M

I

ANY who admire the eminent portrait-painter Franz von Lenbach are of opinion that in him Germany possesses one of those rare artists whose work is destined to hand down to coming generations the most faithful portraits of the great characters of her latest heroie period. Did not Prince Bismarck himself tell us how the thought pleased him that he would be known to posterity by means of Lenbach's portraits? In how far posterity will endorse or cut down this high estimate of Lenbach's work, it is not within our scope to inquire. Enough it is to note in the sturdy Bavarian one of those extraordinary men of truly volcanic energy, who, in almost every walk of life, seem to have been, as if simultaneously, called forth by Providence to lend the lustre of their labor to the political rebirth of their country.

Unlike many men of genius, Lenbach has been supremely fortunate in his generation. As a young man his work at once attracted attention, and criticism, though often of an uncompromising kind, was not able to delay recognition for long or bar the road to fame. To-day he is indeed a prophet in his own country, in spite of envious detractors, who here, as elsewhere, ever dog the steps of true greatness. His influence is manifest from cottage to palace. Etchings of his portraits of the great are to be found on the pictorial post-card so much in vogue in the fatherland, in libraries as frontispieces of historical biographies of eminent men, as well as in the print-shops of every town throughout the Teuton world. In fact, as far as I have been able to judge, Lenbach's portraits are the only ones in Germany which are thought worthy subjects for the etcher's needle or the engraver's steel. He is almost dictator in the art world of Munich, where his work is exhibited in a room by itself.

II

The story of Lenbach's humble parentage, his boyhood in the Bavarian village of Schrobenhausen, his early struggles and gradual achievement of renown, is too widely known for it to detain us here. One day, some years ago, when driving out in the neighborhood of Varzin with Princess Bismarck-ever one of his stanchest friends-the carriage passed a cottage on the roof of which a man was working. Lenbach turned to the Princess, and with that wistful sad smile of his said: "Just look at him, Princess. I, too, was once at work like that poor fellow." Lenbach's father was a village builder with a large family.

A well-known German art-critic, and one of the first to recognize and appreciate his talent, thus describes the impression his personality made upon him nearly forty years ago: "Although not endowed with engaging manners, there was something in the peculiarly gleaming, piercing, yet so meditative glance of this intellectual Mephistophelian ́figure which produced an immediate impression. Simple and dignified withal, retiring, and yet boldly self-conscious, the nonchalant, almost disdainful manner of speaking of this young man was very striking. One could see at a glance that he was neither in harmony with himself nor with his surroundings. His demeanor betrayed the uneasy, dissatisfied restlessness of an ideal nature, strenuously calling for the highest attainable standard from the outer world, as well as from himself. Poor as a church mouse, he would have accepted or declined the gift of a kingdom with equal indifference. There was a natural distinction about the man; he never appeared to be excited or flurried, much less carried away by feeling. And yet beneath outward calm, a perfect discipline of self-control, you could still discern a burning ardor of temperament and conviction lurking within. All this

their chances of getting on in the world, Lenbach, whether in Rome, Vienna, or Madrid-always working as hard as only the strong can work-led a rich life in the midst of a society made up of lovely women and cultured men. Heedless of the morrow, he breasted the flood of passion and fancy on the full tide of a happy-go-lucky existence. Few are privileged by the gods to wander with impunity thús under the figurative palmtree, where endless pitfalls, the searchings of a morbid sensibility, await the unwary genius. But the innate strength and the æsthetic refinement of the man carried him through it all and brought him back safe into port. There, at the age of sixty, with his devoted wife and their young children around him, he is working harder and more successfully than ever, excelling the labors of his best years in richness of color as well as in power of composition and execution. The latest products of his easel surprise even those who have been his greatest admirers, for they breathe the true spirit of his great prototype, Titian. And as I write I am told that the critics of Italy, Austria, and Germany proclaim his latest picture of Leo XIII. to be the finest portrait of a pope since Rafael limned Julius II. and Velasquez painted Innocent X.

Somebody once asked Lenbach what might be his price for painting a portrait. "That all depends," he replied. "From 20,000 marks, which I may ask, down to 5000 marks, which I may be willing to pay for the privilege of painting an exceptionally interesting face." This answer supplies us with a key to the character of the man, which is, indeed, almost as unique as his artistic genius.

Lenbach has painted a number of crowned heads, and if he were so inclined, he might well be flitting from court to court all the year round, waiting upon royal customers. But his inclinations do not lie that way-he is a painter of kings, but not a king's painter-and he has declined almost as many royal orders as he has carried out.

Sympathy and antipathy of an artistic as well as of a personal nature are ever guiding influences with him. Some years ago, a few friends of Professor Virchow intended to present him with his portrait,

and approaching Lenbach with a view to his accepting the commission, asked what his price would be. Lenbach declared it an honor to paint the great scientist's portrait, asked a comparatively small sum, and added that if Professor Virchow had not been such an inveterate political enemy of Prince Bismarck, he would be only too glad to paint his portrait for nothing.

A short time ago Lenbach was very much struck by the picturesque and graceful figure of a dark-eyed Australian variety-dancer who appeared nightly at a Berlin music-hall. As he does not speak English, he asked a friend to make a proposition to her to come to Munich at the end of her Berlin engagement and give him some sittings. He would pay her a round sum down, all her expenses, and make her a present of a colored sketch of herself in the bargain. The offer was accepted, and one fine day-I was in Munich at the time-the varietydancer, husband, and child were duly located in a Munich hotel.

Although a woman of humble origin and of no pretensions whatever, Lenbach, with the true instincts of a prince among men, as also his wife, treated her with the same amount of consideration and kindness as if she had been an honored guest in their house. He was quite distressed when she told his wife that she felt lonely, notwithstanding husband and child, in a strange town, unable to speak the language. The next Sunday afternoon the good townsfolk of Munich could see their "Herr Professor," the pride of the city, driving through the Englischer Garten with his wife, their lovely little daughter, Marion, and the sprightly young Australian variety-dancer sitting by his side. His kindness of heart had prompted him to devote the whole afternoon to showing her the sights of the town.

When Lenbach is painting anybody exceptionally well known, it soon becomes the talk of the town, and he is now and then asked to give a reception in order to introduce his friends to the celebrity. On such occasions the élite of art, rank, and beauty of Munich-including members of the royal house-may be met with in the palatial halls of the Villa Lenbach. But whoever happen to be present—let

were designed and built by his friend Gabriel Seidl, the Munich architect. The villa in which Lenbach lives was designed after the plan of the well-known Roman Villa Lante, by Julio Romano. Both buildings are beautifully decorated inside from fresco designs by Seidl, and are filled with well-chosen antique marbles, tapestries, curios, and a few very choice pictures, among which are two original Titians from the celebrated GiustinianiBarberigo collection in Parma, a Rubens, and a Sir Joshua Reynolds. In the centre of the garden stands an enormous

marble fountain which is supposed to be 2000 years old, and which Lenbach brought from Italy, together with so many other of his treasures. Many interesting mementos has he received from his friends. Any number of silver tankards bespeak the friendship of the Bismarck family. The Queen of Roumania is represented by an inscribed édition de luxe of some of her writings. A signed and framed colored drawing of a sea-fight bespeaks the kindly regard of the German Emperor, who, Lenbach assures me, is not without definite artistic talent.