DUST OF THE PAST

Taranaki Daily News, 30 March 1935, Page 13 (Supplement)

DUST OF THE PAST

VELASQUEZ AND MURILLO

(By

“Historicus.”)

The death of Murillo occurred on April 3,’ 1682. Sir David Wilkie, a great admirer of the Spanish school of painting, remarked of Velasquez and Murillo that “these two great painters are remarkable for having lived in the same time, in the same school, painted for the same people and of the same age, and yet to have formed two styles so different and opposite that the most unlearned can scarcely mistake them.” It is strange that the two names should be linked together across the years by the very difference of their work, because the rise of Murillo was very greatly due to Velasquez. The early years of Murillo were spent in the obscure alleys of Seville. His parents, humble work people, lived in the Jewish quarter, and here until he was ten he played with the other gamins. Even in these early years, however, Murillo had displayed his attraction for the painters brush, “and was fortunate enough to be found a place in a studio as a sort of odd job boy. He stayed for a dozen yeans, and then found himself thrown upon his own resources with no money, no friends, and a sister to keep. For a year or two he painted rough pictures of the religious order for sale at the public fairs of Seville. At last he determined to set out on an expedition for the purpose of studying the works of the greater- painters. He got as far as Madrid and introduced himself to Velasquez. The great painter, then at the height of his fame, took to the shabby looking tramp, and opened up what was te prove for him the road to fortune. Murillo’s change from obscurity came about through the friars of the convent of San Francisco in . Seville. Desirous of adorning their walls in a worthy manner they sought for money to employ an artist of repute without success. The needy Murillo offered his services, and he became to them a sort of Hobson’s choice. A less conscientious artist might have scamped the work, but Murillo put into the pictures all the knowledge he had gained under the guidance of Velasquez. The productions startled the worthy friars, attracted artists and critics, and not only brought his name to the fore, but added to his fame the patronage of the monied classes of Seville.

Henry David Thoreau. One of the wonders of creation is that no two men are alike. It is just as well. The world would indeed be an uninteresting place if everyone held the same ideas, and desired the same particular things. Every day, however, there is born into the world either a genius, a fanatic, or just a harmless crank. Into the humdrum existence of everyday doings he plunges with a zest that only the extremist could attain. If he does no good, he at least adds an interest to the joy of life. It is a little difficult to decide in which class to place Henry David Thoreau, poet and naturalist. His literary efforts can hardly be placed among the works of genius, although it has been justly said that he wrote nothing that is not deserving of notice. He was born in Concord, a village of Massachusetts, U.S.A., and, from the days when he drove his mother’s cows to the pastures, he seems to have been animated by a delight in nature and solitude. Later in life he developed, some curious ideas. One of them was that the less labour a man did above the positive demands of necessity, the better for him and the community at large. Six days of rest for one of labour! Even our most perfervid political regenerators have not got as far as that. His most famous divergence from the common run, however, took place on July 4, 1845, when he retired to the woods, built himself a hut, and for two years lived the life of a hermit. Robert Burns. “Jean,” whispered the dying Burns, “I’ll be more thought of a hundred years hence than I am to-day.” In the hundred years he became the poet of a nation and much more. His works and the national pride in and love of them are a chief reason why the “Doric” tongue of Scotland lias been and will be preserved, while his character, with its reckless generosity in love and friendship, its failings and its remorse, has become a national study. Every Scot loves Burns the man as well as Burns the poet, and sees in him a reincarnation of half the Covenanters’ ideal—the Hebrew King David—Robert Brace having reincarnated the other half. Yet one may doubt if even Scotsmen fully comprehend Robert Burns. Their admiration is in part unconsciously based on the fact that in love, religion, and in. his work as farmer, and exciseman, he showed that reckless disregard of others’ opinions, of the dictates of worldly wisdom, and of the main chance, which the Scot in general cannot muster courage to emulate. The Scot knows in his heart that, if Bums had given full play to what are generally reckoned the national virtues of restraint and sober - self discipline, there would have been no love lyrics, no drinking songs, perhaps no flame of patriotic verse, certainly not “The Jolly Beggars” and “Tam O Shanter.” Although Burns died young —he was bom in 1759—he was not killed by his vices but by his virtues. Toil at the plough and with the sickle and flail in childhood on the stony farm of his bankrupt father had brought on rheumatic fever and strained his frame. Riding Iris district as an exciseman in all weathers completed the mischief, and at 37 Bums died a worn-out man, though he had been no more intemperate than the righteous tradesmen and gentry around him at Dumfries. The Kemble Family. Roger Kemble was born on March 1, 1721. Reger Kemble, as the name would suggest, was an actor but the chief reason for his entrance into these anniversaries is by reason of his children. He was the father of twelve, five of whom went on the stage, two of the most distinguished being John Philip Kemble, famous in connection with the Covent Garden Theatre, and his sister Sarah, who is perhaps better remembered ’ as the celebrated Mrs. Siddons. In her day. sire was regarded as the greatest living actress, and her portrait was painted by nearly every artist of note, including Reynolds. Gainsborough, and Lawrence. John Philip, besides being a great actor, owned a sixth share in the Covent Garden Theatre when that unlucky house was burnt to the ground in 1808. Kemble’s all was invested in the building, and the universal sympathy he received did not confine itself to words. The Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV., presented him with £l,OOO, and the Duke of Northumberland with £lO,OOO, which Kemble declined as a gift but accepted as a loan. The famous “0.P.” riots made Kemble just a little more famous. Stephen Kemble made his first appearance at Covent Garden. Stephen was inclined to obesity, which, however, had one advantage. It enabled him to play his best character, Falstaff, without stuffing.