Hans Holbein the Younger: Last Days

Hans Holbein, 46 years old, died in London between the first week of October and the last week of November 1543.  On October 7th, he had written his will, which provided solely for the care of his two illegitimate children and the payment of his debts. According to a note dated November 29th, the goldsmith Hans of Antwerp, who had been appointed executor, refused to execute the will for reasons that are not known. The exact cause of his death is also a puzzle, but many have speculated it was of the plague - most likely the English Sweating Sickness.

"A newe Kynde of sickness came through the whole region, which was so sore, so peynfull, and sharp, that the lyke was never harde of to any mannes rememberance before that tyme." So ran an account written during the Tudor dynasty. It was characterized by sudden headaches, muscle pain, fever, profuse sweating and labored breathing. A person could be well one day and dead the next. Between 1485 when the sickness first appeared and 1551 when it disappeared, thousands had died from it - most likely including Hans Holbein.

King Henry VIII was extremely wary of disease. He ordered the royal physicians to examine him thoroughly on an almost daily basis and kept a medicine cabinet filled with potions to cure any ailment. Any sign of illness at court would send him into a panic. When he heard to an outbreak of the dreaded Sweat in the summer of 1528 he ordered that the court be immediately broken up and 'took off on a flight from safe house to safe house' in different parts of the country. His courtiers followed suit, but the poorer classes had no such option and had to remain in the crowded city of London. 

Speculation that Holbein died of the disease arises from no known burying place for him. So many people expired daily that plague pits were dug since the local churches could not cope with individual burials. Indeed there are pits close to his final residence in London, which was on the grounds of King Henry VIII's Lord Chancellor, Sir Thomas Audley's estate, Cree-Church Mansion. The pit for those who died at that residence was at St. Katherine Cree. 

Hans Holbein was not a stranger to depicting death. Three of his artworks come to mind in this regard: "The Dance of Death," "The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb," and "The Ambassadors." The "Dance of Death"is a series of 41 woodcuts depicting the moment when Death surprises people of various professions in the midst of their daily lives. Each of the 41 woodcuts were very small, the size of four postage stamps arranged in a cube, cut by an expert carver, and published as a book in 1538.

Dance of Death Woodcuts by Hans Holbein

"The Body of Christ in the Tomb" was painted early on in Holbein's career in 1521 and shows Christ after his crucifixion in a state of rigor mortis lying in the tomb before his resurrection. Its purpose was to evoke reverence for Christ's death, faith and piety.

"The Body of Christ in the Tomb" by Holbein

Holbein's "The Ambassadors" may seem like a straightforward portrait - until you look down at the floor, where a strange, elongated object floats above the floor. If you would view the picture, however, from the lower right, the shapes morph into a human skull - the symbol of death. There are also two small skulls painted on the cap of the ambassador on the left. These powerful, wealthy and influential men are being reminded that death is ever present and should help shape how we live while on this earth. They would have appreciated that sentiment as part of their portraits. To see the skull transform, click here.

"The Ambassadors" by Hans Holbein the Younger

(Information from "The Death of Hans Holbein" by Franny Moyle; and "What was the Sweating Sickness? And how did Henry VIII 'self-isolate'?" by Tracy Borman.)

Hans Holbein the Younger: John Chambers

"Portrait of John Chambers"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

"The 'Portrait of John Chambers' is, along with the 'Portrait of Duke Antony the Good of Lorraine,' among the last of Holbein's panel portraits. Seen in retrospect, it seems like a summary of his art as a portraitist. John Chamber was 88 years old when Holbein executed this portrait. He was a cleric who also distinguished himself as a doctor. He was so successful in this profession that Henry VIII appointed him one of his personal physicians.

Set against a blue background typical for Holbein's portraits, nothing detracts from the grave, introspective face. The short inscription written just below eye-level introduces a clear horizontal axis into the composition. 'Aetatis II SVE 88' means 'at the age of 88.' The sleeves have now turned dark under a brown varnish, but were originally a brilliantly shiny pink silk, giving a sophisticated color highlight and at the same time matching the flesh of the face. The black mantle enshrouds his physique voluminously, but the rendering of the different materials (wool, velvet and damask) provides a differentiated surface achieved with consummate skill. The outline of the figure is self-contained, thus superbly reflecting on a formal level the deep calm and inviolable dignity expressed in the face.

It is generally dated to 1543, the year when Holbein died unexpectedly at the age of 45. He was possibly a victim of an epidemic of plague that broke out at that time in London."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck.)

Hans Holbein the Younger: Christina of Denmark

"Portrait of Christina of Denmark"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

"After the death of Jane Seymour, Henry VIII's third wife, Hans Holbein the Younger was commissioned to paint portraits of noblewomen eligible to become the next English queen. The first approached was a the daughter of the king of Denmark, Christina. She had been widowed at the very young age of fifteen, after a marriage of two years, and was still wearing black a year later. 

We know how the portrait sittings were done from a description by John Hutton, the English envoy in Brussels, in a letter dated March 14, 1538, and addressed to Thomas Cromwell. According to this, the courtier Philip Hobby arrived in Brussels on March 10 accompanied by 'a sarvand of the Kynges Majesties namyd Mr. Haunce,' in other words Hans Holbein. Hutton had already had a portrait of her sent to England before Holbein arrived, but this he considered neither as good as the affair required nor as 'Mr. Haunce' could do it. The envoy arranged for a sitting at one o'clock on March 12, and it lasted for three hours. In this short time, there arose the beginning of a portrait compared with which, according to Hutton, the earlier portrait seemed 'but sloberid [slobbered]'.

Holbein must have painted the full-length panel portrait on the basis of the preparatory material, but he certainly brought the life-size, slender form to life with great effect. Her attitude and gestures radiate self-assurance and strong-mindedness, features of Christina's personality that would be commented on by others. Holbein was already back in London on March 18, 1538, and when Henry VIII saw the portrait, he fell in love with the sitter. It was said he was in so excellent a mood that he had musicians play to him all day.

However, Christina and her mother made no secret of their opposition to her marrying the English king, who by this time had a reputation around Europe for his mistreatment of wives. He had divorced his first wife, Catherine of Aragon (Christina's great-aunt), and beheaded his second, Anne Boleyn. Christina supposedly said, "If I had two heads, one should be at the King of England's disposal." Henry pursued the marriage until January 1539, when it became obvious that the match would never take place. Thomas Wriothesley, the English diplomat in Brussels, advised Thomas Cromwell that Henry should; "fyxe his most noble stomacke in some such other place.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck and "Christina of Denmark": https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christina_of_Denmark) 

Hans Holbein the Younger: Painter to Henry VIII

"Portrait of Jane Seymour"
by Hans Holbein

"It is not clear exactly when Hans Holbein the Younger became official court painter of Henry VIII, as the royal account ledgers for 1532-1537 have been lost. He was certainly employed by 1536 at the latest, because the French poet, Nicholas Bourbon, sent his regards to him, referring to him as the 'king's painter.' 

"Henry VII, Elizabeth of York, Henry VIII and Jane Seymour"
by Hans Holbein

The duties of a court painter were many. We know, for example, that Holbein designed several precious objects for goldsmiths to fashion. Nevertheless, portraits were his principal business, and the top job was quite certainly to paint the king's portrait. In the 1530s, Henry VIII had enlarged his London residence Whitehall Palace, and needed a grand picture for it. It was to feature not only him and his wife Jane Seymour, but also his parents, the first Tudor monarchs, and was intended to proclaim the fame of the ruling house in word and image. Since the composition probably adorned one wall of the Privy Chamber, it was not aimed at a broad public but a select group at court.

As Jane most likely died while Holbein was painting the picture, only Henry VIII was alive when it was finished, so that the picture became very much a memorial - far more than had been planned. In contrast Henry VIII stands in the foreground, vigorous and powerful, like a colossus with legs apart and knees straight. His broad shoulders exaggerate the already unusual physical presence of this large man.

"Portrait of Edward, Prince of Wales"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

Holbein also painted a portrait of Henry VIII's son Edward, whose birth had caused Jane Seymour's death.The importance of this child was first and foremost dynastic, and the portrait is based on this assumption. Though the face has the rosy, chubby-cheeked features of a toddler, Edward holds his rattle as if it were a scepter and the gesture of the right hand seems like a gracious royal wave or a sign of blessing.  The Latin inscription, composed by Richard Morris, reads: 

Little one, emulate thy father and be the heir of his virtue; the world contains nothing greater. Heaven and earth could scarcely produce a son whose glory would surpass that of a father. Do thou but equal the deeds of thy parent, and men can ask no more. Shouldst thou surpass him, thou has outstript all, nor shall any surpass thee in ages to come.

Holbein presented the painting to Henry VIII on New Year's Day 1539, and received a gold goblet in return. Sadly, thought Edward outlived his father to become king for five years, he died at the tender age of fifteen."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck.)

Hans Holbein the Younger: Portraits of the Steelyard Merchants

"Hans Holbein the Younger was commissioned to paint eight portraits in England of the members of the Steelyard, the German business community in London. Through these individual commissions, he was able to reestablish his reputation and in 1536 he was appointed court painter to Henry VIII.

The eight portraits are those of Georg Gisze, Hans of Antwerp, and Hermann Edigh, a Member of the Wedigh Fmaily, Dirk Tybis, Cyriacus Kale, Derich Born, and Derick Berck. Inscriptions, dates, coats foarms and merchant marks allow us to identify his sitters with some degree of assurance. For example a heraldic ring on the left index finger in 'Portrait of a Member of the Wedigh Family' indicates that this is a member of the rich Cologne merchant family, the Wedighs, possibly Hermann Hillebrandt.

"Portrait of a Member of the Wedigh Family"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

The 'Portrait of Derich Born' is an innovative composition in the development of portrait painting in northern Europe.. The Latin inscription chiseled in the parapet makes the high artistic ambition clear: 'If you add the voice, Derich is here in person, so that you will doubt whether the painter or the Creator made him.' Some see this as a challenge to Erasmus' praise of Albrecht Durer, who saw in him a 'new Apelles' who had mastered the almost impossible task of painting a human voice.

"Portrait of Derich Born"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

 

 

The merchants were obviously satisfied with Holbein's portraits because they commissioned other large-scale works from him including two monumental paintings for the decoration of their assembly hall, depicting the 'Triumph of Wealth' and the Triumph of Poverty.'These allegorical pictures which reminded the merchants that their wealth would not endure if they were immoderate in its use and that good and ill fortune were equally subject to the caprices of fate. 

In about December 1609 the works were presented to Henry, Prince of Wales (who died in 1612) and thence entered the Earl of Arundel's collection in Holland via Charles I in 1641. They were destroyed by fire at Kremsier Castle in 1752. Two sets of copies now exist, of which the coloured version by Lucas Vorsterman the Elder in Oxford is considered the most accurate."

"Triumph of Wealth" by Hans Holbein the Younger

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck and "Holbein's Portraits of the Steelyard Merchants: An Investigation" by Thomas S. Holman.

Hans Holbein the Younger: Second Visit to England

"Portrait of the Merchant Georg Gisze"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

"As on his first visit to England, Hans Holbein the Younger again took several letters of recommendation from Erasmus that, according to the scholar, had been 'wrung from him.' In England he found that his earlier patron Sir Thomas More had resigned his office as Henry VIII's Lord Chancellor, and Archbishop William Warham had died.

Finding himself in this financially-strained situation, the painter had to look for a new circle of clients, and he found them in the German merchants of the Steelyard. The Steelyard was the London establishment of the Hanseatic League, a co-operative consisting primarily of German merchants and was one of the leading economic and political powerhouses in England. These German merchants were thus important and wealthy patrons and interested in portraits.

The first to knock on Holbein's door was the merchant Georg Gisze. His desire for an unusually large, richly detailed portrait must have coincided with Holbein's desire to create as ostentatious a work as possible to serve as a recommendation to further clients in the Steelyard. In line with this notion, Holbein surround Gisze with a wealth of objects that the merchant needed in his office: on the shelves are book and boxes, the left shelf having gold scales and a seal hanging from it, the right shelf a reel of string, signet rings, and a bunch of keys. A slender crystal vase made of Venetian glass is set on an Anatolian carpet. The flowers may allude to various things: carnations and rosemary, for example, traditionally symbolize love and fidelity respectively. It is likely that the portrait was commissioned on the occasion of his engagement.

Behind the bars running along the walls, letters and strips of parchments with seals are kept, while on the table are shown, among other things, a pair of scissors and pewter stand with writing equipment such as pens, sealing wax, seals, and a sanding tin, used for drying ink when writing correspondence. All the various articles are reproduced with such a high degree of materiality that they seem almost tangible. On the wall Holbein paints a piece of paper, supposedly attached with sealing wax, with a Latin couplet written on it saying: 'Couplet on the portrait of Georg Gisze. What you see here is Georg's portrait showing his features; this is how lively his eye is, this is now his cheeks are shaped. In his 34th year, anno Domini 1532.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck.)

Hans Holbein the Younger: Sir Henry and Mary Guildford

"Portrait of Lady Mary Guildford"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

"Sir Henry Guildford, the king's treasurer from 1522, belonged to the circle of those with whom Erasmus corresponded. He commissioned Hans Holbein the Younger to paint a double portrait of himself and his wife.

Holbein's preparatory drawing of Lady Mary Guildford was done in black and colored chalks, and her position is different than in the finished oil. The drawing is very charming with her eyes glancing almost mischievously towards her husband, and the corners of her mouth engagingly turned up, unlike the serious expression in the completed oil painting. Even so, this is the drawing that Holbein traced down on the oak panel. 

Sir Henry Guildford openly displays his wealth and political power. In his right hand, he holds the rod of office, while his left thumb is hooked casually in his belt. The Order of the Garter, the highest decoration that the English monarch can bestow, adorns his chest. It is likely the portraits were commissioned upon this occasion in 1526, because the inscriptions on the panels show them completed in 1527. Like his richly decorated wife, he too wears gold brocade, which in Holbein's portraits occurs in comparable splendor only in portraits of the royal family. 

Although Sir Henry is endowed with the attributes of worldly power, his wife Mary had her portrait painted with a book of hours and a rosary, which are formal references to her piety. Though the panels were slightly different in size, they were conceived as a matching pair, as is indicated by the curtain pole that runs through both pictures and their matching blue backgrounds, decorated with the branches of vines."

These two portraits, along with nine others, bring to life the court of Henry VIII.

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck.) 

Hans Holbein the Younger: First Visit to England

"Portrait of Thomas More" by Hans Holbein the Younger

"Lack of work forced Hans Holbein the Younger to leave Basle and to go to England by way of Antwerp. Erasmus wrote to the city secretary of Antwerp introducing Holbien somewhat churlishly: 'The bearer is the one who painted me. I will not burden you by recommending him, though he is an excellent artist. If he wishes to see Quentin [Massys] and you have no time to take him, you can get a servant to point out the house to him.' The letter finishes with the laconic comment: 'The arts are freezing here. He is going to England to scrabble some 'angelots [15th-century gold coins] together.'

By the end of the year Thomas More wrote to Erasmus saying, 'Your painter, my dearest Erasmus, is a wonderful artist, but I fear that he will not find England as fruitful and profitable as he hopes. However, I will do my utmost to ensure he does not find it too unfruitful.' More kept his promise in various ways. He offered Holbein accommodation in his house in Chelseas as well as commissioning at least two portraits from him: an individual portrait and a lost picture of his whole family (although copies survive along with sketches for the painting).

More will also have introduced the painter to court circles, and in this way obtained important commissions for him. As a result, Holbein was already on the way to success just a few months after his arrival in England. The portraits of the More family would allow Holbein to offer his services for other commissions, and it is therefore not surprising that they represent high points in the painter's works."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck.)

 

Han Holbein the Younger: The Three Portraits of Erasmus

"Portrait of Erasmus Writing" on paper
by Hans Holbein the Younger

Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam was a renowned humanist scholar and theologian. He moved in 1521 to Basel, where Hans Holbein the Younger lived and had his workshop. Such was the fame of Erasmus, who corresponded with scholars throughout Europe, that he needed many portraits of himself to send abroad to his protectors; although not an admirer of painting, he understood the power of image. Although other painters had done his portrait, including Durer, it was Holbein's images that were endlessly copied. Of the work Erasmus wrote in 1524 that he had sent two portraits to England painted by a very skillful artist.'

Holbein painted three main portraits of Erasmus. The first was done on paper so that it would be easy to carry. This kind of work was taken to show prospective clients, and in this case Holbein took it to France to try and gain the patronage of the king, Francis I, who had been desirous of bringing the scholar to France. Erasmus is shown writing the opening words of his commentary on the Gospel of St. Mark, which he had dedicated to Francis I. Later on the picture was sold for two gold crowns and mounted on wood, framed and glazed. It now hangs in the Kunstmuseum in Basle.

"Portrait of Erasmus of Rotterdam Writing"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

The second portrait, also done in 1523, again depicts Erasmus writing a text, but in this the letters are scarcely legible, and it is painted on wood. This may have been one of the pictures which had been sent to England. It now hangs in the Louvre in Paris. 

"Portrait of Erasmus of Rotterdam"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

The third, which now hangs in the National Gallery in London, was painted in 1523 as well. It was gifted by Erasmus to his good friend and patron William Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, to thank him for his support and as something to remember him by. This shows him not as an author at work but one who has completed his task. The writing on the front of the book says in Greek "the labors of Hercules," visually indicating that Erasmus had mastered unheard-of tasks through his superhuman effort and remarkable dedication to his work.  

To be continued

(Information from Wikipedia and "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck.) 

Hans Holbein the Younger: From Apprentice to Master

"Portrait of Bonifacius Amerbach"
by Hans Holbein the Younger

"Part of a painter's training in the Late Middle Ages was a period of apprenticeship. Hans Holbein the Younger completed his in Basle, when, towards the end of 1515, he and his brother Ambrosius probably entered the workshop of Hans Herbst.   

An important step towards his gaining general recognition as a painter must have been the double portrait of Jakob Meyer zum Hasen, the mayor of Basle, and his second wife. Hans also took on a commission in Lucerne with his father to paint murals on the interior and exterior of the mayor's splendid house. The extensive work illustrating the three virtues Prudence, Fortitude, and Hope; a scene from a medieval legend, 'The Test of the King'; the 'Triumphs of Caear,' and 'Leaina Before the Judges' took him two years.

Reconstruction of the Hertenstein House in Lucerne

By the time Holbein became a master of the 'Zum Himmel' painters guild of Basle on September 25, 1519, he had already proved his skills in numerous artistic techniques: his fame as a panel painter and draftsman would certainly have been a great asset; in Lucerne he had acquired experience in painting murals and was a skilled designer of woodcuts, a facet of his creativity in which he was to be highly productive.

The 'Portrait of Bonifacius Amerbach' was presumably the first commission Holbein received as a master. On an inscription panel hanging on the branch of a fig tree, Holbein placed his own name in the last three lines besides the name of the sitter and dated the portrait precisely: October 15, 1519. The previous eight lines read: 

'Although a painted face, I am not second to the living face. I am the gentleman's equal, and I am distinguished by correct lines. He has lived eight periods of three years [24 yrs. old], and through me this work of Art depicts with diligence what belongs to Nature. The complicated text was written by Amerbach himself, a young, humanistically educated student of law."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck.)

Hans Holbein the Younger

"Ambrosius and Hans Holbein" by Hans Holbein the Elder
Silverpoint on white-coated paper, 10.3 x 15.5 cm

"Hans Holbein the Younger (1497/98-1543) had no biographer. The first mention of him was published in 1604, in Karel van Mander's 'The Book of Painters,' but he did not even know that Holbein had been born in Augsburg, Germany, as the second son of painter Hans Holbein the Elder (1465-1524), and that his uncle Sigmund and brother Ambrosius were also painters.

Sources for Holbein's education are also wanting, but he will almost certainly have been trained in the craft of painting in his father's workshop. His father was among the most sought-after Late Gothic panel painters in southern Germany,  and besides large-scale altarpieces, he also painted a series of portraits that clearly reveal his considerable skill as a portraitist.

Painting a portrait begun with drawing the sitter's features with metalpoint on paper that had been prepared with a fine coating of chalk, and the body - usually only the bust was shown - was carefully modeled with light and shade. A study of this kind which was usually in a smaller format than the final portrait in oil, provided the client with an indication of how the furnished portrait would look and the artist with a working drawing.  Hans the Younger must have learned such standard techniques in his father's workshop, for he used silverpoint for his earliest surviving portrait drawings (see images below).

Over the heads of his two sons in the above drawing, Holbein the Elder wrote 'Prosy' and 'Hanns.' Hans is on the right and is 14, his elder brother Ambrosius is on the left and was about 18 or 20 at the time. The sheet probably comes from a sketchbook in which various portraits were kept."

"Portrait of Jakob Meyer zum Hasen," silverpoint,
red chalk and traces of black pencil on white coated paper

"Portrait of Jakob Meyer zum Hasen,"
oil on limewood panel

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Hans Holbein" by Stephanie Buck.)

Cecilia Beaux, Visions Realized

"Mrs. Alexander Sedgwick and Christina"
by Cecilia Beaux

Cecilia Beaux seemed to have a vision for each portrait that she painted, and I appreciate her observations in this regard. She wrote: 

"'Christina' was to have been a head only, but I was so hotly pursued by another idea that I was led to ask Mrs. Sedgwick if she would come into the picture as an accessory. She consented, also accepting consequent developments, which must have been irksome. So sustaining was her understanding and sympathy, so established the design, that, including the little Princess Christina, we moved in a sort of rhythmic union through the whole performance, and I suffered the modicum of torment, and only in details, whose importance had but one significance, that of being present but unobserved."

'Mrs. Barton' was one of the, to me, most highly relished portraits I ever did. Yet I never felt that her family were quite satisfied. There seemed to be in her a kind of unflinching heroism that she had never had occasion to use.

A New England woman, who was also a great-granddaughter of Thomas Jefferson, might have been said to have a right to this quality, among others, but as far as I was concerned as her portrayer, I believed that to express her the firmest technique should be employed. A profile - showing the grand space between the turn of forehead and the line of the neck. But it must also be rich and tender; the way to be found for this, in color and texture, between the firm lines of the design. The range would be wide, a deep note, and a very clear-colored one, kept apart, with much detail between. 

The whole, in the matter of treatment, should be serene and composed, not a fervid announcement, written with a flowing brush. It should have the quality of enamel, as if molded in a pate, flexible, but capable of solidification and permanence. All this was hoped for and was a vision imperfectly realized, but not entirely defeated."

(Excerpt from "Background with Figures" by Cecilia Beaux.)

Cecilia Beaux, Well Done

"Ernesta, Child with Nurse" by Cecilia Beaux

"In April 1926 Cecilia Beaux received a Gold Medal from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. The award was the first the Academy had bestowed on a woman in twenty-one years, and as such, it carried the implication that Beaux's name would endure as the principal female artist of her era. But this latest award combined with all her other accomplishments would not suffice.

In 1928 she began to work on an autobiography. It took her two years to complete 'Background with Figures.' The book was published in 1930 when she was seventy-five years old. It garnered favorable reviews, although their content must have caused her some consternation.

One critic wrote: 'Though on the fringe of modernism, Miss Beaux was of the group that remained blissfully detached from its influence and spent her talent in that school of sophisticated portraiture which has discreetly passed.' Another wrote that it brought back the 'charm of the old-fashioned life.'

Beaux may have expected that the publication of her autobiography would be her last creative endeavor, but there was to be one last tribute. In 1935 The American Academy of Arts and Letters put together a retrospective exhibition of sixty-two of her paintings. The occasion was noted by a friend: 

'A vivid picture I cherish at the opening reception, sumptuous as ever in attire, responding to homage, surrounded, extolled, the cause, the living center, of the ranks of glowing portraits which looked down from those gallery walls, looked down upon the throngs that rendered praise, looked down and spoke as clearly as with words of the years of devotion to their creation, of the free flow of the artist's genius, of the joy that was hers in recording for posterity the beauty she perceived in man, the beauty visual, spiritual, intangible, indefinable save by her brush.'

Cecilia Beaux died on September 17, 1942, at Green Alley. Two hundred people attended her memorial service at the Calvary Protestant Episcopal Church in New York. The sculptor Paul Manship gave the eulogy. Another friend wrote concerning her to a friend, ' You know, it was not Cecilia's honors and medals - [she] had the thrill in living. It was in her painting as well...You know my friends do not die. I find them in everything years afterward.'"

The End  

(Excerpts from "Cecilia Beaux: A Modern Painter in the Gilded Age" by Alice A. Carter.)

Cecilia Beaux, An Accident

Cecilia Beaux's Self-Portrait at the Uffizi

"At the age of sixty-eight Cecilia Beaux made a final visit to Paris traveling with her cousin, May Whitlock. Soon after their arrival, both women were bedridden, Beaux with a virus and May with bronchitis. The two women recuperated and stayed on until the summer of 1924, planning to return on July 5th. Then disaster. She wrote to a friend: 'Instead of sailing on the 5th, I fell on my side and broke my hip..."

She spent three months at the English Clinic in Paris immobilized on her back. Her maid arrived at the end of July. Ernesta rushed to her aid in the interim. When Beaux finally returned home in the fall, she was permanently disabled. 'Never again was she to take a step save to hobble on mechanical support,' her cousin recalled. Beaux was in despair, but fate was to offer her another opportunity.

Sorting through the mail that had piled up in Gloucester during her long absence, she opened one from the Italian Embassy in Washington, D.C. Inside was a note from the Italian Ambassador and a letter from the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, requesting a self-portrait for their collection. Should Beaux accept this honor she would join a respected group of artists represented in the gallery, including Peter Paul Rubens, William Holman Hunt, Sir Joshua Reynolds, George Romney and Eugene Delacroix. 'My astonishment and satisfaction were witness to my deep appreciation of such an honor,' she recalled. 'Although I had not tried to paint since my accident, I at once began dragging myself about.'

The portrait she painted was astonishing. Her brush was honest. She captured her own personality as deftly and impartially as she had rendered her clients during her long career."

To be continued

(Excerpt from "Cecilia Beaux: A Modern Painter in the Gilded Age" by Alice A. Carter.)

Cecilia Beaux, Green Alley

"Ernesta" by Cecilia Beaux

Green Alley was Cecilia Beaux's summer residence for over four decades. It constituted a salon for guests from the highest social and intellectual circles of Boston and the eastern seaboard, and had been built because, as she said, "I had sometimes felt that the city-winter contained too much of everything, and that the summer, if considered as a holiday, was boring. Why not have long, unhurried bouts of painting, when off hours would be spent in delicious air - morning and evenings of thrilling loveliness - a long, long summer."

She further explained: "Part-way between the lighthouse and the town of Gloucester, I began to notice a thickly wooded space on the harbor side of the road. So solid was the tangle of catbriar, primeval blueberry, ilex, bay and sassafras that entrance upon it was impossible. People said that there was no place on it for a house - it was the 'stone that the builders rejected.' It did not become mine for a year or more. 

I knew that I must not attempt to imitate a small French manor house, or farm, here. The idea 'Tropical Colonial' kept recurring, and the nondescript little house answers best, perhaps, to this tendency. I built the studio as large almost as the house - separate, on a somewhat lower level, for seclusion. The whole pretty much achieving what it was intended for - work - and friendship - the two main divisions of its owner's interests. On the evening of August 7, 1906, the first fire was kindled on the hearth at Green Alley, and I made a feint of sleeping there that night.

I never exhausted the resources of the studio. Many half-conceived designs are waiting under its dark rafters, and in the mote-full shafts of light from its high east window. My niece, Ernesta Drinker, was my choice, and chief reliance, as a model. Three times on three different years she gave me long periods of opportunity; but in these I was feeling my way, and never satisfied (if ever I was). 

That little house in the wood had its own way of being memorable. How I rejoiced in the morning, awakening near my big eastern window, to which I could creep in the early mornings of late June and see Venus flashing in a primrose sky, among the moving fringes of the tree tops. And the nights when great patches of moonlight lay on the living room floor. The even rhythm of small waves crashing upon the pebbles of the harbor beach, and to seaward the sense of the Ocean's presence and distant organ tones.

I do not forget what it was, after a morning of fierce effort, to sink, silent and exhausted, at the little table and be restored in every sense - and do not forget the pine's perfume in the sun, the deep caves of shadow, and in the season's later days the orange and scarlet tupelo leaves afloat upon the dark pool in the wood. I do not forget..."

(Excerpts from Cecilia Beaux's autobiography "Background with Figures.")

Cecilia Beaux, Painting Lord Admiral Beatty

"Lord Admiral Beatty" by Cecilia Beaux

Cecilia Beaux had approached each of her three WWI commissions differently. Her approach was to accommodate her subject as far as possible. Her goal was to capture not only their appearance, but their character as well. Today we find her painting the English Navy hero, Admiral Lord Beatty. She wrote:

"Beatty was young, in the early forties, a gallant man; and in his spirit and conduct had fully measured up to the stern tradition of the British Navy. Of course, it was a simple matter for anyone to have a general idea of the appearance of any and all of the heroes of the day; shop windows, newspaper, and magazines displayed photographs and reproductions liberally. 

The well-known figure of Admiral Beatty in cap or Panama, slightly tipped, I had often wondered over, feeling that more than that must be found in the real man, and when I called at Hanover Lodge on an October morning,the soft English quiet of Regent Park, the lawn, big trees, and pretty yellow house seemed a strange introduction and contrast to the personality I was in search of. A middle-sized, unsmiling man in a blue serge suit shook hands with me. I, too , could be business-like, prompt and short, and he soon relaxed a good deal as we paced the deck. I explained exactly what my object was, which he did not really know, being only concerned to accommodate the American Ambassador. 

Early in our interview he had said that he would give me one or two sittings, on which I did not comment. He now took out a small notebook and asked me when I wished to begin. Of course, I said whenever it suited him, I had no other engagements. 'How about tomorrow?' said he, adding politely, 'It's just as well to get disagreeable things over, eh?' With this appeared his first smile and a nice one. Lord Beatty was prompt for his appointment, as might have been expected, and I asked for only time enough to make a few decisions in regard to position and lighting. 

The direct light of the studio brought out bold forms. I saw that it was a falcon face; the nose broad at the base, unbelievably fine at the end, the brows bending toward it, eyelids heavy and full, over-large, far-seeing grey eyes. A falcon ready for the chase. After I had seen Lord Beatty, I never had any doubt as to the type of painting that, if successful, would best present him. Tradition being the mainspring of his life, it must be the starting point of his portrait. It must be something seized, not thoughtfully accumulated and built up. 

Before the next sitting, I had made the composition on a small panel of the exactly desired shape. The stretcher was made and the canvas mounted. The background was rubbed in. A blank space was left for the head and a few other indications gave the canvas that look of promise. I thought it would be wise to begin without disturbing the canvas, and so prepared a board and paper on another easel for a charcoal drawing to be transferred. A drawing must be made which must contain all the elements of the head and which would be my only material, if I should never have another sitting. 

Concerning the next visit, I have little to report. Lord Beatty looked at the two easels, the blank paper and partly covered canvas and made no comment. I said, 'I have to draw the head first,' and we began. Little was said, at least that I can remember. Neither of us was obliged to rest, although I stopped long enough to offer mercy to the model. I found the forms of the very original face before me intensely absorbing. The drawing turned out to be the most comprehensive as well as the most direct drawing I ever made, just less than life-size and easily transferable. 

The clarity and simplicity of the sitter seemed to take possession and pervade everything. If this had been Lord Beatty's only visit, a painting could have been made from it. To one accustomed to innumerable sittings of three hours each, the enterprise was strenuous hunting, and could not have been carried out on continuous days. How thankful I was for the quiet studio, for the absence of calls or engagements. I could be as slow and reflective as an owl appears to be. I was literally alone the entire day. 

When Lord Beatty came to his third appointment, which he was kind enough to do without protest, the drawing still stood beside the canvas, on which the head was now drawn and lightly massed in, in monochrome upon a background which was likely to 'fit' with very slight adjustment. In this instance, it seemed best to prepare the palette beforehand, ignoring a superstition which prohibited doing this until after the arrival of the subject. When the hour was over, the Admiral came behind to look 'Oh, you've done the hair and the forehead.' 'Yes,' I said, indicating the three main divisions of the head. 'Next time it will be the middle space, eyes, etc., to the base of the nose, and the time after that, the lower division.' The Admiral made no objection. 

A little Cockney actor was an essential support. Always ready, cheerful, glad of the fire, where he might even dry his soaked shoes, build up the greying coals, and fill the kettle. With his help I could proceed upon certain spaces in the canvas requiring careful adjustment, without strain. What was important in gold braid and buttons could never have been found with any zest between two lights, if Lord Beatty had been wearing them. Even the hands could be done (for the first and only time in the experience of the artist) from the model. They held the sword and in some way, Lord Beatty's smooth fine fingers appeared in the end. 

The more I saw of the Admiral, the more I was aware of that childlike, earnest quality that all great performers have - along with all the conscious ones, which must be reckoned with. Absurd as it sounds, it is the quality which can only be called 'innocence' as a child is innocent. I have recognized it in such men as Roosevelt and Cleveland. Undoubtedly Lincoln possessed it, and I believe it can be found in all outstanding characters and is one of their most winning assets. Napoleon had it; Anatole France called him 'un enfant, mais un enfant grand comme le monde' (A child, but a child as big as the world). 

After two months of uninterrupted work, and having reached my furthest limit in it, it was perhaps well that my separation from the picture should be brusque. I was summoned to Paris, and as kind friends looked after it and all affairs concerning it, I did not see it again for some time. What I remember as the final episode took place on the next to the last of Lord Beatty's visits to the studio. He had been standing before the drawing, and said something that manifested his appreciation of it. I expressed a desire to give it to him - he had been so kind about posing. A slight shade of doubt crossed his face, and I at once went on to explain that the drawing was not mine, as Mr. Pratt, the chairman of the committee had stipulated that all studies and sketches made for the portraits were to be his. There could be no doubt that he would be delighted to present the drawing to Lord Beatty, if he cared to have it. The Admiral turned quickly and said like a true Briton, 'Tell him to come over and fight me for it.' Then we laughed, and the drawing was his." 

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Background with Figures" by Cecilia Beaux.) 

Cecilia Beaux, Paints Georges Clemenceau, Pt. 2

"Georges Clemenceau"by Cecilia Beaux

Cecilia Beaux had - after the period of a year - finally received permission to meet with Georges Clemenceau of France. She recounted: 

"I was glad that at this meeting I had not been rapt away to the extent of being unaware of what was going on. I could now remember the voice of consciousness, whispering as I sat at the outer arc of the horseshoe: 'You are alone with Georges Clemenceau in his study. You are talking like old acquaintances, across a narrow table. That small hand in a worn, grey glove resting on some sheets of paper covered with black handwriting is the same that defied Germany and hoisted France out of the pit...Take this moment Fate permits you, and be thankful.' 

Sargent was the only artist in the world strong enough to wrest an oeuvre from such a meagre opportunity...There was no room in Clemenceau's study for canvas, easel, and paints for the direct attack...and that soft side-light from the window would have been the death of synthesis and simplicity, and indeed, would have veiled, rather than revealed, the force of Clemenceau. 

One must remember, too, the destiny of the portrait. I was to be an attempt to give the public of another country some idea of the Frenchman, the Patriot, the Leader, the Denouncer, the Supporter. Clemenceau must be seen in the Tribune Chambers, lighted from far above. Color was of little consequence; the great head and the action alone important. By seeing him as often as he would permit, I might continually refresh my knowledge of forms, correct mistakes of measurement and proportion, and above all get a repeated first-hand view of his positive, yet so intricate, personality. 

 On my second visit, I took a board with a piece of paper to make notes. I knew I could not draw. He came in, saying, 'Well, I would like to kill you, but our laws do not permit it.' But he took hold of me by both arms, a good-natured shake, not terrifying at all. I climbed over some armchairs and got my back to the light, and Clemenceau got into his chair facing me. His eyes are clear, dark depths with yellow lights across them, not a sign of age there; and in spite of those gleams, under all, when one sees deep enough, there is disillusion and more of pain than of bitterness. His eyebrows bristle out, grey, with terrific energy. 

I did not stay long - that is, I got up to go - and then he began showing me things. He had a great little picture by Daumier, a gift he had just received, and although it was framed, he insisted on holding it out at arm's length, for me to see, and was full of understanding and enthusiasm. He helped me on with my coat, and it was then that he proposed my writing to him when I wished to come again. When I arrived one morning for an appointment, made as he had proposed, he entered holding up both hands in dismay. 'Alas, I have made three engagements for this hour. Can you come tomorrow?' "Certainly, [I said,] 'but there is no need. I am seeing now what I came for.' And then as he stood ready to be measured and examined, I remarked that it didn't take long to see something when one knows what one wishes to find. He shouted, 'C'est vrai! C'est vrai! [It's true! It's true!]' 

George Clemenceau, 1922

And when I was going out, he said very kindly, 'You do not need to make an appointment. Come any morning at nine-thirty.' And I was gone before the other man arrived. So day after day the search went on. Bit by bit, changing, refreshing, chiselling, adding new evidence, and above all maintaining obstinately the prime conception. 

Clemenceau left Paris rather suddenly, but not before the fibre of my visual receptivity had taken up all it was capable of. I could not make any more discoveries of an important nature, I could only enforce and simplify. I improved the portrait quite a good deal, after I set it up in my New York studio, with greater distance, but anything done away from the magic of the rue Franklin was hard going. 

 I saw Clemenceau once again in Vichy. His hotel was not far from ours. His doctor made the appointment for me one afternoon. We were led along a dim corridor, down which le President advanced to meet us, holding out both hands, a kind welcome. He led us into a room where he had been writing at a table. We had a joyous visit, and when we were leaving, he put his hand on my shoulder and said a few words to me that I shall always be happy in remembering. He left the next day, and we did not meet again..."

Tomorrow Cecilia paints the last portrait of her commission: Admiral Lord Beatty of England. 

 

(Excerpts from "Background with Figures" by Cecilia Beaux.) 

)

Cecilia Beaux Paints Georges Clemenceau

"Study for Georges Clemenceau" by Cecilia Beaux
Oil on canvas, 44"x 36"

Painting Georges Clemenceau would prove to be one of the most difficult assignments that Cecilia Beaux would ever have. Here are excerpts from her account:

"Arriving in Paris in the spring of 1919, the artist upon whom had been placed the responsibility of producing an interpretation of this personality, in a painted portrait, had long to wait. It was nearly a year afterward that I had my first meeting with him.

But [before this meeting] while I was quietly nibbling at the great subject, there came one of those swift openings into the next 'Square' so enjoyed by Alice. There would be a seat for me [in the front row] in the Loge Diplomatique at the Chamber when Clemenceau was to appear.

When he spoke, I saw that the old man was young. He had had no dealings with age, an enemy who would have to wait. The top-light brought out only the large masses, the superb construction of his head and his rich healthy color. How thankful I was for the simple lighting, and even for the distance! - and I learned that the great should always be seen first, if possible, from a distance, and without contradictory detail, by those who wished to study them. In this way, the big forms and gestures become and remain predominant. I then and there determined that a study from memory of what I saw then, though probably incomplete, would be truer than if I attempted to do him directly from sittings, if I ever got them.

[A year later Cecilia finally was able - through the gracious solicitation of an American colonel - secure an interview with Clemenceau.]

"When the door of Clemenceau's study was closed behind us, the little old man - for he seemed this now - turned on me and shouted, almost savagely, "Vous parlez francais?" "Oui, monsieur," I said; "but you know English so well that, if you please, we will speak English." "Very well," he said, rather gently, and then, turning on me again, "Well, to begin with, we hate each other." "No, Monsieur," I said, "that's only half true." Whereupon he threw up his hands and laughed aloud, and I felt that the assault was over and the breach opened.

I was invited to sit...Clemenceau took his chair, and we at once became quite gay. Strangely enough, I have no recollection of this part of our interview. I suppose because all but my automatic faculties were engaged in seeing. The eyes of my vis-a-vis took my whole attention. The big modelling of the head had been conspicuous from a distance at the Chamber, but the eyes there were only caverns. Now I got their full dynamic power, though the general form of the head, seen so near, became, paradoxically, somewhat diminished. In a moment practical matters surged up.

"What do you want from me?" he said. I replied, "As much as I can have." He said, "I have just come back from Egypt. I have had pneumonia....I will give you a half hour tomorrow and the same on the two following days." "That would be of no use to me," I said, desperately clinging to the exact truth, and then went on to explain, he listening with a sort of curiously amused interest.

"I have seen you in the Chamber, Monsieur," I said. "I watched you for two hours last September. I decided on the composition then, and have not changed my mind. I have already made a sketch and laid in the composition, life-size. I have spent much time examining every bust and photograph of you to be found. I do not count on regular sittings from you which you would not have time for. " It would do me no good to come tomorrow, as I must work tomorrow on what I have seen today."

Clemenceau seemed to approve entirely of this method, not offering any objection to it, and another appointment was made. My mind fully assured that he would be generous, and that I must be short; that he would not endure an instant of boredom in such a cause..."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Background with Figures" by Cecilia Beaux.) 

Cecilia Beaux Paints Cardinal Mercier

Cecilia Beaux's first portrait as a WWI artist was that of Cardinal Mercer, who had had a key role in encouraging his countrymen during the war. She traveled to Belgium and met him in Malines.

"Cardinal Mercier" by Cecilia Beaux

"When His Eminence Cardinal Mercier, Archveque de Malines, was asked to allow me, an American artist, to do his portrait for the United States Government, he consented at once; and I found in all our subsequent intercourse that His Eminence was eager, in every possible way, to show his gratitude and appreciation for what we had done for Belgium int the War.

It was for America, who had given bountifully to Belgium during the War that he accepted me, and my paraphernalia, as constant occupants of the Salle des Eveques [the room given for a studio], for two months (or as much time as I wanted), with perfect liberality and graciousness, before I had been in his presence five minutes. Of course, I never abused this trust, and, of course, he knew I would not.

Many times I was congratulated on the great opportunity for color that would be mine with a Cardinal for subject. I have never loved the strident values of red and black, as such, and had secretly hoped that in the splendid robes there might be some combination of red and violet. But after I had seen the Cardinal, all ideas of color for its own sake diminished in importance, as did the majesty of his official costume.

I thought of his will to defy Germany, and protect his country, his flock...the shepherd towering over the wolf, a father fearless before savages who are seeking the lives of his children. Moral grandeur in action. The Cardinal must be standing, the head slightly bent, and somehow to be attained, the semblance of a forward movement.

I had made a small color composition and fully decided on the pose before I asked for the first sitting. I had also started a color study of the head,. I never at any time worked on the big canvas from the Cardinal, but always from drawings and a color study: a very well-known and ancient method...

As I never allowed the Cardinal to be wearied, or kept him more than a short time, I think he found in his visits to the Salle des Eveques a momentary release from care and was always ready to be amused. Not to fatigue him, I made the sittings, so called, extremely short. They were really investigations, new facts accumulated, impressions corroborated or discarded. So when he came to the Salle - and he never excused himself- it was, I suppose, a little change from the toil and doubtless worry of the day.

Cardinal Mercier posing for Cecilia Beaux

He often entered looking grey and old, and with sunken eyes, and in a moment the change of scene, the work of the studio, so different from that of his study or reception room, would alter his mood, youth would spring up and glow in his eyes and bring color to his face, and he would drop off, not ten, but twenty-five years.

It was nearly the end of August and the Cardinal was to sail for America in a few days. He was to travel on a troopship, carrying five thousand of our boys. This was a great delight to him. More time would not have availed much for me, as the most important parts of the portrait were now advanced as far as I could hope to carry them. The next morning he brought three volumes of his works to the Salle, inscribed, and also a photograph. The next moment was one of the supreme moments of my experience, and I am glad to say that, even at the time, I knew this. The Cardinal looked at me very seriously and said:

"Mademoiselle, il y a beaucoup de portraits, de bel peinture, de beaux tableaux, mais vous etes la seule qui a fait l'Ame, vous etes la seule, qui a fait l'Ame."("Miss, there are many portraits, good paintings, beautiful canvases, but you are the only one who has created the spirit, you are the only one who has made the soul.") To me came the words of Simeon, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace." So that, although the hands were chaos, the background a mess, and there was very little really good painting on the whole canvas, I was glad to leave it to be taken up again in ensemble in Paris, where I had the promise of a fine studio."

To be continued

(Excerpts are from Cecilia Beaux's autobiography "Background with Figures.")