For thrones and peoples are as waifs that swing
And float or fall, in endless ebb and flow;
But who love best have best the grace to know
That Love, by right divine, is deathless King.
Tennyson.

The children of a royal family lead a strange and somewhat lonely life. Impressed, almost from infancy, with a sense of their superiority, and recognizing no equals among their companions and playmates, they live apart in princely isolation, preparing for the future honors which await them. But even the grave responsibilities of their rank cannot altogether extinguish the inherent joyousness of youth, and children will be children to the end of time. The stately ceremonies of the court have to yield in turn to innocent amusements, and childhood reasserts its natural right to simple and spontaneous happiness.

The combination of royal dignity with pure childishness is a unique subject for art, and one which few have had the genius to portray. Two great painters are famous in history for their remarkable success in this line of work,—Van Dyck, of Belgium, and Velasquez, of Spain.

In many respects the lives of these two painters ran in parallel lines. They were born in the same year, 1599; and beginning their art studies when still very young, with great opportunities for the development of their talent, both had won an enviable reputation by the time they had reached early manhood. Both held appointments as the court painters of kings who were unusually liberal and appreciative in their patronage,—Van Dyck under Charles I. of England, and Velasquez under Philip IV. of Spain. Both artists drew great inspiration from the Italian masters, whose works they studied in Venice and Rome, particularly the great Titian. Here, however, the comparison may end; for the nature of the subjects which each chose, the influence of their nationality upon their style, and, above all, their own personal individuality as artists, have rendered their work strikingly dissimilar.

Van Dyck was in every sense a man of the world and a courtier; widely travelled, broadly cultured, fond of music, brilliant in conversation, handsome of face, and graceful in bearing, by turns an elegant host and a distinguished guest. Thus all his thoughts, interests, and pleasures were thoroughly identified with the court life, and he was peculiarly fitted for the artistic interpretation of royalty.

The family of Charles I. of England afforded a most attractive field for the exercise of the court painter’s talent, and many and varied are the groups in which they were represented.[2] Some of the most interesting of these are in the collection at Windsor. In one, the king and queen are seen, with their two sons, Prince Charles and Prince James; while another portrays the same boys, with their mother, Henrietta Maria. The latter painting is an exceedingly beautiful work, repaying long study. The boys have that indefinable air of nobility which Van Dyck knew so well how to impart to his subjects, and which none can imitate or explain. Even Prince James, who is an infant in arms, holds his little head erect, like the prince that he is. The artist has shown us, however, that royal dignity is by no means incompatible with the true child nature, and the two young princes are always depicted as genuine children, with frank, winning faces.

head of james, duke of york.—van dyck.

The most popular of Van Dyck’s portraits of the Stuart children is the famous group at Turin, in which the two young princes, Charles and James, stand one on each side of their sister Mary. All three bear themselves with an air of conscious superiority, a gentle and serene dignity born of their faith in the divine right of kings. Prince Charles is dressed in scarlet satin, richly embroidered with silver lace, with a broad lace collar falling over his shoulders. His large round eyes look out towards the spectator with the dreamy expression of one who builds splendid air-castles. The Princess Mary is in white satin, and is a dainty little figure, a second edition of her queen mamma, with ringlets carefully ranged on each side of her pretty forehead, and her exquisite hands holding lightly the lustrous folds of her dress.

The little Prince James is so short that he stands on a platform at the side, to bring his figure into harmonious relation to the group. His dress is blue satin, of stiff, full skirt, which, with the close white cap on his head, makes him a quaint little figure. A chubby, innocent looking baby, he is nevertheless a personage who fully realizes the important place he occupies in the family group, and is determined to fill it with becoming gravity.

Next in popularity to the Turin picture is a group of five children, the original of which is at Windsor, and a replica at Berlin. The painting is dated 1637, fixing the age of Prince Charles as seven. Having now outgrown the frocks of the earlier pictures, he stands in a graceful boyish attitude, wearing satin knickerbockers and waistcoat, and still retaining the beautiful lace collar on his aristocratic shoulders. His eyes have the same dreamy look as in other portraits. On his right are his sisters Mary and Elizabeth, the former demurely complacent as before, the latter timid and dainty. On the left the little Princess Anne frolics with Prince James in simple childish fashion. As a composition, the picture is somewhat stiff and artificial, but the single figures are all rendered with characteristic beauty.

It is sad to place beside Van Dyck’s glowing canvases, the dark pictures in which historians have painted the after-life of these charming children. The dreamy-eyed Prince Charles grows at length into the corrupt and unprincipled King Charles II., whose tyrannies are limited only by his indolence. The sweet, round-faced baby, Prince James, becomes King James II., whose reign is even more inglorious than that of the brother whom he succeeds. The Princess Mary has in the mean time married Prince William II. of Orange, and now, in England’s hour of need, it is her son, William III. of Orange, who is summoned to the aid of his mother’s native land. With his cousin wife Mary, the daughter of the unworthy king, he assumes the head of affairs, and wisely conducts the interests of the people throughout a prosperous reign.

The fact that the Princess Mary’s marriage with William II. of Orange was productive of so great a benefit to England gives special interest to Van Dyck’s painting of the betrothed lovers, which may now be seen at Amsterdam. The princess stands on the left side of the