Quintin Matsys

Quintin Matsys, from Wikipedia

There was a young man in Antwerp. And there was a young girl too. We don’t need anything more to begin a romantic story. And that’s just what happened. The man and the girl fell in love with each other. Passionately. The normal course would have been marriage and family life. But that didn’t happen. Because the man was a blacksmith and farrier by profession and the girl was the daughter of a painter.

‘I don’t want my daughter to marry a blacksmith,’ the master painter asserted. It was in the 15^th century. Feminism was not even a thought-experiment. And the boys didn’t have all the fun.

Love has a unique power – the century doesn’t matter. Quintin Matsys was determined to win over the master painter and then his daughter. He sneaked into the master’s studio one day and painted a small fly on the master’s current frame. When the master returned to the studio, he tried to swat the fly only to discover that it was a painted one. The master was quick to find out the creator of that exquisite fly. He took Quintin Matsys under his charge and trained him. The young man became a painter better than the master. Needless to say, he married the master’s daughter too.

Matsys was a very laborious and diligent painter. But it is said that love was the real magic touch in them. His heart was full of love. Love can transform realities miraculously.

Since we are in the 15^th century, and also since this post is too short otherwise, let us look at another story – this time fiction – from the period. The abbot of a monastery was very upset with the constant strife among his monks. There was too much nitpicking in the monastery. Grumbling and blaming. Discontent. The monastery that was once the centre of learning and spirituality was now a mere dark shadow of its past glory. Aspirants didn’t flock to the monastery anymore. The old monks went on doing whatever they liked. No, this is not the way a monastery should be. So the Abbot wanted counsel. He went to the sage living all alone in a cave on the mountain.

‘There’s the sin of ignorance among the monks,’ the sage said. ‘One of the monks is the Messiah in disguise and the monks are ignorant of this.’ The sage didn’t say anything more.

The Abbot returned to his monastery and told the monks what the sage had said. The monks began to wonder who among them could be the Messiah in disguise. Is it the Friar Cook? Friar Sacristan? Friar Treasurer?

Each monk knew the faults of every other monk in detail. That happens when people live together 24 hours for years and years. You know everything about everybody else – except yourself.

Who is the Messiah in disguise? It could be anyone in the monastery because there was no one, not even the Abbot, without a million faults and follies. Anyone could be the Messiah in disguise. So each monk began treating every other monk with immense respect. The faults and follies were overlooked. The good sides were noticed and appreciated. There was love in the very air of the monastery.

It didn’t take very long for the monastery to become a heaven on earth.

Love has a tremendous power to transmute the reality. Whether in art or in a monastery. Anywhere, in short.