His pictures on such subjects are spirited, natural, and excellent;and he is so clever a man, that all he does is good to a certain degree.His "Judith" is somewhat violent, perhaps.His "Rebecca"most pleasing; and not the less so for a little pretty affectation of attitude and needless singularity of costume."Raphael and Michael Angelo" is as clever a picture as can be--clever is just the word--the groups and drawing excellent, the coloring pleasantly bright and gaudy; and the French students study it incessantly;there are a dozen who copy it for one who copies Delacroix.His little scraps of wood-cuts, in the now publishing "Life of Napoleon," are perfect gems in their way, and the noble price paid for them not a penny more than he merits.
The picture, by Court, of "The Death of Caesar," is remarkable for effect and excellent workmanship: and the head of Brutus (who looks like Armand Carrel) is full of energy.There are some beautiful heads of women, and some very good color in the picture.
Jacquand's "Death of Adelaide de Comminges" is neither more nor less than beautiful.Adelaide had, it appears, a lover, who betook himself to a convent of Trappists.She followed him thither, disguised as a man, took the vows, and was not discovered by him till on her death-bed.The painter has told this story in a most pleasing and affecting manner: the picture is full of onction and melancholy grace.The objects, too, are capitally represented; and the tone and color very good.Decaisne's "Guardian Angel" is not so good in color, but is equally beautiful in expression and grace.
A little child and a nurse are asleep: an angel watches the infant.
You see women look very wistfully at this sweet picture; and what triumph would a painter have more?
We must not quit the Luxembourg without noticing the dashing sea-pieces of Gudin, and one or two landscapes by Giroux (the plain of Grasivaudan), and "The Prometheus" of Aligny.This is an imitation, perhaps; as is a noble picture of "Jesus Christ and the Children," by Flandrin: but the artists are imitating better models, at any rate; and one begins to perceive that the odious classical dynasty is no more.Poussin's magnificent "Polyphemus"(I only know a print of that marvellous composition) has, perhaps, suggested the first-named picture; and the latter has been inspired by a good enthusiastic study of the Roman schools.
Of this revolution, Monsieur Ingres has been one of the chief instruments.He was, before Horace Vernet, president of the French Academy at Rome, and is famous as a chief of a school.When he broke up his atelier here, to set out for his presidency, many of his pupils attended him faithfully some way on his journey; and some, with scarcely a penny in their pouches, walked through France and across the Alps, in a pious pilgrimage to Rome, being determined not to forsake their old master.Such an action was worthy of them, and of the high rank which their profession holds in France, where the honors to be acquired by art are only inferior to those which are gained in war.One reads of such peregrinations in old days, when the scholars of some great Italian painter followed him from Venice to Rome, or from Florence to Ferrara.In regard of Ingres's individual merit as a painter, the writer of this is not a fair judge, having seen but three pictures by him;one being a plafond in the Louvre, which his disciples much admire.
Ingres stands between the Imperio-Davido-classical school of French art, and the namby-pamby mystical German school, which is for carrying us back to Cranach and Durer, and which is ****** progress here.
For everything here finds imitation: the French have the genius of imitation and caricature.This absurd humbug, called the Christian or Catholic art, is sure to tickle our neighbors, and will be a favorite with them, when better known.My dear MacGilp, I do believe this to be a greater humbug than the humbug of David and Girodet, inasmuch as the latter was founded on Nature at least;whereas the former is made up of silly affectations, and improvements upon Nature.Here, for instance, is Chevalier Ziegler's picture of "St.Luke painting the Virgin." St.Luke has a monk's dress on, embroidered, however, smartly round the sleeves.
The Virgin sits in an immense yellow-ochre halo, with her son in her arms.She looks preternaturally solemn; as does St.Luke, who is eying his paint-brush with an intense ominous mystical look.
They call this Catholic art.There is nothing, my dear friend, more easy in life.First take your colors, and rub them down clean,--bright carmine, bright yellow, bright sienna, bright ultramarine, bright green.Make the costumes of your figures as much as possible like the costumes of the early part of the fifteenth century.Paint them in with the above colors; and if on a gold ground, the more "Catholic" your art is.Dress your apostles like priests before the altar; and remember to have a good commodity of crosiers, censers, and other such gimcracks, as you may see in the Catholic chapels, in Sutton Street and elsewhere.
Deal in Virgins, and dress them like a burgomaster's wife by Cranach or Van Eyck.Give them all long twisted tails to their gowns, and proper angular draperies.Place all their heads on one side, with the eyes shut, and the proper solemn simper.At the back of the head, draw, and gild with gold-leaf, a halo or glory, of the exact shape of a cart-wheel: and you have the thing done.
It is Catholic art tout crache, as Louis Philippe says.We have it still in England, handed down to us for four centuries, in the pictures on the cards, as the redoubtable king and queen of clubs.
Look at them: you will see that the costumes and attitudes are precisely similar to those which figure in the catholicities of the school of Overbeck and Cornelius.
