An Art-Student in Munich

Front matter

AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH. THEEE IS THAT TO BE SEEN IN EVEET STEEET AND LANE OP EVEET CITY, THAT TO BE PELT AND POUND IN EVEET HUMAN HEAET AND COUNTENANCE, THAT TO BE LOVED IN EVEET EOAD-SIDE WEED AND MOSS-GBOWN WALL, WHICH, IN THE HANDS OP FAITHFUL MEN, MAT CONVET EMOTIONS OF GLOBT AND SUBLIMITT CONTINUAL AND EXALTED. JOHN BUSKIN. London: Wilson and Ogilvy, Skinner Street. AN AET- STUDENT IN MUNICH. BY ANNA MARY HOWITT. IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I. LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS 1853. TO MY BELOVED PARENTS, WHOSE KEEN LOVE Of NATURE, AND OF ALL THAI' IS PURE AND TRUE IN LIEE, EIRST IMPLANTED THE ARTIST'S ASPIRATION WITHIN MY SOUL, she folloimng sages ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. PEEFACE. These volumes are gleanings from letters written home during a sojourn in Munich for the purpose of artistic study.

They record the beautiful and happy experiences belonging to a peculiarly poetical chapter in the life of a woman studying Art. Should some readers, however, cavd at what they may deem a certain couleur-de-rose medium through which all objects seem to have been viewed, the writer would simply reply, that to her it appears more graceful for a Student of Art to present herself in public as the chronicler of the deep emotions of joy and of admiration called forth in her soul by great works of imagination, than as the chronicler of what in her eyes may have appeared defects and short comings. The sole shadow, therefore, which the writer

Preface

. has purposely introduced into the chronicle, is the shadow of intrinsic sternness and mom-nfulness pervading certain of the great works referred to. In the personal narrative running through the volumes, as a thread upon which to string certain pearls of Art, the writer has pursued a very similar line of action, feehng that although each passage of life has its peculiar prose and its peculiar pain, that to dwell, in retrospect, upon this pain and upon this prose is not only unphdosophic in itself, but ungrateful towards that Spirit of Joy and of Beauty which is ever brooding over the world. And here the writer woidd add a few words as a living protest against a very common but thoughtless calumny, namely, that it is man who thwarts every effort of woman to rise to eminence hi the life of Art.

With a thrill of truest happiness, she must here declare, that her experience hitherto, as an Art-Student, has been the most perfect refutation of such calumny. Invariably and repeatedly, when a hand has been required to put aside the sharp stones and thorns

PREFACE.

. IX which peculiarly beset a woman upon the path of Art, strong, manly hands have been stretched forth with noble generosity to remove them ; and manly voices have uttered words of teaching, of encouragement, and of prophecy of happy achievement. A. M. II. London, April 16, IS? 3. CONTENTS OE VOL. I. CHAP. PAGE. 1. Settling Down — A Religious Procession — Tlie Hof-Kapelle — A great Painter's Studio and Cartoons . . 1 H. The Studio of Wilhelm von Kaulbach . . .17 HI. Passing Sketches . . . . . .37 IV. The Miracle-Play at OberAmmergau . . .45 V. Bits of Munich Life . . . . .66 VI. The Student's Lights and Shadows . . .79 VII. Justina's Visit — A Group of Art-Sisters . . .87 VIII. A Barbaric Temple built in the Imagination — A Genre Picture in the New Home . . . .97 IX. The Studio and House of Schwanthaler the Sculptor . 107 X. The October " Volks-Fest" . . . .114 XI.

The Bavaria Festival . . . . .127 XII. The Opening of the Siegesthor . . . .139 XIIL Something about Munich Decoration, Public and Domestic 142 XIV. Autumnal Rambles . . . . .147 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. CHAP. PAGE XV. All Souls Day, and a Royal Christening . . -157 XVI. Consecration of the Basilica . ■ • .16a XVII. Winter Twilight and Christmas Eve . . .172 XIX. An Act of Royal Mercy— The Fair of the Three Kings— A Public Ball 185 XX. The Leuchtenberg Gallery— The Painter Genelli . . 199 XXI. The Schiiffler Dance and Carnival . . . .208 XXII. The Butcher's Leap into the Fountain — End of Carnival . 223 XXIII. Conversation with a Painter — The Frescoes of the New Pinakothek, and Sterrio-Chromie . . . AK AKT-STUDENT IN MUNICH.

Chapter I. Settling-down

A RELIGIOUS PROCESSION. THE HOF- KAPELLE. A GREAT PAINTER'S STUDIO AND CARTOONS. Munich, June 1st, 1850. — Here we are in Munich. These last several days have been such a confusion of excitement, dehght, disappointment, joy, fatigue, and disgust, that I scarcely know where to begin my narrative. I will, however, begin with prosaic lodging-hunting. To-day, all yesterday, and part of Saturday, have we been hunting for our little home that is to be; and as yet have not found it. The fact is, Munich is very full, from the sitting of the Bavarian Parliament, and from the great number of soldiers and students here; so that it seems next to impossible to find what we want, — cleanliness, respectability, and moderate charges combined. I should think I have been in almost every street in Munich ; and what queer places and people I have seen !

I fancy to-night, when I fall asleep, I shah find myself in dreams standing at the comer of some eld street, reading the written adver tisements which are posted up in such places. I seem to VOL. I. b have no ideas in my brain but " 2 Zimmer zu vermiethen. Ein sehr schon moblirtes Zimmer zu vermiethen an einen soliden Herrn, und gleich zu beziehen." Think how old fashioned it is here in Munich even, when a servant-girl will be sent round with a number of such advertisements, and a paste-pot, and pastes them up at the corner of the streets throughout the city : I had the amusement of seeing one perform her business. At present we remain at the Inn. You will naturally wish to know what we have done about the most important thing of all,— our artistic arrangements : scarcely anything as yet, for all requires time and consideration.

I have not yet been even to Kaulbach's atelier. I asked advice from B , and he recommended that I shoidd become a pupd, for the first three months at least, of friend of his, a rising artist and pupd of De la Roche's. I, of course, was therefore anxious to see this gentleman and his works ; but I am disappointed, — and, in fact, we for the present remain in a state of the greatest uncertainty. Ad mission into the Academy, as we had hoped, we find is impossible for women : the higher class of artists receive no pupds. I saw, yesterday morning, when at the B 's, a procession, or rather a number of processions, which were moving through the street. They were a sort of sequel to the grand procession of Corpus Christi Day, which we unfortunately missed seeing by a few hours. The morning was gloriously bright, the sky as cloudless and blue as an Ita lian sky ; the streets through which the procession passed were strewn with grass and flowers ; whole forests of birch-trees seemed to have been cut down to decorate the houses ; they were arranged side by side against the walls, so that the procession seemed to pass through the vista of a green wood.

Banners, tapestry, garlands, floated from the windows of the houses, which were A RELIGIOUS PROCESSION. often converted into shrines with burning tapers, golden crucifixes, pictures, and flowers. The air was filled with the sound of hymns and the peahng of bells ; altars were erected at the corners of the streets, at the fountains, and before the churches. Through the gay street wound the long train; priests in their gorgeous robes, scarlet, white, and gold, under gorgeous canopies ; Franciscan monks in their grave-coloured garbs ; Sisters of Mercy ; Ararious brotherhoods in quaint picturesque attire, all with gay floating banners and sdver crucifixes. Then came young girls with wreaths of myrtle on their heads, with lilies and palm-branches in then hands, or bearing books, tapers, or rosaries ; then troops and troops of httle children, all in white, and their heads crowned with flowers, and all raising their pure youthful voices in hymns of praise !

It was very beautiful. My soul seemed calmed and exalted. And, at a window opposite to where I was, sate an old, old woman, watching all with the deepest devotion. I shall not soon forget her face. Wednesday. — We are at length settled as to domestic matters. We hve not far from the Palace, at a sort of old curiosity shop, which Dickens would love to describe. You go up a dark winding staircase, and ring at a httle dark door; the door opens, and you see a large room full of gilt crucifixes, picture-frames, and huge painted saints larger than life, and glittering with gold. Beyond this, at the end of a long, desolate, white-washed passage, lie our rooms, spacious and cheerful, with many windows looking out into the pubhc street, and giving a distant view of the Palace. June 12th. — Rejoice with us : on Monday we become pupils of !

Yes ! next Monday we are to begin our studies in that identical little ateher where, seven years ago, when almost a child, I saw that group of young artists resting themselves at noon, and playing on the guitar,— a group which has haunted me ever since, Hke a ghmpse into a new world of poetry, or the old world of Itahan art. Yes ! that little room, with its glorious car toons, its figures sketched on the walls, its quaint window festooned with creepers,— that is to be our especial studio. There we stood this morning ; there we showed our sketches ; there I talked to him in the German tongue, being the mouth-piece for us both, as though he had been a grand, benevolent angel. I told him how earnestly we longed really to study ; how we had long loved and revered his works ; how we had come to him for his advice, believing that he would give us that, if not his instruction, which we heard was impossible.

I know not how it was, but I felt no fear, — only a reverence, a faith in him unspeakable. And what did he do ? He looked at us with his clear keen eyes, and his beautiful smde, and said, — " Come and draw here ; this room is entirely at your disposal." " But," said we, " how often, and when ?" He said, " Every day, and as early as you like, and stay as long as there is day-light." We knew not how to thank him ; we scarcely believed our ears : but he must have read our joy, our astonishment, in our countenances. The amount of our joy may be estimated by considering what was exactly our position the evening before, — nay, in deed, at the very time when we entered the studio. The even ing before, we were discouraged and disheartened to an ex treme degree ; our path in study seemed beset by obstacles on every hand : in fact, we asked ourselves for what had we come, — how were we better off here than in England ?

We talked and talked, and walked into that lovely English Garden, along the banks of the Isar ; the trees rose up calmly in their rich summer fohage; all was silent in the apprc aching twdight; long gleams of pale flesh coloured sky gleamed through the clumps of trees in the A RELIGIOUS PROCESSION. 5 distance ; acres of rich summer grass and flowers stretched away from om' feet. Behind us rose a gentle mound sur mounted by a white marble pavilion, more like something on the stage than a reality ; there was the scent of early mown grass, the distant hum of the city, the towers and spires of which, in the distance, rose abruptly into the evening sky, as if from a sea of wood ; there was the near rush of the water, the gentle voice of a bird ever and anon. The peace of Nature sunk into our hearts : never had nature and life and art seemed so holy and beautiful to us, I believe.

We talked of a thousand things; a certain cloud, a certain barrier which seemed to have existed be tween oui' hearts, melted away ; for, after all, our hearts had been strangers to each other untd this night. On our return home, we stiU thought and thought what was to be done ; we talked till it was morning, and by that time we had arranged a grand ideal plan of work, which, as far as it went, was good. We determined, if we could find no really first-rate master, to have models at our own rooms, and work from them most carefully with our anatomical books and studies beside us ; that we woidd do all as thoroughly as we could, and help and criticise each other ; that we would work out some designs in this way, studying the grand works around us, going dady to the Basilica, to the Glyptothek, to drink in strength, and inspiration, and knowledge ; that we would draw also from the antique, and would take our drawings to be corrected by , as he had already offered.

This was the scheme of the night. The first thing, therefore, this morning, was om* setting off boldly to him with our sketches, to ask his advice. The rest is told. As we left the studio, I could have fallen upon my knees, and returned fervent thanks to God, so mysterious was this fulfilment of my long-cherished poetical dream. It would have been a relief to one's heart so to have done; but though one often feels such impulses, one rarely gives way to them. As we walked through the streets home, how wondrously proud did we feel ! It seemed to us as though a sort of glory must surround us, as though every one ought to read instantly upon ombrows— " the happy pupds of a great master !" June lUh. — We were yesterday morning in the Hof- Kapelle : a long, quiet morning. I had no conception how sublimely beautiful is this chapel, although it had greatly impressed me the other Sunday morning when we were present at High Mass there.

The crowd of worshipping people, the strains of music, the incense, all produced an overpowering effect; but the highest enjoyment was, in the calmness of early morning, in solitude, in so perfect a silence that one could hear one's heart beat, to sit there alone steeping one's soul in the spirit of the place ; being fanned, as it were, by the angelic wings, being caught up into the golden sunlight of those heavens, forgetting all but the glorious abstractions before and above one, till Christ seemed to speak as he stretched forth his benevolent arms, tdl the Virgin's eyes sent peace into the depths of one's soul, till the whole quire of angels, overshadowed with their azure wings, burst into one anthem of praise and rejoicing ! It is not nature, at least not familiar nature such as we see in our streets and om' homes ; it is an abstraction, an exal tation, an ecstasy !

It is prayer, — praise. It is typical ; the flowers are typical ; the wings of the angels are wings nowhere to be found on earth, but are angels' wings; the ark, the cross, the crown, the palm-branch, the hly, all the hieroglyphics of our faith, speaking to our souls through our hearts, are there, each chanting its appropriate hymn, subor dinate, yet vitaUy necessary to the accomplishment of the whole great song of praise. This chapel is budt in the Byzantine style; the circular arches, the three domed THE HOF-KAPELLE. roofs, the niches, the three altars, are all one glow of gold, of rich draperies, of angelic forms and faces, of rainbow tinted wings, of mystical flowers and symbols . Yet, gorgeous as are the golden back-grounds and the frescoes, all is tempered by a certain simplicity of form, a sternness of composition, a deep spirit of earnestness, and also by the rich, yet almost sombre tints of the marble columns, of the marble walls, of the marble pavement, warm greys, ruddy browns, dark cool greens.

Thus you have the gravity of earth contrasted with the glow of heaven. The same marvellous contrast may be traced in the frescoes themselves. It was not, I am convinced, without deep meaning that the old masters employed golden back grounds. As for instance : here is a figure of Saul, the dark, moody, miserable man; there he sits brooding over his wretchedness ; the light of earthly prosperity as yet falls upon him ; his figure catches the light ; but there is no golden glow of heaven beyond, — all is dusk. But close beside him sits David : he touches his golden harp, a crown circles his brow ; you feel, as yet, that it is only a visionary crown, the crown that God wdl descend upon him ; but he sits in the glory of God already, it streams upon his figure, upon his harp, and the golden light of heavenly glory glows beyond him !

This is but one of the poetical and deeply truthful effects produced by these golden grounds. In order more fully to appreciate the grand throught of Leo v. Kenze, the architect, and of Heinrich v. Hess, the painter, I ought to observe that the entire chapel is a shadowing forth of the doctrine of the Trinity. The first cupola is dedicated to the Old Testament, with the Creator as its centre ; the second to the New Testament, with Christ as its centre ; the Quire, to the Acts of tiie Apostles, with the Holy Ghost as its centre. Prom these awful centres proceeds the divine influence, governing the world and the church through the Prophets and the Saints. Within the altar-niche, above the high altar, appears the Church-Triumphant ; as representative of the Church, the Virgin Mary is seated upon her throne ; to her right hand and her left are Peter and Paul, Moses and Ehas ; and rising above the Queen of Heaven, with bene volent out-stretched arms, and calm face of immortal love, is Our Lord, surrounded by a glory of Seraphim waving their rainbow-tinted wings.

The side-altar on one hand shows us the Saints of the Bavarian Orders, St. George and St. Hubert, in adoration before Christ, who appears to them in the clouds. St. George gazes upwards with a noble exaltation in his strong youthful face, whilst he tramples the prostrate dragon with his maded foot. St. Hubert, in his quaint hunter's garb, is praying quietly beside his marvellous stag. Above the other side-altar, St. Louis and St. Theresa, the Patron Saints of the Bavarian Royal Famdy, kneel in prayer before the Virgin and Chdd; St. Theresa's meek, white face, and emaciated figure, shrouded in rum's weeds, con trasting in startling sadness with the sweet and calmly joy ful Vngin, who, seated upon her throne, holds the benig nant child. A peculiar and very beautiful effect is produced in this chapel by the windows being so arranged that from below they are invisible, the hght streaming down from above the golden and frescoed galleries.

Perhaps Justina wiU be alarmed by my earnest admira tion of this pecuhar path of art, and warn me against super human painting. But she need fear no danger. I admire it with one portion of my being — with the highest, with my spirit. I regard it as an ecstasy of prayer. But truly one must know what are the beauties of nature before one aspires to represent the subhmities of the supernatural. June 11th. — Last night we busily unpacked all our paint boxes, looked up, with dehghted eagerness, porte-crayons, SETTLING DOWN. chalks, everything; chose out such anatomical drawings, and drawings from the antique, as we thought most worthy ; laid out our twin-copies of Wilson's Vade-Mecum, — even scraped om1 chalks, and thus had everything ready for starting as soon as we had taken our coffee in the morning, and when certain paper which we had ordered to be stretched on two frames should arrive.

Most explicit orders had I given on Friday morning about this Carton Papier, and these frames, and had been assured that at farthest they would be ready by Sunday evening. I had forgotten our former German experience, that when you want a thing in a hurry in Germany you must order it six months before you need it ! This morning, therefore, baring lain awake nearly all night, lest I should be asleep when it was time to get up, my first anxious inquiry from Marie, who, entering my room with bare feet, and keys jingling at her side, brought in our coffee at seven o'clock, was after the stretched paper. Marie looked frightened : the " Herr," said she, " sent this morning at six o'clock to the carpenter's, and the frames would not be ready before ten \" Not before ten ! I said nothing to Clare, thinking that she might as weU enjoy her coffee in the behef that the frames and the paper were all ready.

After breakfast, Clare said, after enumerating all the things which we had prepared — " and the strained paper, Anna ." " Will not be here tdl ten !" said I, quite savagely, considerably reheved by having unburdened my mind. To my surprise, a most lamb-hke and patient expression was on Clare's face. " I never expected," said she, " that they would be ready ; it is no use going to 's with nothing to draw on." I, for my part, did not expect them till afternoon, or to morrow, or next week ; and an agony came into my heart at the thought of appearing careless in 's eyes, when he had told us to go early that morning. But there was no good in making oneself miserable ; so, with a little pang in my heart, I set about doing various httle things, and, firstly, went into the town to buy two queer, picturesque, big brown jugs, from a httle, stupid, old woman.

These jugs were to be very important in our menage, seeing that we are young ladies, who, to their present discomfort, are perplexed with the absolute necessity of living in airy rooms, and having a plentiful supply of water, and yet who are forced to breathe German stenches, and to wash in a supply of water contained in a decanter ! These big brown jugs, therefore, were intended to be com panions to two big yellow pans which we bought yesterday. I explained most clearly to the little old woman where we lived : she seemed as dull as an owl : a good, sprightly little body passing by explained to her where the Resident Gasse was ; the old woman did not know, although it is only a few hundred yards from her shop : she looked asleep, yet promised to send them at seven o'clock in the evening. I did various other things in the town, hoping that when I returned I should find the strained paper all ready.

I entered our room : Clare was sitting melancholy but calm, with Haydon's Anatomical Lectures open before her : no tidings had arrived about our paper ! Noon approached, and we grew quite desperate, and, hke a httle lioness, I rushed into the old curiosity shop, and beheld a long roll of cartoon-paper reared up against a gilded Saint. I said, " What does this mean ? Is this our paper ? and why is it not strained ?" " As soon as the Herr gets the frames it shall be done !" was the very satisfactory reply. I felt that there was nothing for it but patience, and at length, at three o'clock, after we had arranged our rooms and put all our possessions in order, the strained paper, delightfully sugges tive of work, made its appearance ; but by this time it rained, and rain here is worse than in London.

It rains in torrents, you are wet through in no time ; and the streets, which are CARTOONS. usually deserts of white sand, are turned into seas of white mud. Well, never mind ! the paper for which we had waited so long could not go, but we must. The boy with the ear-rings, WTilhelm, the youngest son ofthe Haus-Herr, must carry our things for us : and off we set, Wdhelm, like a little beast of burden, trudging behind. We wound along all sorts of strange places, dived into narrow lanes, came out beneath crumbling old gateways, and through a field in which hay-making was going on. Even this wet afternoon, a peasant girl, in a pink boddice, with white sleeves, and a black handkerchief tied over her head, was tossing hay in the rain. As Germans do every thing contrary to English custom, I suppose the proverb is " make hay whde the rain rains !"

We passed between the wet trees and knocked at the studio-door. No answer. We lifted the latch and entered : there was no great painter present ; there stood his grand works on their easels; there hung his furred painting-gown ; there lay his cigars : — but he was not there. We looked around on this side and on that, and presently a picturesque somebody was aroused from behind a colossal cartoon. AVe enquired whether Herr v. was there. " No, he would not be there till the morrow !" Good ! then on the morrow we also would return to draw ; meanwhile we woidd have a quiet study of two small cartoons placed upon easels in the centre of the large studio. One of these cartoons is the Reconcdiation of Wittikind and Charlemagne. Every one, no doubt, recollects that Charlemagne waged war against Wittikind : fortunately I remembered reading of it in Mentzel.

On a rising ground stands Charlemagne, a grand, heroic figure : with one hand he clasps a rude, huge crucifix, which is raised upon a broken Druidical idol ; this crucifix is planted on the broken feet of the idol— a fine idea ! with the other hand he grasps the hand of Wittikind ! He grasps his hand and gazes at him with an inspired countenance ; his eyes, from beneath then massive brows, seem to flash a beneficent lightning upon his reconcded enemy. Wittikind grasps his hand in turn, but gazes on the earth awe-struck as it were. To his right, a step or two behind him, are his queen, his mother, his little daughter, an affecting group. The queen, with a mournful, proud bearing, with head erect, yet eyes cast down, only half assents to the reconcdiation ; a fierce mental struggle is yet going on within her.

The old mother clings to her, weeping on her shoulder in undisguised agony at her son's desertion of his religion ; the httle girl, with her long, heavy tresses of hair, stands meekly beside her mother, with tears robing down from her beautiful, sad eyes. Strange, wdd, stormy, yelling groups surround them : here in the fore ground, in the centre of the picture, Druids are mourning over then fallen, broken idol ; some bowed over it in despair, others invoking curses from their gods upon the renegade king, wild, frantic ! hurling denunciations against gods and men. Here is a group of Wittikind' s subjects, serfs, nobles, men, women, and children, pointing to their slain, to their broken idol, to their wounds, wdd, frantic also ! There are curses, taunts, jeers ; a strange contrast to the calm corpses strewn around.

To the right of Charlemagne, beneath the rude crucifix — a crucifix as rude as the Christianity of that age — are marshalled the knights of Charlemagne, calm though triumphant. The four Haymon's Kinder, the four heroic brothers, all seated on one horse, as they are described in the old legend, are there. One, the shadow of the other, grave, stern, heroic, awful almost in their beauty and their stern ness. The foremost slightly leaning over the neck of their pawmg, snorting horse, points to two Druids who have passed over to the new faith, and who stand bound side by CARTOONS. side, with bowed heads, and brows yet encircled by fading oak garlands, reading a passage in one of the gospels, which is held open by a triumphant bishop. Beyond this group of knights rises a Druidical temple, the demolition of which has already commenced.

On its height stands a frantic Druid, hurling his imprecations against the skies. On the other hand rises a funeral pyre ; a Druidical priestess bums herself in her chariot; she breaks her sacred wand, her hair flies in wdd masses behind her, mingling with the smoke and flames ; around her pyre lies a circle of corpses ; far away stretches a savage mountainous region, on every height burns a fire of sacrifice, its long column of smoke ascending to heaven. The whole cartoon is a wonderful embodiment ofthe spirit of those old times ; it seems also to be an embodiment of those words of Christ, " I come not to bring peace, but a sword." The next cartoon tells its story plainly enough. It is an embodiment of the spirit of the Crusades : not alone the Crusaders' first glimpse of Jerusalem, which has so often been painted, but it is the age of the Crusades which is there.