manners of the reign of Louis XIV. with fidelity, grace, and vivacity. Later in the century, Greuze, 1725–1805, with his attractive, refined, and somewhat mannered style, had a certain influence. Claude Vernet, 1714–1789, and David, 1748–1825, each great in his way, influenced the nineteenth as well as the eighteenth century. Though Vien, 1716–1809, made a great effort to revive classic art, he found little sympathy with his aim until the works of his pupil David won recognition from the world of the First Empire.

French Art of this period may be described by a single word—eclectic—and this choice by each important artist of the style he would adopt culminated in the Rococo School, which may be defined as the unusual and fantastic in art. It was characterized by good technique and pleasing color, but lacked purpose, depth, and warmth of feeling. As usual in a pot-pourri, it was far enough above worthlessness not to be ignored, but so far short of excellence as not to be admired.

In France during this century there was an army of women artists, painters, sculptors, and engravers. Of a great number we know the names only; in fact, of but two of these, Adelaide Vincent and Elizabeth Vigée Le Brun, have we reliable knowledge of their lives and works.

The eighteenth century is important in the annals of women artists, since their numbers then exceeded the collective number of those who had preceded them—so far as is known—from the earliest period in the history of art. In a critical review of the time, however, we find a general and active interest in culture and art among women rather than any considerable number of noteworthy artists.

Germany was the scene of the greatest activity of women artists. France held the second place and Italy the third, thus reversing the conditions of preceding centuries.

Many German women emulated the examples of the earlier flower painters, but no one was so important as to merit special attention, though a goodly number were elected to academies and several appointed painters to the minor courts.

Among the genre and historical painters we find the names of Anna Amalia of Brunswick and Anna Maria, daughter of the Empress Maria Theresa, both of whom were successful artists.

In Berlin and Dresden the interest in art was much greater in the eighteenth than in previous centuries, and with this new impulse many women devoted themselves to various specialties in art. Miniature and enamel painting were much in vogue, and collections of these works, now seen in museums and private galleries, are exquisitely beautiful and challenge our admiration, not only for their beauty, but for the delicacy of their handling and the infinite patience demanded for their execution.

The making of medals was carried to great excellence by German women, as may be seen in a medal of Queen Sophie Charlotte, which is preserved in the royal collection of medals. It is the work of Rosa Elizabeth Schwindel, of Leipsic, who was well known in Berlin in the beginning of the century.

The cutting of gems was also extensively done by women. Susannah Dorsch was famous for her accomplishment in this art. Her father and grandfather had been gem-cutters, and Susannah could not remember at what age she began this work. So highly was she esteemed as an artist that medals were made in her honor.

As frequently happens in a study of this kind, I find long lists of the names of women artists of this period of whose lives and works I find no record, while the events related in other cases are too trivial for repetition. This is especially true in Holland, where we find many names of Dutch women who must have been reputable artists, since they are mentioned in Art Chronicles of their time; but we know little of their lives and can mention no pictures executed by them.

A national art now existed in England. Hogarth, who has been called the Father of English Painting, was a man of too much originality to be a mere imitator of foreign artists. He devoted his art to the representation of the follies of his time. As a satirist he was eminent, but his mirth-provoking pictures had a deeper purpose than that of amusing. Lord Orford wrote: "Mirth colored his pictures, but benevolence designed them. He smiled like Socrates, that men might not be offended at his lectures, and might learn to laugh at their own folly."

Sir Joshua Reynolds and Thomas Gainsborough were born and died in the eighteenth century; their famous works were contemporary with the founding of the Royal Academy in 1768, when these artists, together with Angelica Kauffman and Mary Moser, were among its original members.

It was a fashion in England at this time for women to paint; they principally affected miniature and water-color pictures, but of the many who called themselves artists few merit our attention; they practised but a feeble sort of imitative painting; their works of slight importance cannot now be named, while their lives were usually commonplace and void of incident. Of the few exceptions to this rule I have written in the later pages of this book.

The suggestion that the nineteenth century cannot yet be judged as to its final effect in many directions has already been made, and of nothing is this more true than of its Art. Of one phase of this period, however, we may speak with confidence. No other century of which we know the history has seen so many changes—such progress, or such energy of purpose so largely rewarded as in the century we are considering.

To one who has lived through more than three score years of this period, no fairy tale is more marvellous than the changes in the department of daily life alone.

When I recall the time when the only mode of travel was by stage-coach, boat, or private carriage—when the journey from Boston to St. Louis demanded a week longer in time than we now spend in going from Boston to Egypt—when no telegraph existed—when letter postage was twenty-five cents and the postal service extremely primitive—when no house was comfortably warmed and women carried foot-stoves to unheated churches—when candles and oil lamps were the only means of "lighting up," and we went about the streets at night with dim lanterns—when women spun and wove and sewed with their hands only, and all they accomplished was done at the hardest—when in our country a young girl might almost as reasonably attempt to reach the moon as to become an artist—remembering all this it seems as if an army of magicians must incessantly have waved their wands above us, and that human brains and hands could not have invented and put in operation the innumerable changes in our daily life during the last half-century.

When, in the same way, we review the changes that have taken place in the domains of science, in scholarly research in all directions, in printing, bookmaking, and the methods of illustrating everything that is printed—from the most serious and learned writing to advertisements scattered over all-out-of-doors—when we add to these the revolutions in many other departments of life and industry, we must regard the nineteenth as the century par excellence of expansion, and in various directions an epoch-making era.

When we turn to our special subject we find an activity and expansion in nineteenth-century art quite in accordance with the spirit of the time. This expansion is especially noticeable in the increased number of subjects represented in works of art, and in the invention of new methods of artistic expression.

Prior to this period there had been a certain selection of such subjects for artistic representation as could be called "picturesque," and though more ordinary and commonplace subjects might be rendered with such skill—such drawing, color, and technique—as to demand approbation, it was given with a certain condescension and the feeling was manifested that these subjects, though treated with consummate art, were not artistic. The nineteenth century has signally changed these theories.

Nothing that makes a part in human experience is now too commonplace or too unusual and mysterious to afford inspiration to painter and sculptor; while the normal characteristics of human beings and the circumstances common to their lives are not omitted, the artist frequently endeavors to express in his work the most subtle experiences of the heart and soul, and to embody in his picture or statue an absolutely psychologic phenomenon.

The present easy communication with all nations has awakened interest in the life of countries almost unknown to us a half-century ago. So customary is it for artists to wander far and wide, seeking new motives for their works, that I felt no surprise when I recently received a letter from a young American woman who is living and painting in Biskra. How short a time has passed since this would have been thought impossible!

It is also true that subjects not new in art are treated in a nineteenth-century manner. This is noticeable in the picturing of historical subjects. The more intimate knowledge of the world enables the historical painter of the present to impart to his representations of the important events of the past a more human and emotional element than exists in the historical art of earlier centuries. In a word, nineteenth-century art is sympathetic, and has found inspiration in all countries and classes and has so treated its subjects as to be intelligible to all, from the favored children for whom Kate Greenaway, Walter Crane, and many others have spent their delightful talents, to men and women of all varieties of individual tastes and of all degrees of ability to comprehend and appreciate artistic representations.

A fuller acquaintance with the art and art-methods of countries of which but little had before been known has been an element in art expansion. Technical methods which have not been absolutely adopted by European and English-speaking artists have yet had an influence upon their art. The interest in Japanese Art is the most important example of such influence, and it is also true that Japanese artists have been attracted to the study of the art of America and Europe, while some foreign artists resident in Japan—notably Miss Helen Hyde, a young American—have studied and practised Japanese painting to such purpose that Japanese juries have accorded the greatest excellence and its honors to their works, exhibited in competition with native artists.

Other factors in the expansion of art have been found in photography and the various new methods of illustration that have filled books, magazines, and newspapers with pictures of more or less (?) merit. Even the painting of "posters" has not been scorned by good artists, some of whom have treated them in such a manner as to make them worthy a place in museums where only works of true merit are exhibited.

Other elements in the nineteenth-century expansion in art are seen in the improved productions of the so-called Arts and Crafts which are of inestimable value in cultivating the artistic sense in all classes. Another influence in the same direction is the improved decoration of porcelain, majolica, and pottery, which, while not equal to that of earlier date in the esteem of connoisseurs, brings artistic objects to the sight and knowledge of all, at prices suited to moderate means.

In America the unparalleled increase of Free Libraries has brought, not books alone, but collections of photographs and other reproductions of the best Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture in the world, as well as medals, book-plates, artistic bindings, etc., within reach of students of art.

Art Academies and Museums have also been greatly multiplied. It is often a surprise to find, in a comparatively small town, a fine Art Gallery, rich in a variety of precious objects. Such an one is the Art Museum of Bowdoin College, in Brunswick, Me. The edifice itself is the most beautiful of the works by McKim that I have seen. The frescoes by La Farge and Vedder are most satisfactory, and one exhibit, among many of interest—that of original drawings by famous Old Masters—would make this Museum a worthy place of pilgrimage. Can one doubt that such a Museum must be an element of artistic development in those who are in contact with it?

I cannot omit saying that this splendid monument to the appreciation of art and to great generosity was the gift of women, while the artists who perfected its architecture and decorations are Americans; it is an impressive expression of the expansion of American Art in the nineteenth century.

The advantages for the study of Art have been largely improved and increased in this period. In numberless studios small classes of pupils are received; in schools of Design, schools of National Academies, and in those of individual enterprise, all possible advantages for study under the direction of the best artists are provided, and these are supplemented by scholarships which relieve the student of limited means from providing for daily needs.

All these opportunities are shared by men and women alike. Every advantage is as freely at the command of one as of the other, and we equal, in this regard, the centuries of the Renaissance, when women were Artists, Students, and Professors of Letters and of Law, filling these positions with honor, as women do in these days.

In 1859 T. Adolphus Trollope, in his "Decade of Italian Women," in which he wrote of the scholarly women of the Renaissance, says: "The degree in which any social system has succeeded in ascertaining woman's proper position, and in putting her into it, will be a very accurate test of the progress it has made in civilization. And the very general and growing conviction that our own social arrangements, as they exist at present, have not attained any satisfactory measure of success in this respect, would seem, therefore, to indicate that England in her nineteenth century has not yet reached years of discretion after all."

Speaking of Elisabetta Sirani he says: "The humbly born artist, admirable for her successful combination in perfect compatibility of all the duties of home and studio." Of how many woman artists we can now say this.

Trollope's estimate of the position of women in England, which was not unlike that in America, forty-five years ago, when contrasted with that of the present day, affords another striking example of the expansion of the nineteenth century.

Although no important changes occur without some preparation, this may be so gradual and unobtrusive in its work that the result appears to have a Minerva-like birth. Doubtless there were influences leading up to the remarkable landscape painting of this century. The "Norwich School," which took shape in 1805, was founded by Crome, among whose associates were Cotman, Stark, and Vincent. Crome exhibited his works at the Royal Academy in 1806, and the twelve following years, and died in 1821 when the pictures of Constable were attracting unusual attention; indeed, it may be said that by his exhibitions at the Royal Academy, Constable inaugurated modern landscape painting, which is a most important feature of art in this century.

Not forgetting the splendid landscapes of the Dutch masters, of the early Italians, of Claude and Wilson, the claim that landscape painting was perfected only in the nineteenth century, and then largely as the result of the works of English artists, seems to me to be well founded. To this excellence Turner, contemporary with Constable, David Cox, De Wint, Bonington, and numerous others gloriously contributed.

The English landscapes exhibited at the French Salon in the third decade of the century produced a remarkable effect, and emphasized the interest in landscape painting already growing in France, and later so splendidly developed by Rousseau, Corot, Millet, and their celebrated contemporaries. In Germany the Achenbachs, Lessing, and many other artists were active in this movement, while in America, Innes, A. H. Wyant, and Homer Martin, with numerous followers, were raising landscape art to an eminence before unknown.

Formerly landscapes had been used as backgrounds, oftentimes attractive and beautiful, while the real purpose of the pictures centred in the human figures. The distinctive feature of nineteenth-century landscape is the representation of Nature alone, and the variety of method used and the differing aims of the artists cover the entire gamut between absolute Realism and the most pronounced Impressionism.

About the middle of the century there emerged from the older schools two others which may be called the Realist and Idealist, and indeed there were those to whom both these terms could be applied, both methods being united in their remarkable works. Of the Realists Corot and Courbet are distinguished, as were Puvis de Chavannes and Gustave Moreau among the Idealists.

Millet, with his marvellous power of observation, painted his landscapes with the fidelity of his school in that art, and so keenly realized the religious element in the peasant life about him—the poetry of these people—that he portrayed his figures in a manner quite his own—at the same time realistic and full of idealism. MacColl in his "Nineteenth-Century Art" called Millet "the most religious figure in modern art after Rembrandt," and adds that "he discovered a patience of beauty, a reconciling, in the concert of landscape mystery with labor."

Shall we call Bastien Lepage a follower of Millet, or say that in these men there was a unity of spirit; that while they realized the poetry of their subjects intensely, they fully estimated the reality as well?

The "Joan of Arc" is a phenomenal example of this art. The landscape is carefully realistic, and like that in which a French peasant girl of any period would live. But here realism ceases and the peasant girl becomes a supremely exalted being, entranced by a vision of herself in full armor.

This art, at once realistic and idealistic, is an achievement of the nineteenth century—so clear and straightforward in its methods as to explain itself far better than words can explain it.

Contemporary with these last-named artists were the Pre-raphaelites. The centre of this school was called the Brotherhood, which was founded by J. E. Millais, W. Holman Hunt, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and William Michael Rossetti. To these were added Thomas Woolner the sculptor, James Collins, and F. G. Stephens. Other important artists known as Pre-raphaelites, not belonging to the Brotherhood, are Ford Madox Brown and Burne Jones, as well as the water-color painters, Mason, Walker, Boyce, and Goodwin.

The aim of these artists was to represent with sincerity what they saw, and the simple sincerity of painters who preceded Raphael led them to choose a name which Ruskin called unfortunate, "because the principles on which its members are working are neither pre- nor post-Raphaelite, but everlasting. They are endeavoring to paint with the highest possible degree of completion what they see in nature, without reference to conventional established rules; but by no means to imitate the style of any past epoch. To paint Nature—Nature as it was around them, by the help of modern science, was the aim of the Brotherhood."

At the time when the Pre-raphaelite School came into being the art of other lands as well as that of England was in need of an awakening impulse, and the Pre-raphaelite revolt against conventionality and the machine-like art of the period roused such interest, criticism, and opposition as to stimulate English art to new effort, and much of its progress in the last half-century is doubtless due to the discussions of the theories of this movement as well as of the works it produced.

Pre-raphaelitism, scorned and ridiculed in its beginning, came to be appreciated in a degree that at first seemed impossible, and though its apostles were few, its influence was important. The words of Burne Jones, in which he gave his own ideal, appeal to many artists and lovers of art: "I mean by a picture a beautiful, romantic dream of something that never was, never will be—in a light better than any light that ever shone—in a land no one can define or remember, only desire—and the forms divinely beautiful."

Rossetti's "Girlhood of Virgin Mary," Holman Hunt's "Light of the World," and Millais' "Christ in the House of His Parents" have been called the Trilogy of Pre-raphaelite Art.

Millais did not long remain a strict disciple of this school, but soon adopted the fuller freedom of his later work, which may be called that of modern naturalism. Rossetti remained a Pre-raphaelite through his short life, but his works could not be other than individual, and their distinct personality almost forbade his being considered a disciple of any school.

Holman Hunt may be called the one persistent follower of this cult. He has consistently embodied his convictions in his pictures, the value of which to English art cannot yet be determined. This is also true of the marvellous work of Burne Jones; but although they have but few faithful followers, Pre-raphaelite art no longer needs defence nor apology.

Its secondary effect is far-reaching. To it may be largely attributed the more earnest study of Nature as well as the simplicity of treatment and lack of conventionality which now characterizes English art to an extent before unknown.

Impressionism is the most distinctive feature of nineteenth-century art, and is too large a subject to be treated in an introduction—any proper consideration of it demands a volume.

The entire execution of a picture out-of-doors was sometimes practised by Constable, more frequently by Turner, and some of the peculiarities of the French impressionist artists were shared by the English landscape painters of the early part of the century. While no one could dream of calling Constable an impressionist, it is interesting to recall the reception of his "Opening of Waterloo Bridge." Ridiculed in London, it was accepted in Paris, and is now honored at the Royal Academy.

This picture was covered with pure white, in impasto, a method dear to impressionists. Was Constable in advance of his critics? is a question that comes involuntarily to mind as we read the life of this artist, and recall the excitement which the exhibition of his works caused at the Salon of 1824, and the interest they aroused in Delacroix and other French painters.

The word Impressionism calls to mind the names of Manet, Monet, Pissaro, Mme. Berthe Morisot, Paul Cézanne, Whistler, Sargent, Hassam, and many others. Impressionists exhibited their pictures in Paris as early as 1874; not until 1878 were they seen to advantage in London, when Whistler exhibited in the Grosvenor Gallery; and the New English Art Club, founded in 1885, was the outcome of the need of this school to be better represented in its special exhibitions than was possible in other galleries.

In a comprehensive sense Impressionism includes all artists who represent their subjects with breadth and collectiveness rather than in detail—in the way in which we see a view at the first glance, before we have time to apprehend its minor parts. The advocates of impressionism now claim that it is the most reformatory movement in modern painting; it is undeniably in full accord with the spirit of the time in putting aside older methods and conventions and introducing a new manner of seeing and representing Nature.

The differing phases of Painting in the nineteenth century have had their effect upon that art as a whole. Each one has been important, not only in the country of its special development, but in other lands, each distinctive quality being modified by individual and national characteristics.

In the early decades of the past century Sculpture was "classic" and conventional rather than natural and sincere. A revolt against these conditions produced such artists as Rodin, St. Gaudens, MacMonnies, and many less famous men who have put life, spirit, and nature into their art.

In Sculpture as in Painting many more subjects are treated than were formerly thought suited to representation in marble and bronze, and a large proportion of these recent motifs demand a broad method of treatment—a manner often called "unfinished" by those who approve only the smooth polish of an antique Venus, and would limit sculpture to the narrow class of subjects with which this smoothness harmonizes.