Identifier: meissonierhislif00meis (find matches)
Title: Meissonier, his life and his art
Year: 1897 (1890s)
Authors: Meissonier, Jean Louis Ernest, 1815-1891 Gréard, Octave, 1828-1904
Subjects:
Publisher: New York : A. C. Armstrong
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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tains. It was the same with portraits. Those ofDoctor Lefevre, of Chenavard, of Vanderbilt, of Doctor Guyon, ofVictor Lefranc arc masterpieces. IMeissonier thought, with much judg- 1 1 (4^^-. - t J u -.-_. — ,. .-- ■—-—■ ■ ■ ■—■— SAN GIOKGIO, VENICE. ment, that to paint a successful portrait, it is necessary to know andlove the sitter ; and confirming his theory by example, nearly all hisportraits—from forty to fifty—were labours of love. But he alsothought, and no less judiciously, that though the attachment of twofriends may increase in the intimacy of frequent sittings, just as in theclose companionship of travel, it is also possible that this very closenessof contact may lead to quarrels. At a time of poverty and distress, hehad an idea of devoting himself to portraiture. Neither his talent norhis character were such as to fit him for the long probation of suclia career. THE MASTER—THE MAN 8i Where he really shows ease and mastery, on the other hand, is
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i-ORTRAIT OF \ICrOR LEFRANX, 1881. (In ihe possession of Madame Victor Le£ranc.) when he finally attacks the picture, after long pondering the subject—genre or history. He never laid a ground to work on, and rarely 82 MEISSONIER sketched in the composition save in the slightest fashion. He modelledas he worked. No outlines ; the mass took form at once, as in sculp-ture. His outline grew out of his modelling. No calculation of anysort, nothing deliberate or irrevocable. He obeyed his impulse. Before Nature—how often we find this speech on his lips under themost diverse forms, the most picturesque images— I am like a child ;I know nothing. I look at her, I listen to her ; she carries me away,suggesting how I shall approach her and make her my own. I set towork at a venture. . . . My touch is spontaneous, personal, inde-pendent. I am like the huntsman who fires at the flying quarry ; I donot like aiming among the branches. The pencil works too slowly toplease me. Give me the brush

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