CONVERSATIONS
ON

ART

METHODS

(METHODE ET ENTRETIENS D'ATELIER)

BY

THOMAS

COUTURE

TRANSLATED FROM T H E FRENCH

BY S. E. STEUART.
W I T H AN INTRODUCTION

BY ROBERT SWAIN GIFFORD.

G.

P.

NEW YORK:
PUTNAM'S
182 F I F T H

AVENUE

1879.

SONS

C O P Y R I G H T BY G.

P.

PUTNAM'S SONS.

1879.

704
C83c
1879

PREFACE.

T

H I S book is the result of personal observation.
Rebellious against all science, it has been im-

possible for me to learn by academic means.

Were

these teachings bad ? I cannot say, I never understood them.

The sight of nature, the eager desire

to produce that which captivated me, guided me
better than the words which seemed useless; and
besides, I confess to my shame, I did not wish to
listen.

This independence has cost me dear; I

have often mistaken the way, sometimes entirely
lost myself; but there has come to me from these
failures great results, great light.

I come out from

them more robust, torn to pieces, it is true, but no
less valiant.

These intellectual gymnastics have

formed within me a good artistic temperament.

IV

PREFACE.

I have made the tour of painting, as many make
the tour of the world.

I shall relate to you my

voyages, my discoveries.
and I believe very simple.

They are not numerous
I have found moreover

short paths, which are now fully open.

You will

not have the difficulties which I had, but will learn
easily what is necessary to know.
I now see that I might have avoided many of
my labors; as I said above, the desire to put upon
canvas that which captivated me, guided me better
than words which seemed useless.

It was instinct

in me, and to follow the dictates of my heart was
easy, but you object to this, and think it is always
difficult to acquire knowledge.

I see . . . you also

wish to make the tour of the world. . .

Wait, do

not start yet, perhaps I may make the journey no
longer necessary.
To try is a duty, to succeed is my hope.
T. C.

INTRODUCTION.

w

H E N I learned that a translation of Methode
et Entretiens

dJ Atelier

was about to be

published in this country, I was delighted, for I
felt that hundreds of earnest art students, all over
the country, would not only receive from it valuable technical hints, but that they would be stimulated to fresh efforts by the encouragement and
earnestness of the celebrated author.
I have often felt that I would like to express to
Couture, in some way, my gratitude for the help he
had unconsciously given me, early in my studies.
Many years ago, in 1857, I think, while I was
painting in a little village in Massachusetts, and
making every exertion to acquire some knowledge

VI

INTRODUCTION.

of painting, everything about my work went wrong,
nothing was satisfactory.
One morning I received a letter and a package
from a friend, who was studying architecture in
Paris.
My friend wrote me that during a vacation he
had taken some lessons of Couture, in painting, and
he thought I would be glad to know something of
his method of beginning a work; thereupon followed
a careful description of the first preparation

of a

picture.
On opening the package I found many kinds of
brushes and some colors, such as were used for the
early stages of the work.

I was supremely happy !

Finding a subject near the shore, close at hand, I
set at work: by following the direction given in the
letter, I found I got much greater purity of tone and
color than before ; the picture had a luminous quality which came from the warm colors thinly distributed over the canvas in the first stages of the work,
and which had not been entirely covered over in the
subsequent paintings.

INTRODUCTION.

Vli

After this I had opportunities to learn the methods of many other celebrated painters, but J. always
returned to this first with great satisfaction.
About seven years since, I read Methode et Entretiens d'Atelier', and translated portions of it foi
the use of some of my more advanced pupils.
This method of working had one disadvantage—•
it seemed to me that the shadows were left too
thin—but with this exception it was preferable to
any other.
The chapter on Painting touches upon the purity of colors in a way that has not been specially
pronounced in any book that I am familiar with.
We have paid too little attention to this subject
fa this country, particularly in the mixing of colors
on the palette.
The usual way has been to mix the colors with a
knife before putting them on the canvas, thus destroying the vitality of the colors ; the brush only
partly mixes them and their individuality is preserved, although when the picture is a few inches
away from us, they seem perfectly mixed.

viii

INTRODUCTION.

Very few writers on the technicalities of art
touch upon the subject of " Values.'' Couture gives
us an admirable discourse on this subject, in Chapter VI.
This volume is essentially a painter's book, but
any one at all interested in art will be fascinated by
the earnestness and picturesque eloquence of the
author, as well as charmed and amused by his vivid
descriptions and anecdotes.
ROBERT SWAIN GIFFORD.
N E W YORK, May

3d,

1879.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

I.—ELEMENTARY DRAWING
II.—ELEMENTARY

PRINCIPLES

i
OF

DRAWING

FROM

NATURE..,

5

I I I . — T H E FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PATNTING
IV.—THE

OCCUPATION OF A YOUNG

6

PAINTER FIRST

COMMENCING HIS A R T

10

V.—ELEMENTS OF COMPOSITION

12

VI.—INTRODUCTION TO H I G H A R T

14

V I I . — O N DRAWING IN ITS MOST BEAUTIFUL EXPRESSION

20

V I I I . — T H E PORTRAIT

32

IX.—CONFESSION

84

X . — T H E TIMES IN WHICH WE L I V E . . .
X I . — T H E CRITIC.
XII.—A REVIEW

89
91

OF THE SCHOOLS

T H I R T Y YEARS
X I I I . — T H E GOLDEN MEDIUM. . . .

FOR MORE THAN
99
105

X

CONTENTS.
PA<~K

XIV.—JEAN

GOUJON

115

XV.—MONSIEUR X

126

XVI.—EUGENE DELACROIX

131

XVII.—DECAMPS

138

XVIII.—ON PAINTING

143

XIX.—TITIAN

<

149

X X . — T H E SKETCH
XXI.—ON COMPOSITION

162
,

169

XXII.—SIMPLICITY IN COMPOSITION

198

XXIII.—EXALTATION

202

XXIV.—ORIGINALITY

209

XXV.—A FEW WORDS ON ANTIQUE A R T
XXVI.—ON FRENCH A R T

226

X X V I I L — T H E FATHERS OF THEIR COUNTRY
,

XXX.—Is A R T SUPERIOR TO NATURE ?
XXXI.—DIVINE
XXXII.—ADIEU

ART

214
219

XXVII.—PRUDHON

X X I X . — M Y MASTER GROS

,

228
233
235
238
251

CONVERSATIONS ON ART,
i.
ELEMENTARY DRAWING.

I

COMMENCE by saying that I know nothing
more simple than what is called the art of imi-

tation ; I will explain elementary things, the material means which are all easy to understand.

Later,

when we touch true Art, you will see that the art
of drawing surpasses everything else, and that the
qualities of color and light are only secondary to it.
I will proceed in order, and will for the time
separate the art from the trade, and will ignore the
antique (those beautiful things,) in my first lessons.
It is a monstrosity to use them with beginners.
the use of relievos you profane your

By

greatest

resource, and while you try to make your student
feel the beauties of the antique statues, you are

2

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

giving him false impressions, and familiarizing him
with what he cannot understand.

It is a folly in

education which is fatal; do not confound art with
material things.
You can make your pupil copy a table, a book;
you can have plaster casts of them if you like ; but
to teach from the antique is impossible ; he has
many things to study before he can comprehend
it.

I pause to make a reflection, although it is

not my affair; elementary art, which is of so much
importance, and the teaching of which ought to be
confided to the best instructors, falls to the share
of the most incompetent.
What must one do to draw well ?
You must place yourself before the object you
wish to represent, have good tools, always in order ;
give much more attention to what you are trying
to draw, than to the drawing itself.

Allow me to

make a suggestion ; use three-quarters of your eyes
for observation, and one-quarter for drawing.
In beginning your drawing, take one point of
distance, and compare all the others with it.

Es-

ELEMENTARY

DRAWING.

3

tablish, either in imagination or in reality, a perpendicular and a horizontal line before the object you
wish to reproduce ; this is an excellent guide and
ought always to be remembered.

When, by slight

points and lines, you have marked all your places,
then partly close your eyes and look at your model.
This way of looking simplifies objects, and causes
the details to disappear; you perceive only the
great divisions of light and shade.

Then you estab-

lish your bases; when they are well placed, open your
eyes wide, and add the details within your marks.
It is necessary to determine the " dominants " of
lights and shadows.

Look well at your model and

ask yourself where the light is greatest, and place
the light in your drawing at the point it appears in
nature; by this means, you mark a " dominant" which
ought not to be exceeded ; all the other lights must
be subordinate. The same rule must be observed in
shadows; establish the point at which the shadow is
deepest, the black the most intense.

It serves as a

guide, as a standard for finding the different value,
of your shadows and your half tints.

4

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

Work

always with

order and recapitulation,

value of distance, value of light, value of shadow.
I t now remains for us to speak of the value of outline, and the value of texture.

A drawing, like a

natural body, offers many varieties of outline; one
form is marked by indefinite lines j another by
features or by vigorous shadows.

You must avoid

making strong that which is delicate, or delicate
that which is strong ; the putting of a heavy in place
of a light line, or a light in place of a heavy one;
you must submit yourself to the same rules, and by
incessant comparison establish these differences.
As to texture, you must not make a rough cloth,
coarse linen, or an old wall with the same delicate
touch you employ to produce fine stuffs, precious
objects, the flesh of a woman, etc.

You must adapt

your execution to the thing represented; as to the
rest, the object itself will serve as a guide.

II.
ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES OF DRAWING
FROM NATURE.

Y

OU can only copy the movable things of
nature when you can work rapidly; the same

rules must be observed, but they are more difficult
of application.

Constant exercise is necessary; a

musician would say to y o u : the scales, the scales!
I say to you, draw! draw!

Draw morning and

evening to exercise your eyes, and to secure a sure
hand.

You will farther on see drawing viewed from

an artistic point, but do not let us anticipate.
have at present said all that is necessary.

I

III.
T H E FIRST PRINCIPLES OF PAINTING.

Y

OU ought not to commence painting until you
are certain of your drawing; a sure hand is

necessary to obtain good results.
I will not yet speak to you of the great resources
of execution, which you will only be able to employ
after much exercise; precision, and dexterity of
hand, are the qualities which result from hard work
and from time.
Simplify your means of action, work with system, and with your mind free from all irrelevant
thoughts, for you need the use of all your faculties.
Do not chase, as they say vulgarly, two hares at
a time; divide the force of an art which you are not
able to understand entirely, and which, besides,
would crush you if taken all at once. Study each of
the parts separately.

You will soon be able to

THE FIRST PRINCIPLES

OF PAINTING.

7

unite them, and to master that which if attempted
would have overwhelmed you at starting.
This is nothing more than Method.
LET US COMMENCE.

Trace your drawing on the canvas with charcoal,
which is preferable to chalk ; your points well determined, you mix strong boiled oil and spirits of
turpentine, half and half, making what is called
" sauce;" put

upon your

palette the necessary

color for the first preparation, such as ivory black,
bitumen, brown red, and cobalt.
With a tint composed of black and brown red,
you will obtain bistre; bitumen, cobalt and brown
red will give you nearly the same result.
Return now to your drawing.
Brushes of sable, a little long, are necessary to
trace the design ; your charcoal dust would spoil
the effect of the color; therefore, with a maul stick
strike the canvas as upon a drum; the charcoal
falls, the drawings become lighter, but
remains to guide you.

sufficient

Then you take the sable

8

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART,

brush, dip it into your " sauce/' then into the bistre
tint, and trace all your outline.

These outlines

being made, mass your shadows and you obtain a
kind of sepia drawing in oil.
This first preparation must be allowed to d r y ;
the execution will require a day's work.

It will

dry in the night, and the next day you work with
the

same preparation; wet your shadows and

arrange your lights.
Clean your palette, and set it in the following
manner:
Lead white, or silver white.
Naples yellow.
Yellow ochre.
Cobalt.
Vermilion.
Brown red.
Lake (the madders are the best).
Burnt sienna.
Cobalt.
Bitumen.
Ivory black.

THE FIRST PRINCIPLES

OF PAINTING.

9

I leave you to your own inspiration in mixing
your colors; experiment and make mistakes, but
above all, acquire habits of accuracy.
any more to you.

I cannot say

IV.
T H E OCCUPATION OF A YOUNG PAINTER
FIRST COMMENCING HIS ART.

W

E will suppose you have drawn morning and
evening, that you have daubed much can-

vas, used many colors, and much time has passed.
These gymnastic exercises not being very fatiguing,
you have been able to cultivate your mind by reading good books; the ancient and our French classics
are all good.

But as you are to be a painter, I will

mention certain works which you can read with
profit.

Homer, Virgil, Shakspere, Moliere, Cer-

vantes, Rousseau, Bernardin de Saint Pierre.
In the first three, you will find grand teaching
for your art.

Homer gives you primitive simplicity,

Virgil harmony, Shakspere passion, Moliere, as you
no doubt know, uses the most beautiful language,
and clothes truth in the most perfect imagery.

YOUNG PAINTER

FIRST COMMENCING,

11

Read much; you are young, digestion will be
easy. Live in good company, and cultivate intimacy
with young people who are well advanced in art.
Never wish to appear greater than you a r e ;
above all things beware of expressing other people's
opinions as if they were your own; that brings ruin ;
it leads to darkness ; dare to be yourself; that will
bring you light.
Be truly christian, cultivate your heart; above
all things, be humble; in the art of painting, humility is the greatest strength.

V.
ELEMENTS OF COMPOSITION.

B
tion.

E I N G prepared by the reading of good books,
you will give to your studies the proper direcAbove all things avoid ugliness.

You ought always to carry about with you a
small album, in which you can trace beauties that
strike you, startling

effects, natural poses, etc.

Never forget to make yourself into an ant, or a bee;
pillage everywhere in order to have an abundant
granary, practice composition while you are young,
but always with materials drawn from your own
observation.
Acquire habits of accuracy.
The things I now tell you are only the elements
of composition ; we will later take up the same
theme; you must understand all the parts

to

ELEMENTS

OF COMPOSITION.

13

be able to draw with truth, and by this method
to arrive at truly poetical composition; do not
anticipate, and as I always tell you, commence
modestly*

VI.
INTRODUCTION TO HIGH ART.

M

Y young friends, I am now about to introduce
you to advanced art, an enchanted country;

your eye is cultivated, your hand is trained ; the
time has come to initiate you.

Here I pause; to

say a few wise and prudent words to you before
raising the curtain.
You are impatient and full of ardor; it is a good
augury; you believe that you are going to be astonished, intoxicated by what I shall show you; undeceive yourselves.

The sight of beauty

never

creates these raptures in those who do not understand her.
She is so simple, she only speaks to the initiated.
Those who look upon the sea for the first time,
are astonished at the slight impression it produces

INTRODUCTION

TO HIGH ART.

15

upon them ; a straight line marks the horizon, a
large quantity of water, that is all, for those who do
not know it, but for those who understand its mysteries how wonderful is the sea.
The sight of beautiful antique things, the pictures of Raphael, Michael Angelo, Rubens, Titian,
Rembrandt;

everything which is great and im-

mense does not astonish you.
I wish to forewarn you, lest you may think you
have been deceived.
I will adopt what I believe to be a good means
of making you understand it, by relating to you a
story.
One day, wishing to amuse myself, I ordered a
bottle of excellent champagne for a peasant; I invited him to drink, and waited to hear his expressions of admiration, but my man tossed off his wine
without appearing any more pleased than if he had
drunk cider.

Astonished, I said to him : " Do you

like this w i n e ? " " I t is not bad," he replied, " b u t
a little flat."

A little flat, first class champagne!

I felt like beating him.

I made him drink this wine

l6

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART,

for fifteen days, and I obtained some bottles of the
wine he habitually drank, and which he had so
much praised.

A t the end of the time, I poured

out for him a glass of his own sour wine without
his perceiving it.

He drank it off rapidly, and

making a grimace, exclaimed—" My goodness, what
have you given me."

" Your own wine which you

so much like," was my reply.

" Is it possible ?

now appears detestable to me.

It

Give me yours ; I

am now used to it.''
I will give you an intellectual champagne, to
make you detest your sour wine.
My task is difficult, I hardly know how to begin.
Let me relate to you another little anecdote.
Fatigued with work, I needed fresh air, the
fields, the woods, the sweet verdure.

I went and

found it in a charming place where no human being
was to be seen.

A single cow was browsing a little

distance from m e ; lying upon my back, my face
caressed by beautiful fresh leaves, I chewed the verdure, and was happy to feel myself also an animal
like my companion.

To let one's imagination run

INTRODUCTION

TO HIGH ART.

I?

wild is very sweet, but to relax the brain in order
to let the thoughts wander, to let them play truant,
is not this to a fatigued thinker a very" pleasant
thing?

Such was my case.

A limpid stream ran

at my feet; I looked at the surface of it, but without
attention, almost without seeing i t ; nature enveloped me, I observed it not.

My perception was

that of an animal, I saw only a small space.

This

space was covered by spiders, who glided over the
water with great rapidity; I took pleasure in the
sight.

My thinking faculties awakened themselves

unknown to me, for soon I remarked the trees on
the shore were delineated under the water, like
beautiful embroideries ; then the birds, the butterflies, the clouds, the depth ; and over all a veil of
incredible fineness, which gave to what I saw the
appearance

of

a

terrestrial

thing; what change of scene.
us examine.

paradise.

Strange

Is it a mirage ?

Let

In- thought, I again came to the sur-

face of the water, and to my great surprise, again
saw the black spiders upon the metallic surface,
which seemed to hide with an impenetrable cover

18

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

the paradise at which I had a glimpse.
absurd.

It was too

I rose, I rubbed my eyes, quite deter-

mined to give an account of this phenomenon ;
however, nothing was changed.

If I looked atten-

tively at the surface of the water, the beautiful spectacle disappeared ; if on the contrary I gave my
whole attention to the reflection in the water, I
found again my enchanted paradise.
Is not this the explanation of art ?
If you look superficially, you have only a common image ; look longer and deeper, the image becomes sublime.
T o a man of narrow mind, a poor, disinherited,
infirm cripple will be a laughing stock, while a Shakspere will see in the same man a being possessed
of a great soul, and immense powers of enduring
suffering and grief.

H e will create a sublime poem

from that which has made another laugh.
great secret is to see well, to choose well.

The

What is

called the interpretation of a thing is simply to
choose well from the domain of truth.
T o choose the most beautiful thing is not the

INTRODUCTION

utmost expression of art.

TO HIGH ART.

19

If the most beautiful

thing is perfect, we exalt it in its beauty, in its
splendor; we examine if the thing chosen^ is according to the constituted laws of beauty. This is where
Raphael is so admirable; all that he creates seems
to go out from the hand of God ; by a divine perception he reinstates man, he removes from him the
taint of earth, he purifies him.
paint an Eve.

He alone is able to

This all justifies the thought of

Plato, and we painters can say with him, Art or
beauty is the splendor of truth.

VI.
ON DRAWING—IN ITS MOST BEAUTIFUL
EXPRESSION.

Y

OU must obtain the best materials, for they
are indispensable.

By practice you have made of yourself a skilful
workman; the artist in you need have no fear now,
for you are sure of having all necessary assistance.
Now that we have the instrument, let us have
the soul.
DRAWING IS THE FOUNDATION.

Make good foundations, and use good materials.
Here two things become indispensable, a knowledge of anatomy, and the study of the antique, but
of a kind of antique; I wish to speak of that in
which the most perfect human form is shown, the
Gladiator, the Laocoon, the Faun and Child, etc.

BRA WING.

21

A deep study of anatomy is useless; it is only
necessary to know perfectly the chart of Houdon,
and to make some drawings from natural subjects.
Add to this a study of these antiques, and you
will have a perfect knowledge of the human body.
Without perceiving it, you will acquire habits
of style and of elegance.

Naturally you will com-

pare these beautiful forms with the forms of our
models which are unfinished or imperfect.
The sight of the head beautifully set on the
shoulders, fine limbs well proportioned, perfect extremities, all will captivate you ; you will be under a
charm, and not able to understand your own feelings ; you will be absorbed in your work.
Be patient and calm ; the beauty of the antique
having become familiar to you, you will naturally
exclaim : W h y is this beautiful ?
You have taken a long step, you are probing
the mystery.
You may always observe in these admirable
statues, that the straight line is in just relation with
the curve.

Is this a system ? No, it is the perfect

22

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

knowledge of nature.

Seize a natural free move-

ment, and you will have what the antique gives:
perfect harmony, and just proportion ^n all its different lines.
Observe certain divisions in the heads. Take for
example those of the Apollo, and the Venus de
Milo ; the line of the forehead with the nose is
almost straight, the line of the eyebrow is very near
the upper eyelid, the forehead low, or rather the
hair growing low; the nose rather large and at a
short distance from the upper lip; the chin by its
bulk and prominence balances the size of the nose ;
the ears stand out from the skull, the neck is large
and

long; broad

surfaces, grand

divisions, few

details ; these principles are observed in all the busts
of the beautiful Roman epoch.
These laws of beauty were taught among the
ancients; all submitted themselves to them and this
gave magnificent unity to their productions.
Do not believe that the observance of rules will
alter your own individuality, you can conform to
them and yet remain faithful to what you represent.

DRA WING,

23

There are in nature individual characteristics full
of charm.

The features and forms which give to

beings a particular character, are the points necessary to respect, and to develop, and you may without fear make the corrections dictated by sense and
established rules of beauty.
You can find in nature types very similar to the
antique.

Take these models and pose them, like

the figures they suggest, make a conscientious study
from them, and then compare it with the antique,
marking the difference.
These studies will cause you to make rapid progress.
I will now mention the masters you should
study for the science of drawing.
Raphael, in his drawings from nature, those of
Leonardo da Vinci, the beautiful series of Lesueur,
the drawings of Poussin and of Andrea del Sarto.
During these exercises, make drawings from nature ;
the people who sleep in public places, the workman
at ^ork, men rowing boats, bathers, those who are
listening to strolling singers, children, women wash-

24

CON VERS A TIONS ON ART.

ing; draw in all places, and in every position where
men or women are perfectly natural.
Nature belongs to you; she is like a vast garden.
Go, look, choose ; what flowers, what fruits !

With

these flowers form splendid bouquets, but do not
destroy the life of the flower, leave it in the sun and
air.

Do not forget that your mission is to make

every one love the work of God, and that to destroy
is a bad thing.

Come to nature as to a friend, make

yourself her servant, she will well repay you.

If,

on the contrary, you cut the flower from the bush,
you carry with you a victim; you act as a murderer;
can you have the proper sentiments to represent it
well?
This recalls to me those poor painters who believe they copy nature when studying from men
and women of the lowest class, whom they drape in
fold

curtains or ancient drapery.

When they have

these ridiculous objects before them, they copy
what ? something outside of nature.
If you wish models, it is better to surprise them
and draw when they are not aware you are doing

DRA WING,

so.

25

Lines drawn rapidly, observation and notes

taken under the fire of first impression will guide
you better than these frightful models, who only
lead you astray; use them with great caution and
guard against putting a human manikin in the place
of the ideal.
You need to have sympathy and love for whatever is living; movement, intelligence, passion, and
thought; follow all these marvels of life as the
hunter follows his game.
See that beautiful child overheated by play; the
lovely tints of his face, the beautiful disorder of his
hair, and the sun which throws over all that golden
light.

Quick, your sketch-book, make your lines

and notes, that is sufficient; be satisfied, you have
made a good study.
If after you have sketched a good movement, or
a natural pose, you can obtain a sitting from the
person observed, you will then be able to make a
perfect study, but you must only use the model,
in order to assist you in carrying out your first
impression.
3

26

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART,

CONCERNING CHOICE.

This must come from yourself; one is able to do
well only what one can understand.
You have acquired habits of style and elegance,
and have benefited by good company ; you feel that
the beauty of expression is no shackle, but that as
the expression becomes more delicate and at the
same time more powerful, it is nearer the truth.
From the point that you have reached it would
be impossible to return to ugliness or vulgarity.
You would have no choice, but to say like the
good peasant; Give me beautiful things, I am accustomed to them.
I now return to an elementary principle which
plays an important part in the art of drawing.
I speak of values.
T h e word value, as we employ it, applies rather
to drawing, than to coloring.

Value is the greater

or less intensity of a tint, so that we say a strong
value, or a weak value.

To the painter we say,

observe your values, and your coloring.

Colors are

DRA WING.

27

the different tones, as red, green, blue, yellow; but
these colors can be made either more or less deep.
We mean this difference by the word value.
Coloring, by the just observation of values, is
perhaps the most beautiful; certainly the most distinguished.

Rembrandt is a colorist by the beauty

of his values, as Rubens is by the richness of his
coloring.
But we must not discard drawing.

Rembrandt

by his values, produces admirable colors; with black
and white alone he makes light.

What a marvel,

with means so limited, t o ; render color and light!
Rubens, in his desire for color, found the means,
with black, of giving a very just idea of red, of blue,
etc.

Genius always finds means to manifest what

it feels and loves.
I have myself been astonished at the results
arising from a comparison of values; and also from
the great mistake of not observing them.
A young German came to my studio to perfect
himself in his art; he had made a drawing with
great skill.

28

CON VERSA T10NS ON AR T.

I complimented him on his dexterity; but at the
same time, said to him that he did not copy his model.
" But, my dear sir," said this young man, " I
have copied, I assure you, with great exactness."
"You believe so? look carefully."
" Yes, I have looked well."
" It is possible," and while speaking I returned
him his drawing.
" With whom have you studied in Germany."
The conversation continued, then looking at the
model, I said, " You have a superb model, beautiful
in form, beautiful in color, is it not ? "
" Yes, sir."
" Look how the light falls upon the breast, it is
evident that the brightest spot is there."
"Yes."
" Are you certain of it."
" Yes, quite certain."
" Then show it to me."
" See/' he said showing me the brightest part,
" here is the most brilliant point."

DRA WING.

" I am willing to believe you.

29

I see with pleas-

ure that to a skilful hand, you have joined a good
judgment/* saying which I put his drawing in sight.
" Decidedly you have a delicate perception of values,
and will be able to render me some service.

Look

at your drawing, where is the highest light ? "
Not seeing the point to which I wished to bring
him, he simply replied, that it was upon the knee.
" It is not possible !"
" Yes, sir, permit me to remark that if we compare this light with the lights in other parts of the
drawing, this is certainly the greatest."
" Then, why is your light not placed as it is in
nature ? You see it is on the breast, and you put
it on the knee ; why not at the heel ? and you say
you exactly copy your model; permit me to say
you have not paid any attention to the differences
of light.
" That is true.

I see now that for my lights,

I"
X

•

•

•

" Very well, we often deceive ourselves ! " and I
returned his drawing. . . " You have great artists

30

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART.

in Germany, Overbeck, Cornelius, Kaulbach, all men
of beautiful talents. . . Oh ! look at your model as
it is lighted up, what brightness, and vigor in the
shadows!

Look at the hair, it is like velvet; and

the shadows of the head, how transparent and
strong ; that recalls Titian, do you not see it ? This
curling unbound hair, the blood suffusing the face
and neck, all of a superb color.

What do you think

of it ? Turn to your drawing, and see if you have
represented all that we have admired. It is singular,
you have forgotten these things."
" Yes, sir, I see it now."
" Observe that your head is badly colored, and
gives the idea of a figure of papier mache, and that
you have made the same faults in your shadows as
in your lights.

Compare your proportions: in your

model, the height of the body is of great importance
in regard to the rest, and gives to it an* individual
character ; in your work you have compared nothing ;
absorbed by detail, you did not grasp the whole.
" You are like men who bandage their eyes and
then try to walk straight upon a grassy lawn ; no

DRAWING.

31

longer being able to direct themselves by comparison
and sight, they go astray to the amusement of the
lookers on."
I will go back to the subject of values, so important and grave in its results.
You now see how important these considerations
are.
I believe I have made you feel sufficiently the different qualities of drawing, exact drawing, good choice
of studies regulated by the rules of ancient art.
This is what is necessary to know, what is known
by all great artists.
I have not yet said all I wish about drawing; the
divisions necessitated by teaching restrain me, and
make me fear to go beyond the proper limit; soon
we shall come to the philosophy of art.

Free from

all shackles, I will speak to you of my gods.

Like a

true gourmand, I leave that for a bonne boucMe.

VII.
T H E PORTRAIT.

A

N T I Q U E art had immutable rules, even laws
in regard to beauty.

I have already spoken

of the invariable divisions reproduced in Greek faces,
it is useless to repeat them here.
Your model has not perhaps the antique form of
face, you rarely meet with i t ; the forehead forms
with the nose two very different lines; between the
eye and the eyelid you have an enormous distance,
the mouth is quite far from the nose, and you have
a retreating chin.

Something else is added to com-

plete the want of resemblance; the ears are flat, the
neck

small and

thin, and the whole scarred by

wrinkles or other causes.
All this is not beautiful, and you have now more
than ever need of the rules which I gave you before;
make all your forms and lines in accordance with

THE PORTRAIT,

33

that which constitutes beauty, keeping within the
limits of truth, and you will obtain a result astonishing to every one.

That which you put upon your

canvas will be much less ugly than the model.
There are in nature, as I have said, " individual
characteristics which are charming.

The features,

and forms which give to every one a particular character, are what are necessary to respect; it is well
even to develop them, and you can without fear
reconcile this development to the corrections made
according to the prescribed rules of beauty."
Be careful not to give to your portrait, theatrical
positions ; be simple and modest in your pose, as in
your expression ; we ought to feel in symyathy
with the portrait that we work upon.

Give above

all things, an air of gentility to what you represent.
If a woman is your model, let her direct you.

She

knows well her best physical qualities.

the

In

space of an hour, being face to face with the painter,
she will show all her most beautiful points, she will
put on the most favorable expression.

Profit by it,

do not let it escape you. - If you appear indifferent,
2*

34

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

your female model will change her batteries, will do
all she can to captivate your attention and your admiration ; she will at first show you ail her natural
graces, later, those which have been

acquired.

Born to please, she stops only when she has conquered.
If she possesses irregular features, she will hide
the defects by a lively and joyous expression, and
by graceful motions; if her hair is abundant and
silky, if her teeth are sparkling, by a burst of
laughter you will see these wonders ; and she will
so far forget herself in her joy, that her beautiful
hair will fall and will need rearranging.
This coquetry is the best help that a true artist
can have; whatever is thus seen or shown may with
profit be preserved on the canvas.
But, you say, a portrait cannot converse nor act
like a living being, and besides it is the features you
wish to represent.

I reply, you must charm others

with what charms you.

If you impose perfect

immobility upon your sitter, she will have the pain
of seeing her greatest defects brought to light.

THE PORTRAIT,

35

Add to this the ennui and fatigue of sitting, the
pallor which results from it; would you copy your
model under these conditions?

No, a hundred

times no ; for it would not resemble the woman, and
the artist ought to have taste and talent enough to
paint the true woman as he knows and admires her.
The painter ought to converse with his model,—if a
man, interest him as much as possible, and keep
him from becoming stiff.
The only thing to fear is the anxiety of the sitter ; desiring to have a good portrait, he will overdo the thing; you have to fight against this, try to
give him confidence in you, and talk to him in a way
to make him natural.

To know how to converse

with a model is one of the talents of a portraitpainter ; I have told you before, that an elementary
principle in drawing, is to use one quarter of the
time in drawing and three quarters in looking at
nature.

As a portrait-painter, accustom yourself

to divide your forces, one half of you must be the
painter, the other the agreeable companion.

You

have the care of your model as the shepherd's dog

36

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

has of his flock; you ought to laugh and joke until
he forgets he is your model; during this time the
painter half of you must not lose a'second; work
without stopping, and do not forget that rapidity in
execution is one of the elements of success in portrait painting.
This recalls to me an anecdote which I will
relate to you,—an instance in which I have put
these principles into practice.
BERANGER.

I was asked to paint a portrait of Beranger. I did
not care to do it.

I had great admiration for him,

and feared an intimate acquaintance might destroy
my ideal.

One of my peculiarities has always been

the desire to cherish these ideals, and never to let
the light of truth upon them, fearing by so doing
they might vanish.

I shut them up in my intel-

lectual seraglio, and disguise myself that I may
defend them better.
It wras necessary to risk the most beautiful jewel
of my crown: my Beranger! this sublime intelli-

THE PORTRAIT.

gence, united to so much simplicity.

37

It is good to

rest one\s self by the contemplation of so truly
beautiful a thing, fatigued as we are by the sight of
the fools of this world !
At last a charming letter of introduction from
Madame Sand decided me.

I went out, and soon

arrived at the Rue d'Enfer.
I asked the porter for M. Beranger.
At the end of the court by a staircase to the
right, I ascended, and finding the door, knocked.
Slow steps were heard within, an old man appeared
enveloped in a dressing gown of common grey stuff.
" M. Beranger ? "
" I am he."
While replying to me, he held the door fast,
leaving only a small crack open.
" What do you want ? "
It would have been easy for me to have presented my letter, but I was selfish enough to wish to
keep it.

It was a precious autograph, signed with a

celebrated name; it mentioned me in too

flattering

terms; but it is easy to accommodate one's self to

38

CONVERSA TIONS ON ART.

these exaggerations; my beloved poet was spoken
of t o o ; the temptation was too great for me not to
yield.

I stammered out some words,, showing the

paper and pencil I had brought to make my drawing, for it was necessary to add gesture to words, the
old man's position was so hostile.

Alas! I was com-

pletely defeated, the door was opened no wider.
" No, Monsieur," he said, " it is very disagreeable to
m e ; many persons have taken my portrait, among
them I have been variously represented ; be satisfied
and let me alone."

The door was shut.

Ah, well,

M. Beranger, I have deserved it, for making the mistake of not presenting my letter.

So great was my

vanity I thought I could present myself without aid,
and so committed the petty larceny, I am punished
and it is but just.

I was retiring, ashamed and con-

fused, when the door was again opened.
" What is your name ?"
I turned and replied, " My name is Couture."
" You are not Couture, the painter of
Decadence of Rome ? "
" Yes, sir, I am."

the

THE PORTRAIT,

39

I felt myself taken by my waistcoat, pulled in
violently, then I heard that terrible door slam, but
this time I was within and nailed to the wall near
the entrace.
u

You Couture, is it possible ? you so young;

what was I going to do ? to shut my door upon
you."
" It was already done, M. Beranger."
" But you do not know that I adore you, that it
is one of the dreams of my old age to have my portrait painted by you.
service/'

I am now entirely at your

Then taking me by the hand he drew me

into a second room and presented me to his old
companion, saying:
" It is Couture, and I was going to put him out."
I was greatly confused by his reception.

When

we were somewhat calmed down, I told him I had
brought the necessary things, and could make my
sketch in his own house, without putting him to inconvenience.

He would not listen to m e ; put him-

self entirely at my disposal; made me name the day
and hour, and at the appointed time was at my door.

40

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

I t was no little matter for an old man to come
from the Rue d'Enfer, to the barrier Blanche where
I lived.

He was much fatigued; with an air of

great kindness he said to me,
" Dear child, I am glad to be with you ; where
shall I sit ? Ah ! I think if I could take a little nap
it would be well, for I have had a long walk."
I drew up a lounge, he threw himself upon it
and soon fell fast asleep. . . I walked softly in my
studio so as not to disturb him ; then I drew nearer
to watch him while he slept.

He had a vast brain;

by its dimensions and form I could comprehend the
grandeur of his mind.

The lower part of his face

did not accord with the upper p a r t ; it showed
only the good nature of a brave man.

Age had

changed his features, and I recognized with difficulty the Beranger I had known from his portraits.
My task was a difficult one ; to be true to reality,
and yet give to the public a portrait showing an unimpaired intelligence.

I was making these reflec-

tions when he woke. I looked at him for some time,
and saw his eyelids rise and fall, he glanced feebly

THE PORTRAIT.

41

around, even his skin showed age and want of
strength.

I was in despair, and felt I must make

an effort to rouse him.
" M. Beranger have you heard the new air composed for your " Old Corporal? "
" No," he said, " some persons came to my
house to sing it to me, bringing a piano in a wagon,
but I would not listen.

I choose the airs myself,

and will not encourage encroachments upon my
work.5'
" I know how you dismiss people ; permit me to
tell you, you are wrong; the new air is more dramatic than the one you had chosen; let me sing it
for you, you can then better judge."

I sang one

verse of the " Old Corporal."
"Yes, you are right, it suits admirably ; sing me
the second verse, sing the whole of it.

I enjoy

hearing you."
When I had finished, his features had changed,
his eyelids were well open, and I could see his clear
eyes which were the windows of this beautiful intelligence.

I continued to talk to him of things that

42

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

had occurred in his youth, spoke to him of Manuel
his friend.

What a resurrection!

H e threw aside

old age and was again a young man. "We were in
1850; in memory he returned to the struggles of
the Restoration of 1820; thirty years seemed to
have disappeared

by enchantment.

genius had revived.

This

great

H e rose, walked, returned

to his seat, spoke to me of the two hundred and
twenty-one, as if they were still here ; the troubles
of Charles X., the end attained, the shouts of the
crowd, he seemed to hear it all.
before me.

Beranger was

I had only to copy.

I then saw a characteristic trait which had disappeared for a long time from the lips of the old
man,—if I may so express it, a stifled smile ; he had
some movements like a bird ; leaning his head on
one side and listening to what was said, replying
with raillery or with caustic wit, but all clothed with
good nature.

When he looked at my drawing he

said, " you have made me a worthy looking man,"
then jogging my elbow he added, " A worthy man
upon whom you must not depend too much."

THE PORTRAIT.

43

I have not been able to resist the desire of relating this anecdote, doubtless too flattering to myself.

I have been so often tormented by imbeciles,

that it is excusable to be pleased with the approbation of a wise man.

I see you are surprised; you ask if I know well
where I am going, and hesitate to follow me.

It is

therefore necessary to give you some explanations.
You may have remarked that above all else, I
desire order in what I teach, nothing must be anticipated. It is well to pause and meditate upon what
you already know, that you may be prepared to
understand what I will teach you later.

I hope you

have observed that I attach little importance to so
called rules, and sacrifice them willingly for the expression of natural sentiment.

Spirit, like matter,

having its laws of equilibrium, we can say that sentiment is nothing but the rule to a state of grace.
A true spirit will find in rules a consecration of
his aspirations, and rules and sentiments unite and
become a power in him.

But we must not stray

44

CONVERSATIONS

ON

ART.

into subtleties, for you cannot understand them.

I

will content myself with telling you, you have to
reflect upon what I have taught, employ your time
in reviewing; study the world, the better to paint
it, and guard yourself from resembling those workers who show in their pictures only a multitude of
good fellows, or represent excessively picturesque
commonplaces.
Never forget that for us men are words; it is
necessary that these words or these men express
ideas, and let us try to merit, by the beauty of our
thoughts, the title of artists.
A PROPOS OF PORTRAITS.

I am very anxious to draw some likenesses for
you with my pen.

I am urged to do this by many

reasons; first because I ought not to do it.

I go

away from my subject, which is without doubt a
fault; but why should there not be in literature as
in everything else in the world, pauses for repose ?
And then, what I am writing is not literature, it is a
simple talk.

I recall my thoughts for those who

THE PORTRAIT.

45

have known me and who will recognize our conversations in the studio.

We are far from the time

when, reunited, we can dream of an art, spirited
and national.

Our ideas seem to us so just and so

practical that we do not doubt their success.

What

do we wish ? to paint our manners, our passions, our
wives, our children, our sentiments; this is very
simple, alas! too simple; it is not grand enough.
The grandeur of the present style is to crowd together many subjects, excluding everything that is
true to nature.

If I had the time, I would make

you a very useful catalogue, in which I would mention all serious or grand subjects; when I say if I
had the time, I deceive myself, or rather deceive
you, for really I have a horror of what is called a
serious painting; it is necessary to say that I have
had the misfortune to be educated in serious things.
My father, a capable man, wished to instruct me, and
to make me understand the most beautiful serious
literature.

H e read to me books which taught of

all things in heaven and earth; then he asked if I
understood.

I replied naively that I did not under-

46

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART.

stand any thing, which distressed my poor father.
I received many corrections to brighten my intelligence ; my mind gained nothing but "the remembrance of the punishments.

In despair of doing

anything else with me, they made me a painter,
hoping I might become a painter of serious subjects ;
unfortunately

I was born an artist.

ness was to seek and represent

My happi-

natural objects,

—-light, life; but I soon knew my instincts were
bad, and, above

all, they were far

from

being

serious; but with work and time, I learned what
was necessary to take rank.

I entered the lists for

Rome and obtained the second great prize. There had
been some thought of giving me the first, but I was
young, just twenty, I could wait.

I went, as is the

custom, to pay a visit to my judges, and was complimented ; my painting, they said, gave promise of
good things in the future; but I still lackecl the true
academic style; I was not yet quite serious enough.
They showed me their pictures, gave me advice
which was no doubt good, only I did not understand it, my bad disposition prevented m e ; and if I

THE PORTRAIT.

47

must be truthful, their Biblical subjects made me
think of frightful Turlls.

I deceived myself, no

doubt, but my nature revolted against rule, so I
became one to myself.
I will give you after a while a classified catalogue of serious subjects.

This catalogue is fa-

miliar to every good Frenchman, who compares all
pictures by its standard. " See, he says, this picture
is neither historical nor religious; the traditional
Turk is not there, nor yet the so called poetical
subjects, which we are in the habit of seeing represented.

This is not true Art, I cannot be mistaken,

my eye is too well educated. ,, Ah ! that is it, too
well instructed not to follow in a beaten track.
Happily for me I had the aid of some strangers,
and set myself to work for the dealers. I was not
alone, others had preceded me, among them a man
named Decamps.

H e had been refused many times

at the Expositions, but notwithstanding, I believed
him to have'.genius.

I remember one of my com-

rades at the academy saying to me,
paint

serious pictures, I

u

If I cannot

will be a painter like

48

CON VERSA T10NS ON ART.

Decamps;" fortunately for him he succeeded.

I

would name him, did I not fear to injure his standing as an academician.
I continued obstinate in my bad ideas ; shocking
my academic guides, by saying that the pictures of
Greek statues, however beautifully drawn, looked to
me, as if they were impaled; religious pictures were
positively odious to me.
I ought to have had Christian sentiment enough
to have held me back, but alas, the first step downwards was fatal; I glided on, finding what I ought
to have admired more and more horrible.
The old painters of Biblical Turks have passed
away; but they had the kindness to find some
aged youths who could perpetuate the style of
the old French school.
edge that

I should

the traditions of the

And indeed I acknowl-

regret to see pass away,
Troubadours, with which

we have had our cradles rocked; and s o m e d a y I
shall comprehend even these Greeks, who are as
French as I am.
Meanwhile I was in despair; I had hydrophobia

THE PORTRAIT.

49

in regard to Academy pictures, and in order to
remain calm, never went near the places where I
would be likely to meet with t h e m ; but to escape
them was not possible.
I lived in the quarter St George's. I was far from
the serious nest.

If by chance in a store I came

upon any Biblical Turks, even a St. Polycarp, I
turned quickly away, and tried to forget it.
But I had not taken into account the

public

monuments, the new houses with statues

which

represent,
Cities,
Arts,
Industries,
Passions,
Trades,
All represented by the same figure:
The Apollo Belvidere,
Which is dressed as a man.
i%

"

"

woman.

"

"

in a short petticoat.

"

"

etc., etc.

SO

CON VERSA TIONS

ON AR T.

What

a rage for eel pies; I cannot under-

stand it.

It is a weakness among us, for I see the

most simple citizens fall into it.

If one of them

loses his nose, he buys a beautiful one of silver; of
course he has had it made after the Apollo's, and it
is really that of which he is proud.
I think a very handsome nose, even of gold,
would not take the place of my poor little one of
flesh, but then that is owing to my bad organization.
I have given you the laws constituting beauty ;
make use of them and do not take bad antique
masks in the place of real figures; let your lines
and features tend towards the fundamental laws of
beauty, always being true to nature.
Be Natural, be Trite,
Apply

these

excellent

rules with

delicacy.

Imitate the dog of the fable, never be the ass.
A REMINISCENCE OF MY Y O U T H F U L DAYS.

I do not wish to place myself outside of the
privileged social class.

I have no right to do so, for

THE PORTRAIT,

5I

my father, an intelligent and well educated man, gave
me the benefits of instruction.

But I learned noth-

ing from books; they spoke to me an incomprehensible language.

I learned only from images.

Not

having any idea of drawing, and wishing to produce
what pleased me, I cut with the scissors silhouettes
of what I wanted; living in the midst of people indifferent to works of art, no attention was paid to
my amusement.

One day, my father saw a travel-

ling artist cutting portraits to the great admiration
of all who saw them ; my father said to him :
" I have a little boy who makes those things/'
The artist smiled at the paternal pride.
" I may be deceived, not knowing much about
art, but if you will lend me one of those cuttings, I
will soon bring you one exactly like it."
My father showed me the paper, and in a few
moments I had produced an exact copy of my
model.

The artist would not believe it was the

work of a child, but I came, and executed with
great dexterity all he presented to me.
latan was surprised.

The char-

He pronounced me a phe-

52

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

nomenon, said I ought to be an artist, ought to be
shown, and made to cut figures in public places;
my father put an end to his enthusiasm by sending
me into the house.

Meanwhile this little scene had

drawn attention to my aptitude, and induced my
father to buy me models, and give me colors and
brushes, but I always preferred to represent what was
living ; so my models remained unused.

I became

the painter of my little comrades, making them all
very handsome gentlemen ; those in color had the
greatest success; they quarrelled over them, made
me brilliant offers for t h e m ; here a

whirligig,

there a marble ; at length, thanks to my little gentlemen, I had all I could desire.

I had also my

preferences; those who appeared to understand
what I did, received my best pieces*

In exchange

for this preference, they protected me in difficult
adventures, so that I was sheltered from much evil.
One day we had been robbing an orchard, and
were returning in gay spirits. I had my share in my
little blouse.

We saw near one of the old gates of

the city, a party of artists drawing.

Approaching

THE PORTRAIT.

S3

near them, one of my most enthusiastic comrades
said,
" You are not more skilful than little Thdmas."
" Where is little Thomas ?"
" There he is."
Turning towards me he said,
" Do you draw, little boy ?"
" Yes, sir."
" Would you like to draw with us ?"
" Yes sir, very m u c h / '
" Let me see what you can do."
They gave me paper and pencil and set me to
work.

In a short time one of the artists left his

work, and came to look at my drawing; he uttered a cry, which attracted the attention of the
others.
" This is extraordinary!

Who are you, little

boy ? Who are your parents ?"
These questions frightened m e ; I knew I had
committed a fault in stealing the apples, and I saw
in these reiterated demands a commencement of
punishment.

54

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

" L e t him alone," said my comrades, probably
as much frightened as myself.
" We do not wish to do you any harm," replied
the

artists,

" Come!" and they led me to my

father's house.
My companions flew, as if they had had wings.
I was not able to restrain my tears, and I remember
how, as we walked, I let my apples fall one by one,
in order to hide my disobedience.

When I arrived

at home, I had not one in my blouse.
I knew later that they offered to take me, and
give me the education of an artist.

To this my

father replied, that to be a painter it was necessary
to be instructed in history and science, architecture,
anatomy, and many other things ; that his child had
a talent only for representation ; in all other things
I was the veriest simpleton; he would not consent
to make me an artist, knowing very well I would be
but a mediocre, but that having a remarkable cleverness with my hand* I would make a good mechanic.
In this way the adventure ended, with no better
result than having given me a good fright.

THE PORTRAIT

55

My father wished, good father as he was, to have
me taught.

He gave me a drawing-master, who

made me study and draw according to elementary
principles, eyes, mouths, ears; they seemed to me
very cold and ugly.

H e denounced what I had

done, and said it was hurtful to science.

I was taken

from the study of nature, and at the end of two
months, my professor of drawing decided I had no
talent, and my lessons were suspended.
It was a long time before my father could
recover from this defeat.

But I had been judged,

the edict was irrevocable.

Then it was almost de-

cided that I should be taught watchmaking, but I
was so stupid it was well to pause before going to
the expense of an apprenticeship.

I was ten years

old, and could hardly read, but wrote with marvellous facility ; writing was drawing to me, the words
had no signification, it was simply the tracing of outlines.

I often forgot the letters, and drew unread-

able figures ; I can recall now, the regret I felt when
a good Christian Brother corrected me, adding the
necessary letters to my beautiful picture writing.

56

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

I had the misfortune to obtain the prize for
writing, with these words (I hear them now): He is
a simple fool who has not the sense to be 'able to read
his own writings.
I was humiliated, feeling that an unfavorable
judgment weighed upon m e ; afraid to show myself
in my true nature, believing it to be so entirely
wrong.

But I had a great longing to re-establish

myself in my father's

good opinion.

H e was a

capable man, and exercised great influence in his
neighborhood.

If I could but stand well with him,

all was saved, and I would be relieved from the
heavy weight under which I suffered.
What could I do? what could I say? All I
thought of was so simple, and I wished to strike a
great blow.

Ah ! I had found i t ; I had thought of

something which would answer.

It was not neces-

sary to fatigue my brain to find a suitable thing;
but after all we never regret fatigue, when we have
found what we seek.
The next day after my discovery, by a happy
chance, my father took me with him to

walk

THE PORTRAIT.

around the city.

$7

The weather was magnificent, he

appeared pleased; nothing was wanting now but a
place in which to say what I wanted.

I fcmnd it in

a precipitous road, great trees above our heads, the
green turf studded with white marguerites under
our feet, a lovely morning, the sun gilding everything.

I halted and looked at my father with a

rather knowing air, then said,
"Papa, is to-day to-morrow V\
My father let go my hand, took out his handkerchief and began to cry ; then suddenly stopped in
his walk, and returned home.

His countenance was

much disturbed, for I heard my mother say to him,
" What is the matter, what has happened ? "
He repeated what I had said, and exclaimed he
was so much grieved to have his child a simpleton.
I held down my head and my mantle of lead was
increased to that of a mountain.
You laugh perhaps at this recital. I can assure
you I have never felt a greater grief than I felt when
I made my father weep.

It would have been a

relief to me to have been crushed by blows; many
3*

$8

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

years have passed since then, but I have never forgotten that terrible scene*
This childish simplicity is often found among
men of arts and sciences, who also ask: is to-day
to-7norrow ?
I had an elder brother who was clever at Latin;
all my father's interest was centered in him; while
I, cut off from all instruction, drew near and listened.
The voice of my father, softened by love reached me
like an echo, and although I could not understand a
great deal, still my mind became gentle in the sweet
quiet, and I chose from this scientific budget what
suited me.. Whatever was according to rule, displeased me, the word gerund filled me with horror,
and the only thing remaining to me of all my Latin
is the word rosay the rose, simply because that
speaks of flowers, and I have always adored them.
In the histories of the Greeks and Romans I lost
not a word. I thought of them day and night, and
was in turn,
Alexander.

Coriolanus, Brutus, Alcibiades, or

Not willing to let others know of my

THE PORTRAIT.

59

great interest, I cherished my own imaginings until
an opportunity occurred to relieve myself.

There

was a boarding school composed of young aristocrats,
who amused themselves by laughing at the humble
rank of the Christian Brothers.

This had provoked

me, and I wished to be revenged upon them.

In

consequence of repairs which had been made to the
roof of our house, a great many laths had been left
in the garret.

I determined to give these to my

comrades as weapons against our enemies ; these
simple laths, however, appeared to me to be too
vulgar and not in accord with my heroic sentiments.
So with great care and patience I fashioned them
into swords of different forms.

At length the arms

were ready, it only remained to distribute them and
march to combat.

The great day arrived; I placed

myself at the end of a rising street, but in such a
position that I could see all our ranks; then with my
arms full of weapons, I rushed before them, threw
the swords at their feet, saying : " let us march."
They took my sabres, thought them pretty, the
very little boys seized them eagerly, to carry home.

60

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

I felt I was not understood; I wanted to speak, my
heart was very full, but not one word could I utter;
wishing to make up for my want of eloquence by
action, I stepped forward to take one of the sabres ;
a larger boy than myself also wanted i t ; as it was
the last one, he did not hesitate to struggle with
me for i t ; I resisted; he pushed m e ; I fell, God
knows how, and all my warlike illusions flew away
with my sabres.
A short time after, my father came to Paris,
and I was reinstated in his regard by a singular
adventure.

My brother, who was his favorite

always appealed to him in our quarrels, knowing he would be on his side.
One day when we were blacking our boots, we
had a dispute, and angered by the preference which
was shown him, I threw my brush full of blacking
at Benjamin ; he called my father.

The brush was

a large one, and had thrown a quantity of blacking
into his mouth.

Happy in having so good a proof

of my bad conduct, he carefully avoided spitting
it out.

THE PORTRAIT.

61

When my father came, he looked at his pet in a
singular manner.

I waited to be corrected, but

bore myself bravely, not seeking to soften niy fault ;
on the contrary, I said, speaking of his hesitating to
swallow, " Why it is not the sea you have to drink !"*
What I said so well described the situation, that
at the sight of the great booby, my father burst
into a laugh, and pointing me out to some people
present said, " This simpleton has considerable wit
when he is naughty/'
I was not, as you see, completely reinstated;
but in the meantime I felt a great difference in his
manner towards me, and I shared his attention
with my elder brother.

They judged

me more

favorably; and appeared even sometimes to think
that perhaps I was not imbecile, but that I was developing into intelligence.
My father took me to the museum of the
Louvre, and the first picture I saw was the " Marriage in C a n a " by Veronese.
" Oh ! father, the Marriage in Cana!"
* The literal meaning of the idiom " i t is not so very difficult"
must be given to explain the following sentence.

62

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

" No, no, my child, that does not represent the
Marriage in Cana; all these figures are dressed in
the costumes of the Middle Ages, and you ought to
know that Christ came in the reign of Tiberius, the
Roman Emperor; that the Jews who were under
the Roman rule, wore tunics and mantles, and
that— .

.

But wait, here is a gentleman with a

catalogue, I will ask him the subject of the picture,
and will explain it to you.''

Having asked, the gen-

tleman replied, it was the Marriage in Cana.

" You

are right," he said to me, " but the artist has made
a great mistake in not putting the costumes of the
times, and by his failure to instruct he has injured
the beauty of his work."
I do not know why, but it appeared to me very
beautiful!

And to his surprise, I explained to him

all the pictures of the museum, without a fault;
while he, an educated man, did not recognize them.
Drawing still remained a passion with me ; at
night, unknown to my parents, I would get out of
bed and draw.

In consequence of this persistence,

my father resolved to make me an artist.

I entered

THE PORTRAIT.

63

the studio of Baron Gros, who was astonished at
my facility in drawing.
" My little friend, you draw like an old academician."
It is right to say, that remembering the teachings of my first professor, I thought it my duty to
exhibit some hackneyed academic subjects.
I profited as much as possible from the teachings
of this celebrated master, and I worked, I can truly
say, with my ears wide open.

I did not under-

stand all I heard, or rather believing I did understand, applied badly what I was taught.
I then found I had as many difficulties with the
great man as with my provincial teacher.

Despair-

ing of success, I said to one of my comrades who
was not more clever than myself:
" After our lessons are over, suppose we remain
in the studio, and paint according to our fancy.

I

will commence by taking your portrait."
He agreed to it, and his portrait was painted ; he
thought it superb, and wished to show it to our
master, but I would not, for all the gold of the

64

CON VERSA T10NS ON AR T.

world, have had him see a painting which did not
seem to me to be done according to his teaching.
One day

all the students worked in

profound

silence, for it was the day that Monsieur Gros criticised their work.

As he walked up and down the

room, he suddenly exclaimed, " Oh ! what a beautiful thing."
We all raised our heads, and looked to see what
had attracted his attention.

To my great surprise

I saw it was the portrait of my comrade.
" Who did this ? It is admirable; I would be
proud to put my name to it."
" It was done by Couture."
" It is not possible; is this true, Couture ?"
" Yes, sir."
" If you continue to paint pictures like that you
will be the Titian of France."
It was such exaggerated praise that my comrades joked me about i t ; they were well justified ;
for, wishing to please my master, I redoubled my
efforts, and made detestable pictures.
In a short time my success was forgotten; and I

THE PORTRAIT,

6$

ranked as a mediocre student. I despaired of myself,
and thought it better I should learn a trade than
continue to study an art I could not understand.
In this state of mind I had the audacity to contend for the prize for expression, instituted
Monthyon.

by

The audacity was born of despair, so

throwing aside all control I began to work.
Our master said he was not recompensed for all
the trouble he took with his students, and that he
had the pain of seeing other professors more favored
than he was.

He then gave us a description of the

head that had taken the prize.

His

description

somewhat recalled to me the head I had drawn, but
I did not dare to say anything, for fear of being
mistaken.

One of my comrades also thought it my

work, and exclaimed, " That must be the head
painted by Couture."

They ran to the Academy,

and learned I had taken the prize.
This new success caused my master to give me
more of his care, but again my great desire to satisfy
him plunged me into difficulties, and I painted bad
pictures.

66

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART.

A t length, leaving the studio and all instruction, I made studies which were successful; encouraged by this, I presented myself for examination for " le grand concours."

Awaiting the result

of the first trial, that of an original sketch, I saw my
master come out of the school.

He appeared to

seek some one, going from one group of young men
to another.

A t last seeing me, he came towards

me and said : " You have made a chef-d'oeuvre, and
have obtained the first place.

You must now make

a painted figure; listen to my direction, go to the
studio and paint there."
into the same groove.

I did so, and soon fell

At the second trial I failed,

but thanks to my composition, was entered for competition for the great prize.
picture.

I commenced my first

When I saw my master again he said to

me ; " My dear child, be governed by your own instinct, I have remarked that it is your best guide,
and that you are hindered by my advice."

These

words mortified me, for I felt my master despaired
of my success, and did not wish to direct me.

In

this emergency, I had recourse to one of my com-

THE PORTRAIT.

6?

panions who had not the scruples of the professor,
and in consequence I made the most frightful picture that was ever seen.
Baron Gros was very much disappointed and I
became seriously ill, and was for a long time unable
to continue my studies; my distress was increased
at this time by the death of my dear master.
Two years after, I again presented myself before
the concours ; I listened to no one, but followed
my own instincts, and the result was a picture which
obtained for me the good will of the Professors.
They offered me the prize of Rome.
I gave so much promise, that the eyes of the
artists were upon me.

The following year, Paul

Delaroche gave me his advice, and I wished to
follow it, but alas! it proved my misfortune.
A t length, worn out by my academic reverses,
I determined to givQ up the contest and resign
myself to my instincts.
I have thought it necessary to enter into these
details in order to show that some natures are trammeled by what is called science.

But at the same

68

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART.

time, I ask myself if trials are not necessary, and
if the man who has something in him does not
learn better through his mistakes." I freely own, I
have certain doubts.

Meanwhile I plead earnestly

for instinct, for its development; and I cannot forbear sympathizing in the happiness of those who
escape from Professors.

I am of the opinion of

Gros, who said:
" We are great fools in wishing to direct nature ;
as Professors, our endeavors always ought to be not
to trammel it."
CONTINUATION OF OUR CONVERSATION.

Let us see where our strength must come from.
I promised you some portraits and I will now
draw one.

It is a type with which we have to

struggle for our interest; as it is part of our business, it is well to know it.
One day a gentleman came to my studio.
" Good morning, sir, I wish to possess one of
your works."
" Alas! I have not one on hand."

THE PORTRAIT,

69

" O h ! that is not possible; you can find something for me."
" No, I assure you, but you have my permission
to find one if you can."
" Thank you, this female head is pretty."
" Yes, that is charming, but it is not mine.''
" Y o u did that," he said, pointing to another
picture.
" No, I did none of those, but you may buy
without fear; it is a good thing. I could not do
better, and for mine you would have to pay a
very large price while you may obtain this picture
for a small sum; it is done by one of my scholars,
who I am certain will make a name for himself;
look, there he is talking to that old gentleman."
" You think this is really good ? but he is not
known, you have named a price which I think too
high for his reputation."
" Make your offer, perhaps you may obtain it
for less."
" Young man ! young man! is this your work ? "
" Yes, sir."

JO

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

" Your master has asked me too high a price for
i t ; but if you wish to sell it, I will give you five
beautiful louis d'ors for it.

Think of it/young man,

five little yellow pieces.

There, one, two, three,

four, five, will you take them ?"
" Yes, sir, you may have it."
" I am

satisfied," said

the amateur, turning

toward me, " I believe I have made a good bargain ;,
you are certain this young man will distinguish
himself?"
" Yes, I am certain of it; he can devote himself
exclusively to art, as he has fifty thousand livres a
year."
" Fifty thousand livres a year ! This gentleman
has fifty thousand a year! I am mortified at having
bargained with this gentleman, who has fifty thousand a year!

What can this gentleman who has

fifty thousand a year think of me ? I only bargained
with him because I thought him a poor devil."
Do not be frightened by this fierceness of speculation ; it is your guarantee.

This class interposes

between you and the true amateur ; he is the buyer,

THE PORTRAIT,

71

and with him you get rid of the vulgar side of art;
with him you may discuss your price, without fear;
he will rush furiously out of the door, and return
sweet as honey by the window.

Face to face with

your own work, you will never be satisfied; a feeling
of insignificance will make you depreciate your own
picture ; the prosaic merchant gives you confidence
by making your work famous; he is, as I said, your
guarantee.
ANOTHER PORTRAIT.
Some time after this, about the year 1842, I
occupied a modest studio near the Bois de Boulogne ; I had exhibited, the year previous, a picture
representing a young Venetian after a revel; this
picture had been noticed, and bought.

I had ceased

to contend for prizes, and sought my
from the public.

support

Afterwards the purchaser very

kindly placed it upon exhibition.

One day I heard

a timid knock at my door. After the word " enter,"
the most singular person appeared ; his clothes were
neat but badly made; he had thick shoes, very

J2

CONVERSA TIONS ON AR T.

short pantaloons, showing blue stockings, to which
feet had been added of a lighter blue.

H e carried

under his arm, one of those strong country umbrellas covered with dark blue linen; his hat in his
hand, he remained fixed, the door forming a frame.
He seemed afraid to enter; I looked at him attentively for some moments ; his face was pale and
troubled, his head covered with very thin hair; he
had thick lips, and large mouth, his eyes were small
and searching; in his appearance were united the
sacristan and the beggar.
" Sir," he said in a timid voice, " I shall be happy
to receive your instructions.

I have come to see if

you will take me as a scholar ?"
Believing he would be no profit, but merely embarrass me, I refused rather roughly.
It was a bad thing, for the poor man appeared so
contrite, he smoothed his hat with the lining of his
coat, his head drooped like a condemned person;
seeing so much modesty, I thought he might be
useful to me, and said,
" You wish to be my assistant pupil ? "

THE PORTRAIT.

73

" I should be too happy, sir!"
" Well/' I said, " go get your things and instal
yourself."

H e returned with an easel of white

wood, a small box, two stools, a modest m a t ; all
poor, but neat as his person.

I gave him directions

as to what he would be obliged to do in the studio;
usually we employed young boys for these duties,
as we did not like to ask a man to do them, but this
one was so humble, that we had no hesitation in
employing him.

I was satisfied with his services ;

my studio was well taken care of, my palettes were
resplendent; he was very attentive, and if by chance
a brush fell from my hand, he would pick it up, give
it to me, then make a bow, such a bow as is taught
by provincial dancing masters.

When the day was

over he went with me to my lodging, and repeated
his b o w : one step in advance, three steps behind,
retiring respectfully.

After some days he said to

me in an embarrassed manner,
" My dear master, we have not spoken of what
I owe you for your valuable instructions, and I see
if I do not speak you will not.

I have thought of

74

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

offering you seventy-five francs a month, does this
sum appear sufficient ? "
" Seventy-five

francs!

it is too ^much;

our

great masters do not charge but twenty-five, and
besides, you do a great deal for me.

I did not

intend to charge you anything."
" Twenty-five francs will answer in many studios,
where the scholars have not the advantage of working with the master, but I enjoy a crowd of advantages, all of which I recognize."
As he insisted, I said to him,
" Speaking seriously, can you afford to give me
seventy-five francs ? Yes ? Well, give them to me,
and we will not talk any more about it."

At the

end of some months, he had become so important
to me, that I did not wish any longer to take his
money.

I found in seeking some necessary thing in

my secretary that he had made up the sum each
month into a packet, and placed them in one of the
drawers.

When one is young and a painter, one

does not roll in gold, and I can recall the pleasure
it gave me to find these little parcels.

He some-

THE

times

PORTRAIT.

asked permission

with me.

to spend the

75

evening

I did not always consent; when I did,

it gave him a pleasure which was like that of a
child.
He went and came ; sometimes he pressed me
to dine with him, and took me to a restaurant that
I did not know; we were served in the most comfortable manner.

This made me anxious about my

student's purse, and I remonstrated.
" Oh ! " he said, " do not fear, I know the master
of this house.

I have had the opportunity of ren-

dering him some service, which he recognizes, and
knowing that my dear master is my guest, he serves
everything nicely and makes it suit my purse."

In

the same way he accounted for a box at the theatre,
where we heard the best music ; he was also a
fancier of old paintings, and frequently persuaded
me to go to the sales; afterwards he would say
to m e :
" You remember the Hobbema, that you so much
admired; it was sold for thirty-seven
francs."

thousand

7&

CON VERSA TIONS 02V AR T.

" Really, that is a large price, but it is a very
beautiful picture; he is happy who is able to purchase such works/*
" Yes, I agree with you."
He

continued to work, never neglecting his

duty ; though not a deep man he was intelligent,
of#an artless nature; and he often said interesting
things.

It was very hard to tell his age;

might be from twenty-eight to sixty years.

he

I loved

him very much, for it is pleasant to see simple
natures take their happiness from the happiness of
others, beings who without any thought of self give
you the devotion of a dog.

I would not change

this kind of friendship for one more flattering and
brilliant; nothing is more desirable than a devoted
heart.
We were happy for eighteen months, working
together; order and neatness had

come to my

studio; a new assistant pupil, a real one, did my
work; my pupil had become my friend.
One day he appeared with a sad face :
" W h a t is the m a t t e r ? "

THE PORTRAIT.

77

" My dear master, I am obliged to leave you for
a long time, perhaps for two months."
" When do you go ? "
" Immediately, this evening."
We passed this last day together.

I went with

him to the stage, and saw him disappear, into what
they call the rotunda.

H e was in the midst of

nurses and children.
"Adieu, my dear friend, pleasant journey."

I

returned home, with a sad heart; poor b o y ! so
generous to others, so economical to himself.
The next day a female model put her head in at
my door saying,
Vis he h e r e ? "
"Who?"
" Your student."
"No, why?"
" O h ! " she said, " you do not know i t ? "
" What ? "
" W h o he is?"
" What do you mean ? "
" You do not yet know him?"

78

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.
16

No, speak."

" He is a millionaire, he is in pursuit of a person
who robbed him of fifteen hundred thousand francs/'
I knew the exaggeration of the world ; and supposed he had lost his all, for he had confessed to me
that he had four or five thousand francs income.
What a frightful act! to take advantage of such a
simple heart; but I believed he would return to the
studio, when I would show him how to make his
living.
But the months rolled on, and he did not return,
evidently because he had lost his all; he did not
know how much I loved him.
A long time after, I made a journey to Rouen.
R o u e n ! he had often spoken to me of i t ; perhaps
it was his home.

I determined to seek him, and

applied for information to some men who were
standing before a large gateway.

Describing his

singular appearance, and giving his name, I asked
if they knew such a person.
" No," they said, " but there is a person of that
name, who is very rich."

THE PORTRAIT.

79

I thanked them, saying he was not the person I
sought.

I entered a modest cafe, thinking I might

hear of his taking portraits of the people.
" Madame, are you acquainted, etc., etc. ,,
" Yes, sir, he is our very rich man. 0
I was hopeless of finding my friend, but determined to inquire of the rich man, their names being
the same.
I arrived in front of a beautiful house, rapped at
the door, which opened of itself, then a large bell
sounded, and a servant appeared.

I gave my name,

and asked to see his master; he ushered me into a
room, where I found an old man, seated upon a
lounge covered with Russia leather.

I immediately

recognized in him a likeness to my pupil, and
remembering what the female model had told me,
asked without hesitation,
" Have you not a son who amuses himself with
art?"
" Yes," said he smiling, " my son was your pupil,
and by a happy chance he arrived last evening from
Italy.

I have sent to let him know you are here."

80

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

At the same moment my old pupil appeared.
was so much surprised I could not speak.

I

He wel-

comed me with cordiality, and led me out of the
room, along a corridor, until we came to a door
covered by the most beautiful tapestry. Drawing it
aside, he said, " My dear master, no one enters
here, but for you all rules are laid aside."

We en-

tered, and I saw the most wonderful works of art,
and among them, those we had admired together at
the different sales we had visited.
" You are rich?"
"Yes."
" Why did you not tell me ?"
" I wished to have sincere advice from you."
" But you do not know how much pain it gave
me, to see you spending more than I thought you
could afford."
" Well, do not think any more of it, and now
that you understand my position, let me take you
to Italy; we will travel like princes.

But what is

the matter, you look sad ?" he continued.
" Yes, it is true, I am discouraged.

I work very

THE PORTRAIT.

81

iard for success at the Exhibitions, and find all the
£ood places are given to others."
" You do not know how to get good places ?'
"No."
" It is now my turn to be pilot; remain here tolight, and to-morrow we will go to Paris."
Clic-clac I Clic-clac—a barouche and pair ; we
ire enveloped in dust, relays at every few miles—we
irrive at the Palais Royal.
" Have you any money with you ?"
" Yes."
" Follow me."
I commenced to have confidence in my guide ;
Le made me walk through the dirty streets .which
urround the Louvre, and brought me to the door
)f the Museum.

The concierge seeing us, said to

ny pupil, " Good morning, is Monsieur with you ?"
" Pass on."
The pictures for the Exhibition were in an anteoom of the hall; my pupil said to me, " Go to that
nan, and say to him, ' I have brought a picture here
narked 334, if by chance you are able to have it
4*

82

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART.

well placed, I shall be much obliged to you," and
leave in his hand ten francs."
I obeyed him, doing the same by each one of
the assistants.

Pointing out another, he said ; " T o

that one you must give twenty francs, he is the
chief."
All of these men came forward and spoke to
him in the most familiar manner.

" Now, let us

go," he said, " there is nothing more to be done
here.

I shall stay in Paris a week to enjoy you

triumph."
Eight days after, the Exhibition opened ; I had
a superb place, and obtained my first public success.
" Well, my dear master, the farce is played out;
the public have their eyes upon you, now they will
be obliged to hang your pictures well.
" I leave you, but before going let me give you
a piece of advice; never forget that you cannot
attain eminence by the favor of the great, who turn
the weakness of any one to their profit.

Believe

me, when I tell you to pay inferior people for what
you want, you are then sure of being served."

THE PORTRAIT.

83

We embraced each other and parted; I have
never seen him since.
I have always thought that this singular man
played the part of Providence to me, and

finding

me sufficiently prosperous, left me to accomplish
other benevolent actions.

VIII.
CONFESSION.

I

W I L L here relate a little indiscretion which
perhaps justified my never again appearing at

the Exhibitions.

From what I now write, you will

perhaps suppose I am a spiritualist, or at least one
of the followers of Mesmer, but I can affirm that in
opposition to these two beliefs, I have the doubts
of my patron St. Thomas.
I merely recall a fact which seems to me to be
very curious.
I was upon a scaffolding at St. Eustache, painting
the Virgin, and giving my whole attention to the
work.

In a singular manner which I never could

explain, I was incessantly troubled by a strange
vision ; the door of the chapel opened after a little
noise at the lock, and admitted a charming harlequin.
He made me a gracious salute, which had nothing in

CONFESSION.

85

common with those of our world. He commenced by
a delicious pimuette, then bending one knee to
the ground, rested his two hands on his wand ; his
head was a little turned and expressed the delight
that one feels in seeing a friend.

This contempla-

tion was of short duration; he raised himself, running with the grace of a cat around the chapel, striking my paintings ; he darted up and down my scaffolding, and by his many motions made the light
scintillate on his spangles; then with a rapid bound
he lighted upon my palette, making a pirouette and
disappearing, to

reappear immediately,

running

along the cornices with superhuman lightness and
rapidity; he let himself glide along the immense
columns, often interrupted by the projecting pieces
of sculpture ; then he would stop and utter short
cries ; he remained quiet a little while, then placed
himself behind me, watching me paint, and chirping like a swallow.

He was so charming, and so

graceful that I enjoyed looking at him, and did not
budge, for fear of frightening him.
The least movement on my part to approach,

86

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

caused him immediately to disappear, but if on the
contrary I remained perfectly quiet, I heard a noise
like wings, and little affectionate sighs.
After the vision had disappeared, I came down
the stairs and walked all around the chapel, everything was as usual. I tried the door, it was ajar.
I shut it again with care, and went on with my
work.

At the end of a short time, I again heard a

noise at the lock, and the same vision appeared.

I

could not understand i t ; the wretched door would
not stay closed.
For eight days I was pursued by these apparitions. I at first thought my blood was out of
order, and had myself bled.

I sought in different

ways to distract my attention, but all in vain. During this time an amateur found me upon my scaffolding painting and said to me, " Why is it I
cannot obtain one of your pictures ? "

The idea

came into my mind to use what has been called
an old woman's remedy, so I said to the amateur that I was ready to satisfy him, provided he
would let me paint a harlequin; persuaded that

CONFESSION.

87

only in this way would I be able to get rid of my
visions.
He readily accepted.
It is my habit to study the subject which I am
going to paint.

It occurred to me, in this connec-

tion, to look into Italian Comedy. I left the church
intending to go to the libraries for some book of the
kind; just as I came to the corner of the Boulevard
and the rue Montmartre, I was attracted by a row
of old books, very much defaced, in the middle of
which I saw an unique volume, titled,
" Life of Dominick, celebrated harlequin of
Italian Comedy."
What a singular chance !
I bought the book; and in the evening comfortably in bed made acquaintance with the celebrated
person.
He was very much beloved by Louis XIV.

His

gayety and grace amused the Princes of France.
Some of his bons mots are still related. One day
when he was at the table of the great king, Louis
XIV. said,

88

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

" Give this plate to Dominick."
The comedian seized it, and smelling the contents, said,
u

And the partridge also, Sire."

(The plate was

of gold.)
There were related many interesting details of
his life, and also the regrets that were felt at his
death.

I learned with great surprise that by will,

he had given the greater part of his fortune to the
church of St. Eustache, on condition of being buried
in the chapel of the Virgin.
All the harlequins which I have painted were
suggested by this adventure.
I have believed it my duty as a good Christian
to assure you that I never represented a harlequin
that came from hell.

IX.
T H E TIMES IN WHICH WE LIVE.

T

H E Poet wishes to be a Statesman.
The Historian wishes to be a Poet.

The Novelist wishes to be a Historian.
The Journalist wishes to be a Novelist.
The Art Critic wishes to be a Painter.
The Painter wishes to be a Journalist.
These are some of the pretentions which lead
people away from the track.

It is this which pro-*

duces so much exaggeration in everything; for the
present, however, we will only speak of painters.
I

Now the painter of episodes wishes to absorb

grand painting.
The realistic painter to absorb genre painting.
The landscape painter, the least of all, to absorb
every kind.

90

CON VERSA T10NS ON AR T.

We must not forget the plebeian artist, w h o
wishes to absorb even landscape painting.
But it is always the way ; he who is at the
bottom of the social ladder regards himself as a repressed king, and the poorest of our artists considers
himself equal to Michael Angelo.

One may satisfy kings, may satisfy the desires of
a woman, but cannot satisfy a modern artist
If you compass that, you obtain my applause.

We

see little artists, with little minds, who make little
pictures puffed up like the frog in the fable, placing
themselves in opposition to the great painters of antiquity, and of the middle ages, who produced sublime works, and yet were thoroughly modest.

X.
T H E CRITIC.
" Some one said to me, your book will raise a tempest: To which I
replied, the reed is too feeble."

L

I T E R A R Y men have written on Art, in very
good French, but unfortunately without any

knowledge of the subject; it is then our duty to tell
some truths, which, though badly expressed, are
better than words beautifully written but without
meaning.
From the year 1830 to the present time, the
modern critic has done harm.
LET US SEE HOW HE WORKS.

H e has no faith in great talent, and always
shows hatred of those who succeed by their merit,
and without his assistance.

92

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART.

Ignorant and foolish, he is even hurtful to the
doubtful talents that he defends.

Flattering with-

out conviction, but simply in the interest of his
newspaper, he destroys to-day, what he upheld yesterday.
Yes, these writers for journals create an idol,
which they use as an arm to strike at reputations
legitimately acquired ; if the idol has merit they
soon drop him, for these amiable critics are jealous
of their productions, and wish that talent shall not
count for anything, in the reputations which "they
create.
These agitators destroy all they touch.

The

modern critic has generally been either a scholar or
one of the middle class ; incapable of producing, or
of submitting to honorable work, he becomes an
art critic.
I know that there are some who have produced
charming books, and who have without doubt deprived us of interesting works to give us bad criticisms.
There is one of these men whose writings I very

THE CRITIC.

much admire; he devotes himself

93

to

criticism,

although he acknowledges he knows nothing of art.
I have taken him at his word, and counselled him
to write a book, which he knows how to do.
For some time past, men of really good talents
have not exhibited at the salons ; they feel they
would lose by exposing themselves to malevolence
of all sorts, and notwithstanding the desire they
have to show their work, abstain for fear of injuring
their interests.

It is a usual thing for the picture

of an artist of talent to be the property of an amateur at the time it is on exhibition, and it is not
unusual to find the owner very near his property.
Let me give you an idea of the test to which they
put the modern Maecenas who is deprived of his
picture to embellish the Exhibition.

This is an

anecdote from real life.
Two loafers.
" Look at this daub, what fool would ever buy
it!

Oh ! it is very bad, it is not nature, see there."

(They put their fingers on the canvas.)
" Gentlemen must not touch works of art."

94

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

" Do not fear, sir, this is not art, but rubbish/'
(They pass on.)
A young painter with a critic.
The Painter.

I tell you it is scandalous, there

is nothing in him; he has no longer the least particle of talent; his picture needs tonality (the critic
notes the word, which will be very good in the next
paper) believe me, it is necessary to put an end to
these old undeserved reputations.
A friend of the amateur, accompanied by a lady*
Come and see this picture, it is really frightful;
our friend believes himself a good judge, but in this
he has failed, it is an abominable caricature.

The

amateur turns and shows himself; he has heard all
that has been said.
The Friend.

Oh ! I did not see you ; I suppose

you have come to enjoy your picture.

(The friend

and lady turn away smiling.)
The Exhibition closes and the work is reported
injured, the
broken.

frame which was very beautiful is

The amateur, disgusted with his picture,

sold it without caring for the price; two years after,

THE CRITIC.

95

he saw it again at a public sale; this detestable
thing brought forty thousand francs ; in his chagrin,
he had parted with it for four thousand.

J h i s ama-

teur was never after willing to lend pictures to the
Exhibition.

I will cite another new and hateful

proceeding.
Some people think that art critics are interested
in the artists personally, so they invent scandalous
stories about them, denying their true merit and
turning honorable things into ridicule.

Painters

without talent spread these stories as a consolation
to themselves for their want of success.
I protest against their right to judge us ; they are
at liberty like the rest of the world to say that they
like, or do not like our pictures, but to give their
advice, to take, as it were, the brush of the painter,
and direct it, talk of the chiaro scuro of style, of
color, of drawing, it is not to be borne; they know
nothing of the work, but use the words of the trade,
like apes; their articles are read, and seem to carry
some weight with them, until some foolish statement betrays them and people see they are talking

96

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

as a blind man would talk on color.

To those who

must write about what they do not understand, I
would suggest: choose a subject which would not
trouble those who are at work; if you cannot find
it, I will aid you.

Write upon cockchafers ; they

are injurious insects, and I think you will then understand each other.
The year

1848 has given a great impulse to

sales; fear of confiscation has caused many persons
to dispose of their pictures.
The revolution has brought many persons to
this country, with the hope of buying pictures at
low prices;

those who bought for the sake of

investment, have shown taste in purchasing; the
timid have only ventured upon small things, believing in case of pillage, they would be able to protect
a small better than a bulky thing of value; in some
instances I have known persons carry their galleries
on their own bodies, always ready to escape if
necessary.

These causes formed

a great

many

amateurs ; sales, competition, the passion born of
dispute, the constant sight of objects of art, have

THE CRITIC.

97

educated men into true appreciators, and strange to
say, timid speculators, and men of the world who
buy only from selfishness, all have become connoisseurs ; and you are astonished, at our public
sales, to see how justly various talents are estimated.
That which would seem to have ruined art has
saved it, or rather a part of i t : pictures of small
dimensions.

We hope later that large ones may

also be appreciated.
Our railroads, our large associations have given
artists work.

The state, we hope, will not confine

herself to monumental art, but that a new impulse
will be given to produce beautiful things.
To return to our subject; criticism is-very much
modified, amateurs are themselves educated, and
do not care for the judgment of writers.

Artists

and amateurs form a world of their own ; the artist
knows that his guarantee is the amateur, as the
amateur is very certain that his judgment is preferable to that of the journalist.

Having found the

work leaving their hands, it will not be long before
5

98

CONVERSATIONS

critics entirely disappear.

ON

ART.

You, young people, who

are artists, do not forget that your natural judges
are the amateurs.
There are some men who are born to produce,
as there are others born to appreciate.
Listen to those who love art, and who give you
the proofs of it in sustaining you in your work.
From those only are you able to obtain a good
criticism.

XI.
A REVIEW OF T H E SCHOOLS FOR MORE
THAN THIRTY YEARS.

Y

ES, my dear friends, I have the sad advantage

time.

I have seen mediocre talent prominent in

of being able to speak knowingly of this long

sects, clubs and schools.
I have seen bad classical painters followed by
bad romantic ones, and in every case they have
shown themselves fully satisfied with their work.
True talent is uneasy, always seeking; it suffers,
does all it can, and is never satisfied ; while the
plagiarist, who believes that he belongs to the
romantic or realistic school, never doubts himself;
the class is legion; it basks in its own mediocrity.
I propose to pass in review all these classes.
We will take : the Romantic, the Angelic,
Turkish^ the Realistic.

the

IOO

CON VERSA

T10NS

ON

ART.

The romantic fever was at its height in 1832.
For a long time they fought

very

unjustly

against the large pictures of the Revolution, and of
the Empire; to equal them was impossible.

The

pigmies who fought them were like rats, nibbling at
the base to make them fall.
These nibblingpleiades

were composed of many

kinds.
They had made common cause, with a very disreputable set of artists.
The romantic phalanx wore brilliant, strange, and
exaggerated costumes.

They were generally rich

young men, who allied themselves to poor devils
who became their fags.

The first wore long waist-

coats of satin, cut in old style, cuffs turned back,
white and sparkling, broad-brimmed hats, the hair
shaved, and the beard as long and as full as nature
allowed.

Almost always they had a mantle thrown

over one shoulder, even if the weather was warm;
it answered for drapery ; they invariably wore a
dagger, with an agate pommel.
very peculiar.

Their phrases were

One of them, whom I knew, imi-

A REVIEW

OF THE SCHOOLS.

101

tating the famous " vieillard stupide, i'l Vaime"

of

Hernani, said to his father: " y o u stupid old man,
hold your tongue." These things did not shock the
world, indeed, it was the fashion for the young to
throw off control.

It was not unusual to meet one

of these beaux with a beggar friend.

These last had

the same aspirations for things of the past, but not
having the means, they dressed themselves on a
simpler model; the former tried to imitate young
lords ; the latter, artists of the Renaissance.

They

cut the visors off of their caps and transformed them
into berets of the fifteenth century; they made their
vests to imitate doublets; and the vulgar pantaloon
was tied with pack thread, and looked like swaddling
clothes; deprived of the mantle, they allowed their
hair to grow long and cover their shoulders, so rich
is youth in resources.

Added to this our Paris

mud so spattered them that one would suppose
they had been out in a storm.

They also had

their set phrases, which had a biblical

flavor.

"And

it came to pass, my brother" or, " Verily, verily I say
unto you, the soup is too hot."

This comedy I

102

CONVERSA TIONS ON ART.

have seen ; it is not exaggerated; those who, like
me, remember this period, can judge of my exactness.

The pictures which this class "painted con-

tained figures dressed as doorkeepers.
Lower and lower we fall until we come to the
period of Realism.
Permit me to talk to you a little about

this

famous school.
I am only a painter, and

cannot make you

understand except by illustrations.

I would like

to draw for you one of my last compositions, but
as that is impossible, I must employ my unskilful
pen to glvQ you an idea of it.
I represent the interior of a modern studio,
which has nothing in common with the old studios ;
in those are seen the head of the Laocoon, the feet
of the Gladiator, the Venus de Milo; on the wall
Raphael's stanzas and Poussin's sacraments and landscapes.

But thanks to the present taste, I find

strange things represented in the modern studio.
The Laocoon is replaced by a cabbage, the feet of
the Gladiator by that of a candlestick covered with

A REVIEW

tallow, or by a shoe.

OF THE SCHOOLS.

103

(I do not know why the word

shoe shocks me; it is cold, and without color, I like
the word paf better ; what do you say ? is it not
prettier?)

There is a painter in this studio, indus-

trious and zealous, a bright light of the new religion.
He is copying, what ? the head of a pig ; and seated
on, what do you suppose ? the head of Jupiter
Olympus.

As one of the accessories of this studio,

I should have liked to introduce a Turk, for you
have heard of the Turkish art religion, but the Turk
has disappeared.

You have without doubt seen one

of this class walking in the Champs Elysees ; he had
a superb head, and his air a little fierce.

I can see

him now, as he appeared when the boys would try
to tease him, not the least discomposed, losing none
of his dignity.

What has become of him ? I have

looked for him every where, for I only like to paint
from

nature.

He has

completely

disappeared,

and might now be placed among the antiques.
A propos of the Turks, I will tell you a little
anecdote.
There was an artist of much talent, who painted

104

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

a picture of the Virgin.

There was at the same

time another artist who had charming talents, but
in an entirely different style.

This latter, full of

ardor, wished to surpass his fellow artist, and determined to paint a Virgin; he was totally unfit for
it; all his taste was in the Turkish style, small and
full of grace, but still Turkish.
H e took a canvas, worked with ardor, and at the
end of the day had finished his Virgin.

An amateur

arrived, and looking at it exclaimed, " Oh ! what a
beautiful Turk."
" No, it is not," said the painter, " My Virgin is
perfectly successful."
" If you do not ask too much for your Turk, I
would like to have it."
" I do not think my price too high for my Virgin."
The bargain was concluded.
The amateur is satisfied that he possesses a
Turk, while the artist is happy in having his Virgin
in good hands.

. . .

I hope neither of them will

object to my laughing at them.

XII.
T H E GOLDEN MEDIUM.
* * * * * * * * * *

137, 138, 139.

Your pages are large, the writing is close, and we
have great difficulty in making 300 pages; you must
add fifty more, to make a respectable volume.
is what my Editor said to me.

This

But, my dear sir,

you give me credit for having what I do not possess.

I am not a man of letters, capable of writing

so much a line; I assure you I know but little, and
find that little hard to say.

I am like a miller able

to speak knowingly of wheat, but I have not any
gift at interesting by literary means.
You have related some anecdotes which appeared to me not to have any direct connection
with your method.
them amusing.

I do not object to it, for I find

I only ask for more of them.

Permit me to reply in my turn, that these his-

106

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART.

tories are not simply fantasies, but facts, which have
gone far towards my education as a painter.

These

lessons taken from life, I share with my pupils, and
am jealous of the least invention.

I copy with ser-

vility ; and even in my pictures guard myself against
creating even a blade of grass.

I know that this

humility may appear unpoetical, and many men
condemn it as a sign of a poor spirit.

.

.

What

would you have me do ? I do what I can.
I wish to show in my method, the long time
which ought to elapse between the elementary principles and serious studies ; I tell the stories to fill
the pause, and like a careful professor, try to instruct while I give amusement to my pupils.
What more ought I to say? that I teach my
pupils to become familiar with nature, until they
love it in its simplicity; they understand its secrets,
and having once found it so charming, remain faithful ; if by chance they go to the theatre, they are
astonished to see men weep at what makes them
laugh.
This is a matter of habit; those who go con-

THE GOLDEN MEDIUM.

107

stantly give themselves up to the excitement of it,
and it ends by clouding their intelligence and taking
possession of their whole mind ; they only understand what they see upon the boards, and the footlights are brighter to them than the sun.

The

dramatists provide grand denouements, knowing
that the habitues demand it, as they do their cup
of black coffee after dinner.
I will give you an idea of this kind of fabrication.

.

.

.

The traitor is discovered and taken

by the police.
You hear at the end of the scene the words,
saved ! saved!
She comes in a white robe, symbol of chastity,
and exclaims, " My mother ! my mother !" A bosom
covered with brown stuff receives her; she expresses
her great joy; when she has proven to the public
her filial qualities, she raises her head, and looking
up, " O h ! holy," see saw, " is it possible, is it he !
oh! cascade of happiness, it is Saint Oscar."

She

gives to this young man, so well dressed (in leather
breeches and long boots), she gives to him, I say,

108

CONVERSA TIONS ON ART.

one of her hands, that this poetical young man
may impress a kiss upon

.

,

.

the cosmetic.

Dear reader, if this interests you, I knc*w you want
to know who these charming lovers were.
Saint Oscar had been left under the porch of a
church one winter evening, etc., etc.

.

.

.

He

was raised with a farmer's son, but his aristocratic
tendencies soon showed themselves; he was very
different from the children of the village, so that
very young he adopted breeches of yellow leather,
and long boots.

No one was astonished when they

learned he was the son of a prince.
Enough.

I only speak of this to persuade you

to avoid such falsities.
But all this does not cover sufficient space.

I

can now remember but one anecdote, so small it
will only fill you a few pages.
I can see, my dear sir, that writing is not your
trade, you put all your eggs in one basket instead
of

husbanding your resources; you arrive

too

quickly at your wits' end.
I hope the unrolling of this last little budget

THE GOLDEN MEDIUM.

IO9

will satisfy you, dear Editor, and you will be willing
to let me go back to my painting ; for it is very
difficult to write when one has nothing to say ;
you must take the responsibility for this anecdote.
You know that often the sky is enveloped in three
curtains of clouds ; sometimes for a long time the
days (if they can be called days when the light only
shows itself through the rain) succeed one another
and make every one feel gloomy.

I ought not to

say every one, for we find a class who carry with
them

portable suns, portable

gardens,

portable

seasons; they are sufficient to themselves, and even
the ills of life seem to have occurred for their
benefit.
One morning I wake, and seeing something upon
my bed, put out my hand, when behold it is the
sun. After the darkness what joy to see it again, so
fresh, bright and golden, spreading itself everywhere.
I hear sounds from the street, every one rejoices, it
is a day in which to enjoy nature.

I must profit by

the occasion and go out.
I dress myself and leave the house, the spark-

110

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

ling air makes me soon feel there is something in
the world besides five per cents.
It is one of those days when everything sings;
unknown birds warble in your heart.

On such days

you speak to your worst enemies, the birds even
seem t o feel that goodness has returned to man;
they become familiar

and will eat out of your

pocket.
Everybody was walking, the dogs ran from one
to another, so happy in the sunshine; new clothes
were seen on every side, the children threw up their
red balloons to make the air look bright.
A man stepped in front of me whom I recognized as having known a quarter of a century ago.
" Do you not know me?" he said. " They say I
have not changed."
" That is exactly the reason, I think, I do not
know you."
I looked at him attentively ; not a wrinkle, his
eyes as clear as an infants, a little stouter, but this
was an advantage; the man seemed to have lived
on happiness.

THE GOLDEN MEDIUM.

111

" And how are you ?"
" Thanks, I am very well.

It is not necessary to

ask you the same question."
" Yes/' said he, " I am very well. I can truly say
I am a happy man ; you know I am at the theatre,
my voice improves every day, it has more timbre;
come and hear me ! I have been very successful.
The manager holds me in high esteem.

A h ! my

dear sir, I have seen many stars vanish, beautiful
for the time, but evanescent, while I remain, for my
talents are not like theirs, ephemeral.''
I complimented him, and said that such happiness was rare, that often envy destroyed the benefits
of success.
" O h ! " he replied, " not for true talent, my
friends know I owe my position to hard work, and
that I am incapable of intrigue.
see my fete day.

You ought to

My numerous friends all come ;

my house is full of flowers ; I enjoy my well acquired
glory."
" Adieu," I said sadly, and left him.

I do not

think I am wicked, yet such happiness as this I

112

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

have described, won by work, crowned by talent, is
not this only a dream to most of us ?
Can one have a little merit in this world, and
yet have friends ? What have I done, that I have so
few friends, and have so often been

deceived ?

Without doubt I have been very wrong.

I placed

myself at the feet of those I loved, but I had no
patience.

When I raised myself, my foolish dig-

nity made them fly from me.
remained with me all day.

These sad thoughts
In the evening

I

received a box for the theatre, sent by a famous
singer.

I determined to go in, as I was fond of

music, and it would also give me the opportunity
of seeing the friend of my childhood.
Three Acts are understood.
The curtain rises, the grand seneschal appears;
his voice is full and rich, bravo, he sings very well,
they applaud him loudly, I add mine, for I feel
ashamed of my jealousy.
After the second act, I go upon the stage and

THE GOLDEN MEDIUM.

113

express my delight to the prima donna, saying to
her, that she is admirably supported by one of my
old friends.
" Do you know A ?"
" No not A, but Z."
" Z ? no, it is A."
" It is possible/' I reply, " he may have changed
his name."
" Oh! no, I can assure you not, for I know his
family."
" Then I am mistaken ; but you have among
you a man named Z ? "
" I do not know."
They called the manager, and consulted the
register; in the first list no one like Z ; in the
utility list, the same absence.

The manager thought

a few moments, hesitated, for I had spoken of Z. as
a friend.
<(

We have," said he, a man named Z. " w h o fills

the role of the third savage."
The charming singer burst into a laugh ; cov-1
ered with confusion, I returned to my place.

At

114

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

last the third savage makes his appearance ; alas !
it is my friend.
To be happy in this life it is necessary to be
only the third savage.
The end of the Interlude.

XIII.
JEAN GOUJON.

T

O speak of this great artist of the Renaissance,
I must recall all I can remember; I do not

wish to say one word of my own, only what I have
heard.
On a sunshiny day I was attacked by my children.

Earnestly they begged to be taken to the

Jardin des Plantes; they had been told of the bear
Martin, of the beautiful lambs, of the gold and silver
fish; in their imagination it was a paradise, and
must be seen.
" Papa, papa, do come with us."
" But I must do my work, be quiet.

You are

walking on my drawings, do not touch my pictures,
you push me, and make my hand unsteady."
" No, no, do not work, but come with us."
They pulled at my coat and laughed; how could

COAT VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

116

I resist; how easy in childhood to make smiles
chase away tears ; I went with them to look for a
carriage.

We soon found a very large'one able to

hold all of us.

The horses appeared very gentle:

one had his head on the neck of the other;
young

coachman

the

stood in front of them, and

rubbed the nose of the one which supported the other ; evidently these three were on good terms, and
understood one another.

The man appeared intelli-

gent ; his complexion was pale and dull; his eyes,
shaded by beautiful eyebrows, were deep s e t ; his
nose fine, and nostrils dilated and mobile, denoting
great nervous sensibility; his mouth was a little
large, but arched and furnished with sparkling teeth ;
his chin by its projection showed great energy,
" Coachman, are you free ?"
" Yes, sir."
The children get into the carriage, the mother
and good aunt who had come, and the nurse who is
never willing to be separated from us, and who has
provided herself with a pocket full of provision for
our little journey.

They are all in, the door is

JEAN

GO UJON.

I17

shut, the carriage more than filled by my dear
family, so I mount on top with the driver, and compliment him on his horses.
H e replies, I love my beasts, which does not astonish me.

I am surprised at the whiteness of his

hands, when he takes up his reins; he asks me the
usual question,
" Where do you wish to go ?"
" To the Jardin des Plantes ; go by the Quartier
des Halles."
On the road I make him stop at the fountain of
the Innocents, so that I may admire the carvings.
•" I am glad to be your guide here," he said,
" y o u are looking at the figures of Jean Goujon,
which are very superior to those of Pajou on the
other side."
Much surprised, I asked him how he had obtained his art knowledge.
He replied that being the child of a tradesman,
he was destined to follow the work of his father,
but having an irresistible taste for beautiful things,
he saw that incessant labor in a close shop would

118

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

would deprive him of what he most loved, so he
had become a coachman, a business easy to learn
and one which gave him the leisure Tor thought.
While waiting for customers, he studied what he
wanted to know; then raising a cushion, he showed
me some volumes, saying, .
" This is my library, but I will not touch them
to-day, for I see Monsieur loves art, and will let
me talk to him."
u

I not only permit you to talk to me, but beg you

will explain to me your ideas about Jean Goujon ;
what you have said has interested me very much."
" Willingly, sir, for it is not my good fortune
often to meet with any one to whom I can talk."
" Look," he said to me, " at that admirable sample of

the

Renaissance.

These

lovely images

recount to us the loves, and I would even say the
perfidies of the chivalric world.

Jean Goujon, who

was their interpreter, has always represented woman
and water; a great poet has said, you know; perfidious as the waves ; and Francis I. wrote upon a
window glass at Chenonceaux:

JEAN

II9

GO UJON.

'Woman often changes—
He is a fool who trusts her.' "

My literary coachman paused a moment, and a
bitter expression passed over his face.
He appeared to

make an effort, and

con-

tinued,
" Egotism and perfidy appear in the productions
of the Renaissance.

Feminine beauty

triumphs

over brute force.
" The artists of that time represented Hercules
spinning at the feet of Omphale, Delilah delivering
Samson to his enemies, or the mistress of a powerful Jewish king demanding of him, besotted by love,
the head of a saint for her pleasure.
" Leonardo da Vinci, another subtle interpreter,
gave to his Syrens an eternal smile.
" Woman never indulges emotions which diminish her beauty; she guards well that which is her
power.

Like the sea, she swallows all, and remains

calm upon the surface.
" Thanks to this egotism, the cold Diana remains
beautiful at fifty.

120

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

" You will find this intense egotism in the works
of our sculptor who profits by it.
" Listen now:
" They sound the tocsin, cries of death are heard,
women, old men, and children, all are victims; it is
St Bartholomew's Day.
" What does Jean Goujon do?
" H e continues his work; this massacre only recalls to him the frailness of life.

H e wishes for im-

mortality ; eager for glory, our civil discords are nothing to him.

H e strengthens his raft, his works, to

float upon our waves of blood.

Follow him in his

conceptions; see the long waving locks mingle
with true waves, these draperies waving upon the
beautiful bodies, with undulating movements.
" This genius is a river, made man ; in his wanderings he sees everything; flowery banks, refreshing shade, the animated poetry of solitude.

Fol-

low him ; we shall meet arid mountains, natural
barriers opposed to his passage; the shackled and
enslaved waters collect, break their chains and are
changed into cataracts; boiling up, they wind and

JEAN

GO UJON.

121

fly around the rocks which they meet, until they at
last fall into a lake with enchanted borders.
."It is in this way his works impress me.

Here

this fountain forms a frame and prevents our hearing the words of these naiads created by this Pygmalion of the Renaissance.
" If a painter, sculptor or musician, remain in the
sphere of his art, if he possesses all the science of
it, he will merit an honorable place in the noble
phalanx ; but what will render him truly superior,
is to add to his works that which is outside of the
art he professes ; the more he produces his base,
the greater he is.
" Take for example an artist like Scalf, he reproduces wonderfully whatever he attempts; it is not
a deception of the eye, but upon his canvas is a
good picture ; he never passes the picturesque line ;
he is only a painter.
" But if in the work of a painter in the true acceptation of the word, you find the sentiment of
poetry, of philosophy; if a great heart manifests
9

122

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

itself, if you feel the harmony—this celestial music
inseparable from all beautiful thoughts; if you find
this, you have not only a painter or -sculptor, but
a great man.
" Jean Goujon is of this number.

This sculptor

is painter and poet, and the melodies of his lines
equal the symphonies of Beethoven.
" This artist loved paganism too much to believe
in the Christian's God; he had no tenderness, he
saw not, sang not

of

anything but

BEAUTY.

This voluntary Athenian, this rival of Phidias in
the eternal domain of art, made his times celebrated, as his predecessor had the century of Pericles.
" I have called him a painter, and I think I am
right.

His bas-reliefs have infinite depth of feel-

ing ; if he sculptures the sea, under his chisel it
appears white and blue, and by some magic the solid
marble becomes a starry sky.
" I have called him a poet, because I constantly
find proofs of it in his images, which give rise to
thought, and make us forget ourselves in dreams.

JEAN

GOUJON.

123

" I have said that he was a musical genius.

Do

you not, like me, hear the breaking of the sea, the
blowing of a fresh sweet breeze in the trees, the
murmurs of the water, and I know not what far off
song which comes from Greece."
H e had ceased speaking, his hands had let the
reins fall, the horses, accustomed to his abstractions,
remained perfectly quiet.
I was so astonished, and carried away from my
surroundings, that it required the impatience of my
children to bring me back to reality.

This time

they took hold of the tails of my coat, saying, Papa
take us to see the bears.
The carriage moved on.

I had not yet recov-

ered from my surprise, when he said,
" Have you not been struck by the grossness of
the men who crawl at the base of this elegant fountain ? It is the living image of the epoch which
has created it, and do you not find these muddy
beings represent perfectly our century?
" Y o u are unjust in taking the sixteenth century

124

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

as the most poetical, while you place our own times
under its feet.
" I know that my comparison is strong, but you
admit that the material passions invade every thing,
that money satisfies, and that the beings who have
preserved a certain ideal are soon victims of this
ideality;

while those

who accept frankly

the

provincial spirit which puts chous chur c/ious, soon
reach consideration, and make large profits, while
the most intelligent remain at the foot of the social
ladder."
Then wishing again to return to his character of
coachman, he added,
" I would be very glad if you, who know so
much better than I do, would explain the demoralization of these practices."
" My dear friend, I cannot reply to you; these
are difficult questions to sound ; it is necessary to
have more intelligence than either you or I have ; if
I had made great financial operations, in which
often poor families are ruined, and sometimes the
most reckless players succeed, I might be able to

JEAN

GO UJON.

12$

reply to you ; but you are only a poor devil of a
coachman, and I only a modest painter; I believe
the wisest thing for us to do, is not to look beyond
our sphere.

Such things touch political questions,

and it is safest to let them pass from us."
We were at the gate of the garden ; I expressed
to him my sympathy with his ideas of art, and my
hope of seeing him take a higher place in the world.
H e smiled, and I was again astonished at the
ironical expression of his mouth.

He whipped his

horses and disappeared.
I wanted to know something of this man, and
returned to the station.

To my question the in-

spector replied,
" Oh ! he is a priest."
Certainly a fallen priest.

XIV.
MONSIEUR X.

I

T is in art as in everything else—all are born, all
die.

The artists of the fourteenth century rep-

resented young life; look at the doors of the
Baptistery, the paintings of the Campo Santo, it is
a world of children.
Through Michael Angelo art was developed, and
became more robust, the types changed ; the force,
energy and development of forms corresponded to
the age of the art.
In Raphael we see passion; as ardent as a first
love.
In Primaticeio and all the painters of that time
we have the mistakes of luxury.
Later, in Rubens, we see that ambition

has

taken the place of the lightness of youth ; painting

MONSIEUR

X.

I27

is how fully grown and wishes only to manifest
itself.
Still later, in Poussin it reaches maturity; it
has become grave, and reserved ; it returns to the
past, gathers everything together and gives us
beautiful lessons.
Giotto, Ghirlandajo, Donatello loved infancy;
Raphael the budding spring time, while Michael
Angelo had force, which includes all.

Rubens vital-

ized his pictures with nervous energy ; loving life,
he gave to his works his whole life.

Poussin is the

sage who has felt everything.
W e possess, at this time, an artist who is but a
dying echo of this art.

He of whom I speak, is

rather a great phenomenon than a great artist; he
seems to have a profound aversion for that which
represents life.

If he has a love, it is for death.

He has a wonderful power of representing things
as they appear, but in order to do this, the thing
represented must be dead, or immovable; for this
reason he is often wonderful in his representation
of antique types.

128

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

You no doubt know of this terrible operation
called embalming.

It consists in cutting an artery

of a corpse, and introducing some kind of poison
which spreads through the body, making it a delicate rose color; this is intended to simulate life, but
it is in fact, more death than real death.
In order to complete the work, they put in eyes
of enamel which seem to laugh.
It is infernal!

.

.

In looking at these human transformations, I
have been struck by the resemblance to persons in
pictures of artists whom I will not name.
The great artists of whom I spoke above, passionately loved one of the beauties of nature:
youth, strength, or light; they made a choice and
gave themselves faithfully to it.
He whom I do not name, is like death; with his
brush he mows down all.
His pictures impress me like an open tomb, he
makes me feel the damp odors ; his figures are the
ghosts of young women, their eyes fixed and heavy ;
he represents beautiful objects, but always in the

MONSIEUR

domain of death.

X.

129

His pictures have the majesty of

the corpse; the gestures of his personages are slow
and calm, seeming to murmur to you the sefcrets of
the tomb.

Soon you are as frozen as those you

look a t ; you remain for a time under a spell, but
when life asserts itself, you fly from the sepulchral
spectacle.

You run to the sun to cleanse yourself

from the fright of death.
Raphael sacrificed himself to beauty ; all the
great artists have impregnated their pictures with
their own vitality, and almost always have died
young.

He of whom I spoke is very different, he

takes care of himself.

A lesser artist than his pre-

decessors, he is yet one of the great men of our
times; but far inferior to those of the Empire.
Sometimes we use a word without clearly understanding it.

By chance I have done so in writing.

MASTER, he who commands and directs, rubs
out and puts in, follows entirely his own will, and so
is entitled to be called MASTER.
6*

Look at Michael

130

CON VERSA T10NS ON AR T.

Angelo, he rules his conception, like the eternal
Father, in his creation of man; he erases or adds
according to his wish ; his work is his slave.
Raphael, Titian, Rubens, Veronese, Correggio,
Rembrandt, Poussin, and others always created for
themselves.

We have abused the word " master"

not understanding its real value, and have allowed
our servants to use it.
To be a good servant of art is well; this is not
being a slave to nature and the masters.
H e of whom I have spoken is of this number;
he is ruled by the past; follower of those artists, he
guards religiously their memory and their ashes.
H e has his place with the great Italians of tradition ;
he sits—as the servants of the middle ages—at the
feet of those he has served.

XV.
EUGENE DELACROIX.

T

H E Y have made Delacroix: the chief of the
Romantic school.

I wish to know what is understood by the word
Romantic, in the art of the painter.
Is it absolute independence of the rules consecrated by time ? Then, as these rules have been established upon the purest sentiments, those who do
not submit to them are badly organized.
Is it complete indifference to the beauties of the
antique ? This insensibility to beauty, nobleness and
grandeur, shows a narrow mind.
Is it obedience to one's instincts ? We should be
apt to find natural expressions often admirable, and
in sympathy with the greatest minds ; without
knowing it, one would become the rival of Homer,
Virgil, Shakespere, Cervantes, Moliere and Rousseau;

132

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

one would belong to a large family, and it would be
an offence to give them the title of Romantic.
Is it imitation of nature, accepting' its beauties
and its imperfections ? That shows a superior understanding.
The poet Racine composed his bouquet of roses
only; Shakespere added leaves, making it

more

splendid.
If you admit Shakespere to be romantic, then I
have something to judge from.
For me, Shakespere is the greatest poet.

Like

all artists, he has chosen from the richness of the
world ; he has taken for study, and for worship, the
heart of man.
Having a great heart himself he understands the
hearts of others.

From the heart he knows so well,

he draws all it contains : infinite love, tenderness
without bounds, despair, groans, longings for the
unknown world, meanness, blasphemy.

But how

name all that this genius has produced ; this intellectual diver, who has brought up the most beautiful
pearls from the depths of the human mind ?

EUGENE DELACROIX.

133

Admirable writer, he leaves nothing to be done
after him.
If I was not afraid of being misled into a dissertation a little out of place, I believe I could prove
that this poet was governed by the most difficult
rules, and also that he had rules of his own, which
guided him in the expression of his poetry.
What I have said, I think, proves that-the word
romantic only serves to designate those who are
ignorant of what they ought to know, in order to
produce beautiful things.
According to this, Delacroix is not a romantic
painter, but an incomplete classic one.
Now, let us return to our painter, and observe
how he applies the eternal rules of art.
You have seen that Raphael chose the beauty of
youth;
Michael Angelo preferred strength ;
Correggio sang of love.
Almost all have made a choice, easy to distinguish ; but I confess Delacroix embarrasses me.
can find so few distinctive marks of a specialty.

I

134

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

I see two men in Delacroix, the man of talent,
and the man of creation.
As a man of talent he paints all the" picturesque
qualities which charm him.
He must have support; endowed with exquisite
taste, he recognizes what is beautiful in a r t ; he takes
as godfathers, Rubens, Veronese, Titian, the antique, and particularly the author of the Column of
Trajan.
Altogether they are insufficient, and produce in
him a false originality.

Where most people see

new creations, I only see efforts to reproduce beautiful known things.
What he does is incomplete, because he tries to
give form to the darkness of his own mind.

Not

being a creator, he wishes to take the role, and
where our masters find splendid worlds, our poor
Delacroix finds only chaos.

He interests us by his

ardor, but he has no force.
He has one very attractive talent; in this he is
almost a genius ; he would have been a wonderful
copyist, but full of courage, he wished to enter the

EUGENE DELACROIX.

135

heaven of genius which opened a little toward
him.
H e needs order in his organization ; the/e is fire
in him, but he uses it so badly, that the flame
destroys him.
I have spoken of chaos ; let us speak of those
creatures who are in a state of progression; they
keep in low grounds, they seek out depths, they
hide their attempt at a better life ; if by chance you
surprise them, you find in their eyes a human and
sad expression ; they will fly if they know themselves
observed, as if to hide their shame.
There are certain plants which seem to say,
" Fly from me, do not approach m e ; do not trouble
me in my humid solitude; I vegetate and submit
to the test.

I suffer and envy the privileged ones

of this world ; if they approach me I kill them."
I find these sighs of the damned in the pictures
of Delacroix; they impress me as those I have described.

In looking at Delacroix's paintings I feel

the want of the sun, of healthy flowers, of pure
air, of life without fear; in short, I must have

1$6

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

Rubens, Veronese, Titian, Rembrandt.

Perhaps

some of these days, the genius of Delacroix will
come to us in another form, to add a *iame to the
glorious ones of whom I have written.
Let us now look at the healthy part of his
talent.
At first he gives us an admirable picture which
is the result of association.

The robust genius of

Gericault comes to the aid of his weakness, and furnishes a beautiful form, in uneasy positions.
The picture of Dante is marvellous, he has the
modesty that Gericault seldom has ; he is full of the
sad melancholy poetry, of the beings who die young,
it is the soul of Millevoye, cast in bronze by Gericault.
Later, he gives us a beautiful work; his Massacre of Chio ; full of sympathy and ardor for those
unjustly crushed.

Ah ! he himself suffers.

These

Greeks whom he represents are his brothers.
Medea is an excellent picture, a true Rubens
poisoned.
Then there are beautiful sketches, among them ;

E UGENE DELA CROIX.

13 J

the Assassination of the Bishop of Liege, and the
shipwrecks of Don Juan.
At length we arrive at his most admire&picture;
the Entrance of the Crusaders into Constantinople.
Evidently, this is entirely his own, he has no tutors;
Gericault sustained him in his first picture, Gros
helped him in his Massacre, Rubens aided him in his
Medea.
Here he stands alone.

You now see his fright-

fully dark productions.

These numerous dots represent the pictures I
pass in silence.
This painter left many works behind him.

He

was not a MASTER, but had interesting talents.
He had not the power of creating, but he thoroughly understood the works of others.

XVI.
DECAMPS.

W

E return to the light of the sun in speaking of Decamps, and of all his picturesque

qualities.
His pictures recall to me the names of Salvator,
Teniers, Poussin, Titian, Rembrandt, Phidias.

.

.

They speak to me of- our world, its infancy, old age,
poverty, the sumptuousness of its riches, war in all
its horrors, smiling rural scenes, shady villas ; all the
intimacies of the family, all the tempests of the imagination.

A picturesque Shakespere, who trans-

lates everything into adorable language ; he recalls
the masters without copying them ; a knife upon a
table painted by this genius awakens a poem ; and
a few lines of his are enchanting.
I have had the happiness of seeing this great
artist; he was very simple, living often in the coun-

DECAMPS.

try.

139

He was a little under medium height, his

head fine, nervous, and light haired.

He was sup-

posed to be an intrepid hunter, but I saw the
chase was merely a pretext.

Often I have seen

him in a field take his gun, stop, and while one
was waiting for the explosion, return it to his
shoulder and continue his walk, repeating frequently
the same manoeuvre.

He almost always returned

with an empty bag to the inn of the -' Great Conqueror " in the little village of Verberie; there he
would take an old register, which served him as an
album, and make sketches of effects which he had
observed during his walks.

I had in my possession

many of these precious pages ; but unfortunately
they have been stolen from me.
After supper, he would sit at table, and roll in
his fingers balls of bread, then with pieces of
matches would fashion his dough in a certain manner, and make charming figures.

I can recall a

hunter, followed by his d o g ; the man seemed to
bend under the game he carried ; the tired dog followed his master, his ears drooping.

It was charm-

I40

CONVERSA TIONS ON ART.

ing; he was an extraordinary artist, who gave life
to all he touched.
confreres.

H e loved to paint among his

It was at the house of one'of our com-

mon friends he prepared his charming picture, the
Horses of the Market Place, which is at the Louvre.
His sketch was reddish, he used for the preparations
much brown red and burnt sienna.
I saw him one day make a drawing; under his
fingers
ass.

appeared the most charming head of an

As soon as one of the ears of the

animal

was abandoned by the artist, it seemed to shake itself with impatience at having been held.

I saw

successively a head, a neck, a body covered with
disorderly hair ; you felt he had a name and character, you could write his history.
In his picture of the Bataille des Cimbres we have
a grand drawing; see the enormous chariot drawn
by oxen, the men so full of ardor, you feel as if you
wanted to aid them in saving the women and children.
Look farther, they come, they crush everything
in their passage.

What a formidable mass.

The

DECAMPS.

141

feet of their horses raise immense clouds of dust,
which are joined by the clouds of heaven, and
seem to be full of armed soldiers ; and above, do
you see? no—what is that?
yet.

This flock of ravens.

Here.—No, higher

They await the end of

the carnage.
It is not a drawing, it is not a picture, it is an
animated world, which appears as by enchantment,
transformed into marble, and gilded by the sun of
Greece.

You look at it, admire it, and

return

repeatedly, never feeling fatigued; you go away
from so beautiful a thing with regret, and dream of
it at night.
I would like to tell you of his Joseph, his Samson, his Turkish Cafe, his Monkey Cooks, and of all
his marvels; but they would carry me too far.

I

must stop.
Decamps has a rare organization ; he knows how
to give to his smallest pictures
effects.

the very best

On the small canvas of Rubens, of Rem-

brandt, and even of the great Italian painters, we
see less genius than they display in large pictures,

142

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

but it is not so in Decamps, his small are equal to
his great works.
About some qualities I should hesitate to speak,
but in this respect he will hold a first place among
painters.
I have made this chapter a little long, but the
last was gloomy, and I wanted to finish by giving
you the remembrance of an artist for whom I have
so intense an admiration as Decamps.
Now, let us go back to our lesson.

XVII.
ON PAINTING.

I

T is a great mistake to believe our colors are not
as good as those employed by the ancients ;

they are not different in any respect, they are the
same, the best are the most simple, and are used by
house painters.

If there is a difference, it is in the

excessive care bestowed on some colors, which are
expensive, complicated, and therefore bad.

The

Rubens red, the Van Dyck brown, the Veronese
green, are made of different colors and give readymade tones to the amateurs, who believe by using
more expensive productions, that they will have
what are called fine colors.

But you ask me why

are the old pictures so much better preserved than
the modern?

Does it come from a more careful

preparation of color ? No.
It comes only from a better use of them.

144

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

Let me

Explain.

The ochres and the earths are the most solid.
Those obtained by chemical processes are excellent,
when they are used with boldness.

The bitumen

and lakes may be unchangeable.
This is how it is done.
As much as possible, use your colors pure, without mixing; if it is absolutely necessary to employ
several colors to obtain exactly what you need,
never go beyond three ; if you increase this number,
you introduce into your picture a bad element.

If

you use four, five, six, then your picture has no longer
any life, it becomes scrofulous, it vegetates and dies.
Never forget simplicity in the composition of tone,
and freedom in execution.

Mix your three colors

as you would twist three differently colored threads,
so that they could be distinguished.

If as some-

times happens you need a fourth color, wait until the three are dry; moisten your brush with
linseed oil, and with lightness and rapidity put

ON PAINTING.

145

a thin glaze upon the surface only, with your fourth
color.
Ask your merchant for finely ground colors. One
can get fine results by superposition ; thus, for flesh,
prepare with bitumen, the brown red, or vermilion
—you may have a ground the color of amber and a
preparation suggesting the sepias of the masters—
let this dry, then moisten again all the shadows, and
manage the lights with care ; if these lights are sufficiently ambered in their preparation, you will obtain all the shadings of the skin by means of one
flesh color made simply, and by laying on the colors
with more or less vigor.
Example,
For a tone of the skin, in light, take flake white,
Naples yellow, vermilion.
Paint the light parts thickly, what I have called
the secondary lights more or less so, and by a singular phenomenon you obtain azure tones not possible
to be obtained in any other way.

7

146

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

Another Guide\ another Phenomenon.
I have spoken to you of the necessity of great
simplicity in the composition of tone, and of mixing
your colors, always using them finely ground.
If you use more than three, you will feel it in a
moment, having less body, less elasticity in your
color; the numbers five, six, decompose it, and even
if you have employed only thick colors, your tone
becomes flabby, viscous, and without consistency ;
it is death if you employ it, it will not adhere to
your canvas, it will dry with difficulty (indeed sometimes it never dries), it blackens, and at last falls
entirely from the canvas.
Now let us speak of

Shadows.

I have said it was necessary to moisten anew
by a preparation like that already used ; it is necessary to work the shadows with more freedom than
even the lights ; touch them and leave them ; if you
do not do it in this way your shadows become
heavy and without transparency.

ON

PAINTING.

H7

This is the way in which it should be done.
You wait until your preparation is set, (try it with
your finger to see if it sticks sufficiently) then take
yellow ochre and cobalt which you mix, for your
light places, and put on the tint with a single stroke
of your brush; this stroke will necessarily mix a
little with the under preparation and lighten your
greenish tone: then with a long supple brush, which
you dip into a mixture of boiled oil and essence of
turpentine, dilute the vermilion, which gives you a
tint somewhat like that of a water colorist; with
this you lightly glaze your shadows, and find you
obtain a satisfactory result.
Thus, you see, bitumen and vermilion, two for
preparation ; yellow ochre and cobalt blue, two more,
already four; then vermilion over them makes five
colors ; we have gone beyond three ; but the way in
which we have put the colors one over the other
without mixing them, has made them unchangeable.
Pictures are judged by their preservation.

The

great masters understood not only the beauties of

148

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

nature, but they rendered and developed them to
make us understand them ; and they also understood
the secrets of matter.

Rubens, who is certainly one

of the greatest, understood best the secrets of which
I speak : his paintings are admirably preserved, not
only preserved but improved.

We have had an

example of this lately, in the cleaning of the pictures in the gallery of the Medicis; all painted by
Rubens, or by Van Dyck, his equal, have remained
pure.

These pictures are as hard as diamonds, but

those painted by inferior men, or retouched by bad
artists have disappeared.
Time, as you

see, judges pictures.

Rubens,

Titian, Correggio, Veronese, Raphael, Velasquez,
Murillo, Van Dyck, Watteau, Greuze, etc., all remain ; bad pictures painted at the same time have
passed away.

XVIII.
TITIAN.

T

I T I A N is the greatest colorist, because he is
the simplest.

Loving color, he tried to make himself master
of it.

H e said that great light attenuated color,

and so kept his pictures free from it, although he
accepted it under certain conditions. When the sun
is on the decline, and the heavens a flame of light,
the earth not brightened by direct rays, is reflected
by a fiery canopy; in this condition of the atmosphere, the tones are full of richness, they are what
Titian adored.
We will now speak of his execution, which seems
to be a mystery.
It is not right to believe that he painted m greys
as most people believe.

I have had the happiness

of seeing one of his pictures in an unfinished state.

ISO

CON VERSA TIONS

ON

ART.

It was very simple, the tones a little crude, but well
placed, and vigorously painted ; he did not seek delicacy in his color. He observed his values, and established his bases, the picture was to a certain degree
rustic, but remarkably painted ; he let his work dry,
then he went over it with a glaze of a neutral color.
Nothing is more simple or true ; it is not advisable to use the same means of cleaning his pictures
as those of Rubens ; for in that case one would lose
all the delicacy; the mystery of tone is owing to
the lightness with which the colors are put upon a
solid base.

Titian's pictures are all grave and pro-

found ; he understands the mysterious splendors
of color.
The tones of an organ give me sensations like
those I feel when I see his imposing work.
PAUL VERONESE.

If he is not the greatest colorist, he is certainly
the greatest of painters.

He has not the high

quality nor the poetical sentiment of color which
Titian has ; but if he is inferior in this respect,

TITIAN,

ISI

he has a key-board of such great extent, he shows
himself so wonderfully endowed in all that constitutes a painter, that we ask sometimes if he is not
first of all.

Other qualities of Titian he possessed,

but not in an equal degree.

His drawing and color

are less firm ; more light than his master, he has less
feeling m tone, but he is more delicate and true,
more varied and more attractive.
In regard to his manner of painting, it is not the
same as Titian's.

I do not hesitate to say that this

is painting, par excellence, there is nothing beyond ;
this is the apogee.
He paints with a full brush, and a single stroke;
processes, called Venetian, are employed by him,
only for certain draperies, and with so much free*
dom that he has no doubt of them ; for the remainder, he uses the simple color of his model; beyond
that, his painting is like that of all good artists, but
very superior.
He seldom mixes his colors; in the skin which requires many, he gives samples, as it were, he places
grey greenish tones by the side of red tones; but

15 2

CON VERS A TIONS

ON AR T.

so manages as to give an extreme fineness to his
color.
This colorist has none of the tricks of the " lumi r
narist.'* His pictures are full of light, which spreads
itself everywhere.

He establishes a high light, and

places in his picture a depth of value, which exceeds
the rest, and towards which every thing must have
a relation.
His painting is a great orchestra, and is remarkable for its harmony; he plays upon all the qualities
of color with a master hand; in his immense pictures, the multiplicity might have the disagreeable
effect

of samples.

What does he do?

Like all

strong workers he carefully simplifies; he arranges
his flowers in groups. I say flowers because I love
them, and with them it is easier to make you understand what I mean ; he reunites and forms into bou'quets the different reds, greens, yellows, etc.
When he has arranged his flowers in this way,
in the place of dividing and subdividing infinitely,
he takes one part of his picture and colors it with his
bouquet of reds, greens, or yellows, varied in values.

TITIAN.

153

He often doubles and triples a tone ; he does
the same thing as a musician ; in a large space, a
poor little violinist is not heard, but by doubling
and

tripling

sound.

the

performers

he augments

the

In this way Veronese makes his immense

pictures.
Like all Venetians, he loves strong, deep color,
heroic harmonies, which he obtains by a proper
accord of contraries ; his paintings are softened and
dignified by the introduction of neutral tones, and
above all, beautiful neutral greys spread over all his
architectural work.
His manner is admirable, his dexterity is never
too prominent; compare it with Rubens, the difference is very marked; with Rubens the execution
astonishes you, it strikes the eye ; with Veronese it
is what it ought to be, sufficient for representation,
and modest enough not to distract.
His painting is truly virginal, it has the velvet of
the peach ; the freedom of youth and beauty, with
all the modesty of which I have just spoken.
His drawing is as good as his color ; no manner-

154

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

ism to be seen in his painting ; patrician born, he
expresses himself without effort.
THE COLORISTS AND THE LUMINARISTS.

One is a colorist by values, by color, and light ;
there are colorists who are luminarists as there are
colorists pure and simple.

Titian is a colorist but

not a luminarist, while Correggio is a colorist and a
luminarist.
The simple colorists are those who content themselves with representing the tones in their value
and color without troubling about the magic of
light; they also give to tones all their intensity.
The luminarists, as the word indicates, make
light the most important thing.

Three names will

make you understand ; Rembrandt, Correggio and
Claude Lorraine.
Claude, taking the light of the sun for a starting
point, justifies his method by nature ; you know that
he starts from a luminous point, and that point is
the sun.

To make this brilliant you must make

great sacrifices, for you have no doubt remarked

TITIAN.

155

that we painters always begin with a half tint; as
our paintings are not brightened by the light of the
sun, and start with a half tint, it is necessary/-by the
magic of tones to make this half tint shine like a
luminous thing.

You see that it is a difficult prob-

lem to solve ; how does Claude do it ?

He does not

copy the exact tones of nature, since beginning with
a dull one, he is obliged to make it luminous.

He

transposes as in music; he observes all things constituting light, remarks that the rays prevent us
from seizing the outline of a bright object, that then
the flame is enveloped by a bright halo; then by a
second one less vivid, and so on until the tones become dull and sombre.

In short, to make myself

understood, his picture seen from a distance, repre- .
sents a flame.
Correggio also works in this way.

Take for ex-

ample his picture of Antiope.
The woman, enveloped in a panther skin, is as
bright as a flame. The soft red tone forms the first
halo, then the light blue draperies with a slight
greenish tint, form the second halo.

The Satyr

156

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

has a value a few degrees below that of the draperies, making it the third halo.

When the bouquet

is thus formed, Correggio surrounds it with beautiful dark leaves, shading towards the extremities of
the canvas.

These gradations are so well observed,

that if you put the picture at so great a distance
that you cannot see the figures, you will still have
the representation of light.
I am glad to have this picture in my eye, for
it seems to express all the different qualities of
color.
The beautiful light in Antiope is golden ; it partakes of an orange tint; the reddish soft tones which
envelop her, spread the light, making the tone clear
and warm.

Then follows light blue, which balances

the importance of the central light and opposes
freshness to brilliancy.

You see : a warm orange

tone, a cold blue tone ; then the strong red color of
the fawn, opposed or refreshed by the green tints at
the bottom ; this is our rule of warm and cold tones,
in just proportion, and bringing together contraries ;
as orange with blue, red with green.

TITIAN.

157

I do not hesitate to repeat my explanations, as I
hope to make you better understand.
I advise you to make a sketch of this picture,
that you may always have before your eyes the
laws constituting color.
Rembrandt has the same principle of light; his
picture is always in a flame. He is a colorist by his
values, even more than by his colors.

What I have

explained to you is very palpable in his paintings.
You invariably find with all the masters a feeling
of their base; amber in Titian, grey in Veronese,
bitumen in Rembrandt; like architects, they build
upon strong foundations.
Upon these bases, work; but guard yourself
against forgetting your substructure ; let it appear,
at different intervals, or your picture will not be
well constructed as to color.
It has been believed for a long time that harmony of color is obtained with analogous color; it
is a false idea.
True harmony comes from the accord of contraries ; the colors have their different sexes; we have

158

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART.

males and females, as for instance red, which is certainly a robust tone, is never truly happy or complete, unless it has near it the color green ; orange
in its turn demands the color blue; this is antithesis, an immutable law.

These harmonies, which

would be too robust if employed without softening,
are modified by neutral tones: the whites, black,
and grey. Meanwhile, if you are representing a god,
or a figure which ought to excel all the other persons in your picture, employ freely the accord of con-,
traries; in lines, as in color, it is by this means that
you will attain strong character.
Already, in speaking of the copy of a simple
piece of nature, I have said to you, that you must
establish your " dominants " of light and shadow. I
now say you must do it in all pictures.

There

must be a principal light, all the others should
be subordinate to it, and should become fainter
towards the extremities of the canvas ; the same
principle holds good in shadows, but in an inverse
way, that is to say, that the strong values ought
to lessen in approaching the centre.

TITIAN,

159

You can gain charming effects by other means.
In this way draw in first a clear base, and upon this
place your deep shadows.

But in this case, be very

sparing towards the centre, and keep the black for
the extremities, taking care that when you .reach
them, you connect the strong values with secondary
ones to close in the composition.

If you forget

these directions you will, as they say, have a fly
in your milk.
These effects are agreeable; nature gives them to
us in her splendid sunsets ; at the moment before
the sun disappears, the earth is entirely in shadows,
the heavens are inundated with light, so that you
have two opposing values ; the strong and the clear.
First the sun, the dominant light, then the luminous reflections, coming from the clouds, growing
weaker as they are removed

from

the centre;

and almost always sombre vapors crown this magnificence.

You

see, a sunset gives you all the

conditions of harmony and beauty needed for a
picture.
What I wish to demonstrate to you, the ancients

160

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

explained by a bunch of grapes.

Each grape, they

said, represents a person, and where the light strikes
with force, the grape or person of the pkture, ought
to be luminous, and strongly reflected ; following
the same comparison, the grapes removed from the
light being in deep strong shadow, show what must
be done to the persons in the picture.
Here is our addition:
The base first of all; then the accord of contraries ; red-green,

yellow - blue ; the

dominant

light bright and central; the sombre values, increasing toward the extremities.
Total.

Good conditions of harmony.

There are three primitive colors; red, yellow
and blue.
You remark that the rainbow does the

work

of the painter, it mingles and obtains the primitive consecrated tones.
Three ! They are very few; but you will see
that with differences of value and of color you
will have an immense key-board.
Take for instance the Reds.

You obtain by

TITIAN.

161

values, seven varieties of reds, and you may have
quite as many by the differences of coloring.
Red absolute, lake red, yellow red, violet red,
rose red, crimson red, and I have even found more,
but these are sufficient.
You can have the same variety of values and
colorings in other primitive tones; in using neutral
tones you follow the same rule, which gives you,
as I have said, a key-board of immense extent.

XIX.
T H E SKETCH.

I

WISH

to warn

you against making a too

beautiful sketch ; it is a rock upon which many

fall.
The strength of a picture is dependent on its
bases, its lines, and its color; you must be watchful
against being led into any coquetries of manner ; if
you indulge them, your work will paralyze you,
and when you wish to push your execution farther
you will find that your pleasantest parts have lost
sentiment by having too much work put upon them;
you have no longer the satisfaction of improving
your work, and the fear of lessening it leads you to
the fatal mistake of destroying what you had too
well commenced.
Too well commenced is not the right expression ;
I ought to say that which seemed well commenced.

THE SKETCH.

It is necessary to guard yourself from

163

flattery;

put your picture in a frame after it is completely
finished and retouch it now and then in unimportant places.
Look at it on the most unfavorable days, and
always have the desire of making your work perfect.
If your sketch is truly good, you may finish one
part, and the difference between that and the unfinished part will give you courage, and you will
work rapidly in order to see the effect olf the whole.
Sometimes when you

have made a beautiful

sketch which is much admired by your friends, you
are seized with fright, afraid to do more, for fear of
spoiling that already done.

In such a case, take

another canvas, copy your sketch, preserve that
which has excited admiration, let it serve as a guide
and risk all without hesitation on the second sketch.
This recalls to me a little anecdote.
I had made a sketch of a picture which my
friends said could not be improved.
I painted on this canvas a head of a woman
which appeared to me very superior, but it was not

164

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

the opinion of those around me ; they said I had
not preserved the sentiment of the first sketch.
Troubled in my work, this is w h a t l did.
I shut myself in my studio and executed a second
sketch.

I painted the head of the woman up to the

point at which my friends had seen it, so that when
they came again to the studio, they did not perceive
the substitution.

They never ceased to regret the

sketch which disappeared day by day to make place
for the more finished idea.
Each day, when I was alone, I took the hidden
canvas ; I compared it with my new work, which
seemed to me far superior.
At last I finished ; my friends appeared partially
satisfied, but still said : " what a misfortune that you
did not preserve your first sketch; it was a master
piece."
" My friends, console yourselves, that which you
regret is preserved.

I have too much confidence in

your judgment to destroy what you admire.
" I will show it to you and place it near the picture that we may judge it." No sooner said than done.

THE SKETCH.

165

" Is it possible! that is not what we admired, for
there is a great difference between what we now
see and your picture; all in favor of the latter."
" It is the same, my good friends, and I will explain to you your astonishment.
" When you saw my sketch you did not know
how I would treat my subject.

The sight of the

canvas was new, your impressions were fresh and
vivid; time has blunted your admiration, and you
now look calmly and with indifference upon what
gave you pleasure in its commencement."

....

If it is necessary to take these precautions with
your friends, how much

more must you guard

against your enemies.
The Grand Expression of Color.
Those who exactly reproduce color are

not

colorists.
Like the true designer, the true colorist improves and embellishes. Like a true artist he carries
into color all the laws of art.
Choice, Development,

Advancement,

I cannot help thinking of those critics who in

166

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

their ignorance always make a difference between
colorists and designer ; so they are persuaded that
an artist who draws well is unable' to

color—

that when they see a picture they always find it
defective in color, or in drawing.
They do not know that all is in all, and that the
value of execution is in just accord with its conception.
Among great artists are those who are captivated by beauty; like true lovers, they sacrifice
everything to their passion, but sacrifice is not insufficiency.

With Raphael and Poussin, the absence

of color is voluntary; besides they have colorings
which are peculiar to them and very fine, which suit
the expression of what they wish to convey.

The

two names that I mention have proved themselves
colorists, but the pictures in which they show these
'qualities have little importance among their works.
Now if you turn towards the colorists, Rubens
appears like a king of color; but king though he is,
he does not equal Raphael, who is an angel.

Ru-

bens is of the earth, his qualities are human, he is

THE SKETCH.

167

more at his ease in the domain of matter than in
that

of spirit.

He has all the qualities which

constitute a colorist.

But this does not exclude

him from thoroughly understanding the art of drawing.

If Raphael expressed himself through a sober

and chaste color, Rubens made his beautiful drawing (peculiar to himself,) aid in the expression of
his magnificent color.
They say flowers have a language: color, which
is the flowering side of painting, also has a language.
There are gay and smiling harmonies, there are
sad and gloomy ones.

If you place a sad scene in

the midst of bright tones, it is an incongruity; all
in a wTork ought to agree with the sentiment which
you wish to render.

If you choose grief, then every

thing must speak of grief; lines, color, trees, sky. If
you look for gloomy harmonies you will find them
in the venomous plants, and in the animals whose
bite brings death.

The dry devastated land, like

the souls in pain, the shattered trees, all these things
together will make us hear, so to speak, a hymn of
grief.

Violence is expressed by broken intense

168

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T,

tones, pure color, without being mixed.

The stroke

of your brush must be like that of a sword.

If your

personages are killing each other, then let the
clouds above their heads be rolling and breaking and
fighting, and let the thunder traverse them.
let us leave the carnage.

But

Let me show you more

simple and beautiful subjects, for which

brilliant

colors are necessary.
Put horrible subjects from you ; your mission is
one of peace and love.

The richness of the earth,

noble human sentiments, ought to be sufficient to
inspire you; everything has a place*in this world;
flowers have been created to rejoice the sight.

As

a painter, your mission is to make the beauties of
the earth loved and understood.

XX.
ON COMPOSITION.

W

H A T I have just written is more applicable
to composition than to color; but I prefer

uniting the two articles, so as not to destroy my own
train of thought. Division is the first thing a scholar
must attend to.

By this division many things are

concealed; it is an inevitable mutilation, made to
profit those who are beginners.
If we break away from the lines of division, we
can never free ourselves from certain elementary
rules.

I have spoken to you of the importance of

values; I recall this to you at the beginning of this
subject.
You ought always to carry about with you an
album ; sketch the beautiful things which you see,
startling effects, natural positions.

Never forget to

make yourself into an ant or a bee; plunder every
8

170

CON VERSA T10NS ON AR T.

where, have an abundant granary as soon as possible,
Practice composition, but use materials gained by
your own observation.
You have made acquaintance with the works of
our good masters.

In the public places you have

often said: This is after Andria del Sarto; these
women bathing recall to us by their characters the
figures of Poussin.

You also often see Poussin in

looking at nature.

In your morning walk, when the

sun is veiled by a sheet of clouds, then tones regain
their value ; now follow this little path ; see this road
which leads upwards, then downward, turns away
and appears again ; is it not like Poussin ?

And

then at the end of the valley, these large trees with
their dark green foliage, in imposing masses; is it
not also Poussin ? The wind freshens, the heavens
open; the beautiful mountains of white clouds
rise, but they are crossed by black lines which
announce

a storm—still Poussin.

This lover of

nature, we meet him everywhere.

But the wind

blows violently ; we must wrap our coats around
us and hold on to our hats.

What a storm ! You

ON COMPOSITION.

IJl

are walking very fast, your only thought is to
gain shelter, you will look at nature another time.
But for my sake, for your guide, raise your head and
look across the sheets of water as they fall from your
hair; it is the deluge of Poussin.

It is generally

believed that this master interprets, creates a style
which recalls nature somewhat, but which is nevertheless conventional.

It is not so, he copies nature.

It is our corrupt judgment which causes us to
believe in this way. We are so in the habit of lying,
that truth, when it shows itself in its grandeur, in its
pride, troubles, and intimidates u s ; we willingly shut
our eyes.

This semblance of modesty excuses us

from rendering him justice. . . .

Love, that is the

secret; love makes us see everything.

We are

always astonished at the tenderness we find in parents for their children, and at the qualities they
believe them to possess ; we believe they are deceived, but we are the ones deceived.

We are

astonished at the sight of lovers, when the object
loved seems far from justifying the passion; we
think them blind, and that they deceive themselves.

1/2

CONVERSA TIONS ON ART.

A h ! no, they are far-seeing and as they look at one
with solicitude and another with that sympathy
which is love, they discover, by the fact of their
great attention, beauties and charms, which we
as we stand gaping in the air deny.
If you read a book with little attention, turning
over the first pages, rapidly, then skipping twenty,
then forty pages and finally glancing at the end,
what pleasure can you take in it ? You certainly
are not able to judge the work.

But if you take the

time to read it carefully, leaf by leaf, then the work
may take you captive, and you do not leave it until
it is all read, and you can say, this book is charming.
The same thing is true of nature, if you read her
page by page.
You have been anticipated ; everywhere you have
found traces of the most celebrated painters, but
they are some who appear to have found materials
elsewhere than upon our globe, and although their
pictures represent the things of our earth, they are
so transfigured

that we cannot recognize

How does this happen ? Let us see.

them.

Lesueur is of

ON COMPOSITION.

this number.

173

You find few traces of him in nature,

for he draws his inspiration from himself.
looks at nature, and copies it.

Poussin

Lesueur obeys, his

own instincts; without seeking, without fatigue, he
paints as a bird sings.

His world is in himself; but

the world as it ought to be, not as it is.

Child of

truth, he cannot understand it in any other way ;
the personages of his pictures act as he would himself act; they are good, trusting, believing, submissive ; they all have the same soul; that of Lesueur.
It is a world of the just.

H e is so overflowing with

simplicity, that all he creates is tinted from the same
source; the trees, the heavens, as well as the men of
his pictures, all seem to have the same soul.
Lesueur is a perfect child, obedient to his heart,
and his God.

By his extreme submission, all ap-

pears easy to him, and like Raphael, he cannot understand why his works are admired, for it all is so
simple to him.

He obeys the divine voice; he feels

so strongly that what he does, is not of himself but
of God, that he has no vanity.

An imperfect echo of

what he feels, his work is of little value to him ; but

174

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

he acknowledges his inferiority with humility.

The

higher he rises, the smaller he believes himself to be;
this is what constitutes his greatness.

. \ . Poussin

sees, understands, and wishes to make others understand. There is in his works the violence of a contending spirit ; he affirms too much, and does not
always know how to convince.

Lesueur loves, con-

soles, and draws all the world to him.
You have seen for yourself, you have seen by the
eyes of the masters, and I hear you say,
" What can we do ?

Everything has been done !

We have looked at everything, and see each beauty
interpreted.

Raphael has rendered youth in all its

splendor; Michael Angelo, strength and power ; the
Gothics, faith; Titian, magnificence of color ; Veronese, its richness ; Rubens, its splendor ; Rembrandt,
its sombre poetry, Greuze, freshness; Watteau, gallantry.

Around these great men are grouped artists

of secondary talent, who complete their genius and
leave us nothing to do.''
Ah ! I shall be sorry if my teachings should render you such sad service, as to leave you in despair.

ON COMPOSITION.

l?$

All is new, all is to be done; I will try and make
you understand.

Human nature is always the same;

but the changes in states, in religions, in beliefs, cause
human sentiment to manifest itself in new ways ; it
takes other forms, and other aspects, and causes new
arts to be born.

As Frenchmen, we are evidently

surrounded by unexplored riches.

Let us examine

and see if our own idleness has not been the cause
of our insufficiency.

I have not made you study the

masters that you should copy them.

The studies

were indispensable to give you a vocabulary, but
now that you possess it, speak and tell of your own
times.
W h y have you an antipathy for our earth, our
manners, our inventions?

How can you justify it?

You say; the ancients did not use such subjects !
For a good reason, they did not exist; if they had,
you may be sure they would have profited by them.
Your resources are immense and you abandon them ;
this is not from want of intelligence, but from idleness of spirit, from habit.
But the serious painter has not touched these

176

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

modern things, perhaps with good reason, men of
small talent have attempted them and failed.
I shall speak very soon of what are called the
serious painters, but first let us speak
Of the Locomotive.
It is the moment of departure; all are at their
posts ; the powerful machinery glitters in the light;
its bright furnace glows and seems to wish to throw
light upon the route.

Look at the man standing in

the middle, he is the master; with his hand upon
the valve, he waits the signal.

He is proudly

placed ! his mission elevates him; he knows that
the least error on his part would cause the death of
many.

See these firemen in the glare of the fur-

nace ; then this light, this inspector, watching everything.

. . . In this grand and modern car I see

intelligence, strength, watchfulness.

. . .

What a

beautiful picture !
" But many locomotives have been painted, and
they are horrible to see." I know the attempts of
which you speak, they are bad; but the fault was in

ON COMPOSITION,

177

the painters, who did not love their work nor understand what they had undertaken to paint; they
attempted to lessen that which they ought- to have
developed.
I have seen these little stoves, surmounted by
little pipes, from which escaped a little smoke.

You

call this a locomotive ? You were easily satisfied.
W h a t ! this strange mysterious power, which contains
a vulcan in its sides, this monster of bronze, with
mouth of fire, devouring space, and crushing all that
resists it.

. . . I find it necessary to use for it, the

largest canvas, and the most vigorous talent.

Be-

lieve me, the locomotive has not been painted.
Of

Workmen.

Have you taken notice of the scaffoldings which
are raised for the construction of monuments, and
the immense derricks by which heavy stones are
raised in the air?

Have you remarked the faces of

the workmen, who are no longer beasts of burden,
but directors of the forces which mechanical genius
has put at their disposal?
8*

Their bearing is more

178

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

dignified, their clothes better fitting, having even a
sort of elegance.

Look at these young fellows, so

well built, with their ornamental red,belts, their
heads generally fine, burned by the sun ; see the
rich amber color which sets off their silver earrings,
their arms young and hairy, tattooed with symbols
of their work, and above all see their hopefulness
for the morrow, for all know that with work and
economy

at first, followed

by intelligence

and

activity, they have the chance of rising in the social
scale.

These workmen are not like those of the

middle ages, and of the renaissance.

They are more

intelligent, more proud, and I see in them a patrician
distinction.
Who are these men who walk two and two, three
and three ? They have a serious, reflective air, their
bearing is simple, they appear very intelligent. They
are the mechanics who are on a strike and are going
to ask an increase of pay. Follow them : masters and
workmen salute each other.

The workman states

his case, pleading for the daily bread of his family;
the manufacturer, the impossibility of yielding to

ON COMPOSITION.

his demands.

179

Look well at these uncovered heads,

these veteran workmen, these men chosen from
among their own class to defend their .-interests.
How well they speak! I have heard many lawyers
speak more correctly, but as they did not know so
well what they wished to say, they were certainly
less interesting.
These are new subjects.

Our workmen have

not been' represented; they remain yet to be put
upon canvas.
Upon the beautiful public promenade, I perceive
a cavalier accompanying a young girl.

The solici-

tude of the young man for his companion, and their
resemblance show them to be brother and sister.
Observe the pretty costume of the rider \ the close
fitting waist, then the fullness of the skirt, and the
beautiful pedestal; it is a horse of pure blood, who
appears proud to be carrying his mistress. The seat
of the cavalier is elegant and easy, his breeches are
of grey leather, boots soft and pliable, and he has a
short jacket.

His head, covered with a little round

hat, lets you see his young frank face, surrounded

180

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

by a blond and youthful beard. I cannot help comparing what I see with the portraits left by the old
masters. I do not wish to detract from^their value,
but without hesitation I give the preference to what
I admire here.

Our horses are more beautiful, our

harness more elegant, our costumes more charming;
and I am persuaded, that if a painter would put all
his strength into such a scene as I describe, he would
make a picture which would equal in merit the portraits of the great masters, and would have entirely
new features.
The children run, the air resounds with military
music.

We do not disturb ourselves, they are com-

ing toward us.

We see a flag riddled with balls ;

at this moment a ray of light enables us to see the
man who carries it.

He has a very fine head, still

young ; but see what a wound across his face.
eyes are lowered, he is very grave.

His

Ah ! he knows,

loves, and venerates, what he carries, the flag of his
country.

. . . And these young soldiers in the first

rank, the same ray brightens them ; are they not
beautiful!

You say it is the light which gives them

ON COMPOSITION.

such an advantage ; no, no.

l8l

They know that what

is before them is sacred ; they are young and valiant;
then they are united ; they are as one; they feel strong
within themselves, and accept without reserve the
necessary discipline. Why ? because though soldiers
to-day, they may be chiefs to-morrow.

The hope of

what they may become by courage ennobles them.
Seeking to be glorious, they respect those who have
already proved themselves so, persuaded that they
also will be honored some day.
•' But so many have painted soldiers, too many
soldiers."

. . .

No, my dear friends, they have not yet made
true soldiers.

I know uniforms have been painted ;

I know there have been represented certain fools,
who have the military chic and who roll

their

R R's, but the soldier who thinks has not yet been
represented.
Of

Woman,

Now we will speak of woman, who is by nature
eminently artistic.

You will find in her the senti-

182

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

ment of choice in an eminent degree, an elevated
ideal, sensibility, enthusiasm ; indeed all the qualities of the greatest artists are found in woman.
When you are going to take the portrait of a
woman, if you arrange your model, it will never be
anything but a disarrangement.

Look at a woman,

and you see a sublime artist; she knows what suits
her, she has the melody of taste. In the multiplicity
of poses she is always graceful, often adorable ; she
captivates you, and your sentiments in the presence
of such native graces are like those that music gives
you ; but in a superior degree. She is mistress of the
art of grace, not only in the dance, but wherever
supreme elegance can be effective.

The peasant

Jean, who undertakes to instruct his pastor, is not
more impertinent than the artist who attempts to
direct a woman in the choice of the beautiful; she
is skilled in the art 0? taste ; she submits herself to
the fashion and subdues it.

The true woman uses

fashion as a theme ; far from letting it enslave her,
she directs it, and through it shows her genius.
She has, like an artist, the gift and the incessant

ON COMPOSITION.

183

desire to please; it seems as if she were created for
our delectation : gentle, submissive, she appears destitute of egotistical instincts ; all for her is summed
up in one word ; to please.

For that she gives her-

self without reserve ; devoted to him whom she has
chosen, and always sublime in her devotion to her
children.
The greatest of our painters resembled women ;
Raphael, Lesueur;

both

had

their

gentleness,

Raphael had their beauty.
No one has better judgment than a woman.
Study theories, examine everything, take every precaution and you find yourself deceived.

A woman

who does not pretend to know anything, and who
appears never to look at the serious side of life will
choose well.

Why ? Because it is her instinct.

The governments of women have always been
glorious, because queens have known how to draw
around them sensible men.

Men never know how

to judge men ; but women always judge men wisely,
it is their instinct.
We are speaking of her ideal which is without

184

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART,

limit, she has not like man responsibility, action,
execution ; she remains in the domain of imagination.

Never speak to her of what is or'is not prac-

tical ; she disturbs herself very little with your insufficiency.

You ought to do everything, even the

impossible, because all seems possible to her.

Never

being stopped in her empire of dreams, her ideal
always grows more noble.

Some day she will have

a son ; he will inherit her soul, he will understand
her, through him she can have action.
The child comes, he grows, he passes his examination. A little idle at first, he redeems himself later, for
he is capable.

The father is very happy, and hopes

to have a lawyer in the family ; it is owing to him,
to his firmness, that this may take place.

Ah, if one

should listen to women, one would do nothing.
The son arrives, and is sad.
" What is the matter with you? what do you
want ? speak ! "
" I wish to be a soldier! "
He has gone, nothing has been able to stop him.

ON COMPOSITION.

185

Educated, capable, courageous, he has made rapid
progress.

One name is in all mouths, that of the

glorious son.

. . .

What I have related to you is

a true story.

Do you wish to see the complement

to it ? Look at the corner of that table at the lady
with white hair, embroidering; if her eyelids were
raised you would see that her eyes were sweet and
gentle.

Look farther and you will see this brilliant

general surrounded by his friends.
the son . . . the action.

. . . . There is

And this

mother, so

modest, is the flame, the torch which kindled the
whole.
Let us stop and review what we have learned, or
rather see if we understand it.

Give me a resume of

what I have told you of the art of composition.
" You have not spoken of the rules of composition, but in speaking to us of the masters and of
their best works, you have made us understand what
was necessary to be done.

Then you have made us

feel that when we have a picturesque vocabulary we
ought to use it for the purpose of describing our
own times; we have understood this so well that we

186

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

are in haste to begin our work, that we may realize
some of these ideas which charm us.

These beau-

tiful plans have not made us forget 'your recommendation in regard to women ; we fear to think of
them too much, but we are glad to learn from you
that it is not a crime."
Bravo, my friends, you understand wonderfully,
and I have not lost my time.

Yes, in woman, and

above all in your mother, you will find your best
counsellor.
You see there are beautiful pictures everywhere,
those already made are nothing to what may be
made.
Go, go, the earth is rich and unexplored; you
are young, profit by the wonders of this new California.
To those who do not receive what I say, I would
give this caution : put away from you this fatal habit,
of shutting your eyes to the beauty of your own country.

Why be Italians, Arabs or Turks ?

Be Paris-

ians as they of Athens were Athenians. Have confidence in your own strength, and do not kill yourself

ON COMPOSITION-.

187

with the past. After you have spent your life among
the Greeks, do you think you will equal Phidias.

If

you have this foolish thought, you are deceiving
yourself!

You will never be anything but a copy-

ist, and when you cease to be in communication with
life, your art will be icy as the tomb.
These admirers of Turkish expression often ridicule those of modern times. It seems to me it would
be to their advantage, if they would study some of
the subjects I have mentioned.

Have confidence. I

know why you paint Turks, tigers, serpents, all that
we are not familiar with ; it is because you fear comparison with the original. Such fear is puerile. Give
to the public what it knows and loves, and for the
love of the Christian's God, let the Turks alone.
Be a painter, but be a man.

Do not forget that

painting is a language, and the more noble it is, the
more elevated is your work.
Shall I speak of the rules of composition, of the
necessity of concentrating your interest upon the
principal object, of establishing a pyramid formed of
the different objects which compose the group in

188

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

the centre ; of strong shadows which ought to frame
the lights of the centre?

No, it is useless ; if these

rules were badly followed, they would give detestable results ; if on the contrary they were understood, their application would form conventional
pictures, which would be disagreeable.
It is then necessary to look for something besides
these material rules of composition which are instinctively felt by those gifted as painters.

But we

can find strong bases, fundamental principles which
serve to support, without cramping the liberty of
the spirit, and which will serve as light-houses,
giving their light as a surety to the operations of
intelligence.
In art some are faithful to exterior things, others
to the creations of dreams.
From

the first we have what is called genre

painting; from the second what we term " grand
painting."

From these two landmarks I can make

my explanations clear.
You know, dear friends, that we are never satisfied with our work.

Looking at nature, and trying

ON COMPOSITION',

189

to copy her, we are conquered by her ; we have with
the love of our art an unhappy passion.
This despair is the distinctive sign of a tru-e artist.
I remember a conversation with an artist friend
who noticed my depression, and asked the cause; I
replied I never could be satisfied with my work.
" O h ! is that all," said he, " I used to be in that
way, but now I am quite satisfied."
" Quite satisfied," I was excited at his success,
and went to see his " quite satisfied." I was consoled
and willingly bore my toil; I hope I may have
the sense to stop my brush the day it begins to
" satisfy."
No, no, never be quite satisfied ! We cannot
wrestle with impunity with the forms, the color, and
the light of God, and we who love our art, know
that our incessant defeats lead us to great humility ; but this humility saves us, for when we place
our efforts near those of vain workers, we have our
reward, and we enjoy in our turn the nullities of
those who are quite satisfied.
From all this we conclude one thing; it is this;

190

CON VERSA T10NS ON ART.

what constitutes a good painter is good will face to
foce with nature.
Great Art ought to be as true to, the
of the spirit, as the genre painting

creations

ought to be to

reality.
The historical picture is not always a great picture—I will tell you why.
A great frame demands great sentiments; the
figures must be large and the color heroic.

If the

large canvas does not possess all these qualities it
does not merit the title of historic, and becomes a
genre picture.
I look at certain modern pictures, and I see genteel soldiers, with genteel cannons.

Where are they

going, and where have they been ? On drill, no
doubt.

I am very certain this genteel officer would

not spatter his genteel uniform by crossing this genteel brook.
In another the French are killing the Austrians,
<who, it must be confessed, submit with great politeness ; one certainly cannot accuse them of not knowing how to die.

ON COMPOSITION.

191

Opposed to these is true historical art.
The Plague at Jaffa, by Gros.
At the sight of the heavens, one suspects a
plague; the clouds look pestilential, they fire the
cannon of alarm; upon the fortress floats the national flag; through the arches of the mosques you
can see the sea, the great ocean that separates from
home.

They are all lying around, some rolling in

pain, others looking upon the sea and thinking of
those whom they love. What a terrestrial hell! you
would write upon the walls.
" Here dies all hope."
" But see ! some are rising; let us listen."
" It is he, his name runs from mouth to mouth, he
looks from side to side.

My eyes are obscured. . . .

but I hear his voice ; how is he ? "
He is dressed in the costume of the general-inchief; his body is enveloped in the national colors.
" Raise my head a little, you who are less sick
than I ; I would like to see him before I die; yes, I
see him ! he comes to us ; young, glorious, he shares

I92

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

our dangers, he touches our hands; he who can
make all our enemies fly, will make this pestilence
fly also; why fear ? why regret ? Behold the colors
and the heart of our country ! ". . . This page represents an action, a fact; and the painter, by making
us feel the solicitude of the chief for his soldiers, by
recalling the absent country, by showing the love of
the soldiers for their guide, allures us into a moral
world and merits the title of historical, in the fullest
acceptation of the word.
The highest artistic qualities can be employed in
historical subjects. The organizations which possess
these creative faculties, however, generally prefer to
be free from all rule, and to be guided only by their
own imaginations.
You will understand the explanation I have made,
when you see that the painter of genre commences
by exactly reproducing matter, but by enlarging his
domain

he may rise to the noblest

sentiments;

while grand painting in its turn, starts with the
sentiment and makes it transfigure matter.
I believe I am not mistaken in saying, we are on

ON COMPOSITION.

193

the eve of a great advance in French a r t ; I see signs
of it in the return of our young artists to the study
of nature, and I believe they have taken' the first
step on the road to beauty.
I am far from being of the opinion of those who
say that art has declined : they are worshippers of
the old school, who prefer the gallantries of corrupt
actors to the childlike taste of our modern art.
From the day when the eye turns itself inward
and studies its own heart, we shall have good work
The Germans, who are intelligent and poetical,
forget too often that the art of painting ought to
have different means of manifestation from that of
poetry.

They represent in the same composition

the most contrary sentiments, and the most impossible scenes ; these are so unnatural that they do not
touch the spectator ; remember this fault and always
group your figures in such a manner as to make the
action true to life.
Sometimes these Germans have very curious successes. As an example I take a composition of Rethel very well known to students:
9

" D e a t h wishes

194

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART,

to excite the populace to revolt, and tries to make
them believe that a crown weighs no more than a
pipe in the scale of Reason/'
In illustrating this thought, he gives death the
costume of a charlatan, and places him at a table
with goblets.

This terrible juggler raises a balance

in which we see the two symbols.

His wily words

draw attention to the objects in the balance, so
that he takes the opportunity of placing his hand
on the pipe on a level with the crown; all the
spectators laugh, and applaud this lying proof.
It is a trait of genius to express yourself by a
picturesque and sympathetic image, which is at the
same time natural.
Let us return to our subject.
I wish to make two pictures; the one representing " The Enrolling of Volunteers in 1792," the other
the " Baptism of the Prince Imperial."
How do I do it?
For the first, I ask myself what these men were,
what they wished to gain by revolution.

They wish

ON COMPOSITION".

I9S

to destroy all privileges, to put justice in the place
of disorder ; they wished to give to the entire world
that liberty which had become their religion.
W e painters ought not to discuss the politics
that we wish to represent; if we choose them, all
our efforts ought to tend to exalting them.
In my picture, they are carrying liberty to the
world ; truth shows itself in " Theroigne de Mericourt," placed on the limber of a cannon, clothed as
their idol, and drawn by all the people.
they going ? to the frontier.

Where are

They are all united in

one spirit; their hands clasped, their hearts beating
in sympathy. Priests, laborers, workmen have the
same end in view, to defend their country in danger ! The country, what is the country ? It is the
wife, the child, the parents and grandparents, all
feeble, all loved.

They enlist to defend them, the

women take the children and raise them in the air;
from the bosom of the crowd rises the generation to
come.
Vive la France! we are going to die for you.

I96

CONVERSA TIONS ON ART.

But the country is threatened, she presses her
children to the fight, and covers them with her
wings.

Will they succeed ? What a tempest!

All

the heads are surging like a sea in a fury; their
banners add to the illusion; the heavens are stormy
and the lightning flashes through the clouds.
The Baptism of the Prince

Imperial.

The ceremony of receiving an infant into the
bosom of the Church, if literally represented, will
be merely a reminder of Christian unity ; but you
perceive that on this occasion there is a prince who
ought to continue a dynasty, a national hope.
As in the first picture we ask ourselves certain
questions.

With what feelings does France look

upon this ceremony?
The nation sees an heir to a dynasty which she
acknowledges; she sees in this infant a guaranty of
order, fortified by remembrances of the past, to be
consolidated in the future.

Remark, that I do not

impose upon any one my manner of conception, and
I accept in advance all contradiction.
This child is received into the bosom of the

ON COMPOSITION,

197

Church, the great moral force which rules over
everything.

The army in its turn, simple and

devoted, will give him protection; but the most
imposing of forces will be that of memory: Napoleon the First descends upon the earth to bless his
posterity and to touch his eagles with his redoubtable sword.
The infant is presented to the Legate, the women
who carry him, raise him to the height of the throne,
and form with the draperies which envelope him a
cradle, which gives him the appearance of Moses in
the waters . . . his mother, his poor mother, . . . .
that I should for a moment forget the Empress,
prays for her child, . . . all gives way to this maternity.
The little vanities disappear; we suppress them,
and envelope this mother in a religious halo.

The

Emperor leaves the first role to the Empress, and
appears grand in his modesty.
In this manner I recall the great human forces ;
and I shall succeed in making them loved by painting their weakness in a poetical form.

XXII.
SIMPLICITY IN COMPOSITION

I

SAY to you like all other teachers : Be simple
in your outlines, in your form and in your color.
These directions often give the scholar a great

deal of trouble.

I know how embarrassed I was,

repeating over what was told me, and feeling that
the only way to be simple, was to suppress some of
the things which appeared.

From want of experi-

ence, I copied everything, perhaps the better thing
to do.
These counsels, not felt, but repeated by the
masters, are terrible, they are real enigmas for the
poor beginner; if an audacious scholar ask for an
explanation, the professor replies : study.
Study—I see I must find it out, for you have
made me lose my way, and do not know your road
any better than 1 did.

SIMPLICITY

IN COMPOSITION,

199

One does not know how bad these poor instructions are ; but for the loss of time, it is a good
thing to hunt for something which can finally be
found ; but to hunt in a labyrinth, to weary with
useless work, a poor creature who needs all his
strength, makes him despair, and takes from him the
vigor which he needs for conquering real difficulties.
The questions of style, of character, of simplicity
in execution are difficult to define, and can only be
taught by exceptional practitioners in a limited
degree ; knowing very well that these qualities are
the result of observation and close work, they only
speak of them when the pupil can understand without being troubled.
The scholar must never be anything but sincere,
in dealing with nature. The impassioned interpretation of it comes only with time.
If he is not true, he puts himself under rule, and
loses all hope of return.
This terrible " study ! " without help, without explanation, frightened

me and made me feel that

human science was very difficult; I was often in de-

200

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

spair. I can recall now how sad I was in my garret,
with no courage to work; work, why ? I did not
understand what I had been taught, I did not even
know how to begin.
I looked from my dormer windows, at this nature
which I thought I understood ; towards the evening,
the roofs, the houses, the trees, all that I could distinguish, was bathed in a beautiful half light, which
threw out the magnificence of the sky; and I asked
myself why, at certain hours, the view from my window was so much more beautiful; in the middle of
the day it was not remarkable.
Why is this ?
It is because the brillant light of the morning
spreads over everything, and shows the multiplicity
of form, and color; while in the evening, the great
divisions are marked by beautiful masses of shadow,
which cause insipid details to disappear.
Why should I not do the same thing in my copying; I will choose a light which will give definiteness
to forms; then removing all accidentals, I shall
obtain without doubt more style in my drawing.

SIMPLICITY

IN COMPOSITION.

201

I will do the same with my outlines ; in place of
dwelling upon small points of form, I will look at
my model as a whole and sacrifice all details, in
order to keep my lines simple.
I will do the same with my color.

If I let my-

self be absorbed by the varieties of tone, I might
give samples of color, but not have any one prominent ; but I know that details destroy the breadth, so
I shall take great care to establish my color in the
proper place; details will come afterwards without
injury, or if they do not come the color will be only
more beautiful.

In the masses of light and shade, I

can add details without harm ; but if I do not put
them in, my execution will have more character.
So you see we can again say—
Beauty of outline, beauty of masses, as beauty of
color, require an incessant sacrifice of detail.
This simplicity, recommended in a traditional
way, constitutes what we

call

Character, which

springs from simplicity as prettiness comes from
variety.
9*

XXIII.
EXALTATION.

I

N the preceding chapter, we have seen that removing details gives to forms more simplicity

and character ; we have only removed useless things
and given more brightness to the beauty of our
model.

Like a good gardener, we have pulled up

all the weeds.

But it is not enough to prune your

work, you must embellish i t ; this is the moment to
add to nature and to enter with full sails upon what
I call passionate development.
I take three types : youth, grace, strength.
YOUTH.

You observe in youth that the slight form enables
you to see the articulations so lightly put together.
You find great simplicity of outline and of color;
the head a little large, the eyes limpid and innocent,

EXALTATION.

203

the hair fine, silky, and free, restless under a comb,
and quickly regaining its natural grace ; but besides
all this is an inexhaustible gayety, yielding only to
sleep, which in its turn, is accompanied by a charming smile.

The gesture is quick, the action direct,

all is frank, sentiments never mingle, each

has

its separate function; the child passes rapidly from
smiles to tears, and is at once as profoundly grieved
as he was completely joyous.
Observe, feel, and develop all these pretty ways
of youth; whatever you may do, you will never go
beyond its freshness and gayety.
ON GRACE.
Yesterday she was a child, she was ignorant of
herself; in playing with her companions, near a
limpid stream, she notices the beauty of her face,
she asks of her mirror a confirmation, and is soon
convinced; the attention she attracts helps to her
enlightenment—she blushes.
Grace is born.
This reserve, modesty and trouble occasioned

204

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

by too great admiration, is a veil, which nature
throws over her beauties ; the eyelids, ornamented
by beautiful eyelashes, can fall, and her abundant
hair may serve as a protection.
Grace show^s and hides itself; it starts with joy,
and at the same time is offended with too much
admiration ; it never exists without modesty but
does not exclude the desire to please.
True grace is better expressed by Raphael, than
in the antique Venus.

He has found how to show

this admirable combination unknown to those before
him and he has kept all their beauties.
The woman whom Raphael paints is yet a child.
Modest, she veils her charms, and finds a refuge in
the arms of those whom she loves; this reassures
her, and if you surprise her into raising her eyes,
you then see true maternal tenderness.
She is a child, sweetheart, and mother.
The antique Venus is simply a woman; she
possesses all beauty, but less grace.
I wish to make you understand how to render

EXALTATION,

this supreme quality.

205

A heart inflamed by love,

fears to say or do too much, prefers sacrificing
itself rather than to wound its idol.

This condition

of heart and mind expresses itself in A SIGH.
See now, how you can profit by it in your art.
For this same art, you must have all the ardor
of passion; but you must have knowledge to direct your

flame.

If you possess only love, you

will be destroyed by it.

Only wisdom can play with

fire.
But if your love is elevated and passes terrestrial
limits, it participates in the eternal life, and subdues
your passions, in giving them life.

Thus you will

arrive at creative execution, which excites us to
penetrate the secrets of life.
Life, that is what you ought constantly to seek.
Life in movement, in form, in color, in texture ; so
that your flesh palpitates, your veins seem to be
filled with warm blood, your eyes reflect the soul, a
warm breath escapes from

between the lips, the

leaves of your trees are full of sap, your flowers
throw off their fragrance, your canvas is bright with

206

CON VERS A TIONS ON AR T.

light, and envelopes the spectator with intoxicating
warmth.
Never forget that you are lovers of'life.
Observe this life ; you have the entire world for
your model; you can study it in its depths; sound
your own heart, speak, suffer, love, with those that
you create.
If you are excited by the love of your art, you
will find a celestial harmony in your outlines, your
coloring, and in your expressions; you will find
what we all admire, what cannot be defined, what
man cannot teach, and what God alone can give,
this is
STRENGTH.

It contains everything in itself; he who possesses it has no need of struggling like those I have
mentioned, he rules his human passions, or has
them not.

Michael Angelo is an example of this.

His creations possess his own great soul; strong and
proud, they do not seem to partake of our feeblenesses.

In their calm reveries, they appear to await

eternal life.

EXALTATION.

207

We feel in him a superiority we cannot define.
His men appear to possess the infinite splendors of
heaven ; yet they seem to have the elements of
passion.
What can we do with the furious Ocean ?

How

speak to the thunder and lightning ? What can we
say at the sight of the starry heavens ?
We fear, tremble, admire, and remain silent.
Dear master, what you say comes under the
head of literature, and far removed from the art
that you are teaching us ; we are your pupils, and
gladly receive your opinions upon literature, but
still would be glad if you will return to your subject.—Yes, dear friends, I know I wander, but I think
it is useful for me to speak to you of other things
than the practical means of your art.
of your forces, and

Poetry is one

I would like you to under-

stand it.
I wish also to speak of the musical sentiment,
which you ought to have, and which you cannot too
much develop ; but I stop myself.

I love music,

208

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

it moves me, and transports me, but I cannot define it.
Lastly, I would speak to you of all t h a t stirs the
heart;

I would appeal to family affection, love

of country, and all the emotions which fill the e^'es
with tears.
Give your heart full play; love changes si ad
into diamonds.

Like the lovers of heaven, bring all

the richness of beauty to your work.

XXIV.
ORIGINALITY.

D

O not listen to those who say to you, these
rules are useless, and even hurtful to those

who have originality.
There are not two ways of painting, there is but
one, which has always been employed by those who
understand the art.
Knowing how to paint and to use one's colors
rightly, has not any connection with originality.
This originality consists in properly expressing
your own impressions.
personal and

Take for example the most

original: Raphael, Rubens,

Rem-

brandt, Watteau ; these four great names are sufr
ficient to make you understand.
RAPHAEL.

Raphael expresses beauty in its sweetest form;
he embellishes youth in such a way that it capti-

2IO

CONVERSA

vates us.

TIONS

ON

ART.

Everything in his pictures is represented

in the spring-time of life ; men, women, flowers ; all
are young; elegance, gracefulness, purity, simplicity
of lines.

This beautiful flesh, firm and round on the

slender forms, the reserved bearing, this reminder
of the flower which is opening, but not yet fully
blown; the

green

turf

enamelled with margue-

rites, the shrubs ornamented with small leaves, showing themselves against the pure morning sky ; all is
born, all breathes, but has not yet lived.

All is

perfect with this truly divine painter; here is life
without its wear; this is what I wish you to feel,
and what gives to the works of Raphael an angelic
aspect.
You see he does more than copy, he chooses
first, he develops afterwards, then he throws aside
all that is not in the domain of youthful beauty ;
this is what makes his style and originality.
RUBENS.

Rubens loves grandeur and richness above all
things.

Nature is for him a bouquet of brilliant

ORIGINALITY.

flowers.

211

His love of red shows itself in all his

pictures.
Of a temperament sanguine and strong, his
paintings give the idea of a colossus of health.

His

genius is very great, but it deals only with matter.
He inundates his canvas with all the richness of the
earth; flowers, fruits, gold, ermine, purple, and light,
light, everywhere.
In this magnificence he represents all passions,
and all sentiments ; youth, love, war, suffering, pleasure, torture, triumph ; he throws all together liberally, a little pell mell, but with admirable energy,
and covers all with a slight mantle of purple.

This

is Rubens.
REMBRANDT.

His is a very different genius from Raphael's,
but not less grand; he has the rare gift of never fatiguing you.

A profound observer and thinker, he

is sad and sombre ; it pleases him, to picture man
fatigued, tired of life. If Raphael represents man as
he comes from the hand of the Creator, Rembrandt,
on the contrary shows him to us in a state of wreck,

212

CON VERSA TIONS

in human rags.

ON

ART,

The face drawn by suffering, the

wrinkles, the eyes full of tears ; nothing escapes him ;
then profound and mysterious shadows envelope all
this sadness.

Rubens might make an execution

cheerful or at least embellish it: Rembrandt saddens
all joy and gayety; he is a profound misanthrope ;
his work takes the impress of what fills his soul;
solemn as those who suffer, he seems to paint with
tears and with shadow.

. . .

Not a color, not a flower, a simple ray to brighten
the face.

But what a head and what eyes! It is life

itself; it frightens us and overthrows the idea we
have of art; for here there is not development, interpretation, nothing of that, it is simply truth.
This wonderful

genius is a mystery.

In

his

depths what intensity! I cannot explain, only admire.
WATTEAU

Is the painter of gallantry, of fickle love.

All is

amiable in him ; his pictures have no angles, his trees
are flowing like silky feathers, his colors tender and
fleeting.

Like the sentiments he represents, noth-

ORIGINALITY.

213

ing is serious and all is charming, all is caressing ; a
simple ribbon on the grass, made by this painter,
sings of love.
Now I wish to convince you, that the manner of
painting, has nothing to do with what constitutes
originality.

Watteau paints like Rubens ; the same

freedom, the same methods, and yet we never confound Rubens with Watteau.

Van Dyck follows the

manner of his master, but his reserved elegance, his
grand feminine peculiarities make him an eminently
original painter.

Rembrandt has, much more than

is generally believed, the same manner of working as
Rubens.
Let us resume.
There is no manner of working which will give
us originality, that comes from the soul.
The artist who feels intensely, throws the love
which fills him, into his composition and execution;
this is what we call style, and his thought is called
originality.

XXV.
A FEW WORDS ON ANTIQUE ART.

W

H A T is God ? This is the first interrogation
man makes to immensity: his first desire,

that of giving definite form to Divinity.
How render this immeasurable power?
In admiring the richness of the earth, the abundance of its products, the variety of beings who are
upon it, man says:
God is the immense maternity.

The elements,

the convulsions of the earth, the noise of thunder,
cause him to say:
God is strength.
The contemplation of the stars, the routine of
day and night, the regularity of our seasons, make
him say:
God is order.
To represent maternity men have taken

the

ANTIQUE

ART

21$

breast of the woman; for strength, the lion;

for

order, unity of movement; and they have created
the sphinx, which varies in its forms, but always
represents the three powers I have named.
Having found the symbol, they repeat it, and
represent it everywhere.
The sense of the Infinite among the Egyptians
is shown in their architecture, which, like the earth,
contains everything: men, animals, inscriptions, all
mingled, forming the beauty of the whole.
This nation is impersonal, it is absorbed in Divinity ; its life seems to be that of a long prayer
never interrupted.

These

people, as well

disci-

plined in life as in death, erect for tombs, pyramids, which are the symbols of aspirations towards
God.
Greek

Art.

Greek Art has material instincts, but it also contains the religious ideal of the Egyptians.
When

Greece produced gods, she borrowed

majesty from the sphinx, and if you will compare the

216

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

primitive Greek statues with the Egyptian divinities, you will see how alike they are.
The god-men created by Phidias, are calm as
strength itself, they are strangers to human passion.
His creations are radiant like the stars.
Tp this divine ideality, among the early Greek
sculptors, succeeded a human ideality.

Man being

only a detail in the universe, is seen from a distance.
But soon man forgets his gods, in thinking of himself; he exalts his beauty and strength, in life and in
death. Not having the power to represent divinity,
he makes it descend to him, and his efforts are expressed in Jupiter.

I remember the passage in

T

Scripture w here the most beautiful angel compares
himself to God, and believes himself his equal; he
revolts, and his pride precipitates him into hell.
This sublime image is a poetical expression of
what I want you to understand, for the pride which
has made art human, has caused us to lose all the
graces of celestial art.
The universe is almost forgotten ; man only is
looked at. Science now comes to our aid, enabling us

ANTIQUE

ART

21/

to see a great deal, so that perfect execution takes
the place of sublime ideality.

.

.

.

We can then establish three distinct phases of
antique a r t :
That of divine ideality, which gives a sublime art;
That of human exaltation, which gives an admirable a r t ;
That of individuality, which, resembling our own,
is not superior to modern art.
We have

seen among the Greeks, humanity

transfigured by the reflection of the infinite; soon
follows a great epoch, that of Christian art, which,
from the earth rises towards heaven.

It seems as if

the Egyptians and Greeks of the noblest epoch,
came from the Infinite, while men of the Christian
era returned to the Infinite.
May it not be that the human spirit, while it
remains in the divine sight like the stars, has also its
evolutions? Who knows. . . .
I am going to speak of the art of the French
Revolution, whose masters were those of antiquity,,
These slaves broke their chains, thinking only of their
10*

218

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

rights; in this thirst for freedom, divinity is almost
forgotten.
They produced beautiful works, equal to the
second period of Greek art, but very inferior to the
first.

XXVI.
ON FRENCH ART.

W

H A T is the mission of the artist ? Ought he

to consider his art, from the point of view

of art only, or ought he, respecting the rules that I
consider eternal, make his art bend to the taste and
the customs of his country ?
Yes, the artist ought to submit himself to the
taste and the customs of his country, for his mission
is to please and to charm ; but you say, if the taste
of the public is false., ought he not to combat it; if
he is more enlightened than it is, ought he not to
advance his age.

.

. Great words these, they have

often been repeated, but it was only for the benefit
of very doubtful talent.
In France, a simple imitation is far from satisfying us ; it is necessary that art should be elevated
by thought, poetry, philosophy, or Christian senti-

220

CONVERSA TIONS ON ART,

ment; the more qualities an artist adds to his work,
the greater he is.

At the present day many people

think that the artist ought never to go'beyond making exact copies; but if you imitate without ideal,
without poetry, your copies will be insipid; thought
alone vivifies the execution ; without thought no art
is possible.
The public takes no interest in these professional
disputes; the people want beautiful and great things ;
they wish you to speak to their hearts, and to represent what they love and admire.
The public has never been ungrateful; it has
always applauded, not only beautiful works, but even
simple attempts, when made in the right spirit.
Let us return to our French traditions.

Poussin

and Lesueur have the religious ideal; David, Gros,
Prudhon, Girodet, Guerin, Gericault have the philosophic ideal.
It is needful not only to point out their tendencies, but also to make you understand them; this I
will try to do.
We will take the pictures exposed in a salon •

ON FRENCH ART.

221

the Sabines of David ; the Plague at Jaffa, by Gros ;
Justice following Crime, by Prudhon ; Marcus Sextus,
by Guerin ; and the Shipwreck of the Medusa, by
Gericault.
The Sabines.
So many people say this picture is cold, systematic, that men never fought in that manner, that it
is false, false in color, false in action, false in expression.
These accusations I will answer one by one, and
I will make you feel how stupid they are, when I
explain this beautiful painting.
This picture of the Sabines was conceived at a
time when France was divided by contrary opinions.
Many times in the heart of the National Assembly
was felt the want of unity, the need for concessions;
appeals were made for concord, and members embraced one another, shouting " Vive La France." . .
Alas ! the next day they were more divided than
ever.

A great artist like David could not be insen-

sible to the situation of public affairs; he was moved
by it, and created the Sabines, as an appeal to con-

222

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

cord; concord in the name of what Is most loved ;
in the name of the family; this is what David wished
to represent.

Has he succeeded ? Yes, and I can

say without fear, this work is a marvel of art.
The forms in this picture are as pure as the
sentiment which created them ; nothing can be more
beautiful and chaste than Hersilie, more admirable
in form or expression than the woman mounted upon the ruins of a temple; the old mother who
wishes to die before seeing her loved ones sacrificed,
is sublime, as are all those women, with chaste
breasts full of milk ; the picture itself has a harmony
in which all parts seem to blend.

Cold ! this picture

comes from a great soul; ah, you must be very blind
or very insensible not to be touched by this beautiful
work.
Like a true artist, he echoed the ideas of his
times, and with the means which were peculiar to
him, has left us an eloquent appeal for concord.
The Plague at Jaffa.
This is an admirable subject: a young general
loving glory, and making a whole country sympa-

ON FRENCH ART.

223

thize with him, the chief and army are as one.
What unity of feeling ! They share their successes
and reverses.

The plague attacks them . ,.

. "be

reassured, soldiers, your guide is here, he is near you,
death will be sweet near him.

.

.

Thou who art

cured, follow after him, his road leads to victory/'
Field of Eylau.
Everything is covered with snow, they suffer,
they are wounded, they are conquered by arms and
by cold.
On this frozen plain appears the friend of all the
warriors of the world, he who afterwards saw the
English soldiers running to salute him ; this noble
heart is in a glow; he puts new life into them, he
honors the courage of the unfortunate.
Aboukir.
Surrender!

No, rather die ! this is what the old

wounded Pasha expresses, as he holds with his one
remaining hand some frightened runaway.

Victim

224

CONVERSA TIONS ON ART.

of courage, he will be sacrificed, but his son seizes
his father's cimeter and returns it to the conqueror.
All is lost but honor.

. . .

In this touching picture the terrible sides are
veiled, the few dead forms are so imposing that they
seem to have fallen asleep after having performed
their duty.
The Shipwreck of the Medusa.
Another popular echo; this picture had been
preceded by the Chasseur on Horseback, and the
Cuirassier;

the chasseur in 1812 represented the

beginning of war, and the necessity of trebling the
forces to oppose a powerful enemy ; the cuirassier,
in 1814, the fatigued soldier ; this giant is conquered.
.

.

Like two flashes of lightning these pictures

announced the storm

.

.

.

1815, the hundred

days, the shipwreck, the great nation has foundered.
There is only a plank, dead bodies, a few giants
who survive; but far, far on the horizon, a
point, a new vessel, hope; we are saved! .
we know now who directed it.

mere

. Alas!

ON FRENCH

Marcus

ART.

225

Sextus.

The exiles return, they find the hearth deserted,
their dearest possessions falling in ruins, oblivion,
death.

. . . Like Eolian harps, these great spirits

resound again* to the breath of patriotism.
They quiet and console us in giving a poetical
form to the thoughts which agitate us.
Endowed with superior sensibility, they enlighten
us, for they see into the future.

These great artists,

essentially moral, can have only a salutary effect.
This is what we have had, and I hope we may
have such again.

XXVII.
PRUDHON.

H

E escapes like all other tender souls from the
tumult of the city, he seeks solitude ; the

sight of nature and the calmness of his own heart,
are necessary to him.
When our cities are noisy we all love the country ;
we cannot help comparing its delightful

solitude

with what we have left; the mosses so pure and
clean, the air balsamed from the forests, the trees
covered wTith ivy, the purity of their bark, the sight
of the burrows, which are seen everywhere, all show
it is not the home of many men.
You are upon a high elevation ; it was necessary
to climb slowly up the difficult road, but you are
rewarded.

You fly from the city because you have

been disappointed, discouraged, and you say; here,
no one will come.

PRUDHON.

22/

The hour of absolute repose has come for you,
the memory of your struggles, of your fatigues wearies
you.

Throw yourself* upon this mossy carpet, turn

your head and look at these branches of verdure, . .
then listen to the sweet concert from the woods—and
—you sleep.

While you slept, the sun has declined,

the only light is upon the summit of the mountains ;
the trees which surround you are in a sweet half light,
the wood pigeon smooths with his bill the feathers
of his wings, and you hear his cooing.

. . . This

image of solitude, of tenderness, and of love is the
life of Prudhon ; it is his work; he has painted
nothing else, he has sung of nothing but love.
An eminently tender soul, it was reserved for
him to paint justice following crime ; the dove only
could find these accents, in which to paint wickedness.

XXVIII.
THE FATHERS OF THEIR COUNTRY.

T

H E S E children of thought have been for a
long time banished from France.

I claim for

them the place they merit, which is near the heart.
These great geniuses have made us powerful; we
owe them the most profound sentiments, the noblest
emotions.
Let us see how we honor their memories.
DAVID.

David, the great, he who has given us immortal
pages, he who has nobly taught us ; David who is
great among the greatest !
What have we done with his pictures?

What

have we done with his ashes ?
I will tell you.
His works have been divided, and placed as if by
chance; and as for his ashes, I one day saw in an

THE FATHERS

OF THEIR

COUNTRY.

229

abandoned road, a tomb, upon which I read the name
of David, and this simple epitaph : " I repose at last,
near the companion of all my misfortunes."'
It is very little for him who has given us so much.
GROS.

Gros is one of the glories of our modern art.
What have we done with his pictures ? What have
we done with his ashes?

His pictures are not

placed by chance, chance is sometimes happy.

No,

they are systematically removed, far from the eye,
and like those of David, divided and scattered ; for
his ashes a too modest tomb.
You know his misfortunes. . . .
PRUDHON.

Prudhon was, as I have tried to make you understand, not an echo of his epoch : of a dreamy and
gentle nature, he lived in solitude and took no part
in the political ideas of his times.

For this reason his

works have escaped ; but as you know, he did not
escape misfortune.

23O

CONVERSATIONS

ON

ART

GIRODET.

Girodet, when he felt himself dying, ..expressed a
wish to see his studio once more and his unfinished
pictures.

He was carried there, when falling upon

his knees, and raising his hands, he exclaimed:
" Adieu, beautiful art of painting ; I shall never see
you again," and died immediately.
Happy Girodet, you died happy, believing in the
morrow.
And on this morrow, we can also say, Adieu,
great art, we shall never see you. any more ; for
Antoine Gros, the most meritorious of this noble
phalanx, has drained the chalice to the dregs.
GERICAULT.

Happy Gericault, you died young, you waited not
the recompense of your fellow citizens.
Wicked political passion has reviled these great
geniuses ; but thanks be to God, their admirable
works are more resplendent than ever.

THE FATHERS

OF THEIR COUNTRY.

2$l

Let us make haste to give them the place they
merit; gather together these beautiful works ; build,
if it is necessary, a temple for them.
Do not believe that these pictures are historical,
and consequently must be placed with those of the
same kind ; no, they are much more than that.
They give us a sublime art, a splendid echo of
the fatherland ; this is the heart, the soul of France !
Separate.

Separate quickly, these chefs d'ceuvre

from vulgar productions ; let us make haste to bring
to light our most beautiful jewels.
Revenge this banishment of thought; let us surround these pictures with immortal palms ; and let
the place which contains them become the sanctuary
of the country.
But I hear you say : Of what do you complain ?
What you demand is already done.
Show me where and how!

You place works of

the first order by chance. I see grand art which I am
defending, confounded with that of an ante-room ;
the Horaces by the side of a Boucher or a Lancret.
I see the Plague at Jaffa perched up by the ceiling;

232

CONVERSATIONS

ON

ART.

Eylau the same ; a sublime canvas like Aboukir, with
what is called historical art, but would be better
described as anecdotal; I see mean servility side by
side with courage, grandeur, heroism ; and you say
I have nothing to demand ?
I who venerate them, prefer persecution for them
rather than such lukewarmness.
A son who revolts against his father can, by a
violent reaction, return, submit himself, and become
again a good son ; but he who coldly performs his
filial obligations, he is a monster, who will never
return.

Let us venerate the works of these men, as

we venerate our ancestors, giving them the first
place in our houses.
I know that this is an oversight on the part of
those who have the arrangement of the pictures, for
they have always shown a great deal of zeal for
these ideas that I defend.

And I hope they will

no longer delay being guided by them.

XXIX.
MY MASTER GROS.

D

E A R and venerated master, I have seen you
defend this sublime art, of which you were the

most complete expression.

I have seen you carry-

ing your banner, when you were bruised and bloody;
you were alone, and alone you fought with the courage of the lion ; but you were wounded by the age,
you, the unconquered, you felt that victory was impossible ; you wrapped yourself in your colors, and
shut your eyes.
Dear master, time has well revenged you!
I have seen you die gloriously
who insulted you

. . .

.

.

.

those

I have seen live des-

picably.
Your words still sound in my ears.

" Ah ! Cou-

ture, if you were only older, we could crush these
abominable romancers.''

Alas ! I was only a child ;

234

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART,

but, dear master, these words were the sigh of your
wounded heart; for you were too noble and too
grand, to be willing to crush them.

If I had been

able to come to your aid, God knows how devoted
I should have been, but I who lived, know that I
should have had only the honor ai falling with you.
While you liyed, I was too young to serve you,
and now when it is possible to continue your interrupted works, I feel too old to do anything worthy
of y o u ; only one thing I shall try for, and that is to
make them render you justice.

I have not done

anything, I have not been able to do anything, so
that I have no title to be listened to. I can only
pray and hope to be able to do something to peeve
your memory.

XXX.
IS ART SUPERIOR TO NATURE?

A

G R E A T question, often
answered.

We can reply yes and no.

asked and

never

The reason is :

If we pronounce the word art in this connection,
we take in all its perfection.

We know already by

our conversations, that the most gifted are the most
impassioned ; that they abandon themselves to that
which captivates them, developing that which they
love with so much force that they end by making us
share their enthusiasm.
The word development is not very exact, it is
enough for them to banish from their pictures everything that is not their idol.
Man has too feeble intelligence to admire at once
all the splendors of nature; he is only able to understand it in detail; this detail, while it is deep, is
indeed so immense that it requires a peculiar organi-

236

CON VERSA T10NS ON

ART.

zation to fathom it, and to make others share the
admiration.
The whole magnificence of God dazzles us.

The

feebleness of our minds can no more bear it, than our
eyes can bear the light of the sun ; for this. reason
we should be as modest in our choice of subject, as
we are in our means of execution.
This simplicity of working cannot excel the object

selected ; a beautiful head of a young girl,

chosen by Raphael as a model, will be superior to
what he will paint; the splendid color of Titian
loses very much when compared with the original.
So you see we can say: nature is superior to art.
Yes, that is true; but if we look at this question
from a human point of view, we see that these simple effects, given by genius, surround us, quiet us,
and satisfy our intellectual desires ; since we are
satisfied, even overwhelmed, we can truly say : art is
superior to nature, because art combines beauties
which we can see, in a way that nature never does.
It is what they call in literature, unity of time,
unity of place ; it is a simple frame given to a senti-

IS ART SUPERIOR

TO NA TURE ?

237

ment, or a passion.

Everything must be subordi-

nate to this thought.

I have said yes and no.

This

is the doubt, I have developed as well asT could,
what I wished to make you understand, and like every
writer, I believed it was conclusive.

I find every-

where this wish to convince, and this affirmative tone
towards those taught; why not rest satisfied ? It is
better to leave your reader in a poetical uncertainty,
rather than impose upon him a bad conclusion.
What I have just explained is far from satisfying me; there is in me a violent reaction, and freed
from the uncertainty which I have expressed, I am
sensible that certain chosen spirits of the Eternal
seem to continue His work ; these children of God
recall us to the divine truth; they are more true than
our terrestrial truths, which are always more or less
injured by corruption; they reclothe creation in its
original dress.

This divine mission is manifested in

Phidias and Raphael.
We can then say, their works are superior to the
nature that we see, since it is this same nature
reclothed.

XXXI.
DIVINE ART.

H

EIGHT

Decline.

We are on the threshold of great art; here

man ceases to manifest himself, he has a glimpse
of the ETERNAL; understanding his inferiority, he
becomes humble; he expresses only what

God

breathes into him, and refrains from putting a man's
name to what he looks upon as a holy thing.

An

echo of God himself, what he does will remain upon
the earth, will tower above everything, will be as
inexplicable as the Infinite.
The

Greeks, those we

class as

Primitives,

reached this supreme art.
The Greeks.
The Greeks watched, suffered, bore fatigue, endured everything for their country.

. . Must we die

DIVINE

ART.

239

that she may be more glorious, more beautiful still ?
Let us die.
It is infinite love, the maternal sentiment'applied
to one's country, self abnegation, sacrifice, impersonality.
Impersonality, that is the word.
Exaltation in love gives them a glimpse of the
Divine; they produce wonders.
seek their names.

In vain you will

. . . Later, the patriotic senti-

ment becomes less lively; exaltation in love disappears ; personality begins to show itself, and we see
at the base of statues, such a one, son of such a one
has done this.
In the time of the middle ages, when men suffered from wars, and slavery, intelligent men endured
much; they could own nothing ; the rich possessed
land, and water; and their wives and children were
at the mercy of the masters.
Certain proud spirits did not willingly accept life
under these conditions.

They would gladly have re-

nounced i t : led to God by the excess of their mis-

240

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

eries, they found in his bosom happiness without
bounds ; yesterday they wished to revolt against
their oppressors, to-day they realize that there is a
greater good than that of this earth ; they return to
their enemies, with hands full of flowers and of pardon, and the strength they have drawn from the bosom of their God is so grand and irresistible, that they
subdue in their turn those who had crushed them.
But they subdue them as they subdue

them-

selves ; they see and judge the miseries of the earth ;
the most powerful king is no more to them than a
brother, as small and as miserable as they are; what
do I say? even more miserable, for they enjoy a
grand ideal, while the ruler on the earth possesses in
their eyes only earthly tinsel.
The master is no more a tyrannical conqueror, he
is the patron, the protector of all his followers; being
humble, his heart is full of brotherly love.
Lords, Priests, People, are but as one. From this
unity arise these grand cathedrals which tower to
the sky; all rising, all seeking to climb to eternal
felicity. . . .

DIVINE

ART.

241

Look at the churches, so varied and admirable
in form and style; visit them, climb up and down ;
wonders everywhere : in the most inaccessible places, where the eye can hardly reach, if you are capable of climbing, you will find treasures of sculpture.
Do you not see with me, these divine artists suspended between heaven and earth ! Their day is
over, the angelus rings, their work stops, they pray
with crossed hands, and repeat impressively the
prayer of all: " Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name !

They retire to their beds at the

hour when the birds put their heads under their
wings; the rising sun finds them at their work, which
grows like the grass of the fields; without excitement, without fatigue, they have in their simplicity
a divine equilibrium.

The most gigantic

works

finished, they recommence the next day, as if they
had not accomplished wonders the day before ; children of God, like their Father, they never stop ;
modest and strong, gentle and simple, they are the :
echoes of their God; they never breathe a name or
11

242

CON VERSA TIONS ON AR T.

a vanity in their prayer; this vanity they cannot
have; living in the infinite, their thoughts in the
stars, they find this world is only mire ; not being
troubled by the deceptions of pride, they give what
they can, and sincerely regard themselves as unworthy workmen.
There is a divine manifestation which belongs
only to the chosen ones ; it seems as if God created
by their hands, for the thing is always expressed in
the same way; it is not like human execution, varying according to individuals, but is immutable, and
produces a variety without limit; it is inexhaustible.
Look at a capital of the thirteenth century, you see
how wonderful it is, as beautiful as the finest Greek
capital.

Now look at a hundred of them, a thousand

of them ; they are never alike, but all of equal beauty;
it is the infinity of creation.
In sculpture, where the figures are very different,
you see this eternal unity, but great variety, all in
the same spirit, and drawn from a source that never
fails.
They are as varied as the productions of the

DIVINE

earth.

ART,

243

In looking at a gothic statue it is the same

as if one should look at an oak: the oak may be
more or less grand, more or less beautiful, but it is
always an oak.

The gothic statue is the same, more

or less perfect in execution, but what makes it
more interesting, is that it is a marked work of
the middle ages. I deceive myself; there is no epoch
for the sentiment of which I speak.

Whenever

there is impersonality, submission to God, a mere
echo, the maker of the work seizes something eternal, I cannot say what; you will find it among the
Greeks as well as among the artists of the middle
ages.
Yes, it is always the same ; in all countries, in all
time, it is as easy to recognize it as the light.
How I wish I could write so that you would understand me ! How I wish I could show you certain
statues of Christian art, and let you compare them
with the antique Achilles or fragments of Phidias.
You would see and feel how much they are alike :
the same calmness, the same simplicity, a complete
absence of pedantic science ; science is there, but

244

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

hidden ; strength is there also; they possess everything, but veiled mysteriously.
He who created the Gladiator, ma'de certainly a
beautiful statue ; I do not believe it is possible for
man to excel it.

But it is far from having the

beauty of which I speak.

In the Gladiator every-

thing wishes to be seen; see my power, my knowledge, I show it in the plainest way; admire me, do
not forget me, and besides I am such a one, son of
so and so.
Yes I admire you, you represent a difficult art,
requiring knowledge ; but my happiness is found in
an art which feels no effort, no labor; in that art
which leaves me liberty, because it does not call upon
me to admire it.
One fatigues me, without ever satisfying me.
The other

overpowers

me, without

ever fa-

tiguing me.
Great Art comes from God ; he gives it.
Human art is a little beggar, who is asking for a
penny.
In the midst of the middle ages appeared this

DIVINE

ART.

245

sentiment of personality, the first principle of decline.
I will give you an anecdote to illustrate it.
Michael Angelo had exposed his divine group
of the Pieta ; the success of it was immense ; one
day among its admirers he heard some one say,
61

We

Milan."

owe this

master-piece

to

our Gobbo of

He felt himself bitten to the heart, by this

gnawing worm of personality; he ran to his studio,
took a hammer and other tools necessary for his purpose ; when night came, with a dark lantern, he went
like a thief to the place where his work was exposed,
and engraved upon the girdle of the virgin : Michael
Angelo made this.
Ah ! at this moment, the great, the divine artist,
he who had been chosen by Providence to give perfect expression to the Christian art, had signed the
treaty of decline. " . . . Poor Michael Angelo ! thou
wilt never rub off this stain of personality; thy great
soul will produce wonders, but thou hast failed,
thou wilt no more have grace in all its virginity.
Thou hast set a bad example, thou wilt be the
first punished; thou wilt never again be able to

246

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

express the feeling, the divine equilibrium of thy
Pieta.
But thou remainest a child of God'; thou wilt be
an echo of his power, and of his anger; thy works
impress us like the noise of thunder.

.

.

.

If he does not sign, he is afraid of not being recognized ; this is what creates a manner in spite of
himself; unknown to himself, personality is at the
bottom of his heart.
Our human perceptions are gross ; we see things
when they are accomplished; we see the flower in
bud, and enjoy it in full bloom.

But we cannot tell

the moment when it begins to decline; when we perceive it, the destruction is almost complete.
This is true of what we call the decline ; we do
not notice it until it has made great depredations.
Where commenced this decline ? It commenced
with the appearance of personality.

Do not seek it

elsewhere, it is there the worm gnaws.
A new worship appears.
The world rouses itself to benefit by the things of
this life.

These children of heaven descend upon

DIVINE

ART.

247

earth ; the sweetness of women captivates them ;
they choose companions, they love religiously, have
faith in love; their hearts are exalted ; the religion
of woman is born.
It is personified in the VIRGIN MARY.
Painting profits by this commencement of materialism ; it grows more sensuous, and this gives to it an
unspeakable charm ; then the beautiful paintings of
Raphael, Andrea del Sarto, Fra Bartholomeo, Correggio, etc., delight our eyes.

.

. .

This period was of short duration ; the plant is
touched at the root; we soon see it die.
Rivalry begins: We are far from our great divine
aspirations ; artists are no longer elevated in their
productions, they no longer serve God. Slaves of
their passions, they are spinning at the feet of Omphale. Art is lost.

.

.

.

Everything speaks of heaven in the art of the
middle ages ; everything speaks of the boudoir in
what is called the RENAISSANCE; it is a time of
jewels, of lace and finery ; the painters, incapable of
rendering beauty, console themselves with richness.

248

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

But always descending ! A singular phase of art
appears ; what is it? men pale, mean, and worn out;
they wear necklaces, pearls are upon^ their vestments ; they bedeck themselves to be admired ; turn
from them, these minions are horrible!

Still de-

scending, I see shapeless wrecks, until the reign of
the Great King; then commences the worship of
man.

Do you know anything worse than the paint-

ing of Lebrun, puffed up like a bird in a poultry yard ;
I know nothing of the author, but his painting is my
antipathy.

Near this puffed up style of painting, an

admirable artist—Lesueur. Abandoned by the great,
without resources, he retired from the world.

A

born painter, he found refuge in the bosom of nature, and returning to the traditions of the middle
ages, he obtained

benefits

from it, and created

master-pieces.
Poussin, who preceded Lesueur, revolted against
the bad taste of the age; he wished to revive true
taste; not being able to do so, he exiled himself;
and to this fact we owe his master-pieces
These two names console us, and show us that

DIVINE

ART.

249

one can produce beautiful works under most humble conditions.
We have run over a long time ; the height and
the end ; I have shown you the cause of decline, and
you ought to understand that in art the ideal is
everything.
Among painters of inferior degree, we find science, and a surprising skilfulness of hand ; but being
without the ideal, and without morality, their productions are indifferent to us.
The ideal is everything ; no, the ideal is not sufficient, the painter must submit himself to nature,
and be absolutely humble in himself.
To dare to avow himself is his greatest strength.
Michael Angelo is shown a design that he made
in his youth.

He looks at it a long time and says:

" forty years of work have not advanced me." In
saying this he was sincere and unjust; the same
genius tainted with pride ; why always wish to rise,
and to surpass others? to surpass one's self.

In the

beginning God gives him grace to show the truth ;
he only has to extend his hand to seize it; let him
11*

250

CON VERSA TIONS ON ART.

continue to serve it, to reproduce this truth which
has been unveiled to him.
A true genius is born with the man ; 'it undergoes
the modifications caused by advancing age.

If his

genius is vigorous, he finds his full expression in maturity ; if, on the contrary, it is young, he will find
like Raphael its accomplishment in youth.
Have confidence in yourself, and bathe in this
great ocean of truth.
Take Michael Angelo as an example, you will
find in him the sentiments, truths and submissions
which can originate beautiful works, and you will also
find the faults which may spoil them.
I finish with these words—
I D E A L I T Y , IMPERSONALITY.

XXXII.
ADIEU.

I

H A V E raised your courage ; your sympathy, I
feel, increases my strength, I have hope.

Shall

I live to see true French Art revive ? I see it coming.

Ah, how happy you are in being young!

Everything announces this art of which I have
dreamed; the indifference of the public for

that

which exists is a good augury—why should they, so
alive, be interrupted in what comes from the tomb ?
There are a few painters, clients of a world almost
extinguished, whose productions still please the
bourgeois taste.

National art is to be born, or at

least to continue, for since Gros and Gericault it has
been interrupted, and I say, notwithstanding my admiration for the art of the revolution, that they had
not completely founded French Art.

They seemed

to attack modern subjects with regret.

Study and

252

CONVERSATIONS

ON ART.

the flowers of rhetoric were too perceptible ; in short
this new art was still a pupil at school.
Take up this interrupted painting ; follow the
teachings of the earth; be more frankly French in
form, and your art will equal in grandeur and in
majesty the most splendid Venetian pages.

You

become not copyists but equals of the Greeks.
Look around you and create.

I have followed

the order of nature, in planting in you the seed of
truth; I do not doubt that it will grow ; by simplifying your methods, by keeping yourself from the
trouble which comes from complication, you will
have a good underground growth.

When your stalk

comes above the ground, surround it as the plant
does with a protecting cloak ; this shelter, this protection, this guardian, is your INSTINCT.
Grow—strengthen yourself—cover yourself with
leaves and fruit and give us beautiful shade.

THE END.