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i 
 
ILLUSTRATED BIOGRAPHIES OF 
 THE GREAT ARTISTS. 
 
 MILLET 
 ROUSSEAU 
 DIAZ 
 
mimvMXi ^mvHpf)ie$ of tfie 
 
 KEJF SERIES. 
 
 Each volume, idth about twenty illustrations: hound in cloth. 
 
 Price 3s. 6d. 
 
 The Painters of Barbizon.^ I. Memoirs of Jean Francois 
 Millet, Theodore Eousseau and Xarcisse Diaz. By 
 J. AV. Mollett, B.A. 
 
 The Painters of Barbizon.^ 11. Memoirs of Jean Baptiste 
 CoROT, Charles Francois Daubigny and Jules Dupre. 
 By John AV. Mollett, B.A. 
 
 WILLIA3I MuLREADY, Memorials of. Collected by Frederic 
 G. Stephens. 
 
 David Cox and Peter De "\Yint. Memoirs of their Lives 
 and Works. By Gilbert E. Eedgrave. [In ]jre])aration.'\ 
 
 George Cruikshank, His Life and Works : including a 
 Memoir by Frederic G. Stephens, and an Essay on the 
 Genius of George Cruikshank by AV. M. Thackeray. 
 \_In 2yre2xircdLon.''\ 
 
 The Landscape Painters of Holland. Memoirs of Euis- 
 DAEL and HoBBEMA, CuYP and Potter, and others. By 
 Frank Cundall. [In preparation.] 
 
 " Gavarni," Memoirs of. By Frank Marzials. AVith many 
 Elustrations. [In preparcdiun.'] 
 
 Van Eyck, Memlinc, Matsys and other Painters of the Early 
 Flemish School. [In preparation.'] 
 
 * The two volumes iu one : botind in half morccco : gilt tops. Prieej 7s. Cd. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 SAMPSOX LOW, MARSTOX, SEARLE & RIVIXGTOX, 
 
 LHIITED, 
 
 St. Dunstan s House, Fetter Lane. 
 
roRTKAIT OF MlLLET. Bv JilMSKLF 
 By permission of MM. A. Braiin ft Cie. 
 
" The whole world without Art would be one great wilderness, 
 
 "THE PAIOifERS OF BA'^BIZON 
 
 MILLET 
 ROUSSEAU 
 DIAZ 
 
 By JOHN W. J^LLETT, B.A. 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE LIVES OF " REMBRANDT " AND " WILKIE " IN THIS SERIES. 
 
 ND 
 
 3^ 7- ^ 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE & RIVINGTON 
 
 Limited 
 
 ST. DUNSTAN'S HOUSE, FETTER LANE 
 1890 
 
[All liujhts Iteserved.'] 
 
 THE J. PAUL GUTTY MUSEUM LIBRARY 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 JN the following pages it is proposed to give short histories 
 of the career of a group of painters, to whom is generally 
 attributed the development in Landscape in the great change 
 that has lately taken place in the canons of French Art, which 
 is described by some writers on the subject as the victory of 
 the Eomantic School over Classicism. 
 
 The practical nineteenth-century standard of the success of 
 this group is the enormous money value of their work in the 
 international market, and the history that has to be told is 
 as much a commercial as an aesthetic development. 
 
 We have prefaced our work with a short description of the 
 scenery of Fontainebleau, in the midst of which some of the 
 painters who are representative of the movement, studied 
 landscape, and did their most successful work, and became 
 known in the artistic world as the Barbizon School. Their 
 works are commonly spoken of under this generic name, irre- 
 spective of their want of internal assimilation. 
 
 We have then translated and reproduced in the words of the 
 
vi 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 greatest critics of the age extracts from the interesting volume 
 of criticism that their exhibited pictures provoked from year to 
 year, leaving our readers free to determine for themselves the 
 length to which their sympathy with the special theory of the 
 Romantic movement will carry them ; believing, however, that 
 the accident of American competition in the auction-room is 
 not in itself a justification for placing even Millet, sublime as 
 the poetry of his work is, on a level with Raphael. Finally, 
 we have narrated so much as we have been able to collect, 
 from credible record, of the stories of their respective lives. 
 
 J. W. MOLLETT. 
 
 Lyme Kegis, May, 1890. 
 
 Note. — The present volume treats of Millet, Rousseau and 
 Diaz ; the companion volume of Corot, Daubigny and Dupr^. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ■♦ 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTEODUCTION— Fontainebleau xi. 
 
 JEAN EEANgOIS MILLET. 
 
 I. His Youtli and ApprenticesHp 1 
 
 II. His Manhood and his "Work 25 
 
 THEODOEE EOUSSEAU. 
 
 1. The Struggle 47 
 
 11. The Reward— Hope Deferred . . . . . .75 
 
 NARCISSE VIEaiLE DIAZ DE LA PENA. 
 
 Parentage and Early Biography — Life — Work — and 
 
 Criticisms * . .87 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 I. General Bibliography of the Painters of Barbizon . . 109 
 
 II. Some of the Principal Private Collections containing 
 
 examples of the Painters of Barbizon . . . .112 
 
 Millet — 
 
 III. BibHography 113 
 
 IV. Some of his Principal Paintings and their Owners . .114 
 V. Original Etchings, "Woodcuts, and Lithographs . . 117 
 
 VI. Etchings after Pictures and Drawings by him . . .118 
 VII. Pictures sold in Paris after his Death . . . .120 
 
Till 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Rousseau — 
 
 VIII. BibHography 121 
 
 IX. Some of his Principal Paintings and their OA\Tiers . . 121 
 
 X. Original Etchings 123 
 
 XI. Etchings after Paintings by him . . . . .123 
 
 Diaz — 
 
 XII. Bibliography 124 
 
 XIII. Some of his Principal Paintings and their Owners . .124 
 
 XIV. Lithographs 126 
 
 XV. Etchings and Engravings after Paintings by him . .126 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 To Millet 127 
 
 To Rousseau 128 
 
 To Diaz 130 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS, 
 
 MILLET. 
 
 Portrait of Millet By liimself . Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 House at Gruchy in which. Millet was bom ..... 3 
 
 Going to Work Ey MiUet. 6 
 
 The Gleaners . . , . . . . „ 11 
 
 The Shepherdess ....... 17 
 
 The Mower (from a drawing) . . . . >> 20 
 
 The Spinner . v 2»5 
 
 Peasant Chopping Wood (from a drawing) . . ,, 30 
 
 Woman Shearing a Sheep (from a drawing) . . ,, 35 
 
 The Angelus >> ^1 
 
 MiUet's Studio at Barhizon . . 45 
 
 Monument to Millet and Rousseau 46 
 
 Basrelief of MiUet and Rousseau . . . - By Chapu. 47 
 
 ROUSSEAU. 
 
 A Pool in the Forest of Fontainebleau ... By Rousseau. 50 
 
X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 The Flood By Rousseau. 58 
 
 Banks of the Loire 68 
 
 DIAZ. 
 
 Portrait of Diaz By Profit. 86 
 
 The Fairy Godmother By Diaz, 90 
 
 Forest Scene „ 96 
 
 The Bathers ,, 100 
 
 Children and Dog „ 104 
 
 Note. — During the last ten years, Science has greatly improved many 
 applications of the photographic art, but it has not yet been enabled to 
 reproduce pictures of such intangible qualities as those executed by the 
 Painters of Barbizon with a clearness sufficient to enable the craftsmen of 
 process-blocks to give their best results. This will account for the want 
 of detail apparent in some of the illustrations ; which, nevertheless, it is 
 hoped will be found to give characteristic impressions of the works of the 
 several artists. 
 
INTEODUCTIOK 
 
 THE FOREST OF FONTAINEBLEAU. 
 
 I^ARBIZOIST, a small village on the skirt of the forest of 
 Fontainebleau, is consecrated by the long martyrdom of 
 the poet-peasant-painter, Jean Fran9ois Millet, and the suffer- 
 ings of its agricultural labourers — the theme of his pathetic 
 paintings. 
 
 A laconic gazetteer describes the place — " Barbizon, Seine- 
 et-Marne, a la lisiere de la foret. Sites pittoresques. Colonie 
 de peintres paysagistes " : and a curious work has been com- 
 piled, by a number of the most popular authors of our period, 
 in honour of the chaotic landscape beauties of the forest, and 
 of Monsieur Denecourt, its Columbus ; and their over-wrought 
 enthusiasm in their praises of the place, and the volcanic 
 irregularity of the forest itself, are quite in harmony with their 
 retarded adulation of the painters living there and the erup- 
 tion brought about by those painters in the classical world of 
 art that preceded them. 
 
 The book is entitled a " Hommage " to M. Denecourt, a re- 
 tired politician of the Reds, who was a sort of Old Mortality" 
 to the forest, and devoted all his time and resources to clearing 
 the paths and points of view, and guiding visitors to his work, 
 of which he published a description in a guide-book. Our in- 
 terest in the colonie de peintres paysagistes " justifies a few 
 
xii 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 quotations descriptive of their chosen retreat, which seems in 
 a curiously apposite manner to set up the disruptive agencies 
 of nature as a type of themselves. 
 
 " One day/^ says one of them, " the rebellious seas rolled 
 over this tract of land, and the seas macerated it, as the rivih'es 
 of the tanneries macerate the empty hide of a bull, carr3/ing off 
 and dispersing the vegetation — his skin, and the land — his flesh, 
 and leaving nothing behind but the rocks — his hones, which had 
 no longer any sinews to hold them together, so that they be- 
 came frightfully disjointed and were precipitated one on the 
 other, and shattered each other into fragments, and buried 
 one another. It was like the crumbling away of the ' Biblical 
 immensities' that we see in the terrible paintings of John 
 Martin. 
 
 " But, little by little. Nature, softened and soothed, had 
 taken pity on this formidable desolation ; and, in the deep 
 places, she changed the deposits of debris into fertile soil, and 
 covered them over with trees, and, when these trees became 
 centenarians, she had bidden the winds to carry away their 
 seeds and to plant a toque and plumes for the heights that were 
 standing bare." 
 
 M. Denecourt, the chief prophet of the forest, describes it as 
 follows : — "This charming trysting-place of travellers, this vast 
 studio of our young and laborious artists, covers 32,000 arpens 
 (French acres) of surface, and is tAventy leagues in circum- 
 ference.^'' Its soil — veritable chaos — presents such a variety of 
 accidents, that the painter, struck with admiration, knows not 
 where to take u]) his brush. On all sides are the rocks, the 
 masses of which, barren, or wooded, or covered with mosses or 
 lichens, separate and come together again abruptly in shapes 
 the most varied, and the most bizarre ; or are piled up in 
 * It contains about 40,000 English acres, according to Murray. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 XIU 
 
 pyramids, or rounded domes ; or they are scattered abroad and 
 look, to the traveller's eye, like troops of monsters pasturing 
 at the bottom of a valley ; or again, in other parts, they form 
 long and sinuous chains of mountains, against which the storms 
 of ages have spent their forces in vain. 
 
 " By the margin of a barren plain we discover an ancient 
 grove peopled with gigantic trees, and amongst them are bald- 
 headed oaks, whose antiquity is lost in the night of ages. 
 Near a mountain of sand, whose brilliant whiteness makes us 
 dream of whipped cream, and of Alpine snows, we see a copse 
 of green pines, or a variegated plantation, the avenues of 
 which offer a choice of delicious promenades. 
 
 ''From a smiling valley, richly wooded, the traveller passes 
 suddenly into a frightful desert of moving sand, or on to the 
 summit of a heather-grown hill, and standing there, looks over 
 boundless plains, cities, castles, hamlets, and green meadows 
 serpentined by the Seine and other rivers; then, suddenly 
 plunging, finds himself under the dark vault of an avenue of 
 trees, or at the bottom of a deep gorge bristling with rugged 
 and overhanging rocks, out of the crannies of which trees are 
 struo:i>:lin2: forth, half overthrown, and with worm-eaten trunks. 
 
 .... At every step gradations of perspectives, and move- 
 ments of the land always capricious; and everywhere new 
 rocks, steep passes, and precipices, and piled-up mountains of 
 ruins, which seem to have been superimposed by a diluvial 
 bouleversement. '' 
 
 " Where shall we go to now ^ " Jules Janin sings : "to the 
 dried-up, laminated rocks, the moss and the lichens, where the 
 colourless birch tree shivers restlessly in the air, and the 
 gnarled willows grow, and the earth is burned to ashes, and 
 Ithe greensward parched in the sun. ' Foila ou nous allons I ' 
 say the painters, and the most skilled of painters too— the 
 
xiv 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 melancholy Cabat, vigorous Decamps, brilliant Diaz^ eloquent 
 Jules Dupre, Bertin, the thinker. 
 
 "Who besides ? — Troyon, Theodore Eousseau, Francois, 
 Isabey, Giraud. One and all they would refuse to be com- 
 forted if they were driven to renounce the forest of their 
 choice." 
 
 Ferdinand Desnoyers, in his poem of Fontainebleau, records 
 the life and sorrows of a shepherd landscape-painter of a 
 former generation, Simon Mathurin Lantara (1729 — 1778) : — 
 
 La-bas, sous ce grand arbre, au pied d'lme colline, 
 
 Lantara garde encore ses troupeaux et dessine. 
 
 Les pres et les vallons, les bois, sont pleins d'espoir. 
 
 II passe son enfance a regarder ; a voir. 
 
 II sent le germe, en lui, qui doit devenir chene ; 
 
 II hume la foret, et boit dans son haleine 
 
 La poesie ; il croit ; ce pauvre Lantara ! 
 
 Ce fut par cbarite, dit-on, qu'on I'enterra — " * 
 
 and Alfred de Musset contributes a long and charming series 
 of melancholy-sweet verses in his own inimitable style, sugges- 
 tively descriptive, also, of the place : — • 
 
 Les voila! Ces sapins a la sombre verdure, 
 
 Cette gorge profonde aux noncbalants detours, 
 Ces sauvages amis dont 1' antique murmure 
 A berce mes beaux jours ! " t 
 
 Many contributors expressed their praises of the painters' 
 paradise in remarkably inflated verses, M. Eene Louis 
 
 * " Down there, under that great tree, at the base of a hill, Lantara is still keeping 
 his flocks, and sketching. The meadows, the valleys, the woods, are full of hope. He 
 passes his childhood in gazing— in seeing. He feels the germ, within himself, that 
 should grow to an oak ; he breathes the forest, and in his breath inhales poesy— 
 Ulieves—vooT Lantara!— It was by charity, they say, that he was buried." 
 
 t "Look at them ! These fir trees with the gloomy verdure I That deep ravine and 
 its random-winding paths, those wild old friends whose ancient muttering hushed to 
 sleep my happier days ! " 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 XV 
 
 Eichard Oastel, for example, in a long poem, La Foret de 
 Fontainebleau," of which the following is a fair specimen : — 
 
 Des bords de F Ocean aux neiges de Simplon, 
 
 Et de r Adour aux lieux ou le Rhin perd son nom, 
 
 Sur un sol embelli de pompes vegetales, 
 
 Cette belle Foret ne craint point de ri vales." * 
 
 But all the modern eulogies pale before the most bombastic 
 of the collection, by a writer of a former generation, Guillaume 
 CoUetet, who flourished in the reign of Louis XIV., when the 
 glories of the royal residence were at their acme. Apostro- 
 phising the sun, the Grand Monarch's own emblem, he begins : — 
 
 Pere sacre du jour, beau soleil, sors de Tonde, 
 Et viens voir avec moi le plus beau lieu du monde ! 
 C'est du plus grand des Rois le superbe sejour, 
 EoNTAiNEBLEAU, nonune les Delices d' Amour." f 
 
 * " From the shores of the ocean to the snows of Simplon, and from the Adour to 
 the places where the Rhine loses its name ; on a soil embellished with floral pomp and 
 pageantry, this splendid forest never fears a rival." 
 
 + " Blessed father of Day, fair Sun, rise out^of the wave, and come with me to see the 
 most beautiful place in the world ! It is the proud residence of the greatest of kiugs, 
 FoNTAiNEBLEAu, named the ' Love's Delight.' " 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 I. 
 
 TEAN FRANgOIS MILLET was born on the 4th of Octo- 
 ^ ber, 1814 — the date is by many writers erroneously given 
 1815, but the above is that of the official register of birth — at 
 the hamlet of Gruchy, which M. Piedagnel describes "at the 
 lase of the cliffs of Greville, at the sea-limit of that pays perdu, 
 so picturesqe and so wild, which is called La Hogue." Mr. 
 Henley, with greater accuracy, describes Gruchy as, not at the 
 base of, but perched upon the iron cliffs of La Hogue, which 
 overlook the troubled waters of Cherbourg Eoads/' 
 
 He was the eldest son of Jean Louis Nicolas Millet, a peasant 
 proprietor, who cultivated his own small farm, and hy the 
 help of the French peasant's frugality and unflagging toil, and 
 the Catholic's disciplined piety, and the farmer's foresight, and a 
 combination of shrewdness in business and dignity in domestic 
 life v/orthy of a Scottish patriarch, succeeded in maintaining 
 in great respectability of admitted poverty, a large family of 
 relatives and children on the hardly-earned proceeds of the few 
 acres of seaside land that he inherited from his ancestors. To 
 him, for eighteen years of his life, Fran9ois Millet was a 
 labourer in regular work. 
 
 The mother of Millet, poor woman ! was a lady descended 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 THE BAKBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 from a f;niiily of gentlemen yeomen, called Henry du Perron, 
 degraded ]>y the Revolution ; her maiden name was Aimee 
 Henriette Adelaide Henry; her position in the family, by 
 the almost iiiconceivable custom of the country, was also 
 rather that of a labourer than a mother, the care of her 
 children in their infancy being taken away from her and 
 transferred to the mother of her husband, who lived in her 
 house and ruled it and her children for her, while the 
 mother was occupied more particularly at her labour in the 
 fields and in the stables. The pathetic portrait of this poor 
 worn mother at her labour is given in her son s picture of 
 La Cncillcuse des Haricots. The house in this picture is her 
 husband's house, and the JFoman Gatliering Beans is herself. 
 " She lived," says Sensier, " dans Is travail, and obedience 
 to the orders of her husband ; " — and very thrilling is the 
 fidelity with which Millet has recorded her weariness of life. 
 She is described as a gentle, pious woman, the mother of 
 nine children, to whom, in spite of all obstacles, she was 
 devoted. 
 
 Her mother-indaw was a typical peasant of the province, 
 speaking in the patois, and wearing the distinctive costume of 
 the local peasantry. Her maiden name had been J umelin, and 
 her family, old "stock" of the countryside, were distinguished 
 for strong heads and waim hearts. One riding passion of her 
 life was pride of her family ; for the rest she is described as 
 follows : — " Consumed by religious fire, severe for herself, 
 gentle and charitable for others, she passed her life in good 
 works, having nothing before her eyes but the ideal of a saint." 
 (Saint Francois d'Assissi was her favourite saint, and it was in 
 honour of him that she chose Millet's name.) She pushed to 
 such a point the scruples of her conscience that if there came 
 to her a doubt on the subject of any action of her life, so modest 
 
HOUSE AT GEUCHY IN WHICH MILLET WAS BOEN. 
 
4 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOI.. 
 
 was she, she went immediately to demand counsel of the Cure 
 of the village." 
 
 Such was the intrusive and superfluous foster-mother to 
 whom the unnatural peasant custom confided the care of Millet's 
 infancy and youth. Her influence over him appears to have 
 been unlimited, and to have continued until his manhood. She 
 had with her an aged sister, whose name was Bonne, but who 
 was famiharl}' called Bonnotte, of whom Millet often spoke as 
 a ''beloved recollection." *'She thought of everybody and 
 everything, and forgot only herself." But distinctly the most 
 remarkable member of the Millet family was the uncle Charles 
 Millet, a priest of the diocese of Avranches, to whose teaching 
 of the boy Sensier attributes a great deal of importance, 
 although he died when the little Francois was only seven years 
 old. 
 
 He was one of the priests unfrocked by the Revolution, who 
 waited for the restoration of liberty at their native homes, and 
 refused the oath of fidelity to the constitution. He was pro- 
 scribed and pursued during the Terror, and lay in hiding at 
 the Millet house, and the story of his hairbreadth escapes 
 seems like a plagiarism of that of Charles Stuart. On the 
 restoration of liberty of conscience he resumed his priestly 
 cassock and duties, without abandoning his life of labour in 
 the fields. He was a man of great stature and gigantic strength. 
 " He was to be seen reading his breviary, or transporting im- 
 mense blocks of granite to build the wall round the family 
 
 land, and it was he who taught the elder boys to read 
 
 When the Abb6 had to trace a furrow, or to dig the garden, you 
 saw him clap his breviary into his pocket, tuck up the skirts of 
 his cassock round his waist, and take to his work on the soil 
 like a man who enjoyed it. He was well aware that his 
 nephew wanted all the help he could obtain, for if the family 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 5 
 
 life at Gruchy was sweet, it was so at the price of an unflagging 
 eff'ort. The position of the fields on steep declivities made it a 
 difficult task to labour in them, and the struggle for existence 
 by land or sea was rough and often dangerous work.'' This is 
 interesting, because this rough and dangerous work was also 
 Millet's work. 
 
 There were no fishermen among the peasants of Gruchy, but 
 the sea was their very good friend for the great drifts of sea- 
 weed available for manure that it washed ashore, and Millet's 
 earliest recollections include the excitement of this rather 
 dangerous work, when "the whole village, armed with long 
 wooden rakes, precipitated itself down to the sea to gather in 
 the weed, a productive harvest, but perilous." But more 
 tragic is the story of a terrible storm when one ship after 
 another perished, beyond reach of succour, on the rocks, and 
 mutilated and shattered corpses were washed ashore, and how, 
 Millet recalls, "as I was going home, I passed a great heap, 
 also covered with sailcloth, like the merchandise : and I lifted 
 the sail to see what was under it, and saw a mountain of dead 
 todies. I was so frightened ! I ran straight home, and found 
 my mother and grandmother on their knees, at prayer for the 
 j^oor wrecked people." 
 
 " So the boy passed his life in the heart of a country which 
 was the source de ses sensations. 
 
 " Son of a peasant. Millet has ploughed — he also— the furrow 
 from which the germ must emerge ; with his firm hand he has 
 pushed the coulter of the plough, and disembowelled the earth, 
 w^hich from its wound should bring forth life. Scarcely was 
 he adolescent, ere already his bod}^ was bent towards the 
 ground, already his brow was bathed in SAveat. Already, also, 
 his contemplative spirit could develop its aspirations and soar 
 
GOIxa TO WORK. By Millet. 
 In the Collection of James Donald, Esq., Glasgow. 
 
 By rermissiou of A. Braun & Cic, ruris.] 
 
 I 
 
JEAN ERANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 7 
 
 towards the Invisible. Like the bee, he had the faculty to 
 store, in the early years of his career, the treasures which, 
 slowly dispensed abroad after conscientious study, were to 
 make his name famous in the world."'-' 
 
 "Millet had heen a shepherd," says Yriarte, "and the life of 
 the fields was his own life." " Millet is something more than 
 a landscape painter," M. Theophile Silvestre, says; "he is a 
 man of the fields, who has lived in the fields, and lives there. 
 Like the digger with the spade, obliged all the year round to 
 win from the soil his daily bread, he reads the seasons in the 
 sky, the fair weather that favours his work, and the bad that 
 threatens it. The fall of the land, and its configuration, he 
 knows by heart ; he has groped in the bowels of it — he will 
 tell you its quality and substance, as a man used to crumbling 
 away a clod between his fingers. The river that skirts his 
 field has a special interest to him; one may utilise it; some- 
 times it overflows. The neighbouring sea excites and frightens 
 him ; he has seen the storms roll in upon the cliff's. ..." 
 
 " Hard, leathery, kneaded with flint stones, packed (or 
 felted) with all kinds of parasite herbage when one has to grub 
 it up, pulverulent when one has prepared it, and yielding like 
 a heap of ashes to the feet of the sower ; thorny in the 
 fallows, stony among the vines, the land of Millet is always 
 the labourer's land, the land he has to turn up incessantly, 
 sweating under the toil. Plain or mountain, he models it en 
 
 mattre, gravel-heaps, shifting sands, ditches Without 
 
 artifice or invention, he spreads out to the horizon the land 
 that he knows so well, in a perfect ensemble, without solution 
 of continuity, like a fabric woven by himself." 
 
 Millet then was a farm labourer, until the eighteenth year 
 of his age, when one day, on his return from Mass, he met and 
 
 * Eugene Montrosler . La Chroniqiie Illustree, 187*3. 
 
8 
 
 THE nAPvHIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 studied tlie a})pcarance of an old man, with a round-shouldered, 
 stoo})ing figure, of whom, when he reached home, he made a 
 sketch in chai'coal, with which his parents were pleased, and 
 his father is reported to have said : ^' My poor Francois, I see 
 well that thou tormentest thyself with this idea. I would 
 gladly have sent thee to learn this profession of a painter, 
 which they say is so fine, hut I could not. Thou art the 
 eldest of my boys, and 1 had too much need of thee ; but now 
 the others are growing up, and I will not hinder thee from 
 learning what thou hast so much desire to know. We will, 
 presently, go to Cherbourg, and ascertain if thou hast in truth 
 the talent to gain thy living in this 'metier 
 
 Francois finished, for the Cherbourg excursion, two drawings 
 that he had begun, of which, one " represented two shepherds, 
 one playing the Hute at the foot of a tree, the other listening near 
 a hillock (coteau) on which sheep were grazing. The shepherds 
 wore jackets and sabots, of the country ; the coteau was a field 
 with apple-trees, belonging to his father. The second drawing 
 represented an effect of a starry night. A man was coming out 
 of a house, carrying loaves, which another man quite close to 
 him was eager to receive ; under the drawing were these 
 words of Saint Luke -r Et si mm dahit illi stir gens, eo qnod amicus 
 ejus sit, 2^'i'opter improhitcitem tamen ejus surgef, et dahit illi quot- 
 qiiot hahet 7iecessarios.^^ Sensier says, "I have looked at this 
 drawing for thirty years. It is the work of a man who already 
 knows the grande portee of Art, its effects, and its resources. 
 One would say it was a sketch l)y an old master of the seven- 
 teenth century." 
 
 It was in the year 1832 that the father and son went 
 together to Cherbourg, to a painter named Mouchel — who was a 
 pupil of the school of David and gave lessons — and showed him 
 
 * Chapter xi., v. 8. 
 
JEAX FRAXrOIS INllLLET. 
 
 9 
 
 the two drawings. M. Bon Dumoucel, who was called Mouchel, 
 w^as now a young man ahout twenty-five years of age. He was 
 only in his thirty-ninth year when he died, and had not lived 
 to see Millet assume his place in the v/orld of art, but it is to 
 his emphatic sentence of encouragement that w^e owe Millet's 
 immediate release from the farm, and entrance on the study of 
 the art that he showed so obvious a talent for, that his specimen 
 pictures made Mouchel cry out, that his father would be con- 
 demned to all eternity for obstructing it — Eh hienf Vous serez 
 clamne pour T avoir garde si longtempsJ^ 
 
 Although three years elapse, 1832 — 1835, betw^een the 
 incident of the charcoal sketch and Millet's return to Gruchy, 
 we are told that ''Millet stayed two months with Mouchel." 
 
 At Cherbourg he was set to copy from the Old Masters in 
 the Museum, and from " academies.'' It is insisted upon, and 
 repeated, that he ow^ed nothing to teaching, either from 
 Mouchel, or Langlois, or Delaroche — that he w^as his own 
 teacher ; and it is suggested that his genius was so evident, 
 that each of his nominal masters shrank from the presumption 
 of offering him any guidance — and that he took up a position 
 in the provincial world, at his entrance of it, w^hich he failed 
 to maintain in Paris. 
 
 His father died, rather suddenly, in November, 1835, and by 
 his death, we are told, the fortunes of the family were throw^n 
 into confusion : tout pdridita, says M. Sensier. 
 
 Millet, now the head of the family, and twenty-one years of 
 age, seems to have made a half-hearted attempt to assume the 
 control of the farm. But he was "pre-occapied with his art," 
 and apparently unsuccessful; and, in the meantime, "the 
 notables of Cherbourg " grew concerned, '' that the young 
 painter no longer occupied him.self with painting, and delibe- 
 rated how they could help him forward in his career." This 
 
10 
 
 THE HAllinZON SCHOOL. 
 
 coiniiiL!' to tlio kiiowlodifc of the rc^iuint grandmother, she 
 iil)j)ears to luivc been wiUing to dispense with liis help in the 
 niiiiuigeiuent of tlie farm and househohl. Possibly, she felt 
 that iicr own position prri('lif((. " My Francois," she said, we 
 nnist l)ow to the will of (led. Your father, my Jean-Louis, 
 said yon shoidd be a painter. Obey him, and return to Cher- 
 l)Ouri;- ! His mother's opinion on the subject is not recorded. 
 
 Are Ave to regard his memory of the lot of this poor patient 
 mother as a discord in the life of the great poet of patient 
 sufleriiig : or was it the key-note loudly sounded in his infancy, 
 of the dirge that his paintings sing ? 
 
 On his return to Olierbourg he became, again only nominally, 
 the })upil of liauglois, who Avas an official painter of religious 
 subjects ; and contiinied copying Old Masters, and the 
 " notables contiinied to kec}) an eye u[)on him. " His work, 
 and the boldness of it, attracted general notice ; public opinion 
 said that 'he ought to be sent to Paris.' His master watched 
 his progress ' with the astonishment of a hen who has hatched 
 a young eagle,' and allowed him to Avork upon the religious 
 })aintings, Avhicli Avere his oaa^u speciality." In the Trinity 
 Cluu'ch at Cherl)ourg are still to be seen tAA^o large sub- 
 jects of sacred history, in Avhich Millet AA^orked AA^th Lan- 
 glois, " on A'ery delicate parts, too, such as the hands and 
 draperies." 
 
 Finally, under date of the 19th of August, 1836, Langlois 
 Avrote a veiy eloquent letter to the Mayor and Municipal 
 Council of Clierl)ourg, to engage their countenance and support 
 of Millet, to enable him to continue his studies in Paris ; and 
 A'entured his })ersonal promise and as»6urance that, if they 
 seized this op})ortunity of promoting the development of natiA^e 
 genius, posterity Avould do them honour for " having been the 
 first, on this occasion, to assist in endowing the fatherland Avitli 
 
JEAN FRATsCOlS MILLET. 
 
 11 
 
 one great man more." The Council unanimously voted Millet 
 an annuity of four hundred francs, and, after some delay, the 
 General Council of the Department of La Manche added six 
 hundred francs, raising the whole Scholarship'^ to forty pounds 
 a year, to which, it is evident, he added, from the resources of 
 the farm, as much as he required ; for among the details of his 
 life at Paris occur frequent holiday visits to his home. 
 
 Up to the age of twenty-two then, it will be perceived 
 the life of Millet was a perfectly protected life, surrounded by 
 friends, whose appreciation of his talents approached the level of 
 flattery. All hardship, disappointment, or occasion for energy 
 :appears up to this date to have been wanting. The history of 
 his poor mother is absolutely the only saddening influence 
 hitherto recorded in his life. Nor was he a mere rustic 
 deficient in mental culture ; he was passionately fond of 
 reading, and had been guided to the selection of authors likely 
 to fan the poetry of his nature, and to enlarge his mind. 
 
 He read everything,'' he told M. Sensier, ^^from the Almanack 
 Boiteux of Strasburg up to Paul de Kock, from Homer to 
 Beranger; he had a passion for Shakespeare, Walter Scott, 
 Lord Byron, the Faust of Goethe, and for German ballads. 
 Victor Hugo and Chateaubriand had especially made a 
 lively impression upon him.'^ He obtained his books readily, 
 at Cherbourg, from a young librarian's clerk of his acquaint- 
 ance, a M. Feuardent, whose son, in later years, married 
 Millet's eldest daughter. 
 
 M. Piedagnel, an intimate friend, gives also a list of Millet's 
 favourite books. He heads it emphatically, with the Bible ; 
 which is followed by Theocritus, whom he prefers to Virgil, 
 and he mentions, in addition to Sensier's list^ Bernardin de 
 St. Pierre and Lamartine. 
 
 Millet arrived in Paris in January, 1837, a proud, high- 
 
12 
 
 THE liAiiin/ox SCHOOL. 
 
 j)riuci[)le(l, but hy})cr-sonsitivc, sliy, and awkward-manncrecl 
 y(Mitli, })r()nii)t to take ofFencc, a little s})oiled by flattery and 
 succes.>, more tlian a little homesick and faint-hearted, and, 
 ii|)[)a]'ently, disposed to meet the great world in a spirit that 
 j)rccludcd the possibility of success ; moreover, one of those 
 sons of genius to Avhom the realities of life are less real than 
 the dreams of their inner world. 
 
 His good friends the notables had sup})lied him well with 
 letters of introduction to persons who appear to have been 
 Avell disposed to assist him. Mr. I) , a maker of fans, 
 offered him a home, "under conditions menacing to his 
 lil)ert3^," which he refused to accept ; Mr. L., a man grave d 
 cfahli,'' made no conditions and received him kindly. In the 
 meantime he visits a Mr. George, Expert of the Koyal Mu- 
 seums, Avho was enchanted with a " grand diahJe de dessin " 
 after Jordaens, and said, "That is very good ; you must stay 
 with me ; 1 will show you the Museums ; I will introduce you 
 to famous artists ; I will enter you at the School of Fine Arts, 
 Avhere you shall compete for the prize, and I am sure you will 
 Avin it before long" — but Millet, justified by Sensier, was 
 rei)elled by this excess of kindness, even from a man of 
 position l)eyond suspicion of motive, and leaviug his drawing 
 in ]\Ir. George's hands, lied, and " never went to see him 
 again.'' 
 
 A dispute with Madame L. was, l)y his own account, of 
 the most unromantic kind, a question of debtor and creditor 
 in account, an overcharge for his lodging; but he left the 
 house with an heroic outburst, " possessing," he says, " nothing 
 but thirty s )us and the clothes I was wearing." "For three 
 days," he goes on to say, "I found refuge in a workman's 
 lodging where they gave me credit, but I paid for my food 
 with my miserable thirty sous;" and precisely in this critical 
 
JEAN FKANCOIS INJILLET. 
 
 13 
 
 position M. Sensier leaves him, and resumes the narrative, after 
 the lapse of a year, with a still more curious incident. 
 
 I fell ill, and a toute extremity ; an unaccountable fever seized 
 upon me, and deprived me of my senses ; I was in a lethargy. 
 I remained in this condition twenty-one days. I woke up in 
 the country, under the trees, lying in a bed, and surrounded by 
 
 people unknown to me Little by little my thoughts 
 
 came back to me ; then my strength, and I came to life again. 
 I was with a friend of Mr. L., who had had me brought to 
 Herblay, near Montmorency. I v/as well taken care of. We 
 
 were then in June, in the haymaking season In a few 
 
 weeks I was quite well. It was Mr. L. who had done me this 
 service, how and by what means I never knew, for / have never 
 seen him againj^ 
 
 Not even to thank him. Millet was evidently the last boy 
 in the world to send, dependent on his own freewill, alone 
 to seek his fortune in Paris. " There were moments," he is 
 reported saying, ''when I had a great longing to leave Paris 
 and return to my village. I was so weary of my solitary hfe. 
 I saw nobody. I never spoke a word to a living soul. I did 
 not dare to inquire about anything, I had such fear of the 
 mockery of people, and yet nobody w^as thinking of me. I 
 had the awkwardness then that I have never lost, and with 
 which I am afflicted now whenever I have to accost a stranger, 
 or to make the most ordinary inquiry." 
 
 His remarks on the paintings that he studied at the Louvre 
 are charming in their direct simplicity : — 
 
 "The early masters attracted me by their admirable expres- 
 sion of sweetness, of holiness, and of fervour : the great Italians 
 
 by their science and the charm of their composition 
 
 But when I saw the drawing of Michael- Angel o, which repre- 
 sents a fainting man, it was autre chose ! The expression of 
 
14 
 
 THE BAKBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 the slackened muscles, the flat surfaces, the lines of this figure 
 all relaxed by physical suffering, affected myself. I felt as if 
 I was tormented with him.'' 
 
 Of Delaroche and others he says their theatrical pose and 
 mise-en-schie inspired him with an aversion to the theatre and 
 all belonging to it. "I have seen something of the theatrical 
 world, and I am convinced that, by means of seeking to put 
 themselves into ayiotlier per sort s skin, they lost the consciousness of 
 their own personality ; they could only talk in the style of 
 their parts ; and truth, common sense, and simple feeling for 
 the plastic arts abandoned them. I think that if you Avould 
 make art true and natural, you must keep aloof from the 
 theatre. 
 
 " It has been said that I had been much attracted by the 
 masters of the eighteenth century because I did some pxtstiches 
 in the style of Boucher and of Watteau. That is a mistake ; 
 my taste has never changed, and I have a very pronounced 
 dislike to Boucher. Nor was Watteau my man. He was- 
 not the pornograph that Boucher was, but his was a petty 
 theatrical world which pained me. I could see in it very 
 Avell the charm of the palette and the refinement of expres- 
 sion, and even the pathos of those poor honshommes de coulisses 
 doomed to be always laughing; yet the marionettes inces- 
 santly recurred to my mind, and I said to myself that all 
 this little troupe would be presently put into a box after the 
 entertainment, and there lament their destiny.'' Of Kembrandt 
 he says : — " I only came to know him in later years ; he did 
 not repel me ; he blinded me. I thought it would be required 
 to faire des stations before entering into the genius of this man."" 
 
 " I never tried to make copies of these masters. It seemed 
 to me that any copy of them was impossible, and could have 
 neither the spontaneity nor the cJialeur of the original. I never 
 
JEAX FEANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 15 
 
 would make copies, not even of my own work ; I am incapable 
 of that besogne.'' 
 
 ''After Michael- Angelo and Poussin, I have held to my first 
 liking for the early masters ; for those subjects simple as 
 infancy ; for those unconscious expressions ; for those beings 
 who say nothing, but feel themselves overhurdened ly life ; — 
 who suffer patiently, without cries, without complainings, who 
 bear the oppression of human law, and have not even an idea 
 of seeking to be righted by any man." 
 
 He was hesitating in the choice of a studio to enter for 
 technical instruction. The principal teachers of the day whom 
 he mentions were Hersent, Drolling, Leon Cogniet, Abel de 
 Pujol, and Picot, for none of whom he cared, and Ingres, 
 " dont je n' avals pas apercu la momdre peinture finally, he chose 
 Delaroche. One specimen of the untranslatable humour of 
 the studio will serve to explain Millet's position there : — 
 
 ''Ah fa /" says one of his comrades, " est-co que tu vas nous 
 faire encore de tes fameuses figures, toi ? Vas-tu encore nous 
 batir des hommes et des femmes a ta fa^on ? Tu sais bien, 
 pourtant, que le patron n'aime pas ce genre a la mode de Caen, 
 et qu'il t'a defendu de faire ainsi ta cuisine." "What is that to 
 me f replies Millet. "I do not come here for anybody's 
 pleasure ; I come here because there are antiques and models 
 here for my instruction — et voila tout I Est-ce que je m'occupe 
 de tes figures de miel ou de beurre, moi % " 
 
 He was working hard, not only in the studio but also in a 
 little attic that he had rented on the Quai Malaquais, in the 
 court of the Hotel Pellaprat ; and afterwards in another garret 
 of the Eue d'Enfer, where he made portraits of the servants 
 and the concierge, "and," it is added, "of the daughter of the 
 concierge of M. L ; also of his coal merchant, and others.'^ 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 17 
 
 Bible subjects were selected, as Jacob in Laban's House,'' 
 " Euth and Boaz," &c. The drawings sold for twenty francs 
 each; but at this time Millet was glad to paint portraits for 
 ten, or even five, francs apiece. But whilst he condescended 
 to earn necessary funds by any kind of work that he could sell, 
 he did not for a day lose sight of his great object, of study of 
 the highest principles of art. 
 
 "He frequented the library of St. Gen6vieve, and studied 
 there the best works on the human form, such as Albert Durer, 
 Leonardo da Vinci, Jean Cousin— also Nicolas Poussin, whom 
 he constantly admired; but above all others, Michelangelo. 
 He read biographies, commentaries, correspondences and docu 
 ments relating to this great man, whom he never ceased to 
 regard as the noblest exponent of art. In all these investiga- 
 tions he took Marolle with him, out of shyness, to speak for him, 
 and point out the authors and the w^orks that he required. 
 Marolle was the connecting link between Millet and the outer 
 world, which then caused, and has always caused, him a sort of 
 fear. Marolle accepted the position, and was most attentive." 
 
 The above carry on our narrative to the year 1840 (the 
 twenty-seventh of Millet's Hfe), when he first exhibited in the 
 Salon. He sent in two portraits, one of Marolle, another of a 
 relation ; and the latter was admitted, but passed unnoticed by 
 criticism. At the close of the exhibition Millet returned home 
 to Normandy. And here M. Sensier, most unexpectedly, 
 informs us that already in the previous years of his residence 
 at Paris, "almost every year he had returned to breathe his 
 native air, and to pass some pleasant weeks at Gruchy with his 
 mother and grandmother, who looked upon him as a sort of 
 prodigy, because he had been mentioned in the papers." During 
 these visits, also, he had made several portraits of his family 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 THE BAKBIZON SCflOOL. 
 
 and friends, " also of his mother and grandmother, who 
 remained in the house of one of his brothers." There is some 
 confusion here again, l^ecause the family house was trans- 
 ferred to a brotlier, and the mother and grandmother lived 
 there. 
 
 In 1840 he made a long stay at Cherbourg, working again at 
 the Museum there, and painting portraits of his friends. In 
 1841 he is again there, painting for the Municipal Council a 
 portrait of a deceased member thereof — apparently from imagi- 
 nation, for lie had nothing reliable to copy — and failing to 
 satisfy the Council, he became pressed for money ; worked 
 very hard at portraits, and when these failed tried some pic- 
 tures of local interest : Sailors Patching a Sail, Fisliermen Nearing 
 a Bark, A Young Man Saving his Comjjanion from the JFater, &c. 
 And when he could not sell these, he was not too proud to 
 make signboards : The Little Milkriiaid, for a fancy warehouse ; 
 and a Scene from onr African Campdgn, for a tight-rope dancer, 
 who paid him thirty francs, all in copper pieces ; a Horse, for 
 a veterinary surgeon ; and a Sailor, for a sailmaker, &c. He 
 painted at the same time for a friend. Dr. Asselin, a sacred 
 subject : Saint Barhe Carried Up to Heaven, and in the back- 
 ground the Decapitation, of that saint. He was paid 300 francs 
 for this })icture by Dr. Asselin, whose family, M. Sensier 
 informs us, still possess it. 
 
 Amongst his portraits of this year was that of Mdlle. Pau- 
 line-Yir<»inie Ono, to whom he was married in November, 1841. 
 The bride and Inidegroom stayed some days at his home at 
 (Iruchy, and there was a great feast, at which his grandmother 
 made the following speech : Eemember, my Francois, that 
 thou art a Christian l)efore thou art a painter, and put not so 
 noble a profession to the service of the enemies of religion ; do 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 19 
 
 not offer sacrifice to immodesty. There have been, it is told, 
 great saints who have done great works in painting; thou 
 must imitate them." 
 
 The pious, but shrewd, old peasant woman may have heard 
 of the Boucher pastiches, or of the circumstance that has led 
 German writers to say of Millet's work, up to this period, that 
 the only pictures in it deserving of mention are of women 
 bathing." 
 
 Early ia the year 1842, he returned to Paris with his wife, 
 and they took up their residence in a small lodging in the 
 Eue Princesse, No. 5, where they remained enduring hard- 
 ship until, in 1844, the young wife, who was always very 
 delicate, died on the 21st April — and an inquiring friend, Mr. 
 Eugene Tourneux, was met by the concierge with the announce- 
 ment : " They were two in a small lodging ; the husband and 
 the wife. The wife is dead, and the husband has gone away, 
 it is not known whither." 
 
 In 1842 he had sent in a portrait, and a picture for the 
 Salon, but both were refused ; in 1843 he did not exhibit, 
 but in 1844 he had two pictures (pastels) in the Salon, 
 The Milkmaid, and The Biding Lesson — the latter repre- 
 senting a group of children playing horses, one on the back 
 of the other. Sensier says of it, " This is a grand compo- 
 sition, which Diaz and Eugene Tourneux pointed out to all 
 the artists." It was noticed by Thore, who speaks of ^'M. 
 Millet, the author of a small sketch in the sentiment of Boucher " 
 (that would be The Milkmaid), " and of a large crayon draAving, 
 very harmonious." 
 
 Millet is now thirty years of age, but his true mission in art 
 is still to commence — nor is it worth while lingering over his 
 work, or his history, of this period — in reality the closing years 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 21 
 
 of that protracted apprenticeship, from which he issues about 
 the year 1849, in his retirement at Barbizon, ''as a finished 
 and individual artist."''' 
 
 Passing over then his classic, but remarkable, pictures of 
 the infant CEdipus Detached from the Tree^ exhibited in 1845, and 
 the Jeics at Babylon, in 1848, it is in the companion picture of 
 this momentous year that he made his first essay in subjects of 
 agricultural life, with the Man Winnowing Corn, 
 
 " In 1849 he begins to write the first pages of his work : — 
 a vast poem, which might be named ' La Terre ' — but, by the 
 side of the painter of peasants, who puts on his true colours 
 {q^id se rhete pleimment) in 1849, there is still, from 1848 to 
 1858, the author of a series of canvases, of which all look 
 alike, and all are conceived in the same spirit, all have the 
 same qualities, and the same faults, the same cachet. They are 
 numerous, and represent, for the most part, women bathing, 
 shown on backgrounds of verdure ; amorous groups hidden 
 among the foliage ; bird-nesting, and other rustic idylls and 
 episodes of the vie champetre.'^ — (Yriarte.) 
 
 " We may be deceived,'^ he writes, after Millet's death, in 
 another place, " but can only recal not more than eighty can- 
 vases signed with Millet's name, and in his definitive manner. 
 He did not produce more than three works a year, but an 
 enormous quantity of drawings dnid pastels quite as important 
 as the paintings, and more mattre. Although his work never 
 reached a high price, he had a certain (sure) market, and a 
 public restricted, but faithful. He had also fixed incomings 
 based on the regular and incessant production of drawings and 
 
 * Mr. Henley divides Millet's life into three periods : 1814-37, his 
 origin and education: 1837-49. his apprenticeship to art and his stay in 
 Paris ; 1849-75, his sojourn at Fontainebleau as a finished and individual 
 artist. 
 
22 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 crayons, which form at present a considerable collection in the 
 hands of an amateur." ''This admirable poet, still more a poet 
 than a painter, has left behind him drawings in craj^on which 
 are masterpieces ; he is the most sincere of naturalists, the 
 most p(^7iSra7it, the most really tender," &c. — (Jules Boisse, 
 MusSe Universel, 1875.) 
 
 It is in these drawings, more than in his canvases, that the 
 story of Millet's life is to be sought for ; for, as Yriarte says, 
 from the time of his retirement to Barbizon his work was his life. 
 There were no remarkable episodes in his career ; it was that 
 of millions of domesticities ; essentially a home life, and tran- 
 quil, for we refuse, absolutely, to give credence to M. Albert 
 Wolff's ghastly picture of the starving family going supperless 
 to bed, the children whining for food, and the arrival of the 
 good angel Diaz, wath a pocketful of victuals, and sixty francs 
 from Paris — all by the dim light of an expiring fire. 
 
 It is credible, looking at the records of public sales, at a 
 time w^hen he was certainly a poor man, that by some dealer, 
 or dealers, he was egregiously cheated in the price of his 
 drawings ; probably by the same w^ho were assisting at the ruin 
 of Eousseau ; probably, also, the shy, nervous man was wax 
 in their hands, and allowed them to pose before the world as 
 his dearest friends, whereby the pursuits of profit and praise 
 were compatible with keeping the poor painter low ; but they 
 would never have allov,^ed him to sink to the danger of the 
 slackening of his producing energies under the pressure of tan- 
 gible distress ; that would not be their policy. 
 
 From existing records of the details of sales b}^ auction at 
 the Hotel Drouot, a strong indictment could be drawn against 
 all and sundry w^ho had dealings with Millet, say during the last 
 ten years of his life, which left him, domesticated and thrifty 
 husband that he was, a poor man. 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 3 
 
 23 
 
 No doubt Millet was cursed with the exasperating, slug- 
 gish patience of the peasant, and the virtue of discontent 
 was foreign to him, in material life, and his energies, 
 in the struggle with poverty, would be directed more to saving 
 than to winning — a slowly degrading habit which culminates 
 in the sacrifice of the natural affections, so that you may see 
 at last. Millet's mother sacrificed to " the fields and the stables,'' 
 like the women one used to see harnessed to barges on the 
 canals about Calais, while their husbands smoked and steered. 
 The pathos of the peasant's life is a brutalising pathos, and 
 Millet knew that, and painted it, with a brutal fidelity — and 
 the unjust stewards of the old revolution, and the professional 
 demagogues of 1848 did not like this. They wanted their 
 peasants endimanchSs, in Sunday best — and it took time for the 
 great heart of Society to receive the lesson that Millet's silent 
 witnesses were teaching — for French revolutions, hitherto, 
 have taken little account of the patient peasantry, unless, 
 now and then, as a stalking horse, or as food for powder — and 
 Republicans do not love to be reminded that all the agrarian 
 misery that sent Louis XVI. to the scaffold outlasted their 
 glorious episode of Liberty and Fraternitj^ 
 
 The following, from the pen of M. Ernest Chesneau, is a 
 typical criticism of Millet's peasant (it is written in 1862) : — 
 " One seems to recognise not an individual, but a Type — the 
 type of the country cretin. It is not pleasant to see, but the 
 truth, even horrible, exerts such attraction on the human soul 
 that one felicitates one's self in this meeting. By-and-bye as 
 the picti res of M. Millet pass in succession before the eyes of 
 the amateur, he recognises, presently, that it is always the 
 same cretin, the same idiot, who is presented to him ; and, 
 in the end, this grows the more wearisome that the spectacle 
 is not redeemed by any variety of execution. If, pushed by 
 
21 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 curiosity, you seek in the catalogue what can these monsters 
 be, whom the painter takes pleasure in reproducing without 
 rest or respite, what is your stupefaction, when you learn that 
 he pretends to nothing less than to represent the laborious 
 race of our fields ; the strong stock of the people, from which 
 are recruited our armies, so intelligent and so brave ! Then the 
 error, or the parti pris of the artist appears in its enormity ; and 
 one turns away for ever from pictures which, by the way, do 
 not hold you by any picturesque quality ever so little striking.'' 
 
 That this tone of criticism endured so late as the English 
 Exhibition of 1862, that M. Chesneau, of all men, was not even 
 then converted to sympathy with him, is a light upon the 
 uphill struggle of the painter's " apostolic " life. 
 
 Technical criticisms of his work, like obsolete nostrums of 
 the doctors, have lost their value by subsequent contradiction, 
 but it was by no means admitted by the contemporaries of 
 Millet's earlier Barbizon time, that he knew how to paint. 
 The almost universal criticism that he preferred ugliness to 
 beauty, is scarcely technical. In his oil paintings, says a great 
 German critic, " War der Auftrag anfangs zu schwer, uni den 
 Figuren Korper zu geben ; dies verlor sich jedoch allmahlich." ^ 
 
 Edmond About, writing in 1855 (International Exhibition), 
 attributes to his work, " breadth of drawing, austerity of 
 style, irreproachable taste. — Do you remember his Sower ? — A 
 grand painting ! — His reasant Grafting a Tree? — painted in t^.ie 
 same style of wisdom and simplicitj^ The country is in keep- 
 ing — rustic and simple — but not to nudity. The excess of this 
 manner would be to empty pictures — by force of discarding 
 superfluities, one would exclude even the necessary." (This 
 
 * Translation. — "Although in the earlier stages of his career, the 
 thickness of the impasto interfered with a delicate modelling of the 
 figures, his later works gradually inij^i'ove in this particular." 
 
The Spinner. By Millet. 
 
 In the possession of M. Cogiielin, aine, Pan's. 
 
JEAN ERANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 25 
 
 picture of a Peasant Grafting a Tree was the one which, 
 M. Sensier tells us, his friend Rousseau bought from him in 
 1855, for four thousand francs.) 
 
 A notice by Ph. Burty, the reporter upon Art sales to the 
 Gazette des Beaux Arts, consequently a leading voice of criti- 
 cism, says in 1859 — "By force of aiming at style in the pose 
 and the adjustment, and by force of heaviness in his colour. 
 Millet seems to be seeking his ideal in the Nineveh 
 bas-relief, and the sky is nothing to him but a transparency 
 in front of which Etruscan shadows dance." 
 
 I have selected the above from a large number of disparaging 
 criticisms, because, closely considered, they are based upon 
 truth, and refer, with exaggeration, to qualities attributed to 
 him by favouring critics w^ith the highest praise. Austerity, 
 rigid simplicity, and barbaric dignity are the qualities I refer 
 to — conceived by the poet, and expressed with consummate 
 technical skill by the painter. 
 
 From the year 1849, his work is his biography : he begins 
 his real life then, after eighteen years' apprenticeship, and in 
 the thirty- fifth year of his age. 
 
 II. 
 
 All w^ho have studied the biography of Millet have said one 
 thing, tma voce : — that his work was the echo of his life — and 
 with a perfect frankness and candour, he made it so ; and the 
 poison that student life in Paris inoculated in him worked 
 itself off, not in practical vice, but in painting morbid imagi- 
 nations thereof — until, all in a moment, an accidental rencontre 
 in the street came to warn him that it was mischief he was 
 
26 
 
 THE BATIBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 ministering to, and from that hour his canvases were pure ; 
 and, like a reward for his good resolution, rose through their 
 purity, to earnestness, finally to the sublime. 
 
 In 1845, he had contracted a second marriage with Catherine 
 Lemaire, and on his way to Paris, in November of that year, 
 made a short stay at Havre, where he painted an immense 
 number of portraits and nude pictures, to the taste of the 
 ships' captains and mariners of the port, sinking very low. 
 The series culminated in a Temptation of Saint Jerome, which, 
 by Sensier's description of it, was outrageous. Millet, brush 
 in hand, sometimes went to an extreme in depicting passion " ; 
 and finally, there was an exhibition of all his " sujets les plus 
 scabreux," of the rumour of which his people at home appear 
 to have heard, and his grandmother writes : 
 
 "My dear child, you tell us that you are going to work for 
 the exhibition ; you have not told us if you reaped an}^ benefit 
 from those quantities of pictures that you exhibited at Havre. 
 We cannot understand why you refused the appointment at 
 the college at Cherbourg (this alludes to a Professorship he 
 had refused to accept). " Seest thou elsewhere a greater 
 advantage at Paris than among thy relations and thy friends ? 
 You tell us that you are about to make the portrait of Saint 
 J6rome, groaning over the dangers to which he found himself 
 exposed in his youth. Ah ! my dear child, after his example 
 make the same reflections, and deduce from them a holy profit ! 
 Follow the example of that man of thine own profession, who 
 used to say ^ I paint for eternity/ For no cause whatever 
 permit thyself to work evil, nor to lose sight of the presence of 
 God ! With Saint J erome, think incessantly that you hear the 
 sound of the trumpet that shall summon us all to judgment ! 
 &c. — Thy Grandmother, Louise Jumelin." 
 
 On the proceeds of his exhibition, 900 francs, he brought 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 27 
 
 his wife on to Paris, in December, and there lodged in great 
 poverty in the Rue Rochechouart, No. 42 bis. The Saint Jerome 
 picture was rejected for the Salon, and Millet painted over it 
 his (Edipus, 
 
 Eugene Tourneux and the good Diaz became his friends in 
 this year, 1846. It is marked, however, by an immense num- 
 ber of studies from the nude, for these were, unfortunately, 
 the only subjects that he was able to find a market for, and he 
 was reduced, with his wife and babies, to the verge of star- 
 vation ; Sensier gives a harrowing description of the distress 
 that he suffered, and of the shifts that he was put to, and 
 quotes, among other transactions by sale or barter, the following : 
 " Six beautiful drawings for a pair of shoes ; four portraits of 
 Diaz, Barye, Victor Dupre, and Vechte, life size to the bust, 
 for five francs apiece ; and any number of charming sketches, 
 at prices ranging from five francs to onef In the meantime 
 M. Charles Jacque collected in his studio all pieces of paper 
 that he could find with indications, or studies from nature, and 
 bought them, that they might not be used to light the fire 
 with. 
 
 But, also in the meantime, his talent was attracting notice. 
 Joseph Guichard, a pupil of Ingres, a scholastic theorist in isms, 
 "who was dreaming of a fusion of Classicism with Romanticism 
 and Naturalism," said " that Millet was more touching than 
 Corot, and more impulsive (imprevu) and more tender than the 
 best of the new school of painters." 
 
 Finally, Ledru Rollin ordered from him a picture of the 
 price of 1,800 francs, and he chose for its subject Hagar and 
 Ishmael ; but when he had almost finished it he changed it to 
 an agricultural subject of Hatjmakers Resting, making at the 
 same time a resolution to paint no more studies from the nude, 
 nor of objectionable tendency. For one evening, in front of 
 
28 
 
 THE BARBIZOX SCHOOL. 
 
 the shop window of Deforge, he saw two young men looking 
 at a picture of his Baigneuses, and one said, ' Do you know the 
 author of this picture ? ' the other answered, ' Yes, it is by a 
 man named Millet, who paints nothing but nude women ! ' 
 And he was so shocked and humiliated by this incident, that, 
 after explaining to his wife the difference that it would make 
 to their means of living, he engaged, with her approbation, 
 to do no more such pictures." 
 
 In this year, 1848, Millet, like all other Parisians, was called 
 upon to shoulder a musket, and guard the sittings of the Par- 
 liament. He assisted also at the storming of the barricades of 
 the Quartier Rochechouart, and he witnessed the death of 
 the commander of the insurgents. "He returned,'' says 
 Sensier, "disgusted and indignant with our Parisian mas- 
 sacres," and went away to the country, to the Plain of Mont- 
 martre, or Saint Ouen, and on the following morning he 
 produced a number of sketches of impressions received in his 
 walk. But his disgust of bloodshed did not extend to his 
 theory of Liberty, when competing for a prize offered for a 
 design of this much calumniated goddess, he depicted her, 1, 
 Running, sword in hand, dragging after her the ''carcasses of 
 Icings,'^ ixml, 2, seated on a throne, spear in hand, contemplating 
 her enemies conquered, and heaped up at her feet. These designs, 
 however suited to the public of the day, were not appreciated. 
 
 In this year he was laid up by a great illness. In June, 
 1849, he received from Ledru Rollin the price of his picture 
 of the Ilai/ makers, and it being cholera season, left Paris, with 
 his friend Jacque, for Barbizon, where the two families lodged 
 with le ph'e Ganne, and where they found before . them 
 Theodore Rousseau, Hugues Martin, Belly, Louis Leroy, and 
 Clerget ; they had pension with Ganne, but hired studios of 
 peasants ; and Millet found the return to country life so con- 
 
JEAN FRAA^COIS MILLET. 
 
 29 
 
 genial to him, that he decided to stay at Barbizon, some time, 
 with the result that he did so for the remainder of his life. 
 
 There are many descriptions of Millet's house in Barbizon."^' 
 M. Piedagnel, writing on the spot, calls it ''a maisonnette, 
 literally covered w^ith a thick cloak of clematis, of ivy, and of 
 ' jasmine of Virginia' — the small painted door, which was at one 
 time white, standing hospitably open ; the large front garden in 
 beautiful disorder, flowers, vegetables, and fruits intermingled 
 without any regard to symmetry. A climbing rose-tree seems 
 to be trying to enter by the upper w^indows, and the garden is 
 hedged with sweet-briar and elders, twined w^ith convolvulus." 
 On the ground-floor, near the entrance, is the studio. M. 
 Yriarte took notes of the interior of this studio: large 
 room and very empty, with an enormous j^ress in it where 
 Millet used to keep his unfinished pastels ; a great many casts 
 from the antique, and metopes of the Parthenon, and a JFedcling 
 Feast of Breughel, and another Flemish picture." 
 
 Sensier says that Millet's ''occupations were twofold. In the 
 morning he dug his garden, and after breakfast he retired to a 
 low-roofed, cold, and dark hall, which he called his studio. 
 This shady retreat he rather liked, and there he composed 
 most of his work, and thence emanated from his poetic brain 
 all his compositions, sketches, 'croquis' or 'dessins.' 
 
 "His first vision" (1849) "w^as a Biblical suggestion, Fiuth and 
 Boaz, which he threw on the wall in charcoal — a true peasant 
 Euth and Boaz of the He de France ; a scene of harvesting, in 
 which, as in Scripture, the master of the field surprises a 
 young gleaner, and leads her, all bashful, to the rustic feast." 
 This will have been the original thought for the Moissonneiirs 
 of 1852. 
 
 But out in the forest every day produced its record of 
 * Now pulled down. 
 
From a Braiving hy J. Fran<;ois Millet. 
 
JEAN rilANCOlS MILLET. 
 
 31 
 
 sketches of forest life. " Sawyers cutting up gigantic trees, 
 woodcutters, charcoal-burners, quarrymen emaciated by their 
 frightful occupation, poachers, stone-breakers, canfonniers, 
 ploughmen, haymaking women, woodsplitters, and so forth." 
 And from the rough outdoor jottings he afterwards composed, 
 and finished carefull}^ " a series of small drawings which 
 seemed to formulate the whole existence of a peasant. First, 
 the man of the soil, in blouse and sabots, the hero of the work, 
 the starting point ; secondly, the peasant girl, young, strong, 
 and handsome ; and, finally, a series of episodes of rustic life, 
 from the mother amusing her child to the poor old crone going 
 out to gather dry sticks of wood, and carrying home on her 
 miserable shoulders the faggot, four times as big as herself, 
 crushing her." 
 
 It is in these and similar drawings, rather than in his great 
 exhibited pictures, that the motive of Millet's work is show^n. 
 In them "he takes the man and the woman of the fields," as 
 Silvestre writes, " at all the stages of their life, from infancy 
 to youth, from youth to maturity, from maturity to decrepi- 
 tude, with the firmest logic, the most precise observation, but 
 without dinj parti pris of ugliness or of beauty." 
 
 M. Silvestre sings the whole drama to the drawings that he 
 has before him as he writes : " Millet's hahj/, in the magnificent 
 drama. La Feillee, shines in the light of the lamp like an 
 infant Jesus under the halo ; but see him again in the open 
 air in the arms of an elder brother, not himself very large. 
 The tree sheds its freshness over them, the chickens run about, 
 the ducks gabble, and all the scene around is a poem of 
 infantile beatitude. 
 
 "He grows a little, and, with other boys and girls, drives 
 the geese to the marshes, a green tw^ig for his whip, and the 
 geese look so big and so solemn that it seems to be rather 
 
32 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 they who arc taking care of the children ; then there are h'ttle 
 girls sleeping under the hedges in the shade, or riding on 
 a gate, fresh, pretty little girls, a little rough and wild, with 
 cheeks tingling from the freshness of the air; they are not 
 yet hardened by work nor tanned by the sun. 
 
 ''Look at those two searching the nut bushes, neglecting 
 the care of the cattle ; at that sheep bleating after another 
 little girl, who carries its lamb in her apron, and who turns 
 back with an infinite sweetness to look consolingly at the 
 mother ! Look at the two shepherdesses, one upright, atten- 
 tive, the other in a sort of ecstasy gazing upwards at a long 
 flight of wild geese far away in the sky ! 
 
 " The habit of the contemplative life, of the Infinite always 
 visible, adds even to the faces of shepherdesses an expression 
 which makes them like Joans of Arc or Sainte Genevieves 
 listening to voices or expecting apparitions. The woman of 
 Millet is never ugly."^ 
 
 Next in order come his representations of the marriage bond 
 of the children of labour, resembling that of two animals 
 coupled in their harness to one yoke together : " One couple, 
 newly married, are setting out to their work ; the wife is 
 hooded with a great basket thrown over her head, and is 
 carrying the jug that holds her husband's drink. He, with the 
 
 * " Very different from the mannerists says Theophile Gantier, 
 
 " who, under a pretext of realism, substitute the hideous for the 
 true, Millet seeks and attains ' style ' in his representations of types 
 and country scenes ; he knows how to introduce a rare grandeur, and 
 nobility, without diluting in any way their rusticity. Why should not 
 peasants have ' style ' as well as heroes ? " Millet," says Paul Mantz, 
 " is the first painter of rustic life who breaks with the vulgarities of a 
 meagre realism, and, dignifying at once the sentiment and ihe form, has 
 shown that the rude labours of the fields have also their poetry and their 
 heroism." 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 33 
 
 spade under his arm and the fork on his shoulder, walks by 
 her side, and together they inhale the morning air. 
 
 "Again, in the torrid glow of noon, he shows us them, 
 barefooted, asleep in the shadow of the ricks of ha}^ 
 
 " The day declines, and in the dusk we see the husband 
 working alone, without the help of horse or plough, beating 
 his old worn-out spade on the stubborn clods and flints of the 
 little clearing : the man is now working on his own account. 
 
 " Soon the evening star appears, and then he straightens his 
 back and puts his jacket on, with an admirable gesture, which 
 is in itself a song of ' the day's work done.' " The eloquence of 
 true feeling that Millet inspires his critics with is a lasting 
 tribute to his genius, now that the slight sketches and crayon 
 drawings in which he did his best work are scattered in 
 private collections, for it must be borne in mind always that 
 the best of his work is that which the general public has never 
 seen. M. Yriarte, a fine word -painter, follows out Millet's 
 "eclogue" in much the same strain as Amand Silvestre : "At 
 the door of his studio, near a wood. Millet assists at the eternal 
 mystery, and the joy of the seed-time, and paints his Sower,'^* 
 
 * Alluding to the old-world reverence for this function of the husband- 
 man, Sensier says : "I have seen men who would not set foot on the 
 prepared soil without having thrown into the air, in the form of a Cross, 
 a handful of the com." But, * ' The artists and the critics saw in the Sower 
 a stem figure with a threatening action, who seemed to be sending up to 
 heaven handfuls of small shot {mitraille) as a protest against the misery of 
 the working-man. People found, then-a-days, in every scene of contem- 
 porary life, some allusion to politics, and protests against ' social egotism.' " 
 " The Sower of M. Millet recalls to us the impression of the description by 
 Madame Georges Sand of the tilling of the land and the farm labour, in 
 the early pages of La Mare au Diable, The night is about to fall, and to 
 spread abroad its grey veils over the brown land. The sower marches in 
 a rhythmic step, casting the grain into the furrow, and he is followed by 
 a flight of pilfering birds ; gloomy rags are his covering ; his head is 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 THE BAIIBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 with a gesture full of beauty confiding to the womb of the 
 earth the seed that she will restore a hundredfold. 
 
 **And again — when the grain has germinated, the blade 
 of grass become an ear, the wind in the fields passed un- 
 dulating through the heavy-headed corn, and the time for 
 harvest arrived — he paints the lleapers; or, in another field, 
 the labourers building the massive stack of hay, sloping it 
 on one side against the impending storm, where, on the skirt 
 of the forest, a black cloud charged with rain is struggling 
 with the pale autumn sun ; and the artist paints this broad 
 landscape where, stooping to the weight of their forks, active, 
 panting for breath, the Haymakers redouble their energy to 
 finish their task before the rain comes down. 
 
 " Choose among his drawings Avhere you will, you will find in 
 them every stanza of the poem of varied episodes : the Peasant 
 Grafting, of 1855; the Woman Shearing a Sheep, of 1861 ; the 
 Potato Harvest and the Shepherd Leading his Flock Home, of 1863 ; 
 the 3 fen Carrying Home a Calf Droj^ped in the Fields, of 1864. 
 And the indoor scenes : the VeiUee, the Woman Carding Wool, 
 the Beinrn from Work, the Woman Churning, the Lessiveuse 
 (washerwoman), are each an episode, a chapter of the tale. 
 
 coifFed by a sort of bizarre bonnet ; lie is bony, lidve, and meagre, under- 
 neath this livery of poverty, and yet life spreads from his broad hand, and, 
 with a proud gesture, he, who has nothing, is spreading over the earth 
 the bread of the future. At the other side of the hill a last ray of light 
 shows a pair of oxen coming to the end of their furrow, strong and gentle 
 companions of man, whose reward will one day be the butchery. This 
 lueur (glare or glimmer of light) is the only clair of the picture bathed 
 in a sorrowful shadow and presenting to the eyes only, under a sky of 
 clouds, a black soil newly torn [ecorchce) by the plough. Of all the pea- 
 sants sent in to the Salon this year, the Sower is far away the one we 
 prefer. There is grandeur and style in this figure of the violent action, 
 of the iourmire proudly delahree (ragged), and which seems as if it had been 
 painted with the earth he is scattering his seed upon." — Theophile Gmiiicr. 
 
WOMAN SHEAEINa A SHEEP. 
 From a drawing hy J, FrmiQois Millet, 
 
36 
 
 THE BARBIZOX SCHOOL. 
 
 ''And, after the peasant's life, he paints the poetry of 
 the fields and the hours of the day — Morning, with tender- 
 toned clouds streaked with rosy beams of the advancing light 
 — the hot hour of Noon, and the repose of the reapers when — 
 
 * Midi, roi des etes, epandu sur la plaine, 
 Tombe, en nappe d' argent des hauteurs du ciel bleu.' 
 
 Evening, melancholy and silent, when it seems as if, little by 
 little, black veils, gradually thickening, fall down one by one 
 and envelop the earth ; and the skirt of the forest is uncer- 
 tain — (Is that a tree, or the indistinct outline of a haystack, or 
 the farm-house roof, standing out against the sky 1) 
 
 ' Prends garde de choir — 
 La terre le soir 
 
 Est brune ! ' 
 
 And Night, contemplative, peaceful, full of vague sounds like 
 sighs. Look ! — 
 
 ' Yoyez ! La lune monte a travers le feuillage : 
 Ton regard tremble encor, belle reine des nuits.' 
 
 " This glance wdiich 'trembles still'; these indefinable im- 
 pressions, and especially this scintillation of the orb of night — 
 Millet has rendered them more perfectly than anybody else in 
 the Fare aux Jlotitons.'' And, in connection with night, M. 
 Yriarte dwells upon that beautiful domestic interior. La VeilUe, 
 tracing the weary labourer home to his " ain fireside." 
 
 "By the light of a lamp which sparkles, the wife is knitting; 
 the man is weaving a basket ; the child in the cradle is sleep- 
 ing under its mother's eye. The fire lies smouldering under 
 hot ashes ; the sleepy cat is rubbing against the wainscot. 
 Outside of the pale radiance of the lamp all forms are stunted 
 (esfuwjy'es) and indistinct. The whole picture breathes of peace, 
 silence, and povert}^ The man who painted such scenes one 
 feels had Jircd that life." 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 37 
 
 (We may add, the man who painted such scenes could not 
 find buyers for them in Paris at five pounds apiece !) 
 
 Another eloquent writer who finds inspiration in Millet is M. 
 Paul Mantz. We select his description in the Gazette des Beaux 
 Arts of the powerful picture — after the Angelus perhaps the most 
 elevated in sentiment that Millet ever painted, yet refused by the 
 Jury of 1859 — of Death and the Woodcutter, " the fable that ex- 
 poses the eternal cowardice of man, prostrate under all torments, 
 but preferring to the death which would release him the misery 
 of life. The old man, crushed with weariness, has fallen down 
 panting and exhausted, powerless to renew his struggle of every 
 day. He has invoked Death, and Death has come to him, 
 draped in a w^hite shroud which gives prominence to the meagre 
 skeleton, carrying in one hand the symbolical sand-glass, and 
 
 in the other the scythe that is ever sharp The moral 
 
 impression produced by this picture is admirably accurate — all 
 that the brush of M. Millet has written or indicated the intellect 
 
 can read as in a book of truth Death is wisely, nobly 
 
 veiled, to hide all ugliness ; the artist has refused to show his 
 face ; the white spectre, therefore, preserves its mystery ; he 
 remains the great Unknown. As to the woodcutter — very 
 true is his attitude, and wonderfully expressive the face, the 
 action, the mimic art; but, for such a subject, he might be 
 more sculptural and more beau,'' 
 
 M. Mantz shows a higher appreciation in his criticism of the 
 companion picture, admitted in the Salon (1859), the Wor)ian 
 Tending a Coiv. ^'This will never be M. Millet's best picture,'' 
 he says, " and yet what a fier aspect the little canvas has ! 
 What mystery ! What a silent calm ! What an admirable 
 elimination of all that is meagre in the reality, and of all that 
 is vulgar ! This is the method of the great masters of design, 
 seeking the grand in the simple, and suppressing the accidental 
 
38 
 
 THE BAKBTZON SCHOOL. 
 
 to attain tlie universal. Men of humour may smile, the 
 Academies may. deceive themselves, the indifferent may pass 
 without looking and without understanding ; their mockery, 
 their misunderstanding, their scorn, will change nothing of 
 the final result, and in a time that will soon draw near M. 
 Millet will he saluted as a master." 
 
 Yet another great critic deserves quotation, if only to em- 
 phasise the paradox of Millet's fame and Millet's poverty. M. 
 Petroz describes the Gleaners in the Salon of 1857: — "The 
 injustice of certain social inequalities, the bad distribution of 
 wealth, the extreme abundance in which some live, the penury 
 in which the great number vegetate, are at least as striking in 
 . the fields as in the city. No composition has, in our time, 
 better made this felt than the Gleaners.''' Three poor peasant 
 women, covered in miserable rags, but decent, pass by picking 
 up here and there some meagre ears of corn, whilst at the 
 extremity of that field in which they wander bent double over 
 the ground, a number of reapers, overlooked by the proprietor, 
 or the farmer, pile sheaf on sheaf, and heap into lofty stacks 
 the abundant harvest. Nothing more simple — nothing less 
 pretentious — nothing looking less directed to p'oving anything 
 of any kind — nothing less suggestive of invention or artifice — 
 and yet ! the impression produced is as vivid as it is profound ; 
 the idea of the composition stands out clear, precise, striking, 
 and the moral of the subject springs naturally from the sub- 
 ject itself. The Gleaners^ from every point of view, is among the 
 most important and the most complete of Millet's works. 
 
 A noticeable feature in the criticisms of all these professional 
 critics is that, in respect of Millet, they forget to criticise, are 
 carried aw\ay like the first Philistine by the literary '^ merit 
 
 * This picture has lately been purchased, for about £12,000, by Madame 
 Pommery, of Rheims, who has bequeathed it to the Louvre at her death. 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 39 
 
 of the subject. M. Petroz has another charming notice — of 
 the Peasant Grafting — which exempHfies this remark: — "Familj^ 
 life, the reciprocal affection of husband and wife, the love of 
 the father and mother for the child, have often, in far-away 
 country places, a tranquillity, a gravity, a moral beauty, a 
 something primitive and powerful which is rarely found else- 
 where. The Peasant Grafting a Tree is a faithful image thereof. 
 In the middle of one of those enclosures, half courtyard and 
 half garden, which front country houses, a man who has just 
 been cutting a tree below the branches, holds in his left hand 
 a graft, which, with the right, he inserts in the wood prepared 
 to receive it. His vnfe, carrying in her arms their child, still 
 in swaddling clothes, is v/atching with interest the head of the 
 family who, absorbed in his work, accomplishes one of the 
 important acts of his existence, following out reverently 
 consecrated custom. Round about them all breathes of order, 
 propriety, and modest prosperity ; their clothes have neither 
 stain nor rent, but show the effect of the housewife's care. 
 This man, grafting a tree under the eyes of his wife, at the 
 time when a son had recently been born to them, represents 
 admirably — one cannot deny it — our French peasants, labo- 
 rious, thrifty, planted, so to say, in the soil, living and dying in 
 the places of their birth, which they are never induced to 
 abandon by the love of adventure or the inducement of gain ; 
 and the ensemUe of this scene so full of truth has a character 
 patriarchal, symbolical, quasi-religious.'' 
 
 Can anything be less like an art- criticism, or more indicative 
 of Millet's attainment of that point in art where those who 
 looked at his pictures were charmed by the truth of them into 
 forgetf ulness of their method of manufacture ? There is, how- 
 ever, a little moT-e of the technical in Paul Mantz's notice of 
 the Gleaners ; but the criticism is from a lofty " standpoint " 
 
40 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 still. He calls the picture '*one of the Master's austerest 
 works. This picture has the colour of the summer ; in its gamut 
 of pale grey, in the harshness of the calm of its sk}^, is felt the 
 exhaustion of the days of August, and that gloom of silence 
 which there is nothing but the grasshopper's note to disturb. 
 Harvest is finished ; stooping over the soil, now stripped of its 
 garments, a few poor women are come to fetch the wasted 
 ears of corn. They 1)end down low, and the identity of their 
 movement allows the lines to be repeated in a sort of paral- 
 lelism full of character and solemnity. In this effect, purposely 
 monotonous, there is an effort of design, a research of rhythm, 
 Avhich one does not often meet in modern work." 
 
 "To an Englishman," says Mr. Henry Wallis, *'his works 
 are suggestive of the poetry and sentiment of Burns, and the 
 sympathetic feeling for nature of Wordsworth. He had the 
 art of introducing into pictures of modern French pastoral 
 life, wdiile retaining the truthfulness of nature, all the elevated 
 qualities of the l:>est artistic culture to l)e found in the works 
 of the great masters. Those who remember the Angelus clu 
 Soir in the Exposition of 1867, well know this is no exaggera- 
 tion. The picture represents a couple of peasants, man and 
 woman, who, while at work in the field, hear the bell of the 
 distant church tolling the Angelus, They stop work, reverently 
 bowing their heads in silent prayer. For expression of devo- 
 tion equally genuine we must go back to the works of the early 
 Italian masters."^ 
 
 * At the Secretan Sale in Paris in July, 1889, the A^igeJtis was, after a 
 scene of nnwonted excitement, knocked do^\^l to M. Antonin Proust — 
 acting on behalf of those who desired that it should remain in France — for 
 553,000 francs (£22,120), which, with the usual 5 per cent, charged in 
 France, amounts to £23,226. The French Government, however, decided 
 not to pui^chase the painting at this high price, and M. Proust accordingly 
 resigned it, at the above j^rice, to a syndicate of American gentlemen who- 
 
42 
 
 THE BARl^IZON SCHOOL. 
 
 Millet is so great a master, the result that he achieves is so 
 admirable, that the careful and skilled valuation of his excel- 
 lencies in detail by competent students of his work is most 
 valuable, and, in efiect, this is his true biography, lor the gaining 
 of another step in art, the discovery of a new lesson in nature, 
 would be valued by himself as the important incidents of his 
 life. 
 
 Theophile Silvestre analyses his work in great detail — 
 " Millet paints the Tree marvellously " — he says — Young 
 elms of the wild stock, badly planted with shoots leathery and 
 hard ; apple-trees with pruned branches that look like a wound 
 on a man ; dead birches crowned by a living offshoot. The 
 movement of the trunk, the insertion of the branches, indicate 
 the breed. Millet notes their slow growth and expresses it 
 by ligneous sj^irals, and their plantation circumsailkmte, that is 
 to sa}^, the swelling that the roots give to the land in which 
 they are planted. But, admirably as he sees the tree, the tree 
 does not hinder him from seeing the forest in its unity, 
 magnificent and redundant. Neither the tree nor the forest is 
 inert; the tree has breath, the forest has motion." 
 
 Nobody has done Water better than Millet — whether it 
 be the sea, dense and saline, slow in draining in drops from 
 the blades of the oars, or the fluid and swiftly-escaping water 
 of the rivei-s, or the dead water of the marshes, which shines 
 like a tin j^late under the breast of a drinking cow." 
 
 *-But, especially, nobody has ever rendered like him the 
 
 had been the next highest bidders. But from a note in the Guide de 
 I'Amateur d'CEuvres d'Art " (Nov., 1889), we learn that the vicissitudes 
 of the Angclus are not yet at an end. The American Customs authorities, 
 who claimed no less than £7,000 duty, consented to waive it on condition 
 that the picture did not remain more than six months in America and 
 was not resold there. It is not unlikely, therefore, that it may again 
 return to Europe and perhaps visit England. 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 43 
 
 aspects of the sky, as deep, in his pictures, as the earth is solid 
 and firm ; and the changes of the atmosphere, the promise of 
 rain, or the threat of drought, in their subtlest nuances. No- 
 body has rendered like him the sounds and the silences of 
 nature — a gloomy sky traversed by white pigeons, sudden 
 gleams of light flitting over a village, dry leaves flying about, 
 a shepherdess sheltering from the storm — and that is sufficient 
 to giYQ yo\\2i penetrating sensation of wind and storm. Then 
 ^' the Snow covers the land — what a morne tristesse ! Make a 
 few horsemen pass under this sky — lose here and there a few 
 corpses, and this corner of a field at Barbizon will become more 
 terrible than the battlefield of Eylau. In another place the 
 snow is luminous and virginal. It is the first snow, scarcely 
 hiding the grass. You can hear the piping of the birds ! — In 
 another picture, ' A farm-yard is silent under the moon ; but 
 the watch-dog is there awake ; touch the fence only, and he 
 will bark. The imminence of sound makes the silence felt.^ " 
 
 Edmond About tells us of the man himself : — ''Millet is as 
 silent as M. Courbet is boisterous. No man knows Millet but 
 his own friends. He has never set up a shop ; he has never 
 beaten a drum; he has quietly digested the rigour of the 
 juries, and the applause of the public. Far away from Paris, 
 he lives as a peasant among peasants, he labours in the midst 
 of the labour of the country, he simply lives and he paints 
 
 And Millet tells us something of himself : — *' There are some 
 who tell me," he writes in 1863, ''that I deny the charms of 
 the country ; I find in it something far higher than charms — 
 infinite glories. I can see in it, as well as they, the little 
 flowers of which the Saviour said that Solomon in all his glory 
 was not arrayed like one of them. I see very well the golden 
 aureoles of the dandelions, and the sun also, which spreads 
 
41 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 abroad, down there far away beyond the fields, his glory in the 
 clouds ; but not the less for that, in the plains I see the smoke 
 of the horses at the plough, or, on a stony-hearted spot of land, 
 a back-broken man (I have been listening to his ' han's ' since 
 the morning) painfully trying to raise himself upright for a 
 moment to breathe. The tragedy is surrounded by glories — 
 that is no invention of mine — the expression le cri de la terre 
 v/as invented long ago."— J. F. Millet. 
 
 And as to the incidents of Millet's life. He retired to Bar- 
 bizon in 1849 with his wife and children, and lived there 
 until his death in 1875. He was plundered, like Kousseau, 
 by false friends, who kept him in indigence while they 
 acquired his invaluable drawings on which they subsequent^ 
 became rich.f The only romance of his married life is the sad, 
 patient struggle with poverty, which assimilated his fortune 
 and his mind to the poor peasants around him, and out of his 
 poverty the world is enriched by his stern yet pitiful rejDresenta- 
 tion of that of the peasantry. 
 
 Charles Timbal, a consistent disparager of his work, says, 
 after a severe criticism : — "Anyway, if Millet's work raises con- 
 troversy that cannot be called unjust, his life shows nothing 
 but a long and honourable example to which it is easy to i)ay 
 homage. It was all taken up in work ; the love of his own 
 family was its dearest joy ; the sounds of Paris died on the 
 * The letter is reproduced by Jules Claretie. 
 
 t On the other hand, William Morris Hunt, a pupil of Couture, who 
 had lived in Paris for several years, and who had conceived a great 
 admiration for Millet's works, established himself at Barbizon in order to 
 study quietly the man and the painter. Whilst there Mr. Heam, painter, 
 and Mr. Babcock (to whom Millet had given lessons in 1848) visited him, 
 and thus was formed a coterie of artists who aided him by their friend- 
 ship and sympathy, and lightened his poverty by purchasing his pictures. 
 Amongst others. Hunt bought his Slicep Shearer and The Shepherd, both 
 of 1853. 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 45 
 
 threshold of the modest house that tlie painter had chosen for 
 himself on the skirts of the forest of Fontainebleau. Nothing 
 was heard there but the laughter of a numerous family of 
 which the father was the support and the friend. Others 
 have narrated elsewhere this career, commenced in the peasant's 
 blouse and almost all passed in the fields and woods. Tender 
 hands have sown poesy over this honest tomb, and connected, 
 
 millet's studio at baebizon. 
 
 so to speak, each of the virtues of Millet to the works that he 
 left behind him. But," he goes on to remind his readers, ^'the 
 tenderness of memory, really touching as it is, cannot long 
 suspend the critic's rights ; and it is no default of the respect 
 due to pious tears to discuss the claims and the talents of him 
 for whom they flow ; and, after all, the highest eulogium that we 
 can engrave, on a tomb, is it not that which Millet has earned : — 
 ' II fid im liomme de bien.^ " 
 
46 
 
 THE BARBIZOX SCHOOL. 
 
 Near the entrance of the forest of Fontainebleau, the friends 
 of Rousseau and Millet have placed — high on a rock where it 
 cannot fail to be noticed — a large bronze plaque, containing 
 splendidly modelled portraits of these artists, who lived so long 
 within its shades and painted so many of its beauties. These 
 portraits are by the celebrated sculptor, Chapu, who worked 
 for them as a labour of love. 
 
THEODORE ROUSSEAU. 
 
 I. 
 
 J>IEREE-£TIENNE-TH£0D0RE ROUSSEAU, the son 
 of a clothier, was born in Paris in the year 1812. 
 His biography is told at great length by M. Alfred Sensier, 
 whose narrative is principally valuable for the running com- 
 mentary it gives on the painter's work, and on the influence 
 which he is assumed to have received from the scenery and 
 surroundings of the various places that he chose for his resi- 
 dence. It is obvious that the mere outlines of biographical 
 fact are selected with an object, and even in his preface 
 M. Sensier appears to warn the reader that this will be the 
 case. " I will not be impartial," he writes, but I will try to 
 be truthful. I do not pretend to the altitude of history," &c. 
 
 The suppressions refer, in all probability, to Rousseau's 
 connection, whatever it was, with the agencies of the slumber- 
 ing volcano of revolution which exploded in 1848, and with 
 the notorious There, a man at the head of all the most mis- 
 chievous socialisms of the period, with whom, at a critical period 
 of his entrance into life Rousseau lodged and lived, and was 
 on terms of German Bruderschaft." This man, affiliated with 
 the Carbonari and with the false religions of Saint-Simon, 
 Fourier, and his imitators, welcomed above all things any up- 
 
THEODORE ROUSSEAU. 
 
 I. 
 
 J>IERRE-fiTIENNE-TH£ODORE ROUSSEAU, the son 
 of a clothier, was born in Paris in the year 1812. 
 His biography is told at great length by M. Alfred Sensier, 
 whose narrative is principally valuable for the running com- 
 mentary it gives on the painter's work, and on the influence 
 which he is assumed to have received from the scenery and 
 surroundings of the various places that he chose for his resi- 
 dence. It is obvious that the mere outlines of biographical 
 fact are selected with an object, and even in his preface 
 M. Sensier appears to warn the reader that this will be the 
 case. " I will not be impartial," he writes, but I will try to 
 be truthful. I do not pretend to the altitude of history," &c. 
 
 The suppressions refer, in all probability, to Rousseau's 
 connection, whatever it was, with the agencies of the slumber- 
 ing volcano of revolution which exploded in 1848, and with 
 the notorious Thore, a man at the head of all the most mis- 
 chievous socialisms of the period, with whom, at a critical period 
 of his entrance into life Rousseau lodged and lived, and was 
 on terms of German " Bruderschaft." This man, affiliated with 
 the Carbonari and with the false religions of Saint-Simon, 
 Fourier, and his imitators, welcomed above all things any up- 
 
48 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 setting of the old routines, in Art as well as in Society. 
 Eomanticism was for him one protest more against the ancient 
 order. "Hitherto," he said, "Art has been devoted to Gods 
 and Princes ; the time is now come to devote it to Man." 
 
 " A societe nouvelle, Art nou veau I " Thore wrote. Kousseau 
 was to Thore and his associates of La Liberfe the cat's-paw to 
 take the chestnuts out of the fire. They Laid hold of him in 
 1830, a boy of eighteen, and kept him in disrepute with the 
 quiet world, and especially with the authorities of the Institute, 
 until the long struggle ended in the Kevolution in 1848; but 
 many of the best years of the young painter's life had been 
 spoiled by it, and the principles of Eomanticism in landscape 
 especiall}', came before the world as a part of the uniform of 
 the enemies, not of the monarchy alone, but of the Christian 
 religion and the institution of the Family itself.'-' 
 
 The biography of Kousseau is interesting from its commence- 
 ment. His family had its own traditionary connection with Art ; 
 his great-grandfather had l^een a " Gilder of the King's Equi- 
 pages," and intimate with painters of the King's household ; 
 his uncle Colombet was a portrait painter of such refinement 
 of sensibility that he fled from his native country and died in 
 exile in Chandarnagar, in India, because he once saw a sign- 
 l)oard on a shop, painted by a fellow-student, and nobly " re- 
 fused to inhabit a country where an artist could stoop to such 
 a task." His mother's second cousin was a landscape painter, 
 famous for introducing donlri/s into all his landscapes. " The 
 donkeys of Saint- Martin had l^ecome a familiar thing, and he 
 was recognised b}^ this irredilection naturalisfe.'' 
 
 It was to him that the future painter used to go on his holi- 
 days from his school at Auteuil, and with the scrapings of his 
 palette began to paint, copying the pictures that hung in the 
 * fScc Tliore's Konvelles Tendances de VAri. 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 49 
 
 painting-room, and " systematically surrounding them ^\ith a 
 piece of the wall they hung against and with other objects near ; 
 seeking everywhere the ensemble, and to reproduce everything 
 in its habitual atmosphere. It was an instinct ! innate. 
 
 His art studies were interrupted, at the early age of twelve, 
 by his entrance into the active duties of life, and he became 
 private secretary to the proprietor of a saw-mill established 
 for the exploitation of the forests of the Franche-Comte. This 
 gentleman, a M. Maire, a relatiA^e of the family, Sensier alludes 
 to as a " statuary,'^ and with him the little Theodore began his 
 travels 'Ho the mountain land, the lakes, and the forests, where 
 for the first time he saw in their wild liberty the oaks, beeches, 
 firs, and holly and juniper. The trees that he liked best in 
 after years, all mingled in an infinite promiscuousness, intoxi- 
 cated his mind and charmed his eyes," and there he remained 
 I for a whole year ''in the company of the foresters, the timber 
 merchants, the gamekeepers, the wood-wardens, the wood-cut- 
 ters, the charcoal burners, the sawyers, the sabot-makers, and all 
 the great tribes of the forest rodents,'' working as a clerk. 
 } M. Maire having failed in his business, his child-secretary 
 li returned home, and to school again : and we next hear of him, 
 l! one day buying colours and brushes for himself and going out 
 i to the Buttes Montmartre, " at the foot of the old church, under 
 |j the tower of the semaphore telegraph of the period,'' to paint 
 j what was there to be seen — " the monument, the cemetery, the 
 i trees, the walls, and the land," says M. Sensier. Of the above 
 scene he finished an exact study, " firm, and of very natural 
 tonality," which was regarded as the sign of his true vocation 
 1 for art, and his parents hindered him no more. On the 
 I contrary, they took counsel with cousin Pau de Saint-Martin, 
 i the landscape painter, who took the boy away with him to 
 \ Compiegne and set him to make drawings from nature, and^ 
 
 I E 
 
50 
 
 THE BARBIZOX SCHOOL. 
 
 satisfied of his talents, decided his family to put him to study 
 under Eemond, a landscape painter of whom Sensier speaks 
 with contempt, and of whom Rousseau himself writes, "There 
 is nothing so pernicious as a bad beginning to a campaign ; it 
 took me a number of years to get rid of the spectres of 
 Eemond." 
 
 Eemond had returned in this year, 1826, from extensive 
 travels in France, Italy, and Sicily, and more friendly critics 
 sa}^ that " real Nature broke through the crust of tradition in 
 his views taken in Dauphine, Auvergne, Calabria, and Sicily, 
 although he relapsed from time to time into the heroic style." 
 
 But the skill of his teacher was of less consequence to 
 Eousseau, now fourteen years of age, because he preferred to 
 educate his own genius in Vkole huissonnihre {ie,, playing 
 truant) at Saint- Cloud or Sevres on Sundays, or, when he could 
 get longer leave, he fled to Compiegne, to Verberie, to Batignies, 
 and to Saint- Jean-aux Bois, all very considerable distances for 
 the time before the introduction of railways ; he even pushed 
 as far as Moret, passing through the forest of Fontainebleau, 
 where he stopped to make a study of the grande route royale 
 there, called the " pave de Chailly/' 
 
 This brings us on to the year 1829, the seventeenth of his 
 age, when already the theory that he was the champion of a 
 grand, indigenous, sudden explosion," as it is called, of a new 
 naturalist landscape, assumes that, like an infant Hercules, he 
 was strangling serpents in his cradle. " His studies at Com- 
 piegne and at Moret give the first note of his timid insurrec- 
 tion ; his heart is stirred, but his palette does not yet respond 
 to his impulse ; he is still under the dominion of the ancient 
 pedantry." 
 
 In this year Eemond was urging his pupil to compete for 
 the Prix de Eome, still vacant by the death of Michalon, 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 51 
 
 Corot's friend, who first held the Landscape Scholarship 
 there ; but Eousseau, after taking it in hand to paint the 
 classic tree, and to add, to figure in a landscape of the ancient 
 world, Zenohia picked^ up by Fishermen on the Banks of the 
 A raxes, was struck with disgust at the ridiculous programme. 
 " What was the good of digging up Zenobia to animate a land- 
 scape V and he refused to go on with it, but went out into the 
 woods instead, at Dampierre, at the Vaux de Cernay, where he 
 painted cascades of a wonderful transparency; and spent his 
 time in bad weather in copying in the Louvre " animals of 
 Kareldu Jardin and sun-lit pictures of Claude,'' or in attend- 
 ing the atelier of Guillon Lethiere to study the figure. 
 
 It is the next year, 1830, which is the most eventful of his 
 early art life, and produced work which placed him at once 
 in the van of the " romantic " movement ; and, unhappily, in 
 hostility with the authorities who held, for a long time yet, the 
 " power of the keys " to the Salon. 
 
 He is now only in the eighteenth year of his age, but already 
 in the sixth or seventh year of his serious art training, if indeed 
 he could ever look back upon any period of his life when he 
 was not acquiring skill, for even in his infancy, we are told, he 
 made pen-and-ink facsimiles (carefully preserved by his friends) 
 from engravings with astonishing precision, and finished them 
 with that imperturbable tenacity of purpose which characterised 
 all his life, and as a child of twelve he had brought home an 
 artist's appreciation of the woods and mountains amongst 
 which he was sent to live for a year ; and now that he was 
 I setting out alone, with a definite purpose of pursuit of the 
 picturesque, he knew what he wanted and where to seek it, 
 and how to paint it when found, young as he was and alone, 
 and at issue in his mind with all the school teaching that he 
 had received, ^' with no guide but his courage to read th§ 
 
52 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 riddle of an unexplored world." It was always in solitude that 
 Eousseau did the best of his work, and his love of solitude 
 continued a ruling passion with him to the end of his life. 
 
 He made his way straight to the mountain districts of the 
 Auvergnat, to the Cantal mountains, a weirdly picturesque 
 volcanic region, where the hill-tops spread in star-shaped 
 ranges from a central dome, and between them inaccesibles 
 ravines and noisy torrents rushing through with frequent 
 tremendous cascades, and on the hills black forests of firs 
 alternating with wild scenery of barren upheavals of rock. 
 We have not space to mention all the studies he brought 
 away with him : from the valleys of Thi^zac, where the river 
 Cere rushes down between straight walls of basalt 140 metres^' 
 n height ; and from Falgou on the Mars, with its splendid 
 forests of firs and lofty mountains, where in ancient times the 
 " Rederikes " t of Picardy and Flanders held their assemblies. 
 His Village of Falgou is described as a superb painting, which 
 carries the mind back to the life of the ancient Celts, in their 
 low-roofed cabins thatched with rushes, perched on the slopes 
 of a mountain sheltering them from the north wind, and 
 affording green pasture lands in front. He selects with 
 eagerness the most sinister-looking mountains, the broadest 
 horizons, retired corners upheaved by the capricious throes of 
 
 the world's genesis He applies himself, with insatiable 
 
 pleasure, to the rendering of a denuded rock, of the rugged 
 uncultivated land, or to fathom the giddy depths of the black 
 mountain torrents, and of the accursed whirlpools resembling 
 caves of horror." 
 
 In these studies he achieves liberty ; he hesitates no longer ; 
 
 he has stripped away the p'iciosit6 of his Paris training; he 
 has rejected a whole system of ideas on Art, although the 
 * A metre is a little more than a yard, t Ancient G-auls. 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 53 
 
 Academy referred them to Claude Lorrain," and, above all, 
 he breathes a new element ; he understands that all art is in 
 the play of light, in the Fiat lux over the silence, and the 
 shadow of the elements." Eemond told him bluntly that 
 "his landscapes were the work of delirium — but Ary 
 SchefFer, when they were shown to him, " hung them in his 
 own studio, and pointed them out to all his visitors as works 
 of a most original, and most ' incisive ' talent." 
 
 It is impossible, however much they are interwoven, to 
 condense into a biography of Eousseau the history of the 
 times in which he lived — but, with or without his concurrence, 
 he became, from this date, a public character, looked upon as 
 a champion of the younger scholars of Romanticism, who, 
 " had very decided opinions as to the direction they refused 
 to follow, but did not know which they should take." 
 M. Sensier says : " His mode of life at this time was ex- 
 tremely simple. In the evening he met his friends chez 
 Lorentz — rue Notre Dame des Victoires. They smoked a 
 great deal, and drank water; talked of the theatre, Hugo, 
 Dumas, &c., acted charades, and established * La Societ6 du 
 Grelot,' which was nothing but a laboratory of mystifications 
 for the opponents of Romanticism, and a register of the 
 ' Societe des Invisibles,' of Charlet. They picked the Insti- 
 tute to pieces, and laid interdict on the Academy. The 
 great volcano of 1830 had one of its little craters there''' They 
 wound up their evenings at times by midnight excursions be 
 the country, from which they returned the next evening, 
 famished with hunger, for money was scarce, and " dead beat " 
 after a march of fifteen leagues. Eousseau, we are told, was 
 called " Pere Tranquille," and talked very little, and took little 
 interest in the battle of the Schools — but worked hard at 
 Saint Cloud, from nature, or in his own little studio under the 
 
54 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 tiles, Eue Taitbout, No. 9 ; close to the large room where 
 the Saint- Simonians'^ were making a great noise under the 
 presidency of Olinde Eodrigues. To understand the perilous 
 nature of the position of this boy of eighteen, in his liberty 
 of artist life, and in his connection with the club of enfants 
 perdus, one should I'ead the newspaper La LiherU which they 
 established, and other similar literature of the period. No 
 evidence appears to connect the boy with the insanity of the 
 Saint-Simonians, beyond what is afforded by his intimacy with 
 Thore, who was undoubtedly connected with them, and similar 
 " intellectual eccentricities " of the period. Sensier himself 
 attributes to the establishment of the Liberie the grudge 
 that the authorities of the Institute so pertinaciously main- 
 tained against Rousseau. 
 
 Passing on to 1831, we find that in that year he went to 
 Rouen, to Andelys, where he made drawings of the windings 
 of the Seine, of the foliage of Normandy trees, and the rocky 
 banks of the river, and the old castles dominating this country, 
 including the Chateau Gaillard of Richard Coeur de Lion, — 
 thence to Bayeux, to the dunes and caves of Arromanches, to 
 Caen, Port-en-Bessin, Granville, Pontorson, and along the 
 whole coast of La Manche and Calvados. His studies at 
 Andelys are described as most brilliant, limpid and fine as 
 Bonington, with more of ' race ' and freshness.'' The following 
 year, 1832, is marked by another excursion to Normandy — and 
 1833 by his triumph in the Salon, with his view of the Coast 
 of Granville. This picture placed him definitively in the 
 first rank of landscape painters at a time when the field 
 was occupied by Cabat, Flers, Jules Andre, Jadin, Roqueplan, 
 Paul Hueb, and finally Diaz and Marilhat." Lenormant calls 
 it " one of the truest things, and of the warmest tones that 
 the French school has ever yet produced He is 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 65 
 
 still far from perfection, but I would not exchange his future for 
 the whole career of our most celebrated landscape painters.'' 
 
 The picture was acquired, in 1833. by Henri SchefFer, in 
 exchange for portraits of the father and mother of Eousseau, 
 which he did for Th6odore. It has since gone to Russia.'" 
 
 Eousseau's work, we see, was admitted by the Jury in 1833, 
 but from this period dates his intimacy with Theophile Thor6, 
 and it was a long time before a painting by him was admitted 
 again. 
 
 Now it was Thor6 who set up, more than any other critic, 
 to be the trumpeter of Rousseau, and always in the most 
 irritating and insulting depreciation of the old school. 
 Though Sensier attributes the grudge of the Academy to 
 Rousseau's connection with the youths who started the news- 
 paper La Liberte, his connection with Thore and the mounte- 
 bank Ganneau was equally unfortunate. Whatever the motive, 
 poor Rousseau had neither mercy nor justice from the Institute 
 until the revolution of 1848. 
 
 Impartial criticisms exist of the Salon of 1833, which 
 indicate the growth of a public opinion favourable to Rousseau 
 and his friends. In the IVibune, for example, the critic says : 
 " Messrs. Cabat and Rousseau, both young and full of (avenir) 
 promise, appear to us to commence a new era for landscape,'' 
 and M. le Go, in a periodical admirably edited, the Ehue de 
 Paris, says : — ^' We owe a * mention ' to M. Rousseau, a very 
 young man, it is said, whose new talent promises a painter 
 true and powerful in the conception of vegetation and land- 
 scape scenery," and the same writer enchains our sympathy by 
 the question : — ^"What worse thing is there in the world than 
 fashion in art V (" Qu' y a-t-il de pire au monde que la mode 
 dans les arts ? ' ) He warns a section of the new school 
 
 * It was exhibited at the Universal Exhibition of 1855. 
 
56 
 
 THE BAIIBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 against the exaggeration of " materialising Nature a little too 
 much, and imitation for imitation's and not for creation's 
 sake," but the new landscape is charming to him, and he 
 appreciates it as its authors would wish, " surprising himself 
 in a dream of the happiness of the fields, and the pleasures of 
 a picturesque tour, inhaling the pure air of the mountains, and 
 the freshness of the valleys." These criticisms are important, 
 as showing that the ground Avas prepared for Eousseau and 
 his friends to labour, and a body of public opinion already in 
 their favour, which, in the absence of other than aesthetic 
 motives, the Academicians would have found it hard to with- 
 stand. Moreover, a picture, Lisiere de hois coupS^ Foret de 
 Ccm/pihgne^ that he was preparing for the Salon of the follow- 
 ing year, was bought by the Duke of Orleans. Eousseau 
 took it with him to his already beloved Fontainebleau, 
 touching and retouching it, as his practice was, to excess ; and 
 a few months later M. de Cailleux, the director, requisitioned 
 the same picture too late for the Luxembourg Gallery, and this 
 incident — this " competition des grands " — sent Eousseau off 
 on his Alpine trip, in 1834, in high spirits, and full of hope 
 and energy. 
 
 We cannot emulate the romantic detail in which M. Sensier 
 makes a charming novelette of this happiest episode of 
 Eousseau's life — this last gleam of the sunshine of youth — 
 ^' son dernier beau tempsy As his friend, Lorentz, his 
 versatile, and very volatile, companion, prophetically wrote 
 to him : — " Never again in your life will opportunity come 
 to you to think you are a bird — to soar above the mountains, 
 and keep company with the clouds — and you hesitate ! " 
 
 The cause of his hesitation was his new acquaintance with 
 Jules Dupre, ripening rapidly into that friendship, which was 
 afterwards so important in the lives of both, but in the end 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 57 
 
 so chequered by alternations of distrust and reconciliation, 
 and which, by itself, would make a romance of Rousseau's 
 otherwise extremely romantic biography, if one had space for 
 the whole story. Dupre had been introduced to him by 
 Eicourt, and had found full sympathy from Rousseau in his 
 own s}/lvan and pastoral tastes, and had won a half promise 
 from him to throw over Lorentz and the Alps for *'the bank 
 of the Bousane or the Vienne, in the land of grass meadows 
 and forests." Rousseau might have done worse. Dupre, 
 personally, was a man ; and Lorentz a feather-headed mounte- 
 bank, " the Amphitryon of the Francs-juges of the Societe du 
 Grelot,'' i.e.^ a Bohemian inner circle of the wildest of the 
 enfants perdus of the young painters of the period. The 
 giddy mountain peaks and Lorentz were as well paired, as 
 the quiet sylvan retreat, and Dupre. 
 
 Rousseau elected the former, and travelled direct to La 
 Faucille, one of the mountains of the Jura chain, to a pass 
 through which the Gauls, in ancient days, came down into 
 Helvetia, where behind a great block of sheltering granite he 
 found a roadside inn, built of the trunks of fir-trees, where 
 ''he studied the great chain of Alps dominated by Mont 
 Blanc, under all conditions of atmosphere, clear and calm 
 under the blue sky, or overcast under the vapours that rise 
 from Lake Leman, or fresh and faultless in the morning, before 
 the rising sun, finally, eternally impassable in the midst of the 
 storms and the thunder.'' 
 
 Here Rousseau remained four months, with his lively friend, 
 Lorentz, and an aristocrat of the old regime, a Comte de la 
 Fortelle, whose antecedents and character are extremely in- 
 teresting, but difficult to condense. The sort of father-and-son 
 afi'ection that appears to have arisen between the proud and 
 extremely poor old gentleman and young Rousseau is a 
 
58 
 
 THE BAKBTZON SCHOOL. 
 
 pleasant light upon his character as it might have been in the 
 absence of his friends of the enfants perdus ; we shall see the 
 same light again in his attitude towards the mother of Dupre, 
 and towards Millet, and in the evening of his own life, and in 
 the finest of the interpretations of the voice of nature that he 
 has bequeathed to the world. 
 
 Sensier finds a portrait of his temperament and of his 
 impulses " in a letter to his mother from LaFaucille — "a lover, 
 to excess, of wild nature ; astounded by the view of the grand 
 spectacles of the Infinite ; always in a feverish haste for his 
 projects in art ; seduced and subdued by the attractions of a 
 man whom he studied and loved as a being rare and precious ; 
 enjoying, like a primitive Epicurean, the fruits of the 
 mountain." 
 
 He painted here a Vipav of the Chain of Mont Blanc in a 
 Storm powerfully described by his biographer : — " The Alps 
 had veiled their heads under an immense black cloud ; the 
 thunder roared ; the lightning fitfully revealed, beyond the 
 gloomy shroud of mist, Mont Blanc, august and calm beneath 
 the insults of the elements. . . . With a fearful clap of 
 thunder, presently, the veil was raised, and the Alps appeared 
 * virgins of light/ radiant under a blue sky, blue as a dream of 
 paradise ! " 
 
 He painted also a study of the inn of La Faucille as it 
 appeared after a night of snow and frost, and, we are told, he 
 thought so much of this study that he always afterwards hung 
 it over the head of his bed until his death ; and, finally, one 
 rainy day he painted a signboard for the inn. The Diligence 
 Ascending the Mountain Eoad ; and, as M. Sensier says, "What 
 would Uncle Colombet have said to that f'" 
 
 Among the lighter incidents of the holiday we have the 
 
 * See page 48. 
 
EOUSSEAU. 
 
 59 
 
 following, on the 12tli of October, 1834 : — ''The friends, stay- 
 ing to such a late season, become suspected of political motives, 
 and a M. de Montrond, the seus-prefet of Gex, appears in a post- 
 chaise at the inn to make inquiries. .... Lorentz goes 
 out to receive him at the door, and, after the usual saluta- 
 tions, turns three somersaults on his hands {fait trois sauts de 
 carpe)^ offers him his arm, as he would to the lady of the house, 
 and leads him in to Eousseau, who is very busy on a sketch, 
 and receives him coldly, and begs him to take a seat on the 
 only chair (which had disappeared), M. de Montrond, however, 
 sits on the bed, and says, ' Ah, 9a ! Messieurs ! if we were to 
 light a pipe we should get along better,' and having smoked 
 his pipe, gives them passports en rkgleJ^ 
 
 At the instigation of the sous-prdfM, now their very good 
 friend, they made their late excursion to Mont St. Bernard, on 
 which they witnessed that descent of the cattle from the high 
 Alps which inspired the picture that was so unfortunate in its 
 results. "A ruminant nation appears on the highest peaks, 
 and spreads itself over the hillside down to the lowest pas- 
 turage, like a chain of precious stones, tossed by Polyphemus 
 out of his cavern. Slowly and solemnly the caravan descends, 
 fills all the ravines, and winds round the rocks, or glides along 
 under the lofty arches of the forest of firs. .... This migra- 
 tion continues for days and nights, and is audible in the mys- 
 tery of the fog ; and the horn of the Macares, the lowing of 
 the cows, and the tinkling of bells combine like the chords of a 
 pastoral symphony.'' 
 
 Lorentz says : " It was like a torrent of variegated velvets, 
 which bore along with it rose-coloured muzzles, black eyes, 
 stalactites of slaver, and thousands of horned heads decorated 
 with splendid nosegays ; and with the costumes of the shepherds 
 and shepherdesses." 
 
GO 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL 
 
 From this excursion they make their return to Paris, halting 
 at Sahns, where Rousseau visits his grandmother, and paints 
 her portrait *'in a round peasant's hat, covered with faded 
 embroidery, fixing her piercing black eyes on the painter her 
 descendant" ; and from Salins they return to Paris in the great 
 snows of the winter of 1834. 
 
 "C'est son dernier beau temps says Sensier. At Paris he 
 set to work at once on the Descente des Vaches, and his own 
 studio being too small and inconvenient, his faithful friend, 
 Ary Scheffer, transferred him to one in his own house, where 
 in a few months he finished the celebrated picture. 
 
 In the Salon of 1835 (the Salons were held in January) he 
 found admission for two sketches which he had sent home 
 from Switzerland, and sold to the Prince de Joinville. These 
 sketches gave but a poor idea of Rousseau's talent, and their 
 imperfection may have damaged his reputation with the 
 responsible authorities. 
 
 The enmities and the intrigues that corrupted the juries of 
 that period, and dogged the footsteps of Rousseau to the very 
 end of his life, are never fully explained. From this year 1835 
 until the Revolution, all of Rousseau's pictures were, as a 
 matter of course, rejected, in the face of the protests of critics 
 and men of great influence ; nor was the persecution abandoned 
 until in 1867, as we shall sec, it had slowly tortured the ner- 
 vous, excitable man to paralysis and death. Subsequently to 
 1848 the prejudice had no reference to the school in art that 
 he represented ; his friends and colleagues, after that date, had 
 little to complain of ; only Rousseau was again and again baffled 
 with hope deferred, and reminded, as it seemed, of some unfor- 
 gotten stigma which set him apart from others w^henever the 
 question of honours and rewards came forward. The true his- 
 tory of the matter is still unrevealed. 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 61 
 
 The refusal of the Descente des Vaches in 1836 irritated espe- 
 cially the Scheffers, who exhibited the picture apart in their 
 studio in the Eue Chaptal. M. Gustav Planche writes : — We 
 must regret that M. Bidault has shut the door of the Louvre 
 to a canvas of M. Kousseau, exhibited now in the studio of 
 M. Ary Scheffer, for this work would be reckoned among the 
 best and most important of the Salon. The canvas is high ; a 
 troupe of heifers is descending along a rugged mountain gorge ; 
 the time chosen is evening ; the vegetation is titanic and pro- 
 fuse, and the growth of the plants entangled like that of a 
 virgin forest of South America.'^ *'He had seized/' says M. 
 Sensier, " across the screen of mountain firs the aspect of the 
 glittering region of the glacier, its power and its mystery, and 
 the white and solitary peaks illuminated by the last rays of the 
 light of day. Out of the calm atmosphere of autumn he 
 evoked the warning of the approaching rage of winter, and a 
 dream of all that those glaciers, so resplendent in luminous 
 peace, contain for the gloomy months of mists and winds." A 
 serious defect in the picture was that it was painted with a 
 vehicle which has almost destroyed it. 
 
 Passing over his visit to Barbizon of this year, his acquaint- 
 ance with Diaz, and his influence on the work of this great 
 colourist, and only recording the death of his mother, on the 
 15th April, 1837, the next important incident of Eousseau's 
 biography is his visit to Nantes of that year, and the studies 
 that he made in La Vendee — of a marshy country, and espe- 
 cially the painting, Le Marais en Vendee, that he made near 
 Tilfauge, of a marsh near a paper-mill — a laboured work and 
 realistic, evidencing close study of aquatic life and vegetation. 
 
 He was travelling in company with M. Charles Leroux, the 
 son of a proprietor of the province, who, with a small society 
 of Breton artists and amateurs, had organised, at Nantes, an 
 
62 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 exhibition of the famous pictures refused at the Salon of 1836, 
 and from Tiffauge, he went on with M. Leroux to the Chateau du 
 Souh's, near Cerisaye, his father's house, where there were two 
 venerable avenues, one of elm trees, the other of chestnuts, and 
 remained there until December, painting for the Salon his 
 great work, the Avenue of Chestnuts, with which he returned 
 to Paris about the end of the year. 
 
 The Avenue, although refused by the Salon, advanced the 
 reputation of Kousseau among artists and critics still more 
 than the Descente des VacJies, which hung in its company in 
 Kousseau's studio, and, besides his friends, Thore, Diaz, and 
 Dupre, he had encouragement from the sympathy of Delacroix, 
 and of Madame Georges Sand. Moreover Delacroix induced 
 the Director of the Department of Fine Arts, M. Cav6, to make 
 an offer of 2,000 francs for the picture ; which, however, was, 
 in the meantime, sold to M. Perier. 
 
 In these years, 1837 — 1840, Rousseau, reduced to dependence 
 on his father, whose means were very straitened, had no 
 more excursions or voyages, but all his life centred in his 
 studio, among the few faithful friends who believed in him. 
 
 He passed as much time as he could at Barbizon, where he 
 expended much unnecessary labour in the perpetual retouching 
 of finished work. Sensier speaks of him bringing his sketches 
 home of an evening, and arranging them before him in the 
 gloaming, on a meal tub, when he would light his pipe, and 
 sitting opposite them amuse ^himself in the dusk with imagi- 
 nations of fantastic variations ; and then he would take to 
 painting these imaginations over his studies, so that the jokers 
 would say there was neither top nor bottom, nor sky nor land 
 to be distinguished. 
 
 Among the most faithful of his friends at this period was 
 Dupre, who held together the alliance formed among the artists 
 
KOUSSEAU. 
 
 63 
 
 excommunicated by the corrupt jury, by a fortnightly dinner 
 which he gave at his lodgings in the Avenue Frochot; at 
 which, we are told, Ary SchefFer, Decamps, Delacroix, Barye, 
 Chenavart, and Rousseau were always punctual. 
 
 In July, 1841, we find the friends Rousseau and Dupre, 
 quietly domiciled together at the little village of Monsoult, 
 near Mafliers, on the borders of the forest of the Isle-Adam, 
 ''a charming valley, dotted with orchards, and with 'rustic 
 plantations,' where they had before their eyes the beautiful 
 verdure of those woods and fields in which the Princes of Conti 
 and of Bourbon used to hunt." 
 
 Here the two friends lived in a little house, which belonged 
 to the constructor of the Vendome Column, and each had his 
 studio, door to door, and Madame Dupre, the mother of Jules, 
 was their housekeeper. "It was a quiet life, a trois, with the 
 sweets of the vie de famille" The phases of Rousseau's life; 
 its alternations of domestic quiet, and Paris turmoil, and 
 Manfred-like communion with the wildest solitudes of the 
 mountains and woods, should all be apportioned to the paint- 
 ings that they influenced, and the work of doing this, however 
 long, would be most interesting — his emotional apprehension 
 of landscape and atmosphere being influenced, as it was, by the 
 moods within himself. 
 
 A striking example of this would be a comparison of his 
 work of 1841, at peace in the vie de famille at Monsoult, with 
 that of the following year, the greater part of which he spent 
 alone, wandering in the wildest of eerie scenery along the 
 
 mysterious windings of the Bousane, and among the fracas 
 dramatiqiies of the Creuse : — a country of the wildest beauty, 
 of primitive pasture-lands intersected by watercourses and 
 groves of gigantic oaks and elms of unusual size," a country of 
 gloom, and old superstitions of the Celtic times, a country that 
 
64 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 was called Gargilesse because pilgrims of old used to shud- 
 der to approach it, and used to say, ' Mon beau monsieur, n'y 
 allez mie ! Tout un chascun qui y passe gorge y laisse (i.e., 
 had their throats cut) ; finally, a country of all-pervading mists 
 and fogs. Pictures that he painted here, La Mare, La JetSe 
 d'un Etang, &c., are characterised ^'of execution undecided, of 
 harmony doubtful, but masterpieces of plaintive emotion ; the 
 cry of distress of the man of the cities exiled to the unwhole- 
 some country." " A marsh, where the rushes are bending under 
 an autumn gale, and on its bank a woman washing clothes ; 
 behind the v/oman a little copse of oak trees, and a yellow and 
 dying ray from a powerless sun, passing through among them, 
 licks with its parting gleam the elongated figures of the trees." 
 The description, gloomily worded, is evidently inspired by a 
 gloomy representation of a most melancholy swamp. 
 
 Passing the events of 1843 as unimportant, we come to the 
 grand excursion made in 1844 by Rousseau and Dupr6, in 
 company, to the sandy dunes of Gascony and the slopes of the 
 Pyrenees, through Bordeaux and Mont de Marsan to those 
 strange regions of sand where the natives stalk over the tree- 
 less plain on stilts, where league after league and hour after 
 hour the tourist has nothing to look at but dunes and plains of 
 sand, glittering in the tropical sunshine under a faultless blue 
 sky. The descriptions are charming of the places where they 
 make their halts — at the little city, curiously named, of 
 Peyrehorade, or "rolling Peter," "one of those nooks of happi- 
 ness where people subsist on the blueness of the sky and the 
 murmuring of the water," — at Begars, "a primitive, but 
 favoured country, of tropical climate and vegetation, where 
 melons, lemons, and orange trees are as fresh and plentiful as 
 apples are elsewhere, growing by the side of oaks as majestic 
 as those of Fontainebleau, among the wooden houses of the 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 65 
 
 peasants, overshadowed by their wide-spreading boughs," — and 
 where Rousseau made a remarkable drawing, in the field 
 round their house, of " all the domestic animals, horses, fowls, 
 geese, pigs, &c., in black and white, finishing it with infinite 
 labour and scrupulous care."' But everywhere on this excursion 
 he is struggling with the impossibility of the infinite blue sky 
 and its faultless light, and after five months of wrestling with 
 this problem the two painters give it up in despair, and 
 leaving their luggage behind them, tour with knapsacks to 
 Bayonne, visit a spur of the Pyrenees, and the Basque country, 
 and then hasten home to Paris — having achieved nothing 
 remarkable, defeated, apparently, by the monotony of the 
 faultless blue sky ! 
 
 But the grand mountain air of the Pyrenees has spoiled 
 them both for Paris life — they refused to live there, and went 
 together, in October, 1845, back to Isle- Adam, where they 
 settled down in a very small studio made for them by M. 
 Mellet (the brother-in-law of Dupre) in his own house, where 
 they returned to the vie de famille, and Madam Dupr6 again 
 presided over their household. 
 
 By a stroke of policy worthy of their antecedents, the jury 
 in 1844, having been so much abused for their refusals of the 
 pictures of the rising school, admitted in that year a large 
 number of execrably bad pictures, so that all the world cried 
 out : " The Jury is far too indulgent after all 1 " but their 
 indulgence was not extended to Rousseau. 
 
 Sensier says, of the year 1846, that it was "perhaps the 
 gloomiest period of Rousseau's life — the iniquities of the Jury; 
 the burden of his business affairs ; anxiety for the future ; 
 all together, had naturally made him distrustful and inclined to 
 solitude.'^ At this time he came to lodge, in Paris, at No. 11, 
 Place Pigalle, where Jules Dupre and he had each a small 
 
 F 
 
G6 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 '•'apartment/' on the first floor, of three rooms and a spacious 
 studio. About this time mention is made of his paying a visit 
 to Madame Georges Sand, and about this time, also, he made 
 the acquaintance of Millet. 
 
 The year 1847 is distinguished by an unfortunate love 
 affair, of which we know only, that he became engaged to be 
 married, and that the engagement was broken off, and that he 
 retreated alone to Barbizon, where Thore was his only visitor 
 for a space of time, — but Thore has put upon record — probably 
 has also embellished — some striking utterances of Eousseau, 
 made during a ramble in the forest. Of two things Eousseau 
 had a horror, the cutting down of his favourites among forest 
 trees, and the planting of the monotonous and earth-poisoning 
 fir. A clearing in the wood he called, "the gloomy battle- 
 field, where the triumphant woodmen plunder the corpses of 
 the slain ; and the sound of the hatchet is the toll of a funeral 
 bell," and, of the enervating influence of modern civilisation, 
 Eousseau said : " The soul of man is like the forest we are 
 walking in, ruthlessly spoiled by maleficent ' sylvicultivators ' ; 
 they check the growth of the plants that would blossom in 
 flowers ; they fell the lofty trees of our higher thoughts ; they 
 root up the native shoots and sucklings which grow towards 
 the sun ; and shatter into splinters the proud rock of our will ; 
 and level all the hills that soar towards heaven ; and then, 
 when the native character is turned upside down, they sow 
 over the ruins a creeping kind of ivy destitute of form and 
 colour." 
 
 The year 1848 came, and the Eevolution, so long antici- 
 pated, at last ; and before Paris was pacified, or the Eepublic 
 fairly established, Ledru-Eollin had settled with the friends of 
 Thore, the 'infants fmrhis'^ of the artists' clubs. Many acts 
 of life-and-death urgency must [^have been postponed, on that 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 67 
 
 of Fd)ruary^ for the issue of the decree for the painters : — 
 ''The jury charged with receiving pictures for the annual 
 exhibitions shall be appointed by election." 
 
 M. Jeanron, for championship of "horny-handed industry " 
 in a series of designs representing the life of a working artisan 
 was made Director of the Louvre; and, taking time by the 
 forelock, had procured by the 28th of February (before the 
 Eevolution was a week old) the rights of Liberte and Egalite 
 for the proletariat of the world of art. All pictures what- 
 soever — good, bad, and indifferent — offered for exhibition in 
 the Salon of this fraternal year, were to be hung without excep- 
 tion. One of the few sober journals of the day, the Rd^puUique 
 Frangaise of the 19th of March, contains a lively feuilleton 
 describing the result of this Eepublican joke : — 
 
 We, too, have had our revolution. The jury, whom we 
 and our colleagues have been bombarding year after year, has 
 fallen. M. de Cailleux, that implacable Dictator, has fallen. 
 May he never be replaced ! . . . . All the known names are 
 here. Art is faithful to the Eepublic. Eugene Delacroix has 
 sent ten canvases, of which four are of the first rank. Gudin, 
 Schnetz, Couder, Tony Johannot, Miiller, Meissonnier, Eugene 
 Deveria, Dedreux, Jadin, Ary Scheffer, are here ; also Flers, 
 Troyon and Cabat, Eosa Bonheur, Champmartin, Horace 
 Vernet, Perignon, Baron, and Diaz, who is transformed into an 
 ancient Florentine master." 
 
 But the gallery was half full of pictures which " were not 
 worth the porterage," democratically hung, *'its httle place 
 assigned to each." 
 
 " The charity of the Commissioners has relegated to obscure 
 corners some pictures too bad for the TMaire de Guignol, or 
 for a quack doctor's booth at a fair ; but the public found them 
 out, and amused itself cruelly. Under one a freshly written 
 
68 
 
 THE BAKBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 inscription announced, a * Landscape, hy an artist dill in the 
 Hade ' (en herbe) ; further on, * F^'nit, Inj an unripe artist ' — 
 and so on. 
 
 Eousseau did not exhibit, but he and Dupre were on the 
 Hanging Committee, which was very numerous ; and each 
 received an order from the Minister for a landscape of the 
 price of 4,000 francs, which was at that time considered a 
 munificent price. Eousseau filled this order with a View of 
 Forest Land at Sunset, which was hung in the Luxembourg 
 gallery. 
 
 The artists held a meeting at this time, to consult on the 
 election of a representative in the Assembly ; but when the}^ 
 met they split up into sections which v/ould not amalgamate. 
 The painters would not fraternise with the dramatic artists, 
 nor the sculptors with the engravers, nor the painters of his- 
 tory with those of landscape, nor the Eomantics with the 
 Classics. ''The distinction of specialities," says M. Sensier, 
 " was carried to the infinitesimal, each body being convinced 
 only of the necessity of its own individual group. Quot capita 
 tot se7isus.^^ Nothing came of it. 
 
 Eousseau went home from the meeting sad and disheartened, 
 and shut himself up in his studio, only coming forth when he 
 and Dupre were summoned in their turn to shoulder their 
 guns and march, to bivouac on the boulevards with the " con- 
 tingents of departments." 
 
 About this period a new domestic interest appears in the life 
 of Eousseau, in his union with a 3'Oung woman of humble 
 extraction, from the Tranche Comt^. We are told only that 
 she was poor, and a confirmed invalid, and is always alluded to 
 by Sensier as La Mcdade. Eousseau appears to have sheltered 
 her in the first place from motives of compassion, and finally 
 to have conceived a strong paternal aff'cction for his " poor bird 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 69 
 
 beaten by the winds/^ and never parted with her again. It was 
 thought that they were privately married at Barbizon, where 
 they spent their honeymoon in a cottage overgrown with clematis, 
 and nasturtium, and Mexican creepers ; and Rousseau, we are 
 told, renewed his youth, and produced vigorous work. 
 
 Of this period is that pretty autumn scene, the Little Hillock 
 of Jean de Paris, containing the figure of his wife at work under 
 a group of spreading beech-trees, in which ''he has modu- 
 lated all the ruddy and tawny harmonies of the season, when 
 the leaveSj deprived of sap, are only waiting for the breezes to 
 disperse them.'^ 
 
 The three pictures which Rousseau sent to the Salon of 1849 
 were badly hung. Jules Dupre and RafFet, who had not exhi- 
 bited, were decorated on this occasion with the Cross of the 
 Legion of Honour, but Rousseau received only a First-class 
 Medal. 
 
 The inequity of this incensed him, unfortunately, against his 
 friend Dupre, and an estrangement followed, which continued 
 for several years. It was a calamity for Rousseau, but a great 
 injustice on his part, to Dupre, who was helpless in the matter, 
 and had been the best and most disinterested friend he ever had 
 in his life. He had the excuse (at the time, but not after- 
 wards) that he was harassed by many anxieties. 
 
 Hitherto, in confidence of his future, Rousseau had kept in 
 his own possession the pictures for which he could get no fair 
 price, but now, under pressure of his new responsibility, he de- 
 termined to sell them by public auction. The sale accordingly 
 took place on the 2nd March, 1850, when 53 pictures were 
 sold for 15,700 francs, but deductions, of which it would be 
 interesting to see the particulars, reduced his own nett interest 
 in the result to less than 8,000 francs. 
 
 For an average price then, of six pounds, these pictures were 
 
70 
 
 THE BAKBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 sold, which so very few years later on were each to be worth 
 a small fortune ! 
 
 The Salon of the winter of 1850-51 brought new vexation 
 and injustice, Rousseau being not only left out altogether from 
 the honours and prizes awarded; but his pictures having inad- 
 vertently been hung in a good position, were transferred, after 
 he had seen them there, to a worse. On this occasion a great 
 outcry was raised. Diaz, who received the Cross of the Legion 
 of Honour, electrified the guests at the banquet of the nouveaux 
 d^cor^s, by proposing at the table a toast to Theodore Eousseau, 
 our Master forgotten ! " which made the scandal that may be 
 imagined. 
 
 At Rousseau's demand, a solemn investigation of the circum- 
 stances was made by the ex-minister, Ledru-Rollin, and Charles 
 Blanc, and Jeanron, and this seemed to show that the omission 
 of Rousseau in 1849 had been due to the hostility of a certain 
 M. de Luynes, M^ho saw no merit in his work. It was a feeble 
 shifting of responsibility; but the frail and timid executive 
 hastened to stop this leak in the following year, when at last 
 he received the Cross, "a miserable compensation," as M. 
 Sensier remarks, "for the annoyances with which they had 
 saturated him ! " But, if we exclude the theory that his work 
 was honestly disliked, we, obviously, have still to learn why 
 Rousseau, of all men, should be annoyed by a Republican 
 Government so zealous to do honour to all other rei^resentatives 
 of the Romantic School. 
 
 His pictures having now, by the sale of 1850, become the 
 property of men of business, began rapidly to increase in value, 
 and as a consequence, Rousseau himself obtained better prices 
 for his work. M. Sensier hints that this benefit had been 
 discounted by contracts obtained from him in advance. At 
 any rate his worst troubles were over, and the years passed on 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 71 
 
 in greater comfort, but there is still a something very pitiful 
 in the luxuries that this great maker of other men's fortunes is 
 congratulated upon. 
 
 " His thatched roof he transferred into a studio of timber 
 and tiles ; he bought some etchings of Eembrandt, Ostade, and 
 Claude, and he decorated his house with those sim_ple bits of 
 crockery, now so popular, which he was one of the first to go 
 a-hunting for among the peasants and at country markets." 
 
 In short, he had been disciplined to the point that he was 
 thankful for small mercies. How interesting, in its different 
 way, would be the comparison of his biography with the bio- 
 graphies of those to whom the fortune went that he and Millet 
 earned ! How useful to the struggling artist of the future a 
 publication of the trade manoeuvres which transferred the 
 golden harvest to the Middle Man ! So promptly too ! For 
 the financial turn of the tide, in the case of Eousseau, seems 
 almost to date from his surrender of the fifty-three pictures 
 that he had kept for himself. And, we must remember, the 
 motto : ^'Die Kunst soil nicht nach Geld strehen^^ has by no means 
 been that of the demigods in Art. They managed these things 
 better in the sixteenth century. There were no Millets then ! 
 
 Liberated, however, at last from his most pressing anxiety, 
 Eousseau did excellent work at Barbizon, in the years 1850-53, 
 with more " freedom, self-reliance, and indulgence of impulse, 
 than before. "He felt strength to spread his wings," says 
 Sensier, who mentions with that imaginative appreciation of 
 his, which seems to go beyond the painter's aim, three pictures 
 especially — A Group of Oaks in the Gorges of Apreinonf, The 
 Forest Skirt of the Monts Girard, and the Marais dans les 
 Landes, 
 
 The first, an effect dazzling from myriads of solar com- 
 bustions,'' represents cows grazing under the three great oaks 
 
72 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 of the Dormoir of the Gorges Apremont, at high noon, 
 " when the sun in jack-o-lanthorn sjoangles, pours down, like a 
 rain-shower of light, over a whole tract of country/' The 
 second, '^La Lister shows a forest road, and b}^ the side of it, 
 an old oak-tree, quite wild, who looks angry to see in front 
 of him a young copse daring to grow green again after the 
 massacre of his friends and contemporaries. The oak grasps 
 in his strong roots a flat rock, which looks like a tablet stone 
 seized by the king of the forests. The blue, calm sky, traversed 
 by light clouds, which are running towards a meeting of the 
 sylphs, suggests the silence of the solitudes, and the voices that 
 are there to be heard." 
 
 The Marais dans les Laiides, Le Four Communal^ and La Ferme 
 were three pictures selected by Eousseau to be w^orked up to 
 what M. Sensier calls " an Eclogue devoted to Light, in three 
 odes ; without any pre-occupation for the picturesque, for the 
 anecdote, or for the artificial ; to celebrate the dominion and 
 power, always young, of the Mother Creatrix of all things. 
 This,'' he adds, "was a task that Eousseau devoted the rest of 
 his life to, and never achieved, though he spent whole days 
 and nights upon it." (But, surely, these are the rhapsodies 
 rather of a literary man than of a painter.) 
 
 Passing on now to the great International Exhibition of 
 1855, we notice first an interesting criticism by Edmond About, 
 which should be read, as a corrective, by those who, with 
 Sensier and others, set the same values on the crude, un- 
 trained, and on the better work of Eousseau. He compares 
 the Cotes de Granville of 1833 with the Marais des Landes of 
 twenty years later. 
 
 The former he calls the 23icture " of the inside of a pie, with 
 a medley of trees, houses, figures — a little of everything — 
 heaped together in it. We detect the eagerness of a young 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 73 
 
 man of talent, who wants to swallow nature whole, in one 
 mouthful." Yet this picture, the colouring of which is unpleasant, 
 founded M. Eousseau's fame. 
 
 Among the other works of the same artist are many which 
 are admirable pochades — the Sunset in the Forest of Fontainehleau 
 for example. Everybody, who is at all at home in an artist's 
 studio, knows that there is alwaj^s, about the second or third 
 sitting, a moment when the sketch is very fine. The difficulty 
 is to make a picture of it, and not to spoil it. Eousseau, and 
 others of his school, for fear of spoiling their landscapes, leave 
 them in their sketchy, pochade stage. 
 
 "But the Marais des Landes is a little radiant canvas, where 
 the water mirrors, the sun gleams, and the flowers blow, and 
 the cows play joyfully. Nothing can be simpler, or more 
 true, or more delicious, than this picture. And it is finished — 
 Note that ! " 
 
 AVith reference to the often-repeated accusation of want of 
 finish, we have, on the authority of a pupil (Mr. L. Letronne)p 
 a statement of Eousseau's own idea of Finish. 
 
 "Let us come to an understanding about the -word finish,^' 
 said Eousseau: "that which finishes a picture is not the 
 quantity of details, it is the accuracy of the whole. A picture 
 is not limited by its frame. No matter what is the subject, 
 there should be in it one principal object on which your eye 
 always rests ; other objects are all subsidiary to this. They 
 interest you less, and after them there is nothing more for 
 your eye [to seek]. This is the true limitation of a picture. 
 That principal object must also be the most striking to him 
 who looks at your work, therefore you must be always coming 
 back to it, accentuating more and more its colour. 
 
 " If, on the contrary, your picture contains a finicking 
 detail, equal from end to end of the canvas, the spectator will 
 
74 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 look at it with indifference. All being of equal interest, 
 nothing is of any interest. There will be no limits. Your 
 picture will be able to prolong itself indefinitely. You will 
 never come to the end of it. You will never have finished it. 
 It is the ensemble that finishes a picture. The magnificent lion 
 of Barye, at the Tuileries, has all his mane upon him in a 
 mass, and looks much better than he would have done if the 
 sculptor had modelled the hairs one by one." 
 
 The Exhibition of 1855, we are told, was the point of time 
 when Rousseau felt himself truly appreciated ; when the 
 struggles of his life had their reward at last; but a curious 
 thing to note is that he owed his appreciation to foreigners, 
 and not to Frenchmen. The Americans appreciated at first 
 glance this style of art, singularly retentissant'' and the 
 nature Matante^'^ that Rousseau tried to express — and the 
 English " adjudged him to be the greatest landscape painter of 
 the day. Their journals have very nobly avowed this superi- 
 ority of Rousseau over their Anglo-Saxon painters." 
 
 This last statement takes us by surprise. The attention of 
 English criticism was at the moment absorbed in Pre-Raphael- 
 itism, as headed by Millais — we think it open to the reproach 
 of a want of appreciation, and flippancy, in speaking of the 
 grand collection of works of French Art under its notice. 
 This is the style of it : — " It must have been evident at a glance 
 that France has the best chance of issuing triumphant from 
 this competition. She crushes all other schools by the number 
 and size of her contributions. In all the English collection 
 there is not a canvas like G6rome's — for size — it being some 
 feet larger than the Marriage of Cana," and so on. We have 
 not space for quotation of more serious criticisms. 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 75 
 
 11. 
 
 Reverting to Eousseau's life ; — the dry detail of the financial 
 biography of most men would be uninteresting, but that of 
 Eousseau and of Millet is worth investigation. 
 
 We have seen that Eousseau was struggling with poverty 
 up to the date of the sale of his pictures in 1850, and that he 
 enjoyed comparative comfort up to 1855. In that year, we 
 are told, he purchased Millet's picture from the Salon, for 
 4,000 francs, giving out that he did so for an American friend, 
 but in reality for himself. Of the year 1857 we are told a 
 most extraordinary tale : how he gave some offence to a great 
 Belgian manufacturer, who was, at the same time, a Duke 
 d'Arenberg, and an amateur dealer in pictures ; and that this 
 hostile Duke, or manufacturer, or picture-dealer, sought 
 revenge by keeping down the price of Eousseau's pictures in 
 the market, by subornation of hostile criticism, and further, 
 by an extraordinary device, which reminds one of the mob 
 who burned the banker's notes before his face. M. Sensier 
 says : — " He bought up the canvases of Eousseau at a high 
 price" (Eousseau had no objection to that) "in order to sell 
 them again at public auction, adjudging them " (he appears to 
 have been his own auctioneer) " either to himself, or to some 
 confederates, at the low price of 800 francs apiece, and often 
 allowing amateurs to buy them at this humble figure." 
 
 Eousseau, on his part, appears to have set himself indus- 
 triously to work to keep this curious market supplied — in vulgar 
 language, to have condescended to " pot-boilers." 
 
 "In this period he executed a series of pictures of medium 
 size, of which the compositions, sages, picturesque and easy to 
 understand, had a success oi premier coup d'ceiU' He was asked 
 
76 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 for more and more of them ; his wife urged him on tc 
 duce this readily-marketable work, which she also seem< 
 apprehend, like children, by ^ spontaneous joys. ^ 
 
 "Little by little he gave himself up to this work, in i 
 all was deliberate, foreseen, executed with the precision 
 Fleming. His touch grew heavier in this nearly mathem 
 precision, which presented the appearance of point lac 
 embroidery." 
 
 It is not surprising, under the above conditions, tha 
 pictures that he sent to the Salon of 1857 were unfavou 
 received. " The leading tenors of criticism lifted up shoi 
 indignation against his paintings. They had doubtless 
 covered a new Phoenix, and found it advisable to cai 
 Rousseau the malicious spells that Fourrier launched a 
 moon." Eousseau was deteriorating — his spontaneous 
 poetical genius was asleep — his substitution of conscien 
 industry was not appreciated. Again, in 1859, he was 1 
 criticised, even by his very good friends. M. Paul M 
 writing in the Gazette des Beaux Arts of the period, says :- 
 master whom we have much loved, and love still, M. Th6( 
 Rousseau, falls off a little. He seems to have taken too seri( 
 the objections w^hich were made to him in other times, 
 has tried to modify the habit of his brush, to soften dow 
 rugose manner, and in the rendering of foliage to paint 
 finely. It is a good thing to correct one's self, but we find 
 M. Rousseau has corrected himself too much. His execi 
 becomes almost monotonous. His touch makes itself too ( 
 {trop pareille). However luminous they still are, and ho\^ 
 luminous they appear in their soft, pleasant unity, his pic 
 want a little accent in them." 
 
 M. Sensier says: "He saw himself devoted to strife 
 humiliation to the death. Criticism seemed to have be* 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 77 
 
 more hostile than ever, giving free play to its ignorance and 
 fatuity." But the criticisms were an important factor in his 
 financial history. The value of his work was greatly reduced. 
 
 His amateurs became rarer, and the dealers visited him 
 less." 
 
 At the same time the failure of his wife's health deranged 
 all his plans for the excursions that he loved, which might have 
 inspired his work with a new life, and so the year, disastrous 
 to him, of 1860 began. 
 
 The prominent incident of that year is the end of the Italian 
 war, with the consequent general amnesty of political offenders, 
 and thereupon the return of Thore, still a lover of Art, but a 
 changed man. 
 
 " When Thore spoke of a picture now, he said ' painted in 
 such and such a j^ear — painted in glacis^ with such or such a 
 colour ' ; and he told you how a certain master had signed up 
 to a certain date, and how before and after that date ; and that 
 Hemling must now be called Memlinc — and that the date of 
 the death of Eembrandt had just been discovered, and also the 
 marriage of Hobbema — and Rousseau was sad, and said to 
 Millet, ' "We have lost our old friend. The savants have spoiled 
 him!'" 
 
 In this year Rousseau took his wife for a visit to her rela- 
 tions in the Franche Comte. He also had a trip to Neufchatel 
 with Millet, but the financial pressure was severe with him, 
 and he set about preparing twenty-five pictures that he had in 
 hand for public sale. He worked for five months retouching these 
 pictures to bring them into harmony, and Sensier is of opinion 
 that he had better have left them alone ; they were sold at the 
 Hotel Drouot on the 7th May, 1861, producing only 37,795 
 francs ; but when they came to count the canvases that were 
 left for account of the exjpert, and the responsibility of some 
 
78 
 
 THE BATIBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 friends, it was found that Eousseau had only 15,000 francs to 
 receive." 
 
 The financial history has many missing links, for this solid 
 sum of £600 appears to have brought no perceptible improve- 
 ment to his position. Discounts, bills of accommodation, and 
 heavy interest accumulating, held him down, and were no 
 doubt, as Sensier says, " incessant torture." Moreover, they 
 comjDelled him to go to Paris, to his registered domicile there, 
 once every month, afterwards once everj^ fortnight, to treat 
 with his creditors on the spot. At the same time he felt 
 acutely the loss of popularity that his work at this period 
 suffered, and, as a climax of misery, he was devotedly attached 
 to his jDOor wife, whose intellect was leaving her ! His pic- 
 ture in the Salon of this troubled year. The Oak of the Books, 
 may well have been the expression of a resolute defiance of 
 destiny. It was " a canvas of important dimensions, which 
 represents a wild forest glade, where an oak, planted by the 
 chance of the winds, had forced its growth through massive 
 blocks of stone, a vigorous savage ! In the clefts of the moss- 
 grown stone appear brambles, thorns, lichens, holly and red 
 berries ; dwarf birches had lifted up flat stones, like the dead 
 coming forth from their graves, in their struggle for life, and 
 breathed their share of light between the time-worn blocks. 
 The sky was just visible, in the distance, under the branches. 
 
 "It was a vestibule for the gloomy forest of Dante, a hiding- 
 place, a nest of reptiles, where all those creatures who shun 
 mankind and light pass their lives in an anarchical Witch es'- 
 Sabbath, devouring and destroying one another, as it is in the 
 vision of the prophet. The general tone was green, and har- 
 monized to all the verdures of the forest, from the grasses and 
 ferns to the branches of the oaks, to the verdaturre of the 
 realities as to the demi-tints and shadows." 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 79 
 
 The Gazette des Beaux Arts, which has a fine etching of this 
 picture, says that it was severely criticised for its powerful 
 greens, "which he had procured at the chemist's." 
 
 In this same year, 1861, Eousseau sent two pictures to the 
 Antwerp exhibition, and it is remarked that he was always 
 better appreciated in foreign countries than at home. 
 
 Eousseau's "Dream" — it is ridiculous to call it his life — 
 now wafts him suddenly to what M. Sensier very accurately 
 describes as a land of pernicious witchcraft, a garden of 
 Armida^' ; and to the enchantress of the garden "he paid a 
 heavy tribute." " He forgot his own old country and its 
 peaceful suns, and Japan bewitched him." He found in 
 Japanese art, "the logical and frank production of the regions 
 of light," the ideal of his life," and set to work immediately 
 to transform the landscape he was then engaged upon, The 
 Village, into a monster with a southern sky, and a northern 
 landscape. A blue sky, like the coloured sapphires of the 
 Orient, like the glov/ing flames of the Aurora Borealis. — He 
 re-made his sky, he re-painted his reflections, his lights ; he left 
 nothing of his former village beyond the outlines ; he coloured 
 everything else Japanese^' The brushful of blue, that painted 
 out the grey northern sky, seems to us to have painted 
 out the artist we have been hitherto writing about. The 
 evolution of skies from inner consciousness was certainly 
 no part of the doctrine of the Eomantic school. It is M. 
 Sensier who records the almost incredible fact, we have but 
 repeated it in his words. We return, with less bewilderment, 
 rather to the financial History. 
 
 Absorbed in his new dream, like Palissy the Potter, he 
 became oblivious of his worldly afi*airs, and, promptly, the 
 wolf was at his door. "Famine," says his friend, "and 
 
80 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 %i'orse, the bailiffs were at the door ! " Like Palissy, he 
 stripped his house, he sold his collection of potter}-, his curios, 
 his travelling trunks. The proceeds must have been insigni- 
 ficant ; the sacrifice, we are told, was most painful — but it was 
 consummated — and then, afterwards — he sold, by auction, seven- 
 teen more of his own pictures, which produced, more or less, 
 fifteen thousand francs ! No explanation is accessible to 
 research — the antithesis, of starvation and six hundred pounds, 
 bluntly shows in the history as it is repeated above. More- 
 over, his creditors did not get the benefit of this realisation of 
 assets. "All the clouds dispersed," says his biographer, "he 
 believed himself saved. Peace returned to soothe him, for 
 several months ; he revisited his forest, and in spite of his 
 Japanese infidelities, gave himself up to the ideal of Creation, 
 that he loved still to find in the heart of our old bosquets : " 
 and then set out for the Alps, to paint for Mr. Hartmann, a 
 General View of the Chain of Mont Blanc, The season was late, 
 exposure to rain and the " mountain damps," brought on 
 inflammation of the lungs ; and he returned to Barbizon in 
 danger of his life. His illness lasted over three months, his 
 recovery was slow, and he was for a long time unable to work. 
 The first canvas that he took up was his Village which he 
 patiently repainted, "having always in view the implacable 
 Japanese light, its celestial intensities, its profound blues, its 
 anroms roseate as a corrosive siihlimcite.^^ 
 
 AVith three patient pictures, he shut himself up in his 
 studio, and there worked incessantly, experimentally tor- 
 menting them, from one style to another, as the wind blew 
 from Fontainebleau or Japan. The victims of this sort of 
 vivisection were La Ferme, Le Fonr Communal, and Le Village, 
 "They passed through phases that were sometimes mar- 
 vellous, sometimes lamentable. Only Millet and I were ever 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 81 
 
 allowed to see them ; but he hid himself from us whenever 
 the work took gloomy tones and vigorous accents. Then there 
 passed over his canvases a sort of atmospheric tragedy, which 
 Avas appalling to us. 
 
 "The outlines of the trees became menacing ; the forms of the 
 vegetation seemed to harden and shrivel {se crispaient) ; the 
 plans of the ground changed to stone in a gloomy despair; 
 Eousseau seemed to be chastising his work, and punishing it 
 for the long labour that it cost him, by conducting it to the 
 most lugubrious, and the most dolorous metamorphoses — on 
 other days, the pictures would all come out again limpid, 
 joyous, and sparkling, like the morning in spring — and so he 
 wasted his life over these three rustic scenes, and never could 
 make up his mind to leave them." 
 
 Mr. Hartmann, Avho had bought these pictures, and had 
 waited for them fifteen years^ at last became impatient, and 
 remonstrated — " I shall only enjoy my pictures in my extreme 
 1 old age, when I shall have become too blind to see them?' 
 Eousseau wrote him one of his hyper-sesthetic explanations : 
 
 "Do not be anxious about La Ferine, my dear Mr. Hartmann, 
 I am anxious to establish in this picture such a decision de formes^ 
 jl that it may exist, independently of the caprices of the light, 
 ij and of the influence of the hours of the day. I am regulating 
 Ij it, absolutely as a watchmaker regulates a watch after he has 
 
 I' finished it," and so on ; but, M. Sensier remarks that all this 
 seemed to Mr. Hartmann " as the reasoning of a troubled 
 mind." .... " But, Rousseau ! by your argument an artist 
 would waste his whole life on one picture." 
 " Very well, yes ! A man should be bold enough, faithful 
 enough, rich enough, to produce only one prodigious work ; 
 so that this work should be a masterpiece, to give the man 
 glory in its creation. If I were granted the fulfilment of ona 
 
82 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 wish, the wish would be to be a millionnaire^ for nothing but for 
 the bringing forth of one sole and unique picture ; to devote 
 myself to it, to take all my delight in it, to suffer for it, to 
 enjoy it, until, content with my work, after years of trial, I 
 should be able to sign it, and say, ' There my powers end, and 
 there my heart stops beating ! ' The rest of my life should be 
 passed in making drawings, in painting for amusement studies 
 which I would throw like flowers at the feet of the work with 
 which I should be satisfied^ 
 
 The Village went in for exhibition in 1864. On the very 
 day before sending it in, he treble-locked the door of his 
 studio, and re-painted all the sky in plein art Japonais, and 
 ^'dominated by those beautiful auroras of the east, which com- 
 bine in a perfect equilibrium the softness of the dawn and the 
 ardour of the tropics ; he had made for this poor hamlet in 
 Picardy, a firmament in which Buddha would have chosen his 
 throne of light." 
 
 One circumstance in Rousseau's life is impressed upon us in 
 the events of this year. He had made bitter enemies in the party 
 warfare that he was concerned in, but he was never without 
 the sympathy, practically expressed, of a circle of good friends. 
 
 In this year (1864) one of these friends undertook to buy 
 up all his creditors, and " restore him to liberty and peace." 
 But it was only a brief holiday that Eousseau gained. He 
 hesitated to disclose the extent of his wounds," and the result 
 is described : "He had one creditor more, and one friend 
 less." 
 
 Another circumstance is more difficult to allude to, from the 
 doubt that hangs about it ; the apparent internal contradictions 
 in the ex])arte statements of Sensier on the subject. He tells 
 us that everybody, but Rousseau himself, thought that his wife 
 w^as mad. It is impossible to believe him, after only reading 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 the few extracts that he gives of Kousseau's letters to her, the 
 friendly greetings and messages always sent to her by his 
 father and his friends, and the little incidents of her activity 
 in the hospitalities of his household. Wherever he is, his 
 " honne petite cherie " is uppermost in his thoughts, her letters 
 are anxiously expected, the news of her health must be minute 
 and precise, even the record of her appetite and her food (for 
 she was always an invalid). Manage, then," he says, *'to 
 have no anxieties at all, even about me I Do credit to the good 
 soup, and the good air of Fontaine-Ecu. It is necessary for 
 thee to get there good strong cheeks and chubby, for / shall 
 ivear them out at once when I return to thee." That letter was 
 not written to a mad woman. They had now lived down 
 trouble together for more than twelve years, and his friend 
 says, " Eousseau had come to that androgynous condition in 
 which two beings melt together to make an indissoluble oneT 
 
 " We had found him an excellent Asylum for her, near 
 Paris, in a healthy situation. The day was appointed for 
 taking her there, but when the moment for parting came, he 
 said, Avith that regard attendri which betrayed supreme agi- 
 tation, 'Ah ; my dear friend, when I think what stores of 
 tenderness I am doing outrage to in separating myself from 
 her — she is but a spoiled child, after all ! — I find I am very 
 unjust to seek thus my own repose, at the expense of her 
 heart ! ' I saw then that the fatality must take its course." 
 
 Financial prosperity seemed to be surrounding him with a 
 Pactolus in 1865. First, the Count Paul DemidofF, building a 
 house in the rue Jean Goujon, ordered for panelling eight large 
 landscapes — of Corot, Jules Dupre, Fromentin, and Eousseau. 
 Each artist was to deliver two pictures by the 1st of September, 
 for the price of 10,000 francs. It was, however, not until 1867 
 
84 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 that Eousseau would part with his : "to finish a picture was 
 the misery of his life/' 
 
 Secondly, two enterprising young picture -dealers (MM. 
 Durand-Euel and Brame) gave him a hundred thousand francs 
 (£4j000) for "all the old studies that he had made in his 
 youth." 
 
 Rousseau, we are told, with one hand set aside a large por- 
 tion for his creditors, with the other a few bank notes to buy 
 etchings with. (It would really be extremely interesting to 
 learn what, after all, was the gross amount of Eousseau's debts 
 and hoiv they originated /) 
 
 The 3^ear 1866 was marked, in the autumn, by a visit of a 
 week to the Emperor's Court at Compiegne ; and the oppor- 
 tunity there afforded him, apparently with the greatest indul- 
 gence, of liberating his mind of all his theories and projects 
 on the subject of the encouragement of art in the country. 
 
 As one of the jurors of the Exhibition of 1867 — the presi- 
 dent of the jury — he realised for the first time the full enjoy- 
 ment of the popularity that had steadily spread, still more in 
 foreign nations than in France, in favour of his own work. 
 He saw now the fortune he had been waiting for within his 
 grasp ; he received the grand medal ; he bought thirty thou- 
 sand francs' worth of etchings at one sale ; he sold at the same 
 time two himdred thousand francs' worth of pictures. No 
 doubt he said, like Faust, to the passing hour, " Verweile doch ! 
 Du bist so schon : " and as he said it, he was struck down, in 
 that same day, by the blow that brought paralysis and speedy 
 death. It is a terrible history ! 
 
 When he learned, on the festival of the announcement of 
 rewards, that he alone of the jurors was excluded from the 
 compliment of promotion in the Legion of Honour — 
 
 " He returned with a purple face and with bloodshot eyes 
 
ROUSSEAU. 
 
 85 
 
 I saw by the twitching of his features that a dreadful 
 
 battle was raging within him, and I feared at first that he 
 would break a bloodvessel." And a short time later : " His 
 left hand felt heavy and stiff ; then " a singular form of 
 rheumatic pain " affected him ; and then he takes to his bed, 
 and soon after is imprudently shown a newspaper which reports 
 that he is suffering from paralysis, and he is terribly moved. 
 He lingers on through the year, and dies at Barbizon on the 
 22nd December, 1867, his poor Avife filling the house with her 
 lamentations, — for which she had good cause, — he had never 
 legalised their marriage ! 
 
POETEAIT OF DiAZ. By PkOFIT. 
 
mRCISSE VIRGILE DIAZ. 
 
 j^AECISSO VIRGILIO DIAZ DE LA PE^A was the son 
 of a citizen of Salamanca, Thomas Diaz de la Pena and 
 his wife Maria Manuela Belasco, who fled (presumably over 
 the Pyrenees) from the troubles of their native country, in the 
 year 1809 {not 1807, as some biographers have it) — a time of 
 tumult and national enthusiasm, when the whole country was 
 in arms against the cuckoo King Joseph, and the desolating 
 Guerilla war had begun, when every Spaniard of heart said,, 
 " La muerte es para mi un placer, si consigo matar algun 
 frances " — and even the women drilled and carried arms for 
 the fatherland : Hermosas Amazonas y mas fieras que 
 hermosas ! " — and of the poor puppet king, even his own 
 countrymen said — ''Le roi d^Espagne n'6tait guere que roi de 
 Madrid." The flight of Thomas Diaz from Salamanca into 
 France^ to Bordeaux, at this moment, indicates either that he 
 was escorted thither as a prisoner, or that his sympathies were 
 not patriotic, but French. We are told that he was "proscribed 
 by King Joseph Buonaparte, after being involved in a political 
 conspiracy," but certainly King Joseph, at that time, had other 
 matters to think about than the proscription of obscure 
 individuals. War to the knife had begun, and the days of 
 
88 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 quarter or mild dealing were past. On the other hand, no 
 Spanish patriot would voluntarily have sought refuge in the 
 heart of France. The friends of Diaz cannot but be interested 
 in this journey endured by his young mother, almost im- 
 mediately before his birth, the hardship and the misery of it ; 
 the broiling midsummer glow of the days, and the alternating 
 chills of the nights among the peaks and passes, so soon to 
 become familiar to Englishmen ; the occasional skirmishes of 
 the escort (if escort there were) with Guerilla bands, or the 
 unexpected whistling of bullets from the surrounding crags ; 
 the terrible fatigue of the young wife, jolted painfully in the 
 saddle from morning to night, day after day ; fiitally, the 
 arrival at Bordeaux, and, thereupon, the birth of her firstborn, 
 whose name so slightly altered — Bias de la Pena — " days of 
 suffering — is so curiously descriptive of the time of his entry 
 into the world. 
 
 The young mother's troubles were by no means over, when, 
 after all she had endured, she had her child safe in her arms, 
 foir her husband, we are told, feeling insecure, as well he might 
 if lie were in truth a Spanish patriot, within the reach of the 
 long arm of the ever mindful Napoleon, (from Bordeaux to 
 England) ! How he managed it, what resources surpassing 
 those of ordinary citizens he commanded to enable him to 
 perform such a feat at this period of history, we are not told. 
 English and French generals or admirals would have been 
 interested in the particulars of his voyage. Our interest stays 
 behind at Bordeaux, with the wife and child now destitute 
 there. We dwell lingeringly on the character of this young 
 heroine, bearing her part in the all-pervading warfare of those 
 dark times, not unsexed like her countrywomen with a gun on 
 her shoulder slaughtering, but simply, in a world turned up- 
 side down by war, earning an honest living for her child and 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 89 
 
 herself by prosaic governess-work, teaching the French Spanish, 
 and, with this only resource, making her way steadily, but 
 slowly, with the child in her arms, from Bordeaux to Mont- 
 pellier, from Montpellier to Lyons, thence to Paris, where her 
 solitude was relieved by arrival among friends, at last ! Let 
 anybody look at the map, and read a little of the literature 
 •of the period, and judge what this pilgrimage was, and what 
 manner of woman the mother of Diaz must have been. And 
 through it all the child was strong and healthy ; she had 
 carried him so perfectly unharmed through all vicissitudes, 
 that the characteristic of his childhood is gaiety, athletic habits, 
 diablotin, tourmente par la force du sang " ; a boy whose 
 whole delight was independent life, long rambles in the open 
 air, wild exploits among the fields and woods, physically a 
 prototype of the best that the costliest and wisest care can 
 make of an English public-school boy. Maria Manuela lived 
 long enough to be sure of this part of her reward, and died at 
 Paris when Diaz was ten years old. Who will not hope and 
 believe with us, that she knew more than this, and closed her 
 eyes in the assurance that the good Protestant Pastor, Paira, 
 would be a father to the boy when she was gone ? No doubt it 
 was so, and the adoption of Diaz by his second father w^as 
 doubtless a legacy that he derived from his mother's hold upon 
 the esteem of her friends. 
 
 Monsieur Paira, of whom it would be interesting to knov/ 
 much more than we are told, lived at this time in retirement 
 at Bellevue, near Paris. He appears to have allowed a great 
 deal of liberty to his protege, and he disappears from the 
 narrative as if his influence were of short duration, and slight 
 at the best. He left the young Spaniard in great measure to 
 j his own devices, but it must be observed, in justice to the good 
 1 man, that in very early youth the work of Diaz shows the 
 
90 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 result of education, especially of classical reading, which he 
 hardly could have acquired after beginning to work for his 
 living. He was, moreover, never in his life a patient student 
 of his art or of anything else. His knowledge of the classical 
 mythology must have been gathered from lessons with M. 
 Paira, in the intervals of which, we are told, ^' he passed 
 his time rambling about the woods and roads of Fleury, 
 of Meudon, of Sevres, of Saint Cloud : aimahles cainpagnes I 
 says M. Silvestre, " where a nature devoid of violence recalls 
 the magic of the fetes gal antes of Watteau ; the trunk of the 
 tree that grows there comes of a wealthy and gracious stock, 
 in the lowlands full of sleeping springs, and on the hillocks 
 always wrapped in floating mists which refresh the vegetation, 
 and seem to prolong the autumn." 
 
 " From the top of the little hill, where the chapel of Notre 
 Dame des Flanimes rises in the midst of the cypresses, the eye 
 wanders with delight along the banks of the Seine excoriated 
 by the navigation, over white villas of Auteuil and Boulogne 
 and the silhouettes of Paris, misty in the distance ; and there, 
 one fine day, young Diaz after his games went to sleep on the 
 grass ; and when he woke up he felt a sharp pain in his right 
 foot, which was rapidly swelling. A good woman took charge 
 of him, blundering stupidly, and gangrene supervened. He 
 was then carried to the Hospice of the Child Jesus, where he 
 supported, coup sur coup, two amputations, for the first was not 
 effective, and now he wears a wooden leg, and gaily calls it 
 ' mon jnlon/ my pestle." 
 
 Hermann Billiing gives a diff'erent account of the accident 
 "While Diaz was sleeping once in the open air, as he often did, 
 a viper hit him in the foot, and long months of suff*ering in the 
 Hospice de TEnfant Jesus followed the years of unbridled 
 * " Zeitsclirift fiir bildende Kunst," 1876. 
 
The Fairy Godmother. By Diaz. 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 91 
 
 freedom." M. Silvestre, who says nothing of the viper on 
 this occasion, attributes the death of Diaz, in 1876, to the bite 
 of a viper. It would be curious if, in truth, Diaz was twice 
 bitten by vipers ! 
 
 An episode of "long months of suffering" means a great 
 deal in the mental history of a child like Diaz. In the slowly 
 creeping hours when the mind has to feed upon its own internal 
 stores, when the hoards of memory are exhausted, and fantastic 
 imagination supplies their place, fairy land mixes with facts 
 and inaugurates a permanent dream such as Diaz interwove in 
 his landscapes when he became a painter. 
 
 As soon as he was better, the boy was apprenticed to a 
 printer, afterwards to a porcelain works, where he began 
 painting upon plates and dishes, jam-pots, and apothecaries' 
 galKpots," in the company of Jules Dapre, of Eaffet, and of 
 Cabat — all of whom have since become eminent as painters. 
 At this stage of his life he adored the theatre. " The romantic 
 dramas over-excited the natural ardour of his disposition ; he 
 was a fanatical admirer of Delacroix, and the mortal enemy of 
 all painting that was fini et pourUcMe (over-finished)." Then, 
 instead of carrying out the instructions of his manufacturer, 
 who desired to please the public eye with images that were 
 ' pretty and trifling, Diaz began to paint upon his plates and 
 pots subjects that were ferocious, "The man of porcelain cried 
 out, and Diaz precipitated himself into free art at his own risk 
 and peril." M. Souchon, afterwards Director of the Ecole de 
 Lille, gave him some lessons in drawing, but " the impatient 
 pupil made haste to escape from this skilful man, and began to 
 make his first pictures a la Diable, without having learned any- 
 thing at all." 
 
 Sigalon, a companion pupil of Souchon, also a poor 
 painter (in two senses), used to say : " Diaz has the finest 
 
92 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 career before him, if he will only work. He is a fier tempera- 
 ment of a colourist, and what facility ! He makes his pictures 
 as an apple-tree makes apples." 
 
 We extract the following from the work of Herr Billiing : — 
 
 *• The entry into the studio of Souchon, the excellent 
 Lille master, whose plaster casts he copied, was another step 
 on his upward way. There he struck a firm friendship with 
 Sigalon, who subsequently painted the often-spoken-of Locusta, 
 and Sigalon negociated the sale of Diaz's first oil-paintings, 
 which he did in his hours of leisure. On unusually lucky days 
 these attempts of the youthful master fetched from sixteen to 
 twenty-five francs. 
 
 " At that time Diaz struck the first chords of his subsequent 
 colour harmonies ; sometimes it was landscapes, bright in the 
 moonlight with merry groups of dancing nymphs ; sometimes he 
 produced harem views with languishing Odalisks, whose white 
 limbs and full voluptuous forms, folded in long flowing hair and 
 gauzy veils, stood boldly out on the glowing colours of the 
 background. Victor Hugo's Orientales seduced him often to 
 the strangest pictures of Turkish life and manners, court ladies 
 and their pages were mixed up in between, but Diaz owed the 
 true development of his talent in the first place to the most 
 earnest, passionate study he made of the masterpieces of 
 Correggio in the Louvre. 
 
 "The Antio}oe revealed to him the secret of the golden 
 blonde tones, the flexible, supple movements, the rays of light 
 and their reflection in the shadow. 
 
 " For a space of time, also, he had leaned on Delacroix, but 
 now he was sailing into the only stream that was fitted for him. 
 The warm, southern colouring, the boldness of the sketch, and 
 the precision (Sicherheit) of the line were easy to him, as they 
 were to few others. 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 93 
 
 His open feeling for beauties of landscape places him on a 
 level with Theodore Rousseau, who surpasses him as a painter, 
 and with J. F. Millet, the companion of his youth, and his 
 long years' friend/' 
 
 Further details, recorded by M. Jules Claretie, are that 
 Madame Diaz, at the time of her death, was established at 
 Sevres as governess to an English family, and that Thomas 
 Diaz, escaping from Bordeaux, went in the first place to 
 Norway, and thence to England."^ 
 
 M. Claretie also informs us that, at the time when the 
 young Diaz became a painter on porcelain, he was fifteen years 
 of age (that would be in 1824) ; and goes on to say that Jules 
 Dupre, Oabat, and Eaff'et were, at that time, also painters on 
 porcelain, Chez, the uncle of Jules Dupre, who was my 
 (M. Claretie's) maternal grandfather, Arsene Gillet." He 
 confirms all that we learn from Silvestre of the tastes and 
 mode of life of the youth. "Whilst he was making the 
 round of all the exhibitions and the theatres, an enthusi- 
 astic observer of the two-sided movement — in Art and in 
 Literature — that was to culminate in our epoch-making 
 year of 1830," Diaz was learning drawing of Souchon,t and, 
 at this time, he began to paint feverishly, throwing on to 
 canvas a profusion of scenes, Egyptian or romantic, inspired 
 by the sensational drama of the period. A hero of French 
 biography has the privilege of a hero of romance, or we 
 
 ^We have before us a Spanish, translation of Madame Cottin's Exiles 
 of Siberia," published by Gale and Child, of Paternoster Row, ^'by D, 
 T. Diaz de la Peiia, Professor de la lengua castellana." Husband and 
 wife, therefore, were both teachers of Spanish. 
 
 fPBANgois SoucHON, b. 1786, d. 1857, was a pupil of David, and had a 
 remarkable talent for making copies of old masters. The Lille museum 
 contains also some well-painted historical landscapes by him. He was 
 Director of the Academy of Lille from 1836 to 1857. 
 
94 
 
 THE BAKBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 should begin to calculate the prices of admission to exhibi- 
 tions and theatres, and the number of hours in the young 
 man's day, and the amount of his resources derived from 
 his painting, or porcelain painting, or the sale of his draw- 
 ings, of which at this early stage of his career so much is 
 said. They produced, M. Claretie says, five francs apiece — 
 Castil-Bloze paid him 20 francs one day for quatre toiles de 
 Imit " — but according to Silvestre, his friend Sigalon introduced 
 him to a still better market with some people of Nimes, who 
 bought drawings of him at ten or fifteen francs apiece — they 
 were " recollections of theatrical pageants, sumptuous vest- 
 ments, glittering armour," and so forth — and, after the Nimois, 
 his next customer was a lady. Dame Guerin, who kept a 
 curiosity shop in the Kue du Faubourg Poissonniere — who 
 gave him old paintings, seals, armour, costumes, chinoiseries, or 
 furniture, in exchange ; and imbued him with the collector's 
 passion to which he devoted the wealth that he acquired by 
 his art — for he began to make money very soon. 
 
 The early manner of Diaz is qualified by M. Claretie " d'une 
 tonaliU sombre, wanting brilliance, dull in colour, heavy of 
 touch, and devoid of transparency in the demi-teints — but 
 Diaz had, himself, no illusion on the subject. He was the first 
 to condemn his own early landscapes, but, M. Claretie says : 
 It was with a legitimate pride that he would set up, by the 
 side of the pictures of Millet and Corot, a life-size study of a 
 blonde young woman, or a back view of another wandering 
 about in a dream, and vivante, the flesh of her being as 
 suvoureuse as the most seductive reality; one of those happy 
 inspirations hiocked off in tivo hours, incomparably superior to the 
 most finished picture / The italics are ours, the words and the 
 whole sentiment M. Claretie is responsible for. 
 
 His first exhibited picture, in the Salon of 1835, was called 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 95 
 
 The Battle of Medina, Silvestre describes it as a formless sketch, 
 which his friends christened the Battle of the Broken Gallipots, 
 After this he hit the pubKc taste with studies from the nude — 
 flooding his market with Nymphs^ Dianas^ Venuses, Bathing 
 JVomen, and Cupids, "The dealers," says Silvestre, ''and the 
 femmes dlegantes of the Quartier Notre Dame de Lorette, and 
 the bankers of the Eue Laffitte, still dispute at golden prices 
 these voluptuous images, which in my eyes have neither sense 
 nor feeling." With such subjects, and occasionally with land- 
 scapes, Diaz went on prospering — inexhaustibly prolific — and, 
 as Silvestre puts it, " Keeping Success attached to the leg of 
 his easel with a pink riband, and finding, as Eubens says, the 
 philosopher's stone upon his palette." 
 
 For Diaz, with all his loyalty and candour, knew very well 
 how to take care of his " financial history," and to countermine 
 all the tricks of flattering and friendly buyers. ''And in this 
 — we agree heartily with M. Silvestre — "he did right," and 
 we only wish that he could have imparted to his friends. Millet 
 and Rousseau, some share of his talent in this respect. 
 
 His luxuries were slightly diflerent from the luxuries of poor 
 Rousseau. " His studio is encumbered with furniture, and 
 pictures, and tapestries, and oriental costumes, and brimhorions, 
 or knick-knacks of priceless value. He has not alone a 
 passion for fine things, but the frenzy of luxury, and throws 
 his money about by handfuls." — It was as lightly earned ! 
 "He is literally besieged by amateurs and dealers, who are 
 obliged to make their contracts long in advance, and to pay 
 very high to get the smallest piece of his work ; and he sacri- 
 fices accordingly to the corrupt taste of the public, and works 
 continually a chauffer son four (to heat his oven) as Charlet 
 used to say in his moments of scarcity ; and never leaves him- 
 self an hour for liberty of thought and study." 
 
96 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 "And so you see him turn out by dozens, with the rapid 
 regularity of a machine, these women and children with the 
 golden hair, with the pink and white flesh — and all of them 
 are figures resuscitated from vignettes, or conceived and executed 
 at a gallop!" But, "in spite of all," he adds, "Diaz is a 
 painter, a true painter. — He has set a dangerous example, and 
 his extreme license has found only too many imitators. In 
 throwing himself into all the vagaries of a brilliant and facile 
 improvisation, he does not work to overthrow the pedantr}^ of 
 the Academicians — he justifies it ! " 
 
 Barbizon, in 1836, was an obscure hamlet, lost in the middle 
 of the landes and woods, and haunted only by some artists then 
 unknown to fame, enthusiastic worshippers of its wild beaut}-. 
 Its inhabitants were poor woodcutters and tillers of the meagre 
 soil — richer in its rocks of sandstone than in agricultural pro- 
 duce. "Aligny was there, and Diaz,^' says M. Sensier, and 
 Kousseau, and Kousseau's instructions on the palette were the 
 point de depart of the real talent of Diaz, for colour. At this 
 period the fine studies of the Grand Refus6 (Rousseau) were a 
 revelation to the quondam painter of porcelain, who had been 
 struggling, all alone, to purge himself of the traditions 
 of the peinture of the apothecaries' gallipot, and the 
 chocolate cup. " Diaz," M. Sensier adds, " was conquered 
 immediately by Rousseau, and his admiration for him remained 
 for ever, the conviction and the religion of all his life. Speak 
 of it to Diaz, now ! " he says, " now, that his beard is white 
 w^ith toil and trouble, and you will see his Castilian look 
 lighten up at the memory of the great chief who led him on to 
 victory, and his heart dilate at the memory of Rousseau." 
 Diaz lived in a doid^le world, and was one of those born poets, 
 the slave of imagination, whose gift or disease of fantasy was 
 healthily toned by a faculty of clear, objective apprehension of 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 97 
 
 the realities of the external phenomena surrounding him. 
 Where Corot found in Nature the echo of a religion within 
 him, and Millet the gloom of sympathy with the peasant's 
 burthened life, Diaz found a stage for the puppets of his 
 curiously Oriental phantasy. He painted a dream, and mesmer- 
 ised Nature to sleep, and began to dress her, as a child would 
 a doll, in tinsel and fine colour, and painted around her her 
 dream, and made it more and more gorgeous every day, and at 
 last fell in love with colour for its own sake, and subordinated 
 both Nature and her dream to the technical exploit. Hiiic 
 omnss omnia bona dicer e I ^'It is in 1844, with the Boli6miens^ 
 that Diaz arrives at his own luminous manner, and steals his 
 *ray of sunshine' for his fairy land," says M. Clar6tie. "The 
 Bohemians,'^ says Delecluze, " is not a picture, but a phantasy 
 painted ; but these gipsies, men, women, children, animals and 
 people, were so brilliantly coloured that we thought we were 
 looking at a river of diamonds, rubies, topaz and emeralds 
 pouring down into the gloomy ravine." And Gautier, the 
 verbiloquent, says: "The Diazes are, as usual, prisms, 
 peacocks' tails, rainbows that make you wink your dazzled 
 eye, a ya^piUotage etincelanf (twinkling glitter), a whirlpool of 
 luminous fanfreluches, of golden atoms, a kaleidoscopic irrita- 
 tion (fourmillement de haleidoscope) or stinging of ants, a patch- 
 work of spangles, of precious stones, of floss silk, and of chenille 
 effrangeef' But in his Historij of Bonianticism, he couples 
 Diaz the painter with Arsene Houssaye the poet ; " for a 
 poet," he says, " often reminds you of a painter, by an intan- 
 gible resemblance between them more easily felt than described; 
 and Arsene Houssaye, with the silky chatoiement of his verdures 
 star-spangled with flowers, which screen, but do not conceal, a 
 group in a clearing, seated in a ray of sunshine, of women 
 rustling in silks and jewels, reminds us of Diaz, that adroitest 
 
 H 
 
D8 
 
 THE JiAUBTZON SCHOOL. 
 
 of colourists, who also, from time to time, shows us the Venus 
 of Pmd'hon walking about in the moonlight ; and, it must be 
 further observed, the pictures of Arsene Houssaye are neater 
 and clearer than those of Diaz de la Peiia.'' 
 
 Thore, Rousseau's great friend and partisan, objected to 
 the minutiae of classification. Of Diaz and others, such as 
 Decamps, Ary SchefFer, and Delacroix, he says, ^'They give the 
 lie to the proverl) of Brid' Oison : they are nobody's sons, but 
 they all have one origin, that is, they proceed from their own 
 imieitey " Diaz," he adds, "is the most difficult of them all 
 to classify. He recalls the fougue and the rich abundance of 
 Tiepolo, the finesse of Chard in, but above all, AVatteau and 
 Velazquez ; he has the silvery and harmonious colouring of 
 Velazquez, and the lightness and phantasy of Watteau. He 
 sets you dreaming, also, of the school of Parma, in the quality 
 of his flesh tones, the transparence of his shadoAvs, and the 
 softness of his touch. There is not a more charming colourist 
 anywhere ; he combines in himself all the gifts of colour — 
 vigour, brilliance, refinement, variety, light ; he disposes of the 
 sun like Claude Lorrain ; his art is not nature, nor even a 
 conventional representation of nature : it is the poem of a 
 day-dream ; it is the evocation of a supernatural world, a 
 dream in a land of enchantment. These forests of his, and 
 their voluptuous denizens, exist only in visions — charming 
 visions, such as opium and haschich produce when one is in 
 good health, and perfectly happy already. Most painters, who 
 have run after the fantastic, have found it in terror and night- 
 mare. Diaz has had the wit to dream upstanding the most 
 beautiful magic of the chimerical world." As to this, the 
 dream of Diaz was not always rosy. Theophile Silvcstre tells 
 us that at one period, "some terrible and fantastic subjects 
 arc said to be stirring in his mind ; he is proposing to paint, 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 99 
 
 after long and serious studies, a Restirredion at the Cemetery, hy 
 Moonlight, and each figure is to be the personification saisissante 
 of some one capital vice of humanity.'' 
 
 The admirers of Diaz must turn to Thore for the sympa- 
 thetic note of true admiration; but it is the old original 
 Diaz, whom Thore writes of in 1846, when already his 
 popularity was great, and there is a great demand for his 
 work, and it brings him extremely high prices." One pic- 
 ture, from the Salon of 1846, was bought by Meissonier: — 
 
 The interior of a forest ; the trees : blonde, red-headed 
 yellow, green — all gilded by a light which breaks out glittering 
 everywhere ; and brambles and plants intermingled joyously, 
 and clambering up the trunks of the oaks in search of their 
 chare of the sunshine ; and, in the middle of the picture, a 
 little figure dressed in harmonious red, attracting the eye to a 
 point. It is impossible not to worship Nature expressed with 
 so much poetry. In effect, Meissonier has set out at once 
 for some forest, after the purchase of his Diaz. It is very 
 likely that he will come back to us a landscape painter." 
 ■ Of The Gardens of Love, The Leda, LOrientale, L' Abandon, 
 and similar pictures exhibited that year, Thore says : " There 
 is really never any occasion for wearing clothes in the country 
 that Diaz paints. The tailor's art is unknown in those burning 
 climates." And, reviewing two other pictures of the same 
 year. La Sag esse and La Magicienne, he says : " Diaz is not a 
 Spaniard for nothing. One has always the colouring of one's 
 country. Tell me your colour, and I will tell you where you 
 come from, for everything in nature is reduced to harmony : 
 the Belgians are the colour of beer, the Spaniards are the 
 colour of the sun," and so forth. The next year's show, 1847, 
 excites Thore still more : " Five le Soleill " he cries ; " Vivent 
 la coideur et les nymphes ariihrees ; and the flesh of opal, and the 
 
100 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 hair that falls in waves, and the beautiful raiment of a thou- 
 sand reflections, and the jewellery that blazes so bright, and 
 the soft voluptuous light, and the infinite sky ! Vive la vie / 
 I)6cidemment lapeinture ennuyeuse riest pas amusante,'' 
 
 But it is of this Salon of 1847 that Planche writes : "Diaz 
 makes no progress. In figure painting or landscape it is 
 always the same story ; he finds on his palette charming tones, 
 of which he makes ingenious sketches, but he gets no further. 
 The trees want leaves, the avenues want air and space. He 
 dazzles Avith a brilliant variety of haphazard tones, and is 
 content. All his trees are on the same plan, the terrains want 
 solidity. 
 
 " So long as the eye is dazzled, if emeralds and rubies rival in 
 attracting the eye, he asks nothing more. This will not do. 
 All these forests in the air, all these figures with no frameivork, 
 cannot hold the field. They are promises which he must fulfil 
 or the public will weary of him and his sketches.'' 
 
 Edmond About, reviewing the pictures in the Great Exhibi- 
 tion of 1855, has a fanciful article on Diaz, whom he calls " A 
 celebrated conjurer who has stolen a little ray of sunshine, and 
 carries it about with him everywhere, and spreads it on his 
 pictures. It is quite a little ray, but it is like the fortune of 
 the AVandering Jew, whatever it expends is restored at once. 
 If you look at the five small canvases exhibited by M. Diaz, 
 you will see graceful nymphs, lively coquettish Cupids, exqui- 
 site scenery ; and everywhere that little ray of sunshine which 
 will never be used up. It is by this blessed little ray that 
 M. Diaz has made a great success, and acquired the reputation 
 of a great painter." 
 
 Charles Blanc says : " The colour of Diaz, in his sketches 
 
 * Introd-uction to the Histoire des Teintrcs Fran^als au XlXmc siede. 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 101 
 
 is the chef-d'oeuvre of brilliance in harmony. In the BoMniiens 
 of M. Diaz there are plays of light and colour unknown before 
 to the French school, and of which no examples exist, unless 
 it be in certain fantasies of Watteau." 
 
 M. Theodore Pelloquet,"^' comparing his earlier efforts to 
 follow the lead of Rousseau with his own former style, and 
 writing in 1858, says : — 
 
 " He is doing all he can to bury himself alive. The Diaz of 
 former times — the only genuine and true Diaz — in fact exists 
 no more. He is replaced by another who bears the same 
 name, who \^ perhaps the same person, but who, nevertheless, 
 has with the former only a vague and far-away resemblance. 
 
 " The first Diaz might have been, had he wished, perhaps 
 the greatest landscape painter of his time. Nobody knew 
 better than he how to set gushing the streamlets of gold that 
 the light weaves in the shadow of the wet roof of the under- 
 wood, on the green mosses of a grassplot, on the carpets of 
 violet-hued heather. Nobody, again, had dressed more splen- 
 didly those little Turks, awkwardly shaped, more awkwardly 
 disjointed, but still charming in their audacious and imper- 
 tinent deformity of drawing. The second Diaz has forsaken 
 his original path, in which no one had gone before him, to 
 march in the wheel-rut of Correggio and of Prud'hon, but to 
 march blindfolded and knowing nothing of the route traced 
 by these two illustrious masters. He will never know it, and 
 that will be his punishment. It is not permitted to a man to 
 be ungrateful — even to himself ! " 
 
 And, as to Prud'hon, the German critic, Herr Billiing tells 
 us : For a space of time Prud'hon was master of his whole 
 heart, that is to say^ of his whole palette, and Venetian sunsets, or 
 
 * iJiotionnaire de poche des artistes contemporains, 1858. 
 
102 
 
 THE BAKBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 for a change pale, romantic moonlights were the accessories to 
 his Magiciennes, his Ddaiss^es, and his solitary despairing 
 Gretchen figures, the Folks Amour eitses pining in the recesses of 
 the forest solitudes." 
 
 Another, and a greater German critic, Dr. Julius Meyer,''' 
 in his philosophical and carefully reasoned history, traces back 
 all the peculiarities of Diaz to our English Bonington. It is 
 difficult to do justice to his argument in a short extract, but 
 the link is important. "A greater influence than D6camps," 
 he writes, " was active on the colourist tendency of the period, 
 in Richard Parkes Bonington (1801 — 1828), an English- 
 man, but in his career as an artist, and in his influence, belong- 
 ing almost of equal right to the history of French as of English 
 art. Trained in the school of Gros, and intimately connected 
 by friendship with Delacroix, he had been one of the earliest of 
 the students of the Dutch and Venetian masters in the Louvre. 
 
 To a fine sense of colour, and a remarkable gift of facility, 
 he united a thorough appreciation of the picturesque and a 
 sincere feeling for Nature, as well in her manifestation by 
 incidents of human life, as in the moodful life of Landscape. 
 .... The dazzling facility of execution, the flashing and 
 shimmering of costly textiles, the gleaming and sparkling of 
 all sorts of objects that catch and reflect the light, until in the 
 rich colour-concert of the costume and accessories the figures 
 are lost and forgotten — were perpetuated after him, by 
 Camille Roqueplan (1802 — 1855) and Eugene Isabey 
 (b. 1804)," and the method was pronounced clik. Dr. Meyer 
 calls it taschensjnelerische Blendiverk (a conjuring trick) that 
 " robs things of their soul" (das den Ding en Hire Seele ausiveidet) 
 
 * Director of the Berlin Academy ; " Gescliiclite der modernen Fran- 
 zosischen Malerei seit 1789, zugleich in ihrem Verhaltniss zum politi- 
 £chen Leben, zur G-esittung und Literatur," Leipzif/, 1867. 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 103 
 
 and merges all form and figure in an Vngefdhr {lit, 'there- 
 abouts 
 
 " But," he goes on to say, ''if the works of Eoqueplan and 
 Isabey are mostly sketches that pretend to the authority of 
 finished paintings, the pictures of Diaz are nothing but a 
 lightly hingeworfenes Farhenspiel (jeu de couleur.)" 
 
 For a conclusion of our collation of opposing verdicts we are 
 tempted to quote some old remarks of M. Thiers on art criti- 
 cisms in general : "A singular conflict exists," he says, "among 
 painters, men of letters, and the public. The painters and the 
 men of letters agree that the public is incapable of forming a 
 decision on the merits of pictures. The painters, in their turn, 
 dispute the authority of the men of letters, and only give 
 them leave to praise them ; for they cannot ignore tliem as the 
 indispensable organs of opinion. Moreover, the painters judge 
 each other with a remarkable diversity of opinions, and rarely 
 agree about their works. In this manner, the public being by 
 all declared ignorant, by the men of letters as well as by the 
 painters, and these last finding it difficult to agree, it appears 
 — that nobody ought ever to agree about painting." 
 
 The following remarks, however, of M. Jean Rousseau, 
 which appeared in VArl, have a technical importance which 
 must closely concern the possessors of Diaz's works. 
 
 We remember a visit that we paid to Diaz, about 1852, 
 He was living on a second floor in the Eue Frochot, and had 
 his studio under the roof. We noticed that he painted with 
 the left hand, and that he had his palette set with all the most 
 brilliant colours that it is possible to introduce into the com- 
 position of a painting, including those ivhich are prohihitecl as 
 dangerous to use and of douUfid permanence — chrome, cadmium, 
 vermilion, Veronese green, &c. All that shone and glittered 
 to the eye attracted him, the dazzling colourist. 
 
104 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 On the whole, the Art work of Diaz shows that, in the 
 glamour of his most gorgeous dream he never lost his grasp of 
 the truth in landscape. AVhatever he painted either teas, or 
 might have been. He never overstepped that plain frontier 
 that separates the poet from the lunatic ; and, just in the same 
 way, in the conduct of his life^ he was a poet at large, but, 
 when occasion rose, a shrewd man of the world, and never in 
 his life do we hear of him as slothful in business,'' or faint- 
 hearted, or weak of will. He was his mother's son. 
 
 In the general story of the Barbizon congress, he figures 
 throughout as a strong staff for his weaker brethren. Millet 
 and Rousseau, to lean upon. He was active as their broker 
 in the corrupt picture market of the period, and, no doubt, 
 came in like a sunbeam on their days of despondence with his 
 peculiar, hearty and genial, and (like Daubigny) boisterous 
 words and manners. 
 
 His portrait is of one of those symmetrical heads which tell 
 of power, without strongly marked features or lines of in- 
 sistance ; and of sensitive and even passionate possibilities in 
 reserve, for the deep dark eyes to express ; and above all, the 
 first impression is that it is a Jdnd face. It is easy to believe 
 his friends that he was a favourite wherever he went. The 
 anecdotes of M. Wolff, in his Cajntale de VArt are rather 
 hen trovati than veri, but among them is one that tells us of his 
 first meeting with Diaz, and how Diaz found in his rooms a 
 little panel picture, representing a child in its cradle, and a 
 mother sitting over it, and wept over this picture, and en- 
 treated to have it back at an}^ price, explaining that he had 
 sold it under stress of poverty and that it was a portrait of his 
 own wife and child, and the child was dead. 
 
 The impulsive frankness of the disposition of Diaz could not 
 have a better illustration. 
 
Children and Dog. By Diaz. 
 
 Fomierly in the Di'eyfus Collection. 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 105 
 
 In the year 1848, Diaz, like Millet, competed for the prize 
 that was offered for an official symbolical figure of the Eepublic, 
 and Millet sent in a ghastly realisation of that line in the 
 Marseillaise, which is, surely, the most repulsive in poetry, 
 " Qu'un sang impure Abreuve nos sillons ! " But Diaz had an 
 altogether more pleasant conception. His ideal of a Republic, 
 as it ought to be, was a beautiful Venus, surrounded (as 
 B6ranger has it) by " petits culs nus d' Amours." " She was 
 charming," says Claretie, " savoureuse ; would have seduced an 
 Athenian, but she had not the gravity supposed to be an 
 attribute of an official figure." Herr Billiing tells us an 
 anecdote of a time when Millet and Diaz were both much 
 occupied in the production of Bathing Nymphs^ and mytho- 
 logical figures, and they compared their work. Millet drew 
 his with strictly correct lines, chaste and unattractive ; Diaz 
 floated his in an atmosphere of vapour and poetry, and said 
 to Millet, " You may make stinging nettles of yours ; I prefer 
 the roses ! And it is needless to add that the public were of 
 the same opinion. His love in his later years for all that 
 could recall to his mind the happy days of his youth, and the 
 circle of old comrades passed away in death, was, Herr 
 Billiing says, "really moving." Every morning he went out, 
 as he said, " to get some fresh air," and returned from his walk 
 loaded with spoils of this description, for which he was forced 
 to pay the most enormous prices. Billiing was present when 
 he brought home one day a sketch for which he had been 
 delighted to get 25 francs in his student days. He had been 
 equally delighted to buy it back now from a broker for three 
 thousand, and hung it up over his bed in triumph. 
 
 These were the sort of profits the dealers were making in 
 those days out of the impecunious Barbizon victims of " the 
 Market''! 
 
106 
 
 THE BARBIZON SCHOOL. 
 
 The InterDational Exhibition of 1855 was the culmination 
 of Diaz's fame, when (as M. Claretie calls it) he " exploded " 
 with half a dozen pictures of Numphs, still esteemed to be 
 among the best of his works ; they were the Dernihes Larmes 
 (the colours of which, however, were dull and pale, for Diaz), Les 
 Nyriiphes^ La Bivale, La Fin (rim beau Jour, Nymphe tonrmentee 
 par V Amour, Nymphe endormie, Presents cV Amour, all of them, 
 it will be observed, variations of the one theme that haunted 
 him, and, having sent in his pictures, he set out the next day, 
 NOT for the East, as some ])iograpliers say, but for Fontainebleau. 
 Herr Billiing has gone wrong at this point. ''In 1855," he 
 says, "Diaz resolved upon o voyage to the East, which he had 
 often painted, but only kncAv from the pictures of Decamps 
 and Marilhat. The failure of his carelessly painted Salon 
 picture of that year may have contributed to this sudden 
 decision. He stayed away nearly two years, and painted, 
 soon after his return, La Mare aux Viperes, one of his Unest 
 and most finished works." 
 
 This is all wrong. He never went to the East ; but in 
 1856 built himself a studio, on the top of the Mont St. Georges, 
 at Barbizon, and after that date, as he differed from his 
 colleagues in his management of the sale of his pictures, the 
 remainder of his biography is comparatively prosaic. He 
 retired to Brussels (as a man of sixty, who had lost a leg, may 
 be pardoned for doing) during the national disasters of 1870. 
 After the war he returned and grew rich, and made a great col- 
 lection of curiosities, bought himself a house near the sea, at 
 Etretat, and took up for a time the study of marine subjects. 
 To the last year of his life he is described as the ever-young 
 doyen of the painters. In 1876 he went to Mentone, where 
 he died on the 18th of November, not of the bite of a viper, 
 but of a disease of the lungs. His wife, who had been his 
 
DIAZ. 
 
 107 
 
 devoted nurse through his last illness, brought the remains to 
 Paris, where they were interred in the cemetery of Montmartre, 
 with much pomp and testimony of popular esteem. Meissonier 
 and Jules Dupr6 were among the pall-bearers. Many funeral 
 orations were made, after the French custom, at the grave, but 
 Jules Dupr6, v*^e are told, was silent. It was subsequently, 
 and in a letter, that he uttered his celebrated mot^ that in the 
 death of this great painter, " the sun lost one of its most 
 beautiful rays ! " 
 
 ^^Diaz," says a writer in LArtiste, " is the son of Giorgione, 
 the cousin of Correggio, and the grandson of Boccaccio." 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 {Compiled by KG, C), 
 
 The following Lists have been made as complete as possible, but, 
 owing to the fact that works of art in private collections sometimes 
 change hands with comparative frequency, it is impossible to make any- 
 thing like complete lists of pictures by the artists. Any additions or 
 corrections for a future edition will be gratefully received by the Editor 
 of the series — '^Biographies of the Great Artists," care of Messrs. Samp- 
 son Low, Marston & Co., St. Dunstan's House, Fetter Lane, London. 
 
 I. — General Bibliography of the Painters of Barbizon. 
 
 About (Edmond), ''Nos Artistes au Salon de 1857 " (Paris, 1858). 
 
 ''Voyage a travers I'Exposition des Beaux Arts " (Paris, 1855). 
 
 ,, '' Salons de 1864 et 1866 " (Paris, 1864 and 1867). 
 BeUina, A. M. de, "Nos Peintres dessines par Eux-memes" (Paris, 
 
 1883.) 
 
 Benjamin (S. G. W.), " Contemporary Art in Europe'^ (New York, 1877). 
 Blanc (Charles), "Histoire des Peintres fran9ais au XlXme Siecle" 
 (Paris, 1845). 
 
 *' Les Artistes de mon temps " (Paris, 1877). 
 Biirger, see Thore. 
 
 Burty (Ph.), " Maitres et Petits-Maitres " (Paris, 1877). 
 
 Chaumelin (Marius) "L'Art contemporain, " avec une Introduction 
 
 par. W. Biirger (Paris, 1873). 
 Chesneau (Ernest), " L'Art et les Artistes modernes en France et en 
 Angleterre" (Paris, 1863). 
 „ '' L'Education de I'Artiste " (Paris, 1881). 
 ,, " Peintres et Statuaires romantiques " (Paris, 1880). 
 Claretie (Jules), " Artistes et Amateurs " (Paris). 
 
 ,, " L'Art et les Artistes frauQais contemporains " (Paris, 1876). 
 
 " Peintres et Sculpteurs contemporains" (Paris, 1883). 
 ,, " L'Art Fran9ais en 1872, Etudes artistiques " (Paris, 1873). 
 , , " Portraits contemporains ' ' (Paris, 1 8 75) . 
 Clement (Charles), "Etudes sur les Beaux- Arts en France" (Paris, 
 1865). 
 
 Constant (B.) in '' Le Eappel " (1889). 
 
110 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Du Camp (Maxime), Les Beaux- Arts a I'Exposition Universelle et aux 
 Salons 1863-67 " (Paris, 1867). 
 Les Beaux Arts a TExposition Universelle de 1855 " (1855). 
 Salons de 1857, 1859, et 1861 " (Paris). 
 Dumesnil (Henri), Le Salon de 1859 " (Paris, 1859). 
 Foumel (V.), Les Artistes fran(,'ais contemporains " (Tours, 1883). 
 Gautier (Theophile), aine, " Abccedaire du Salon de 1861" (Paris, 
 1861). 
 
 ,, ''Les Beaux Arts en Europe," 2 vols. (Paris, 1855). 
 Salon de 1847 " (Paris, 1847). 
 " L' Art modeme ' ' (Paris, 1856). 
 ,, " Les Peintres vivants " (Paris, 1858). 
 Hamerton (P. G.) '' Contemporary Erench Painters " (London). 
 
 " Lnagination in Landscape Painting" (London, 
 1887). 
 
 ''Landscape" (London, 1885). 
 
 " Painting in France after the decline of Classicism" 
 (London, 1869). 
 Henriet (F.), " Pay sagistes aux Champs " (Paris, 1876). 
 Houssaye (Arsone), " Kevue du Salon de 1844" (Paris, 1844). 
 Lasteyrie (Ferdinand de), " Causeries Artistiques." licprinied from the 
 " S'ucJc'' (Paris, 1862). 
 ,, ''La Peinture a TExposition UniA^erselle " (Paris, 1863). 
 Leclercq, " Caracteres de I'Ecole f ran (^-aise modeme de Peinture " (Paris, 
 1881). 
 
 " L'Art et les Artistes " (BruxeUes, 1880). 
 
 Lenoimant (Charles), "Les Artistes contemj)orains — Salons de 1831 et 
 1833 " (Paris). 
 
 "Memento du Salon de Peinture en 1875 " (Paris, 1875). 
 
 ' ' Memorial Catalogue of the French and Dutch Loan Collection, Edin- 
 burgh International Exhibition, 1886." Edited by W. E. Henley 
 (Edinbiu-gh, 1888). 
 
 Menard (Rene), " Entretiens sur la Peinture " (Paris, 1875). 
 
 " French Artists of the present day " (London, 1876). 
 
 Meyer (Julius), " Geschichte der modernen Franz osischcn Malerei seit 
 1789 " (Leipzig, 1867). 
 
 Montifaud (L. de), " L'Art moderne, " Vol. 1 (Paris, 1875). 
 
 Montrosier (Eugene), "Les Artistes modernes," 4 vols. (Paris, 1881, 
 1884). 
 
 Miintz (Eugene), " Les Artistes celebres " (Paris, 1885, &c.). 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Ill 
 
 ^' Musee Universel (Le)," par E. Lievre, P. Burty, K. Menard, &c., &c. 
 Pelloquet, Dictionnaire de poche des Artistes contemporains " (1858). 
 Petroz (Pierre), ''L'Art et la Critique en France depuis 1822 " (Paris, 
 1875). 
 
 Planche (Gustave), Etudes sur I'Ecole fran9aise (1831 — 52)," vol. i. 
 
 Peinture (Paris, 1855). 
 ,, ,, ''Portraits d'Artistes" (Paris, 1853). 
 
 Proust (Antonin), ''L'Art Francais (1789-1889) a I'Exposition Univer- 
 
 seUe, 1889 " (Paris, 1889). 
 Posenberg" (Adolf), " Geschichte der modernen Kunst " (Leipzig-, 1882). 
 Possetti, " French Artists " (London). 
 
 Silvestre (Theophile), ''Histoire des Artistes vivants fran^-ais et 
 
 etrangers " (Paris, 1856). 
 ■ ,, "Les Artistes francais," ''Etudes d'apres Na- 
 
 ture" (Paris, 1878). 
 Stevens (Alfred), " Impressions sur la Peinture (Paris, 1886). 
 Strahan (E.), "Art Treasures in America " (Philadelphia, 1879). 
 
 , , " Modern French Art ' ' (New York, 1881). 
 
 Stranahan (C. H.), "A History of French Painting " (London, 1889). 
 Thomson (D.O.), "The Barbizon School of Painting " (London, 1890). 
 Thore (Theophile), " Histoire des Peintres " (Paris, 1868). 
 
 ,, ,, " Salons de 1844—1848," avec preface par W. Biirger 
 
 (Paris, 1868). 
 
 ,, " Salons de W. Biirger, 1861 — 1868," avec une preface 
 par T. Thore, 2 vols. (Paris, 1870). 
 Timbal (Charles), " Notes et Causeries sur I'Art " (1881). 
 Wolff (A.), " Cent Chefs d'CEuvres" (Paris, 1883). 
 
 ,, " Le Capitale de I'Art." Farthj reprinted from the above 
 (Paris, 1886). 
 
 Though. Dictionaries and Cyclop sedias are not included in the list, which cannot do 
 more than point out the chief sources of information with respect to the Painters of Bar- 
 bizon, yet the following publications must be mentioned: — ''The Cyclopaedia of Painters 
 and Painting-," edited by J. D. Champlin and C. C. Perkins, 4 vols. (New York, 1889), and 
 Clement and Hulton's "Artists of the Nineteenth Century," 22 vols. (Boston, U.S.A., 
 1879) ; as giving specially full list of i)ictures (and in some cases the owners) under the 
 names of the different artists. Articles also occur throughout the leading Prench 
 periodicals, such as the "Bulletin de I'Alliance des Arts" (1842—1847), "Gazette des 
 Beaux Arts," " L'Artiste," "L'Art," and amongst English periodicals, the " Portfolio," 
 the " jSIagazine of Art," and the " Art Journal." 
 
 It is, of course, impossible in this yolume to give a complete list ; reference to the 
 more important of the individual biographies and notices is, however, made in the 
 >^ljecial BihUograi^liics of the various x winters. 
 
112 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 II. — Some of the Principal Private Collections (Past 
 AND Present), Containing Specially Fine Examples 
 of the Painters of Barbizon. 
 
 Mme. Accloque, Paris. 
 Due d'Aumale, Paris. 
 M. Bellino, Paris. 
 M. Bischoifsheim, Paris. 
 Mme. de Cassin, Paris. 
 M. Chauchard, Paris. 
 M. Cheramy, Paris. 
 M. Coquelin aine, Paris. 
 Mme. Cottier, Paris. 
 M. V. Desfosses, Paris. 
 Dr. Dieulafoy, Paris. 
 M. J. Dollfus, Paris. 
 M. Donatis, Paris. 
 M. Faure, Paris. 
 M. Gentien, Paris. 
 M. Hecht, Paris. 
 M. G. Lutz, Paris. 
 Mme. la Baronne N. de Rotliscliild, 
 Paris. 
 
 Belgiijm. 
 
 M. Thomy Thiery, Paris. 
 M. Tavernier, Paris. 
 M. Vever, Paris. 
 M. le Comte Doria, Orrouy. 
 Mme. Veuve Roederer, Havre. 
 Mme. Veuve Lefevre, Roubaix. 
 M. le Baron de Beurnonville (dis- 
 persed) . 
 
 M. Defoer (dispersed in 1886). 
 
 M. A. Dreyfus 
 M. S. Goldschmidt 
 M. Hartmann 
 M. Laurent- Kichard 
 M. Oppenheim 
 M. Saulnier 
 M. Secret an 
 M. A. Sensier 
 M. J. Wilson 
 
 1889). 
 
 1888) . 
 1881). 
 1878). 
 1877). 
 1886). 
 
 1889) . 
 1877). 
 1881). 
 
 M. Crabbe, Brussels. 
 
 M. Van den Eynde, Brussels. 
 
 Geeat 
 
 Hon. Mr. Justice Day, London. 
 J. Staats Forbes, Esq., London. 
 General H. Hopkinson, London. 
 C. lonides, Esq., London. 
 Sir F. Leighton, Bart., P.R.A., 
 
 London. 
 A. Muir, Esq , London. 
 E. J. Poole, Esq., London. 
 A. Young, Esq., Blackheatli. 
 A. Bo^onan, Esq., Edinburgh. 
 
 M. Otlet, Brussels. 
 The late M. van Praet's Collection? 
 Brussels. 
 
 Britain. 
 
 Hamilton Bruce, Esq. Edinburgh. 
 A. Sanderson, Esq., Edinburgh. 
 J. Anderson, Esq., jun., Glasgow. 
 T. Glen Arthur, Esq., Glasgow. 
 James Cowan, Esq., Glasgow. 
 James Donald, Esq., Glasgow. 
 A. J. Kirkpatrick, Esq., Glasgow. 
 T. Glas Sandeman, Esq., Glasgow. 
 Dr. J. Forbes White, Dundee. 
 James Duncan, Esq., Benmore (dis- 
 persed) 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 113 
 
 Holland. 
 
 Heer H. W. Mesdag, The Hague. 
 Heer Steengracht, The Hague. 
 
 Heer Fop-Smit, Rotterdam. 
 
 PoRTuoAL. — Le Comte Daupeas, Lisbon. 
 Russia. — Tretiakoff, Moscow. 
 
 America. 
 
 W. Astor, Esq., New York. 
 C. A. Daua, Esq., New York. 
 C. P. Huntingdon, Esq. , New York. 
 John Martin, Esq. , New York. 
 W. Rockefeller, Esq., New York. 
 J. C. Runkle, Esq., New York. 
 
 G. J. Seney, New York. 
 
 Ch. Stewart Smith, New York. 
 C. Yanderbilt, Esq., New York. 
 Mrs. W.H. Vanderbilt, New York. 
 Miss C. L. Wolfe, New York. 
 Mrs. Borie, Philadelphia. 
 Mrs. J. Fell, Philadelphia. 
 
 H. C. Gibson, Esq., Philadelphia. 
 
 J. D, Lankenau, Esq., Philadelphia . 
 H. Probasco, Esq., Cincinnati. 
 T. W. Walters, Baltimore. 
 Dr. H. C. Angell, Boston. 
 M. Brimmer, Esq., Boston. 
 H. P. Kidder, Esq., Boston. 
 A. Quincy Shaw, Esq., Boston. 
 Mrs. S. D. Warren, Boston. 
 Potter Palmer, Esq., Chicago. 
 Albert Spencer, Esq., New York 
 
 (recently dispersed) . 
 Mrs . Morgan (recently dispersed) . 
 Erwin-Davis, Esq. ,, 
 
 Canada. 
 
 R. B. Angus, Esq., Montreal. I D. Mclntyre, Esq., Montreal. 
 
 G. A. Drummond, Esq., Montreal, i Sir Donald Smith, Montreal. 
 
 MILLET. 
 III. — Bibliography. * 
 
 Claretie, Millet" (^'Peintres et Sculpteurs contemporains, " I. 4, Paris, 
 1874). 
 
 Henley (W. E.), J. E. Millet. Twenty etchings and woodcuts repro- 
 duced in fac- simile " (London, 1881). 
 
 Jacque (M.), Le Livre d'Or de L'Angelus " (1890). 
 
 Lebrun, Les Eaux-Eortes de Jean Eran9ois Millet." 
 
 Lebrun, " Etchings by J. F. Millet." English translation by F. Keppel, 
 with extra notes (New York) . 
 
 * See also the General Bibliography of the Painters of Barbizon. 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Mantz (Paul), J. F. Millet " (in Catalogue descriptive de I'Exposition 
 
 des GEuwes de Millet, 1887"). 
 Piedagnel, " Souvenirs de Barbizon " (Paris, 1888). 
 Sensier, "Vie et CEuvre de J. F. MiUet" (Paris, 1881). 
 
 ,, ''Jean Franc^-ois Millet, Painter and Peasant," translated by 
 Helena de Kay (London, 1881). 
 Yriarte, " J. F. MiUet " (" Bibliotheque d'Art Moderne") (Paris, 188-3). 
 ''Art and Letters," L, pt. I. (October, 1881). 
 "Art Journal," 1881, p. 299 (London). 
 
 " L'Art" (1875), L 149, par C. Yriarte; IL, 69, 95, 144, 332 (Paris). 
 "L'Artiste" (1876), n. s., V. Pt. L, p. 287, "MiUet chez lui/' par 
 
 Piedagnel (Paris). 
 " Athenfeum," January 30, 1875 (London). 
 "Atlantic Monthly," 1876, September, by E. W. Wheelwright. 
 " Century " Magazine, May, 1889, "Recollections of J. F. Millet," by 
 
 Wyatt Eaton. 
 
 " Comhill" Magazine, 1882, "The Early Life of J. F. Millet," by W. E. 
 H(enley), (London). 
 
 " Gazette des Beaux Arts " (Paris), 1861, XL, 262, " Les Faux Fortes de 
 MiUet," par P. Burty ; 1873, n. s., VII., 322, "Collection Laurent- 
 Richard," par R. Menard ; 1875, n. s., XL, 428, par E. Chesneau ; 
 1881, n. s., XXIIL, 457, "Hartmann CoU.," par A. de Lostalot 
 1887, n. s., XXXVL, 5, par Andre Michel, &c., &c. 
 
 "Magazine of Art " (Vols. VI. and VIL), "Millet's Country" (London). 
 (Vol. VL), "MiUet as an Art Critic." 
 ,, 1889, pp. 375 and 397, by D. C. Thomson. 
 
 '•Musee des FamiUes" Aout 15, 1889 (Paris), MiUler (Eugene), " Au 
 Pays de Millet." 
 
 "Nineteenth Century," September, 1888, by Mrs. H. Ady (London). 
 " Zeitschrift fiir bildende Kun.st." II., p. 121 (Leipzig). 
 
 IV. — Some of the Principal Paintings by Millet.^' 
 
 Angelus [Wilson and Secretan CoUs.] (etched). 
 
 Bather (or Goose-girl), Jlmc. Vvc. J. Saidnlcr, Bordeaux. 
 
 Bathers, Louvre, Paris. 
 
 Bird Killers— night scene, 31. F. Gerard, Taris. 
 
 Buckwheat Harvest [Hartmann CoU.], Martbi Brimmer, Ksrj., Boston, U.^'S, 
 Church at Greville [Millet Sale], Louvre, Paris. 
 Churner [Morgan CoU., New York]. 
 
 ' The names between square brackets indicate the collections through which the 
 pictures have passed. The names in italic are the present owners. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 llo 
 
 Churner, Mnie. Angelo, Paris. 
 
 ClifiPs of aruchy [Laurent -Richard Coll.], M. Alfred Marme, Tours. 
 Death and the "Wood-cutter [Laurent- Kichard Coll.], Glyptoteqiw^ 
 Copenhagen. 
 
 Edge of the Hamlet of Gruchy, A. Qidncy Shaw, Esq., Boston. 
 
 End of the Day (The Man with the Jacket), M. Rotiart, Paris. 
 
 Evening— Woman watering a cow [Laurent -Richard Coll.]. 
 
 Expectation L'Attente ") (1860). 
 
 Eeeding Poultry, 3£rs. J. G. Fell, Philadelphia, 
 
 Eisherman's Family, Conite Boria, Paris. 
 
 Fisherman's Wife, Heer H. W. Mesdag, The Hague. 
 
 Gathering Beans (the woman is Millet's mother) [Morgan Coll.], 7. East- 
 man CJiase, Esq., New York. 
 Geese, JF. Astor, Esq., Neiv York. 
 
 Girl with a new-born lamb, A. Quincg Shaw, Esq., Boston, U.S.A. 
 Gleaners [Salon, 1857], 3£me. Pommery, Rheims. Eventually to be given 
 
 to the Louvre. 
 Goose- girl, Coll. of the late M. Van Praet, Brussels, 
 
 Grafter (1855) (etched) [Hartmann Coll.], IF. Rockefeller, Esq., New York, 
 Hamlet of Cousin, If. Tavernier, Paris. 
 Harvest [M. Perreau, Paris] . 
 
 Harvesters [Salon, 1853], Martin Brimmer, Esq., Boston. 
 
 Haystacks, The, Mm£. Hartmann, Paris. 
 
 Hay-trussers, The (1850) (etched), M. Thomy Thiery, Paris. 
 
 Interior (unfinished), Micseum of Fine Arts, Boston, 17,S. 
 
 Love the Conqueror, J. S. Forbes, Esq., London. 
 
 Love the Conqueror, JF. C. Quilter, Esq., M.P., London, 
 
 Man with the Hoe (etched as Labour") [Salon, 1863], 31. Van den 
 
 Eynde, Brussels. 
 Maternal Precaution, Prince Putz. ■ r^-. 
 
 Maternity, Messrs, Obach ^ Co., London. 
 Milk- carrier, 31. Alphonse Pumas, Paris. 
 Milk- Jar, /. C. Punhle, Esq., New York. 
 Moses, Cherbourg 3£icseu7n. 
 Mother, A, Marseilles 3Luseum. 
 
 Mother, with Child in Cradle, Fop-Smit Coll., Rotterdam. 
 Mouthful, The (etched), Museum at Lille. 
 Naiad, 3£rs. Borie, Philadelphia. 
 Offering to Pan, 3fontpellier Museum. 
 
 (Edipus Detached from the Tree [Salon, 1847, Faure CoU.], 3f. E, Otlet, 
 Brussels. 
 
IIG 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Peasants going* to Work (a Man and a Woman), 1850, James Donald, Ea^., 
 Glasgow. 
 
 Phoebus and Boreas, M. Iloirl Ronart, Paris. 
 
 Pig Killers (1867-69) [Paris Exhibition, 1889], 3f. Hecht, Paris. 
 
 Potato -]3lanters (1860) (Etched), A. Quiney Shaw, Esq., Boston, U.S.A. 
 
 Potato Harvest (1863), T. IF. IVaJiers, Esq., Baltimore. 
 
 Public Oven, Li New York. 
 
 Peturn of the Labourer, Mrs. Borie, PJdladeljjhia. 
 Peturn to the Farm, 31. J. Dollfns, Paris. 
 
 Keverie (girl seated at foot of a rock with sunlight playing upon her 
 
 through the branches overhead.) A. Yowig, Esq., Blackheath. 
 Sea, The, 31. Legrand, Paris. 
 Sewing Lesson, — Leitner, Esq., Wasltington. 
 Sheepfold at Night, 3Ime. IF. Hooper^ Paris. 
 
 Sheepf old by Moonlight [Paris Exhibitions, 1867 and 1889), 31. Bellino, 
 Paris. 
 
 Sheepfold, T. IF. Walters, Esq., Baltimore. 
 Sheep -shearing (1860). 
 
 Shepherd (Return of the Flock), II. C. Gibson, Esq., Philadelphia. 
 Shepherdess, Constantine Io)ndes, Esq., Io)ido)i. 
 Shepherdess (etched), Coll. of tlie late 31. Fan Praet, Brussels. 
 Shepherdess (standing against a tree knitting, flock in the distance), 
 
 A. Yoang, Esq., Blaekheath . 
 Shepherdess (seated), 3IaseHm of Eine Arts, Boston, U.S. 
 Shepherdess, IF. Roekefeller, Esq., Nea^ York. 
 Sower (etched by M. Maris), 3Irs. IF. II. Fanderhilt, New York. 
 Sower (1850) (1st picture smaller), A. Quiney Shaw, Esq., Boston, U.S.A. 
 Spinner [Morgan Coll.], /. E. Satton, Esq, Xeiv York. 
 Spinner [Paris Exhibition, 1889], 31. Coequelin aine, Paris. 
 Spring [Hartmann Coll.], Louvre, Paris. 
 Sunrise over the Sea, 31. Pesfosses, Paris. 
 Three Grleaners (upright picture) , 31. Blumenthal. 
 Tobias, G. J. Seney, New York. 
 Turkeys, C. A. Pana, Esq., New York. 
 Twilight (a shepherdess knitting), 31. du Toiet, Brussels. 
 Yigil, The (two women sewing at night) [Laurent-Pichard Coll.]. 
 Washerwoman, /. C. Punkle, Esq., New York. 
 
 Washerwoman [Laurent- Richard and Defoer Colls.], 31. Thorny Thiery, 
 Paris. 
 
 Water- Carrier (etched as ''The Milkmaid" by L. Lecouteux), 31. 
 Guyotin, Paris. 
 
APPEKDIX. 
 
 iir 
 
 Water- Carrier [Hartmann Coll.], Mrs. W. II. Vandcrhilt^ New Yorlc. 
 Water-Drawer, W. Eochefeller, Esq., New York. 
 
 Winnower [Crabbe and Secretan Colls.], MM, Arnold % Tripp, Paris. 
 Winnower (small picture) [Laurent- Richard Coll.], M. BelUno, Faris. 
 Woman burning Weeds [Defoer Coll.] 
 Woman pasturing a Cow, Bourg Museum. 
 
 Woman shearing a Sheep [Salon, 1853 ; Paris Exhibition, 1889], Feter 
 
 Brooks, Esq., Boston, TI.S. 
 Wood-sawyers (etched), Constantine lonides, Esq., London. 
 Wool- Carder, Mrs. Far mi Stevens, New York. 
 
 In 1887 an exhibition was held at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, Paris, at which a 
 number of the most important pictures, pastels, and drawings by Millet were shown. 
 The object of the exhibition was to erect a monument to the artist, by Chapu, in the 
 Public Gardens at Cherbourg. 
 
 Millet's pastels are almost as important as his paintings ; but space does not suffice 
 to give a list of these. One example, " La Barateuse," is in the Luxembourg, which 
 also possesses five charcoal drawings by him. The splendid collection of M. Gavet of 
 pastels and drawings by Millet was sold in ninenty-five lots in June, 1875, and 
 produced 431,050 francs, j 
 
 V. — Original Etchings, Woodcuts, Lithographs, 
 
 By Millet.''' 
 
 [Taken from Sensier, ''■La Vieet V (Euvre de J. F. Millet.'') 
 i. — Etchings . 
 
 1. Un petit Navire. 
 
 2. Fenune etendant du Linge. 
 
 3. Petit Becheur an Kepos. 
 
 4. L'Homme appuye sur son Beche. 
 
 5. Les deux Vaches. 
 
 6. Mouton paissant. 
 
 7. Croquis (in three divisions) — 
 
 1. La Femme etendant du 
 Linge. 
 
 2. Le petit Becheur. 
 
 3. Un Paysan assis. 
 
 8. Croquis divers — 
 
 Slight sketch of vroman 
 knitting and other small 
 sketches. 
 9. Ramasseurs de Yarech. 
 
 10. La Couseuse. 
 
 1 1 . La Femme qui bat le Beurre. 
 
 1 2 . Paysan rentrant du Fumier. 
 
 13. Les Glaneuses. 
 
 14. Les Becheurs. 
 
 15. La VeiUee. 
 
 * There exist besides four catalogues of works engraved or lithographed by Millet. 
 The first, by M. Burty, was published in the Gazette des Beaux- Arts of September 1st, 
 1861 ; the second formed part of the documents which M. Piedagnel added to his book 
 " J. F. Millet ; Souvenirs de Barbizon " (1876 and 188S) ; the third a list in Beraldi's very 
 useful " Les Gravures du XIX. Siecle " (Paris, 1886), and the fourth by Lebrun. 
 
118 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Etchings 
 
 16. La Cardeuse. 
 
 17. La Gardeiise d'Oies. 
 
 18. La Fenune faisant manger son 
 
 Enfant. 
 
 ii . — LiTHOGEAPHS. 
 
 continued. 
 
 19. La Grrande Bergere. 
 
 20. Le Depart pour le Travail. 
 
 21. La Eileuse. 
 
 22. Ou done est-il ? 
 
 23. Le Semeur. 
 
 24. Olivier de Serres. 
 
 Portrait de Chateaubriand 
 (mentioned by Piedagnel) . 
 
 iii. — Heliographs. 
 
 25. La Precaution Maternelle. 
 
 26. Eemme vidant un Seau. 
 
 iv. — Woodcuts. * 
 
 27. Paysan assis au pied d'lm Arbre. 
 
 28. Tete de femme coiffee d'une 
 
 Marmotte. 
 
 29. Petite Bergere assise. 
 
 30. Becheur au Travail. 
 
 3.1. Croquis (on the reverse side of 
 La Femme \idant un Seau) — 
 Tete de femme coiffee d'une 
 
 Marmotte, Le Paysan as- 
 sis, and various other 
 sketches. 
 
 32. Eemme vidant un Seau. 
 
 33. La Bergere. 
 
 34. Becheur au Repos (engraved by 
 
 Pierre Millet). 
 
 VI. — Etchings after Pictures and Drawings 
 BY Millet. 
 
 The English titles, by ivhieh they eire most generally Jcnoivn in this 
 country, are given. 
 
 The Angelus Etched by C. Waltner. 
 
 , , (small plate) ... , , , , 
 
 ,, (size of original, 21 by 25) . ,, F. Jacque. 
 
 (small plate) ... ., 
 , , (a small i^late) . . . , , 
 
 Margelidon. 
 C. Fence. 
 C. Giroux. 
 L. Lesigne. 
 H. Sedcole. 
 
 A. P. MartiaL 
 F, Bracquemond. 
 
 (first idea for the picture— a 
 small upright plate) , . 
 
 New-born Lamb 
 
 * Of these Woodcuts the first few are by Millet and the three last by his brothers. In 
 1852 Millet designed ten types of peasants, which were engraved on wood by Adrien 
 Lavieille in 1855. " Les Quatre Heures du Jour" were also engraved on wood by 
 Adrien Lavieille in 1800. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 119 
 
 Young Shepherdess . 
 Springtime , . . . 
 Autumn ..... 
 Labour L' Homme a la Houe " 
 The Knitting Lesson 
 Fetching Water 
 
 At the "Well .... 
 Spinning ..... 
 The Shepherdess . ... 
 The Gleaners .... 
 The Mouthful (Le Becquee) 
 The Spinner .... 
 A Normandy Milkmaid 
 Hay-Trussers .... 
 The Groatherdess 
 Churning (from pastel in Luxembourg Gal 
 
 lery) .... 
 The Spinner 
 
 The Gleaners (small plate) 
 Churning .... 
 Geese .... 
 The Sower (upright, from the picture 
 
 , , (oblong, from a pastel) 
 The Spinner . . 
 The Shepherd . 
 The Return of the Flock . 
 The Shepherdess 
 First Steps (Les Premiers Pas) 
 Spring .... 
 The Church at Greville . 
 Going to Work 
 The Grafter 
 
 The Stew-pot (Pot-au-feu) 
 The Spinner 
 
 Woman feeding Chicken . 
 
 The Potato -Planters 
 Turkeys .... 
 Wood- Sawyers . 
 
 Etched by E. Bracquemond. 
 
 B. Damman. 
 
 G. Rodriguez. 
 L. Lecouteux, 
 
 C. L. Kratke. 
 ?> 
 
 Fornet. 
 
 M. Maris. 
 G. M. Greux. 
 
 F. Gaulet. 
 G. Belin-Dolet. 
 V. Focillon. 
 L. Lesigne. 
 
 F. Reynaud. 
 L. Margelidon. 
 Yallotton. 
 W. Hole. 
 
 Geese (reproduction in colour by the photogravure process) . 
 
120 APPENDIX. 
 
 Besides these, various smaller etchings, lithographs, and photogravures 
 have appeared in various periodicals, sale catalogues, and other publica- 
 tions, including " Le Grazette des Beaux-Arts," "L'Art," "L' Artiste," 
 
 Cent- Chefs d'GEuvre," ''Le Galerie Durand-Euel," Le Musce Uni- 
 versel," ''Les Artistes Modernes," and the Hartmann, Laurent - 
 Richard, Saulnier, Defoer, Secretan, Dreyfus, Faure, Oppenheim, and 
 other sale catalogues. Messrs. Braun & Co., of Domach and Paris, 
 publish a very fine collection of about 180 photographs, after pictures, 
 pastels, and di-awings by Millet, and M. Georges Petit publishes a series 
 of 50. 
 
 VII.— Pictures by Millet sold in Paris in May, 1875, 
 
 AFTER HIS Death.''' 
 
 I'rices realised. 
 
 Francs. 
 
 Little Shepherdess seated 10,000 
 
 Mother with her Childi^en 7,050 
 
 House in the Hamlet of Cruchy 6,400 
 
 Dairymaid leaning against a Tree 7,600 
 
 Woman carrying Pails . . . . . . . . 5,150 
 
 Woman milking a Cow 6,800 
 
 Sheep - shearers 7,100 
 
 Wood- cutters 10,100 
 
 The End of the Day 7,300 
 
 The Pig-killers 24,000 
 
 Young Shepherdess sitting on a Rock 13,000 
 
 Fishing Boat 6,300 
 
 Peasant Family 5,110 
 
 Gust of Wind 10,900 
 
 Young Mother nursing her Child 5,800 
 
 The Evening 6,050 
 
 Church at Greville 12,200 
 
 Donkey in a Marsh 6,950 
 
 Hunt by Torchlight 5,000 
 
 Shepherd retm-ning with his Flock 11,000 
 
 The Sea— View of the Pasturage of Greville . . . . 14,200 
 
 Normandy Milkmaid at Greville 5,000 
 
 * The above list gives the prices realised by the principal of those of Millet's pictures 
 which were in his possession at the time of his death. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 121 
 
 EOUSSEAU. 
 VIII. — Bibliography/^' 
 
 Sensier (A.), ''Souvenirs sur Theodore Rousseau" (Paris, 1872). 
 Lalauze (H.), '' T. Rousseau, Peintre de Paysage" (''Galerie historique et 
 
 critique du XlXme Siecle") (Paris). 
 *' Etudes et Croquis de Th. Rousseau," reproduits par Aanand Durand 
 
 avec la concours de Alfred Sensier (foL, Paris, 1876). 
 *'L'Art" (1882), XXYIII, 161, 186, par P. Burty (Paris). 
 L' Artist e," Novembre, 1871, p. 9, Rousseau ; ' ' Paysagistes Contempo- 
 
 raines," par T. Gautier (Paris). 
 ''Gazette des Beaux Arts," 1868, XXIV., p. 305, par P. Burty; 1873, 
 
 U.S., VII., 191 (Collection Laurent- Richard), par R. Menard (Paris). 
 "Magazine of Art," Vol. XI., p. 385 (1888), by D. C. Thomson (London). 
 " Zeitschrift fiir bildende Kunst," IIL, 281, von A. Teichlein (Leipzig). 
 
 IX.— Some of the Principal Paintings by Rousseau. 
 
 Autumn at St. Jean de Paris [Hartmann Coll.]. 
 
 Autumn Evening [Albert Spencer Coll., New York]. 
 
 Avenue of Chestnut Trees (1837), 3fme, de Cassin, Paris. 
 
 Banks of the Oise, Mrs. W. S. VanderbiU, New York. 
 
 Banks of the Oise, The [Paris Exhibition, 1889], M. de Forto-Riche, Paris. 
 
 Banks of the Loire [Defoer Coll.], M. Thorny Thiery, Paris » 
 
 Charcoal-burner's Hut (completed 1850) [Secretan Coll.]. 
 
 Coast of Granville [Salon, 1833 ; Henri Scheffer Coll.]. 
 
 Cottage in Berry [Laurent -Richard and Albert Spencer Colls.]. 
 
 Cottage, The [Paris Exhibition, 1889], M. Boucheron. 
 
 Cows at Drinking-place, Nantes Museum. 
 
 Descent of Cattle from the Higher Alps (1836), Heer H. W. Mesdag, The 
 Hague. 
 
 Edge of the Forest of Eontainebleau, Sunset (Salon, 1855), Louvre, 
 
 Edge of the Wood, Mrs. W. H. VanderbiU, New York. 
 
 Edge of the Wood — the Forest of Compiegne (wood-cutting) [Duke of 
 
 Orleans Coll.]. 
 Evening [Defoer CoU.]. 
 Evening, Baron de Pothschild, Paris. 
 
 Farm in the Landes [Salon, 1859 ; Hartmann Coll. ; Paris Exhibition, 
 
 1889], M. Tahourier. 
 Farm on the Oise [Paris Exhibition, 1867], Mrs. W.H. VanderbiU, NewYork. 
 * See also the general list of Bibliography of the Barbizon School. 
 
122 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Farm in the Wood (1864) [Saulnier and Secretan Colls.]. 
 Farm in Berry [Dagnan Coll., 1882], M. Viterho 
 Forest Scene, C. P. Huntingdon^ Esq.j JSfew York. 
 Forest Skirts of the Monts Girard. 
 Grlade, The, M, Henri Lallemand. 
 G-lade, The, Mnic. Veuve Kinen, Farts. 
 
 Gorges of Apremont [Salon, 1859; Paris Exhibition, 1867], Mrs. IF. H. 
 
 Vandcrhilt, JSfew Yo7'Jc. 
 Group of Oaks in the Forest of Fontainebleau, 3£. E. Andre, Faris. 
 Hamlet in Normandy, A [Wilson and Secretan Colls.]. 
 Herd of Cattle in the Jura (1835). 
 
 Hillock, Jean de Paris (1848 ; contains a portrait of the artist's wife) 
 
 [Laurent -Richard, Defoer and Secretan Colls.]. 
 Hoar-Frost, The [Laurent -Richard Coll.], T. IF. Walters, Esq., Baltimore. 
 Hunt, The, Arthur Sanderson, Esq., Edinburgh. 
 In the Woods (upright), Coll. of the late M. Fan Fraet, Brussels. 
 In the Forest of Clairbois, Fontainebleau, James Donald, Esq., Glasgow, 
 Interior of a Kitchen, Lille Museum. 
 Interior of the Forest [Erwin-Davis Coll., New York]. 
 Landscape and Forest, IF. Roehefeller, Esq., New York. 
 Landscape in Berry [Dreyfus Coll.]. 
 Landscape in Summer [H. Probasco Coll., Cincinnati]. 
 Little Fisherman [Defoer Coll.]. 
 
 Marsh near a Paper-mill : near Tiffauge, in La Vendee (1837). 
 Morass in the Landes (1849) [Hartmann Coll.], Louvre. 
 Morass in the Landes [Laurent- Richard Coll., 1886], M. TIrba, Faris. 
 Morning [Laurent- Richard Coll.], Mrs. IF. LL. Fanderbilt, New York. 
 Morning, Baron de Fothsehild, Faris. 
 
 Old Resting-place for Cattle at Bas-Breau [Hartmann CoU.], Louvre. 
 Plain, The (effect of evening). Coll. of the late M. Fan Fraet, Brussels. 
 Plain of Barbizon, Mrs. J. C. Fell, Fhiladeljjhia. 
 Plain in the Pyrenees [Hartmann Coll.]. 
 Pond, A [Narischkine Coll.]. 
 
 Pool in the Landes, A (1866) [Paris Exhibition, 1889], M. Fever, Faris. 
 Pool, The (1842). 
 
 Pool in the Forest of Fontainebleau, Montpelller Museum, 
 Public Oven in the Landes [Hartmann CoU.]. 
 
 Resting-place for Cattle, Forest of Fontainebleau [Laurent-Richard Coll.] 
 Spring-time [Saulnier and Secretan Colls.]. 
 Spring at Barbizon (1851) [Laurent-Richard Coll.]. 
 Spring on the Loire (1857). 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 123 
 
 stone Oak, The (1861). 
 
 Storm Landscape, Louvre. 
 
 Storm, A, Comtantine lonides^ Esq., London. 
 
 Sunset (marshy plain, with cattle and pools of water), A, Young, Esq.^ 
 
 Blaclcheath. 
 Sunset after Storm [Laurent- Richard Coll.]. 
 . Sunset [Albert Spencer Coll., New York]. 
 
 Sunset (upright picture ; etched by Bracquemond as Evening ") [Hart- 
 
 mann Coll.]. 
 Twilight, Mme. Veuve Kinen. 
 TAvilight [Morgan Coll.], Mrs. LL. Ogden. 
 A' alley of the Tiffauge [Secretan Coll.], in New York. 
 View of the Chain of Mont Blanc in a Storm. 
 Yiew of Forest land at Sunset (1848), Louvre. 
 View at Bas Meudon (1833) [Saulnier Coll.], 
 Village under the Trees, Jf. F. Bischoffsheim, Paris. 
 ViUage, The (1864) [Hartmann Coll.]. 
 Washing Place at the Edge of a Pond (1842). 
 Watercourse at Sologne [Laurent -Richard Coll.]. 
 Water Meadows, Nantes Museum. 
 Wooded Landscape [Erwin-Davis Coll., New York]. 
 Woods in Winter [Hartmann Coll.]. 
 
 X. — Original Etchings by Rousseau. 
 
 TJne Vue du Berry (1842). 
 
 Une Vue du Plateau de Belle-Croix (1848). 
 
 La Chene de Eoche (1861). 
 
 La Cerisier de la plante a Brian (Foret de Fontainebleau) . LleUograpMe 
 sur verre. 
 
 La Plaine de la plante a Brian (Foret de Fontainebleau) . Ileliographie 
 sur verre. 
 
 XL — Etchings after Paintings by Rousseau.* 
 
 Evening Etched by F. Bracquemond. 
 
 The Fisherman C. Kratke. 
 
 The Pond — Early Morning ... 
 
 * Besides these mentioned a number of smaller etchings, fee, have appeared in 
 various periodicals, sale catalogues, and other ijublications (for a list of which see 
 note under the " List of Etchings after pictures by Millet"). About 130 photographs 
 after paintings, sketches, and drawings have been published by MM. Braun & Cie 
 M. Georges Petit has also issued a series of photographs of paintiags by Eousseau. , 
 
124 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The Swamp Etclied by C. Kratke. 
 
 The Eagle's Nest T. Chauvel. 
 
 Sunset, Forest of Fontainebleau (The 
 
 Louvre) G. M. Greux. 
 
 DIAZ. 
 XII. — Bibliography. 
 
 Clarctie (J.), Diaz ("Peintres et Sculj)teurs Contemj)oraincs," I., Pt. lOj 
 (Paris). 
 
 Montrosier (Eugene), Diaz (''Galerie Contemporaine," Pts. 126 to 128) 
 (Paris). 
 
 " Gazette des Beaux-Arts " (1877), XV., 290, par R. Ballu (Paris). 
 ''L'Art" (1875), III., 204, par Jules Clarctie; (1877), VIIL, 49, par 
 
 Jean Rousseau (Paris). 
 '^Magazine of Art" (1889), pp. 181, 231, by D. C. Thomson (London). 
 '^Zeitschrift fiir bildende Kunst," XIV., 97, "Diaz," von H. BiUliiig 
 
 (Leipzig). 
 
 XIII. — Some of the Principal Paintings by Diaz. 
 
 After the Rain [Laurent-Richard Coll.]. 
 Bathers, The [Laurent -Richard Coll.]. 
 Bathers, The, Mrs. IF. H. VanderhiU, Xew YorJc. 
 Bather, The, C. A. Io)iides, Esq., Loiidoti. 
 Bather tormented by Cupids (1850), Grcnohir Jlicwuni. 
 Blind Man's Buff, 1852 [Albert Spencer Coll.], J//-.v. IF. II. Yandcrlnlt, 
 JVew Yorlr. 
 
 Bohemian Girls, JF. As for, Esq., Xciv Yor/r. 
 Borders of the Forest, JI. II. A. Vliaiichard, Tar'is. 
 Bracelet, The, M. Albert Ficard, Paris. 
 
 Cattle Paddock (Le Pare aux boeufs) (1869), JI. Buuclicron, Tarls. 
 Chase, The, Bcoilel Cottier, Esq. 
 
 Children wandering in a Wood, la lioeJielle JIaseani. 
 Close of a Happy Day [Paris Exhibition, 1855]. 
 Cupid Disarmed, T. JF. Walters, Esq., Balt'unore, 
 Cupid's Whisper, 1862, 3Irs. IF. II. Fauderhilt, Xew YorJc. 
 Descent of the Bohemians (large picture) [Salon, 1844], Mrs. S.D. JFarren, 
 Ijostou, U.S. 
 
 * See also th3 general list—" Bibliography of the Painters of Barbizon." 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 125 
 
 Descent of the Bohemians (small picture) [Exposition Cent Chefs 
 d'QEuvre, 1883 ; Laurent- Richaid and Secretan Colls.]. 
 
 Diana the Huntress (1849) [Exposition Cent Chefs d'CEuvre, 1883 ; Sec- 
 retan Coll.]. 
 
 Dream, The (1841). 
 
 Edge of the Forest, C. Hoherts^ JEsq., Leeds, 
 
 Education of Love. 
 
 Fairy with pearls, The, Louvre. 
 
 Forest of Fontainebleau, Bordeaux Museum. 
 
 Forest of Fontainebleau [Paris Exhibition, 1889], M. Bellino. 
 
 Forest of Fontainebleau (1871), T. W. Walters^ Esq. ^ Baltimore. 
 
 Forest Scenes (three studies). Louvre. 
 
 Galatea (1859) (engraved). 
 
 Girl with Dogs, South liensinrjton Museum. 
 
 Glade in the Forest of Fontainebleau [Laurent -Richard Coll.]. 
 
 Heart of the Forest, T. G. Arthur^ l^sq., Glasgow. 
 
 Holj Family [Laurent -Richard Coll.], Miss Wolfe, New York. 
 
 Horses in the Meadow, Baron A. Bothschild, Paris. 
 
 In the Forest, M. Gentien, Paris. 
 
 In the Woods —summer effect, M. Willens de JFespelaer, Binissels. 
 
 In the Woods near the Gorges d'Apremont [Laurent- Richard Coll.]. 
 
 Interior of the Forest (Oxen crossing a stream) (1846), 3Ime. Veuve 
 
 Joliet, Paris. 
 Lady of the Manor (1848) [Defoer Coll.]. 
 Last Tears (1855). 
 
 Little Marauders, Mme. la Vicomtesse de Cavalcanii, Paris. 
 Little Turkish Girls, Af. Justin Brisae, Paris. 
 Love Disarmed (1851). 
 Love Punished. 
 
 Love the Conqueror (small), T. G. Arthur, Esq., Glasgow. 
 
 Love's Proposal, M. Ferdinand PLerz, Paris. 
 
 Love's Confidences (1851) [Defoer Collection], Mme. de Cassin. 
 
 ISTymph (back view), Mme. de Cassin, Paris. 
 
 ISTymph and Cupids, Toulouse Museum. 
 
 ISTymphs Asleep, Moonlight, A. Young, Esq., Blachheath. 
 
 Oak Trees, The (small), John Anderson, Esq.,jun., Glasgow. 
 
 Odalisque, The, General H. Llopkinson, London. 
 
 Pack of Hounds— Forest of Fontainebleau (1848). 
 
 Poacher, The, M. H. A. Chauchard, Paris. 
 
 Pool, The (cattle drinking), M. Lutz, Paris. 
 
 Pool in the Wood (1860) [Secretan Coll.]. 
 
126 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Rival, The (1855). 
 
 Road through the Woods, M. Gcntien^ Tar is. 
 Smymoites, The (1871) [J. Wilson Coll.], M. Stumpli. 
 Storm, The (1872), T. IF. Walters, Esq., Baltimore. 
 
 Storm, The [Laurent- Richard Coll. ; Paris Exhibition, 1889], J/". Bouails, 
 Paris. 
 
 Sunset — Autumn, Hamilton Bruce, Esq., EdiuhurgJi . 
 Sunset [Paris Exhibition, 1889], M. F. Bischofsheim. 
 
 Sunset — The Fisherman (a stomij sky, against which a tree rises), 
 
 A. Young, Esq., BJaclcheatJi . 
 Three Little Girls [Dreyfus Coll.]. 
 
 Toilet of Venus [Morgan Coll.], II. C. Gihson, Esq., ThilaiJeJphia. 
 Under the Foliage [J. Wilson Coll.], M. Henry Barhey. 
 Venus and Adonis (1845) [Secretan Coll.]. 
 View in the Pyrenees, Louvre. 
 
 Venus and Cupid (1857) [Secretan Coll.]. M. II. A. C'hauchard, Paris. 
 Venus and Cupid, M. Gcntien, Paris. 
 Woods of Fontainebleau, J/. Gentien, Paris. 
 
 Wooded Heath near Fontainebleau [Faure and Laurent-Richard Colls.]. 
 
 XIV.— Lithographs p>y Diaz. 
 
 La Mort de Peur — La Veuve — Beaut 6 — Imposture — Les Fous amoiireux — 
 Les Folles amoureuses. 
 
 Also a set of four Sheets with several subjects on each. 
 
 XV. — Etchings and Engravings after Paintings 
 
 BY Diaz.''' 
 
 The Storm Etched by T. Chauvel. 
 
 Galatea ....... Engraved by J. Jacquet, 
 
 A series of small Etchings after Diaz were made by an artist named Charles. 
 
 * A number of etchings, lithographs, &c., have appeared in different publications. 
 Mention of some of these will be found at the foot of the " List of Etching-s after 
 Pictures by Millet." M. Georges 'Petit has published a series of photographs of 
 paintings by Diaz. 
 
 Copies of most of the etchings in the foregoing lists may be seen at 
 Messrs. Obach & Co., 20, Cockspur Street, London, S.W. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 TO MILLET. 
 
 About, Edmond . 
 
 Angelus du Soir 
 
 . 24 
 
 37, 40 
 
 Baigneuses 
 
 Belly .... 
 
 . 28 
 . 28 
 
 Clerget . . . 
 
 Courbet, M. . 
 
 Cueilleim des Haricots, La 
 
 , 28 
 . 43 
 
 2 
 
 Death and the Woodcutter 
 Delarocbe 
 
 Diaz .... 
 Dmnouchel, Bon . 
 
 . 37 
 
 9 
 
 22, 27 
 8 
 
 Evening 
 
 . 36 
 
 Feuardent, M. 
 
 . 11 
 
 George, Mr. . 
 Gleaners 
 
 G-randmotber, Millet's . 
 Great -Aunt, Millet's . 
 Guicbard, Josepb . 
 
 . 12 
 
 38, 39 
 2 
 4 
 
 . 27 
 
 Ha gar and Ishmael . . 27 
 Haymakers . . . 28, 34 
 Haymakers Besting . . 27 
 Henry, Aimce Henriette 
 Adelaide .... 2 
 
 Jacque, M. Cbarlep 
 
 Jews at Babylon 
 
 . 27 
 . 21 
 
 Langlois 
 Leroy, Louis 
 
 Lessiveiise 
 
 London Exbibition, 1862 
 
 PAGs: 
 . 9, 10 
 . 28 
 . 34 
 . 24 
 
 Man winnowing Corn 
 MaroUe, Louis -Alexandre 
 Martin, Hugues . 
 Men Carrying Home a Calf 
 
 dropped in the Fields . 
 Millet, Cbarles 
 Millet, Jean Francois — 
 
 1814, Born at Gruchy, October 
 
 4th ... 
 1832, Went to Cherbourg 
 1835, Death of his father 
 1837, Sent to Paris . 
 
 1840, Exhibited for first 
 in the Salon . 
 
 Stay at Cherbourg 
 
 1841, Married Pauline 
 ginie Ono 
 
 1842, Returned to Paris 
 
 1844, Death of his wife 
 
 1845, Married Catherine Le 
 
 maire . 
 Eevisited Paris 
 Visited Havre 
 
 1848, A soldier 
 111 . . . 
 
 1849, Revisited Paris 
 1875, His death 
 
 Millet, Jean Louis Nicolas 
 Milkmaid, TJte 
 Moissonneurs . 
 Morning . . . 
 
 time 
 
 Vir 
 
 21 
 16 
 28 
 
 34 
 4 
 
 1 
 8 
 9 
 11 
 
 17 
 18 
 
 18 
 19 
 19 
 
 26 
 26 
 26 
 28 
 28 
 21, 28 
 28 
 
 1 
 
 19 
 29 
 36 
 
128 
 
 I^'DEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Nlgld 36 
 
 Noon ..... 36 
 
 (Edipus . . . .27 
 
 (Edipiis detached from the 
 Tree 21 
 
 Fare aiix MoiUons . . .36 
 Feasant Grafting . . .34 
 Feasant Grafting a Tree 24, 39 
 Perron, Henry du . . 2 
 Piedagnel, M. . . .11 
 Plaque containing portraits 
 
 of Millet and Rousseau • 46 
 Fotato Harvest ... 34 
 
 Meapers . . . . .34 
 Feturn from Work . . 34 
 Fkling Lesson, The . . 19 
 
 I PAGE 
 
 j Rollin, Ledni . . .27 
 Rousseau, Theodore . . 28 
 Fath and Foaz . . .29 
 
 Shepherd leading his Flock 
 
 Home .... 34 
 Soivcr, The ... 24, 33 
 
 ' Temptation o f St. Jerome 26, 27 
 i Tourneux, M. Eugene . 19, 27 
 
 milee, Za . . . 34, 36 
 
 Wolff, M. Albert ... 22 
 WouKoi carding Wool . . 34 
 Woman ehurning . . .34 
 Woman sliearing a Sheep . 34 
 I IFoman tending a Cow . . 37 
 
 TO ROUSSEAU. 
 
 Ai'cnue of Chestnuts 
 
 
 62 
 
 Filigence ascending th 
 
 e Moun- 
 
 
 
 
 tain Foad . 
 
 
 58 
 
 Baron .... 
 
 
 67 
 
 Dupre, Jules. 
 
 56* 62, 69, 
 
 83 
 
 Barye .... 
 
 
 63 
 
 
 
 81 
 
 Blanc, Charles 
 
 
 70 
 
 Fcnne, La 
 
 . 72, 80, 
 
 Bonheur, Rosa 
 
 
 67 
 
 Flers . 
 
 
 67 
 
 
 
 
 Forest Skirt of the 
 
 Monts 
 
 
 Cabat .... 
 
 
 67 
 
 Girard, Th e 
 
 
 71 
 
 Cailleux, M. de . 
 
 
 67 
 
 Foret de Compiegne . 
 
 
 56 
 
 Champmartin 
 
 
 67 
 
 Fortelle, Comte de la 
 
 * '72, 
 
 57 
 
 Chenavart . 
 
 
 63 
 
 Four Communal, Le 
 
 80 
 
 ( 'oast of Granville . 
 
 
 54 
 
 Eromentin 
 
 
 83 
 
 Corot .... 
 
 
 83 
 
 
 
 
 Cotes de Granville . 
 
 
 72 
 
 General View of the 
 
 Chain of 
 
 
 Couder .... 
 
 
 67 
 
 Mont Blanc 
 
 
 80 
 
 
 
 
 Greorges Sand, Madame . 62, 
 
 66 
 
 Decamps 
 
 
 63 
 
 Group of Oaks in the Gorges of 
 
 71 
 
 Dedreux 
 
 
 67 
 
 Apremont, A 
 
 
 Delacroix 
 
 *62, 
 
 63 
 
 Gudin . 
 
 
 67 
 
 Demidoff , Count Paul . 
 
 
 83 
 
 
 
 
 Fcsccn te des Vaehes 
 
 60, 
 
 61 
 
 Jadin . 
 
 
 67 
 
 Deveria, Eugene . 
 
 
 67 
 
 Jeanron, M. . 
 
 67, 70 
 
 Diaz .... 
 
 67, 70 
 
 Jctcc d'un Fta)ig, L.a 
 
 
 64 
 
INDEX. 
 
 129 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Johannot, Tony . . . 67 
 
 Ledru-Rollin . . 66, 70 
 
 Leroux, M 62 
 
 Zisih'e, La .... 72 
 Zisiere de JBois Coupe . . 56 
 lAttle Hillock of Jean de Paris 69 
 Lorentz . . . .56 
 Luynes, M. de . . . 70 
 
 Marais dans les Landes . 71, 72, 73 
 Marais en Vendee^ Le . . 61 
 Hare, La . . . .64 
 Meissonier . . . .67 
 Millet . . . . 58, 66 
 Miiller 67 
 
 Oah of the Rocks , . .78 
 
 Perignon . . . .67 
 
 Eaffet 69 
 
 Kemond .... 50 
 
 Hiconrt. .... 57 
 Rousseau, Pierre -Etienne- 
 Theodore — 
 
 1812, Born in Paris ... 47 
 
 Influenced by Thore . 48 
 1824, Secretary to proprietor 
 
 of a saw mill . . , 49 
 
 1826, His youth ... 50 
 
 1829, Studies at Compiegne 
 
 and Moret .... 50 
 
 1830, Stay in the districts of the 
 Auvergnat . , . . 52 
 
 Establishes "La Societe 
 
 duGrelot" .... 53 
 
 1831, Visits to Normandy . 54 
 
 1833, Triumph in the Salon . 54 
 To Fontainebleau . . 56 
 
 1834, Alpine trip ... 56 
 Return to Paris . . 60 
 
 1835-1867, Rejection of pictures 
 
 by Salon .... 60 
 
 1836, Visit to Barbizon . . 61 
 Acquaintance with Diaz 61 
 
 1837, Death of his mother . 61 
 Visit to Nantes . . 61 
 Studies in La Vendee . 61 
 Visit to Tiffauge and 
 
 Chateau du Senlis . . 62 
 
 Return to Paris . , 62 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1837 to 1840, Dependence on 
 
 his father .... 62 
 
 1841, With Dupre at Monsoult 63 
 
 1842, Wandering by the Bou- 
 
 sane and Creuse ... 63 
 
 1844, Travels with Dupre . 64 
 Return to Paris . . 65 
 
 1845, Studies in M. Mellet's 
 house 65 
 
 1346, Darkest period of his life 65 
 
 1847, Engaged to be married . 66 
 
 Retreat to Barbizon . 66 
 
 1818, Revolution ... 66 
 Member of Hanging 
 
 Committee of Salon . . 68 
 
 Second marriage . . 68 
 
 1849, Three pictures in Salon . 6 
 Receives a First - Class 
 
 Medal 69 
 
 Jealous of Dupr^ . . 69 
 
 1850, Sale of pictures by auc- 
 tion 69 
 
 1851, Excluded from honours 70 
 
 1852, Receives the Legion of 
 Honour .... 70 
 
 More prosperous . . 71 
 1850-1853, Work at Barbizon . 71 
 1855, International Exhibition 72 
 Purchase of Millet's pic- 
 ture from the Salon . . 75 
 1857, Malice of Duke D'Aren- 
 
 berg 75 
 
 Work deteriorating . 76 
 
 1860, Visit to the Franche- 
 Comte and Neuchatel . . 77 
 
 Money troubles , . 78 
 
 1861, Exhibiting at the Ant- 
 werp Exhibition ... 79 
 
 Second sale of pictures . 80 
 Visit to the Alps . . 80 
 Blness .... 80 
 1864, Generosity of friends . 82 
 1866, Visit to Compiegne . 84 
 1887, Juror in the 1867 Exhi- 
 bition 84 
 
 Popularity ... 84 
 Receives the Grand 
 
 Medal 84 
 
 Excluded from promo- 
 tion in the Legion of Honour 84 
 Paralysis .... 85 
 Death .... 85 
 
 Saint- Martin, Pau de . .49 
 
 Schnetz 67 
 
 Sheffer, Aiy. . 53,60,63,67 
 Sunset in the Forest of Fontaine- 
 bleatc ..... 73 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Thore . . . . .47 
 Troyon ..... 67 
 
 Vemet, Horace . . .67 
 View of Forest Zand at Sunset 68 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Vieiv of the Chain of Mont 
 
 Blanc in a /Storm . . 58 
 Villaffe, The , . . 79, 80, 82 
 Village of Falg oil ... 52 
 
 TO DIAZ. 
 
 Abandon, V . 
 
 . 99 
 
 About, E. . 
 
 . 100 
 
 Battle of Medina . 
 
 . 95 
 
 Bohetniens, Les 
 
 97, 101 
 
 Bonington . 
 
 . 102 
 
 Blanc, C. 
 
 . 100 
 
 Cabat . 
 
 . 91 
 
 Correggio, effect of 
 
 . 92 
 
 Delacroix 
 
 . 92 
 
 Diaz de la Pena, 
 
 Narcisso 
 
 Virgilio— 
 
 
 
 87 
 
 Taken by his mother to Paris 
 Death of his mother 
 Adoption by M. Paira . 
 Loss of a leg- . 
 Apprenticed to a printer 
 Apprenticed at porcelain works 
 Fondness for the theatre 
 Pupil of Souchon 
 Friendship with Siglon . 
 Sale of early works . 
 Becomes a colourist 
 Growing wealth 
 
 1835, His tirst exhibited pic 
 ture .... 
 
 Studies of the nude . 
 
 Works " a chauffer son four" 
 
 1836, At Barbizon . 
 
 Great admiration for Rousseau 
 Les Bohemiens . 
 Criticism by Thore . 
 Picture purchased by Meis 
 
 sonier . . . . 
 Salon of 1847 . 
 Exhibition of 1855 . 
 Influenced by Prud'hon , 
 Compared to Bonington . 
 Painted with left hand . 
 Used unstable pigments . 
 Portrait of wife and child 
 
 89 
 89 
 90 
 91 
 91 
 91 
 91 
 92, 93 
 92, 94 
 92 
 94 
 
 94 
 
 95 
 95 
 96 
 96 
 97 
 
 99 
 99 
 100 
 101 
 102 
 103 
 103 
 104 
 
 1848, Competed for prize for 
 
 figure of Republic . . 105 
 
 Compared with Millet . . 105 
 
 Bought back early sketches . 105 
 
 Exhibition of 1855 . . . 106 
 Apocryphal journey to the 
 
 East 106 
 
 Visit to Fontainebleau . . 106 
 
 1856, Built studio at Barbizon 106 
 
 1870, retired to Brussels . . 106 
 
 Returned to France . . . 106 
 
 Settled at Etrebit ... 106 
 
 1876, Visit to Mentone . . 106 
 Died at Mentone, 18th 
 
 Nov 106 
 
 Funeral at Montmartre 
 
 Cemetery .... 107 
 
 Diaz de la Peiia, Thomas 87, 88 
 
 Dupre ..... 91 
 
 Fin d^im Beau Jour, La . . 106 
 
 Garden of Love ... 99 
 
 Houssaye, Diaz compared 
 
 with .... 97 
 
 Hugo' s ' ' Orientales ' ' 
 Isabey, Eugene 
 Led a 
 
 Magicienne, La 
 Mare aux Viperes, La 
 
 92 
 102 
 
 99 
 
 99 
 106 
 
 Ngmphe endormee . . .106 
 Nguiphes, Les . . .106 
 Nymphe tourmen tee par V Amour 106 
 
 Orientate, V . 
 
 99 
 
INDEX. 
 
 131 
 
 Paira, M 
 
 PAGE 
 
 89 
 
 Pelloquet, criticisms of . 
 
 101 
 
 Planche, criticisms by . 
 
 100 
 
 Presents d"* Amour . 
 
 106 
 
 Baffet 
 
 91 
 
 Resurrection at the Cemetery, hy 
 
 
 Moonlight .... 
 
 99 
 
 P.ivale, La, .... 
 
 106 
 
 Koqueplan . . . 
 
 102 
 
 PA OB 
 
 Rousseau .... 96 
 
 Sagesse, La .... 99 
 Sigalon. , , . .91 
 Souchon . . . .91 
 
 Thore, favourable criticisms 
 
 by . . . . 97-100 
 There's opinion of Diaz . 98 
 
 Wolff 104 
 
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 Authorities. Illustrated with Engravings of Penelope Boothby— The Strawberry Girl— 
 Museipula— Mrs. Siddons— The Duchess of Devonshire— Age of Innocence— SimpUcity 
 —and ten other Paintings. 
 
 "William Hog-arth. By Austin Dobson. From Kecent Eesearches. 
 Illustrated with Eeproductions of Groups from the celebrated Engravings of the Rake's 
 Progress— South wark Eair— The Distressed Poet — The Enraged Musician — Marriage a- 
 la-Mode— March to Finchley— and ten other Subjects. 
 
 Gainsborotigrh and Constable. By Gr. Brock -Arnold, M.A. Illustrated 
 with Engravings of the Blue Boy — Mrs. Graham— The Duchess of Devonshire — and 
 five others by Gainsborough; and A Lock on the Stour — Salisbury Cathedral— The 
 Cornfield — The Valley Earm— and four other Pictures by Constable. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence and George Komney. By Lord Ronald Gower, 
 F.S.A. Illustrated with Engravings of the Duchess of Sutherland— Lady Peel — Master 
 I Lambton— and Nature, by Lawrence ; The Parson's Daughter— and other Pictures, by 
 I Romney. Price 2s. 6(i. 
 
 I Turner. By Cosmo Monkhouse. From Eecent Investigations. Illus- 
 j trated with Engravings of Norham Castle— The Devil's Bridge— The Golden Bough — 
 Ij The Fighting Temeraire— Venice— The Shipwreck— Alps at Daybreak— and eleven other 
 j Paintings. 
 
 iSir David Wilkie. By J. W. Mollett, B.A. Illustrated with Engrav- 
 j ings of Groups from the Eent Day— The Village Politicians — The Penny Wedding— 
 j BHnd Man's Buff— Duncan Grey— The Cut Finger- and four other Paintings. 
 
 Sir Edwin Landseer. By F. Gr. Stephens. Illustrated with seventeen 
 i Facsimiles of Etchings after Landseer's designs : among others, Low Life— A Shep - 
 
 herd's Dog — Four Irish Greyhounds— Return from Deerstalking — Mare and Foal — Sheep 
 
 and Lambs— and Facsimiles of the Woburn Game-cards. 
 
ii 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BIOGRAPHIES OE THE GREAT ARTISTS. 
 
 "William Mulready, Memorials of. Collected by F. G-. Stephens 
 Illustrated with Reproductions of Studies from the Life, and Sketches in the Soutl 
 Kensington Museum— The Mulready Envelope — Cuts in the Vicar of Wakefield— Th( 
 Sonnet— Choosing the Wedding Gown, &c. [In preparation 
 
 Georgre Cr-u.ikshank, His Life and Works. Including a Memoir bj 
 F. G. Stephens, and an Essay on the Genius of George Cruikshank by W. M. Thackeray 
 Illustrated with Reproductions of Etchings in Dibdin's Songs — Life of Sir John Falstaf 
 — Oliver Twist, &c.— and twenty Wood Engravings from various works. [In preparation 
 
 ITALIAN PAINTERS AND SCULPTORS. 
 
 Giotto. By Harry Quilter, M.A. From Eecent Investigations at Padua, 
 Florence, and Assisi. Illustrated with Engravings of the Presentation in the Temple— 
 The Entombment of Christ — Obedience,and other Frescoes— Bas-reliefs on the Campanile 
 Florence— and a Coloured Plate of the Madonna at Assisi. 
 
 Fra Angrelico and the Early Painters of Florence. By C. M. Phillt- 
 MORE. Illustrated with Engravings of the Resuscitation of the King's Son, by Masaccic 
 — The Adoration of the Kings, by Fra Angelico— The Coronation of the Virgin, bj 
 Filippo Lippi— The Coronation of the Virgin, by Botticelli— and thirteen othei 
 Paintings. 
 
 Fra Bartolommeo, Albertinelli, and Andrea del Sarto. By Leadeb 
 Scott. Illustrat ed with the Enthronement of the Virgin— St. Mark — Sal vat or Mundi 
 by Fra Bartolommeo— The Virgin and Saints, by Albertinelli— The Madonna del Sacco 
 by Del Sarto — and ten other Paintings. 
 
 Ghiberti and Donatello. By Leader Scott. Illustrated with Engrav- 
 ings of the Marble Pulpit of Pisano— The Bronze Gate of the Baptistery at Florence, by 
 Ghiberti (four pages) — The St. George of Donatello— and ten other examples of Sculpture. 
 Price 2s. 6d. 
 
 Delia Robbia, Cellini, and other celebrated Sculptors of the 
 
 Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries. By Leader Scott. With Illustrations of the 
 Singers and other Bas-Eeliefs, by Luca della Robbia— Perseus, by Cellini— Mercury, by 
 Giovanni da Bologna — and many other Statues. Price 25. 6d. 
 
 Mantegrna and Francia. By Julia Cartwright. Illustrated with 
 Engravings of Lodovico Gonzago and his Son— Part of the Triumphs of Caesar— The 
 Madonna della Vittoria, by Mantegna— The Virgin and Saints— The Deposition— 
 A Pieta, by Francia— and eight other Paintings. 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci. By Dr. J. Paul Richter. Illustrated with Engrav- 
 ings of the Last Supper— The Virgin and St. Anne— Mona Lisa— The Vierge aux 
 Rochers— The Battle of Anghiari— Head of Christ— and nine other Paintings and 
 Drawings. 
 
 Michelangrelo Buonarroti. By Charles Clement. Illustrated with 
 Engravings from the Frescoes of the Last Judgment— The Prophet Isaiah— The 
 Creation of Man— Pisan Soldiers bathing in the Arno— and of the Statues of Moses— 
 The Madonna of Bruges— The Tombs of Lorenzo and Giuliano d® Medici— and ten other 
 Works in Painting and Sculpture. 
 
ILLUSTRATED BIOGRAPHIES OF THE GREAT ARTISTS. 
 
 iii 
 
 RapliaeL By N. D'Anvers. Illustrated with Engravinj^s of Lo Sposalizio 
 —La Belle Jardiniere— The School of Athens— Madonna di Foligno— St. Cecilia — 
 Madonna della Tenda— Madonna della Sedia— Battle of Constantine — ^The Transfigura- 
 tion — and fourteen other Paintings. 
 
 Titian. By E. F. Heath, M.A. Illustrated with Engravings of La Bella 
 di Tiziano— The Tribute- Money — The Assumption of the Virgin— The Pesaro Altar- 
 piece— St. Peter Martyr— Titian's Daughter— and eight other Paintings. 
 
 Tintoretto. By W. R. Ostler. From Investigations at Venice. Illustrated 
 ^ with Engravings of the Miracle of the Slave— The Marriage at Cana— The Entombment 
 — The Crucifixion— The Betrothal of St. Catheriae, &c. 
 
 Corregrgrio. By M. Compton Heaton. Illustrated with Engravings of La 
 Notte— II Giorno— Marriage of St. Catherine— St. John the Evangelist— The Madonna 
 at Dresden and five other Paintings. Price 2s. 6d. 
 
 SPANISH PAINTERS. 
 
 "VelasQLuez. By E. Stowe, M.A. Illustrated with Engravings of Isahel of 
 Spain— The Duke of Olivarez— The Water -Carrier —The Topers— The Surrender of Breda 
 — The Maids of Honour— View of the Villa Medici— and eight other Paintings . 
 
 Murillo. By Ellen E. Minor. A Memoir derived from recent Works. 
 Illustrated with eight Engravings after the Master's celebrated Paintings, including the 
 Immaculate Conception, in the Louvre— The Prodigal Son, at Stafford House— The 
 Holy Family (with the scodella)^ at Madrid— A Portrait of the Artist — and other works« 
 Price 2s. Qd, 
 
 GERMAN PAINTERS. 
 
 Albrecht Diirer. By K. F. Heath, M.A. Illustrated with Engravings of 
 the Conversion of St. Eustace— The Trinity— The Great White Horse— The Knight, 
 Death, and the Devil— SS. John and Peter— SS. Paul and Mark— Christ taking leave of 
 His Mother— and twelve other Paintings, Engravings, and Woodcuts. 
 
 liittle Masters of Germany. By W. B. Scott. Altdorfer, Hans Sebald 
 Beham, Bartel Beham, Aldegi'ever, Pencz, Bink, and Brosamer. Illustrated with 
 Engravings of the Emperor Charles V., by Bartel Beham— The Madonna of the 
 
 • Crescent Moon, by Aldegrever — Sophonisba, by Pencz— and several examples of Decora- 
 tive Ornament, &c. 
 
 Hans Holbein. By Joseph Cundall. Illustrated with Engravings of 
 the Meyer Madonna — Archbishop Warham — The Family of Sir Thomas More — Hubert 
 Morett — Henry VIII.— and Examples of the Woodcuts in the Praise of Polly — The 
 Dance of Death— The Bible Cuts, &c. 
 
 Overbeck. By J. Beavingtox Atkinson. Comprising his Early Years 
 in Lubeck, Studies at Vienna, and Settlement at Rome. Illustrated with Engravings 
 of Christ Blessing Little Children— Christ Bearing the Cross — The Entombment— The 
 Holy Family with the Lamb, &c. 
 
iv 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BIOGRAPHIES OF THE GREAT ARTISTS. 
 
 FLEMISH AND DUTCH PAINTERS, 
 
 Rembrandt. By J. W. Mollett, B.A. Illustrated with Engravings of 
 the Lesson on Anatomy— The Descent from the Cross— Saskia— The Night Watch — 
 Burgomaster Six— The Three Trees— Ephraim Bonus— and other celebrated Paintings 
 and Etchings. 
 
 Rubens. By C. W. Kett, M. A. Illustrated with Engravings from Bubens 
 and Isabella Brandt— The Descent from the Cross — Rubens' Two Sons — Henri IV. and 
 Marie de Medicis — The Chateau de Steen — The Chapeau de Poll — and ten other 
 Paintings. 
 
 Van Dyck and Hals. By P. E. Head, B.A. Illustrated with Engravings i 
 of the Syndic Meerstraten — Eece Homo— Charles I. and the Marquis of Hamilton — 
 Henrietta Maria, with Princes Charles and James, &c., by Van Dyck ; and Hals and i 
 Lisbeth Reyners— The Banquet of Arquebusiers— A Cavalier, &c., by Hals. 
 
 Figrure Painters of Holland. By Lord Roxald Gower, F.S.A. Illus- 
 trated with Engravings of Paternal Advice, by Terborch — The Hunchback Piddler, by 
 Adrian van Ostade— Inn Stable, by "Wouwerman— Dancing Dog, by Steen — Vegetable 
 Market, by Metzu— Dutch Family, by Ver Meer, &c. 
 
 FRENCH PAINTERS. 
 
 Wattean. By J. W. Mollett, B.A. Illustrated with Engravings of Fetes ; 
 Galantes, Portraits, Studies from the Life, Pastoral Subjects, and Designs for Orna- 
 ment. Price 2s. Qd. 
 
 Claude le Liorrain. By 0. J. Dullea. Illustrated with Engravings of 
 Crossing the Ford — An Italian Harbour at Sunset— A Seaport— The Campo Vaccino — 
 and many others from his celebrated " Liber Veritatis." 
 
 Vernet and Delaroche. By J. Euutz Bees. Illustrated with Engravings 
 of the Trumpeter's Horse— The Death of Poniatowski— The Battle of Fontenoy, and 
 five others, by Vernet ; and Kichelieu with Cinque Mars and De Thou— Death of the 
 Due de Guise— Charles I. and Cromwell's Soldiers — and a large Engraving of the 
 Hemicycle of the Palais des Beaux- Arts, by Delaroche. 
 
 Meissonler. By J. W. Mollett, B.A. Illustrated with Engravings from 
 the Chess Players — La Eixe — The Halt— The Reader— The Flemish Smoker— and 
 examples of M. Meissonier's Book Illustrations. Price 2^. Qd. 
 
 Painters of Barbizon, I. Millet, Rousseau, and Diaz. By J 
 W. Mollett, B.A. Illustrated with Engravings from The Gleaners, The Spinner, Th< 
 Angelus, &c., by Millet— The Flood, The Pool in the Forest of Fontainebleau, bj 
 Eousseau— Forest Scene and the Bathers, by Diaz— and by Portraits of the Artists. 
 
 Painters of Barbizon, II. Corot, Daubigrny, and Dupre. By J 
 W. Mollett, B.A. Illustrated with Engravings from a Storm on the Sandhills, Th 
 Pond at Ville d'Avray, The Banks of the Stream, and the Dance cf the Nymphs, b; 
 Corot— Spring Time, a Landscape, The Flock of Geese, by Daubigcy— and The Settinj 
 Sun, The Pool, and The Punt, by Dupr^. 
 
 I 
 
CARMEN MACARONICUM. 
 
 A COLLECTION OF 
 
 iSx tracts from dForetgn anti Ancient Hiteratur^. 
 
 WITH TRANSLATIONS BY 
 
 JOHN W. MOLLETT, B.A., 
 
 Officier de V Instruction Publique {France), 
 
 The First Series to be completed in Six Volumes of about 120 pages each. 
 
 Price : (Library) Edition de luxe^ beautifully bound in calf, 5^. per volume. 
 
 By Subscription : (Payable to Messrs. Gilbert and Rivington, Ld., 
 St. John's House, Clerkenwell) for the Six Volumes, 2\s, 
 
 The attention of Professors of Modern Languages, and of Language, 
 is invited to the enclosed specimen of a work calculated to illustrate and assist 
 their lectures, in two manners : — 
 
 Firstly, by the practical exhibition of comparative language— \Q2.dXn'g the 
 pupil irresistibly to a rational understanding of the elements of the diversities 
 of allied tongues ; and 
 
 Secondly, by an influence on the Memory, the rhythmical translation of 
 the rhythmical original being, once learned, permanently retained, and serving 
 for ever as a partial vocabulary in the mind. 
 
 For Educational pU7'poses an Edition, bound in cloth, is sold at 2s. per 
 volu7ne. 
 
 GILBERT & RIVINGTON, Limited, St. John's House, Clerkenwell, E.G., 
 
 And all Booksellers. 
 
CA RMEN MA CA RONIC UM. 
 
 THE SEASONS OF THE YEAR, 
 
 Being the second volume of this Series of Extracts from Foreign 
 and Ancient Literature, with Translations by John W. Mollett, 
 B.A., is nearly ready, and contains, inter alia, in the original 
 dialect and the English rhymed translation, a large number of 
 specimens of the Literature of the Minnesingers and Trouba- 
 dours of the 1 2th and 13th centuries. Price ^s. per volume, 
 beautifully bound in calf. 
 
 From Public Opinion, 29th November, 1889. 
 Carmen Macaronicum : a Collection of Extracts from Foreign and Ancient 
 Literature, with Translations by John W. Mollett, B.A. {pfjficier de V Instruction 
 Piiblique, France) (Gilbert & Rivington, Limited). I'his opuscule is the first of a series 
 jn the same form, which, one after the other, will embrace all subjects treated in the poetry 
 of all nations and periods, with the exception of the classical, Oriental, and English lan- 
 guages. The utility of these little volumes to the student, and the pleasure they will afford 
 to the cultured and curious, will, if we are not very much mistaken, insure to Mr. Mollett 
 an ample reward for his labours. 
 
 "Under the heading 'Creation — Nature' we have lines from Lorenzo de' Medici, 
 Herder, and others. ' Sunset,' ' Evening,' * Night,' afford ample scope for the author's 
 faculty of selection ; and he has selected well. Upon ' Moonlight ' Mr. Mollett has brought 
 together some of the most beautiful thoughts to be found in literature. 
 
 *' To attempt to write about Mr. Mollett's book in a cursory kind of manner is to attempt 
 to hold in review a large number of the greatest writers the world has seen, a task scarcely 
 to be accomplished in a few inches of type. The booklet is elegantly bound and printed, 
 and will occupy no more space in the pocket than a cigarette case. 
 
 *' The difficulty of finding suitable Christinas presents is a general one, Mr. Mollett 
 has done something towards solving the problem,''' 
 
 From the Academy, 21st December, 1889. 
 "IQ"ight and Morning: a Collection of Extracts, &c., by John W. Mollett 
 (Gilbert & Rivmgton). This exquisite little book, which bears also for an alternative title, 
 • Carmen Macaronicum,' sets torth its claim to attention in the printer's advertisement as 
 ' a unique and choice gift-book.' _ It is not always that the interested eulogies of publishers 
 and printers are justified by their wares, but in this case the claim must be said to be 
 abundantly substantiated. The book is indeed unique and choice ; its dainty externals of 
 limp calf and gilt edges_ serving as the appropriately beautiful casquet of literary gems— not 
 all of the first water, it is true, but all deserving collection and attention. The extracts are 
 drawn from the literature of various ages and languages, but the original is accompanied in 
 most cases with a rhymed translation, oftentimes of great beauty and felicity. The author 
 promises a larger selection if this instalment is favourably received. We hope he may find 
 sufficient encouragement to keep his promise." 
 
 From the BookselleP, Christmas. 
 
 " Night and Morning : a Collection of Short Pieces, tran5.1ated by J. W. Mollett, 
 B.A. (Gilbert & Rivington). Originality stamps this little gift-book. Its binding of padded 
 leather and gilt edges betokens some religious manual. A book of prayer, maj^ be ? 
 Nothing of the kind. A Carmeji Macaronic7im indeed ; ' pieces from the poetry of 
 various ages and nations on the beauty and influence of Night.' Such is both theme and 
 scheme. Lines from Calderon, Leopardi, V. Hugo, and Wieland ; prose extracts from 
 Chateaubriand, Jean Paul, Georges Sand, and Rousseau, — these, in the form of brief and 
 concentrated essence of thought and diction, make up the rich contents of the little book." 
 From the St. James'S Gazette, 17th January, 1890. 
 
 "Night and Morning, by Mr. J. W. Mollett (Gilbert & Rivington), is an eccentric 
 but elegant little book of quotations from European poets, many of them being little known 
 writers, who have nevertheless said things about the Niglit worth remembering. Not only 
 are Dante, Tasso, Voltaire, Victor Hugo, Goethe, Schiller, and Heine laid under contribu- 
 tion, but we also find gems from German, French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese poets 
 whose names and works will only be known by hearsay to the professed student. The 
 translations are in most cases singularly graceful." 
 
 A Cheap Edition of Ihe First Vohime—'NiGUT and Morning — is now ready ^ 
 
 price 2s. in cloth, 
 
 Messrs. Gilbert & Rivington, Ld., St. John's House, Clerkenwkll, 
 
 And ALL Booksellers. 
 
10 
 
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GETTY CENTER LIBRARY MAIN 
 
 ND 547.5 B3 M72 BKS 
 
 v.[i] c. 1 Mollett, John Willia 
 
 The painters of Barbizon. 
 
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