The Cloister and the Hearth | Page 6

his meals.
The day was never long enough for him; and he carried ever a
tinder-box and brimstone matches, and begged ends of candles of the
neighbours, which he lighted at unreasonable hours - ay, even at eight
of the clock at night in winter, when the very burgomaster was abed.
Endured at home, his practices were encouraged by the monks of a
neighbouring convent. They had taught him penmanship, and continued
to teach him until one day they discovered, in the middle of a lesson,

that he was teaching them. They pointed this out to him in a merry way:
he hung his head and blushed: he had suspected as much himself, but
mistrusted his judgment in so delicate a matter. "But, my son," said an
elderly monk, "how is it that you, to whom God has given an eye so
true, a hand so subtle yet firm, and a heart to love these beautiful crafts,
how is it you do not colour as well as write? A scroll looks but barren
unless a border of fruit, and leaves, and rich arabesques surround the
good words, and charm the sense as those do the soul and
understanding; to say nothing of the pictures of holy men and women
departed, with which the several chapters should be adorned, and not
alone the eye soothed with the brave and sweetly blended colours, but
the heart lifted by effigies of the saints in glory. Answer me, my son."
At this Gerard was confused, and muttered that he had made several
trials at illuminating, but had not succeeded well; and thus the matter
rested.
Soon after this a fellow-enthusiast came on the scene in the unwonted
form of an old lady. Margaret, sister and survivor of the brothers Van
Eyck, left Flanders, and came to end her days in her native country. She
bought a small house near Tergou. In course of time she heard of
Gerard, and saw some of his handiwork: it pleased her so well that she
sent her female servant, Reicht Heynes, to ask him to come to her. This
led to an acquaintance: it could hardly be otherwise, for little Tergou
had never held so many as two zealots of this sort before. At first the
old lady damped Gerard's courage terribly. At each visit she fished out
of holes and corners drawings and paintings, some of them by her own
hand, that seemed to him unapproachable; but if the artist overpowered
him, the woman kept his heart up. She and Reicht soon turned him
inside out like a glove: among other things, they drew from him what
the good monks had failed to hit upon, the reason why he did not
illuminate, viz., that he could not afford the gold, the blue, and the red,
but only the cheap earths; and that he was afraid to ask his mother to
buy the choice colours, and was sure he should ask her in vain. Then
Margaret Van Eyck gave him a little brush - gold, and some vermilion
and ultramarine, and a piece of good vellum to lay them on. He almost
adored her. As he left the house Reicht ran after him with a candle and

two quarters: he quite kissed her. But better even than the gold and
lapis-lazuli to the illuminator was the sympathy to the isolated
enthusiast. That sympathy was always ready, and, as he returned it, an
affection sprung up between the old painter and the young caligrapher
that was doubly characteristic of the time. For this was a century in
which the fine arts and the higher mechanical arts were not separated
by any distinct boundary, nor were those who practised them; and it
was an age in which artists sought out and loved one another. Should
this last statement stagger a painter or writer of our day, let me remind
him that even Christians loved one another at first starting.
Backed by an acquaintance so venerable, and strengthened by female
sympathy, Gerard advanced in learning and skill. His spirits, too, rose
visibly: he still looked behind him when dragged to dinner in the
middle of an initial G; but once seated, showed great social qualities;
likewise a gay humour, that had hitherto but peeped in him, shone out,
and often he set the table in a roar, and kept it there, sometimes with his
own wit, sometimes with jests which were glossy new to his family,
being drawn from antiquity.
As a return for all he owed his friends the monks, he made them
exquisite copies from two of their choicest MSS., viz., the life of their
founder, and their Comedies of Terence, the monastery finding the
vellum.
The high and puissant Prince, Philip "the Good," Duke of Burgundy,
Luxemburg, and Brabant, Earl