WATTEAU
The master who was to break definitely with the cold, majestic, uninspired art of the seventeenth century, and who in leading French painting into new paths reached the very limits of poetic expressiveness imposed by material means, was Antoine Watteau (1684–1721). Born at Valenciennes six years before that city became French through the peace of Nymwegen, Watteau, the son of a poor Flemish tiler, was French, as it were, by accident only. In his early years, when he studied in his native town under Gérin, a mediocre local painter, he must have had occasion to become closely acquainted with the paintings of the Flemish masters. On the death of Gérin, in 1702, he went to Paris, where he became assistant to the scene-painter Métayer. Watteau suffered dire poverty, and completely undermined his health through privation before his talent attracted the attention of his next master, Claude Gillot, with whom he stayed until 1708, when he became assistant to Claude Audran, a decorative artist of great repute and Keeper of the Luxembourg collections. At the Luxembourg Palace he was enabled to study the masterpieces of Rubens, Titian, and Paolo Veronese, from which he benefited as much as from his work from nature in the Luxembourg gardens.
It was perhaps fortunate that he failed in the competition for the Prix de Rome in 1709, and was dissuaded from going to Italy. He was received by the Academy in 1717, when he painted his “diploma picture.” The Embarkation for the Island of Cythera (No. 982, [Plate XXXIX.]), which may be considered an epitome of his art. Sketchy as it is, this picture, which he painted in seven days, exceeds in poetic charm and in the beauty of its entrancing sparkle of mellow tones the more highly finished later version in the German Emperor’s collection. It is the most striking instance of a purely imaginary scene of unworldly happiness, tinged with that peculiarly Watteauesque vague melancholy,—the consumptive’s maladie de l’infini to which M. Mauclair has drawn attention,—represented with such absolute atmospheric truth as to make it appear an incomparably beautiful reality. Technically, this picture, like L’Indifférent (No. 984) and La Finette (No. 985) in the La Caze Room, embodies in germ the theories which in the second half of the next century were scientifically worked out by the French Impressionists.
Some time in 1719 or 1720, Watteau was in England to consult a famous physician. But his illness took a turn for the worse, and he had to return to his native country. After six months spent in Paris, he went to live at Nogent-sur-Marne, where he died on July 18, 1721. Watteau’s influence upon eighteenth-century art was prodigious; but his work remained unapproached by any of his followers and imitators, who too often sacrificed artistic considerations to a desire to please the lascivious tastes of a corrupt, pleasure-loving society. The Faux Pas (No. 989) is one of the rare instances where Watteau allowed a certain suggestiveness to enter into his work; but even here “the smallness of the subject is swallowed up in the greatness of the painting.”
PLATE XXXIX.—ANTOINE WATTEAU
(1684–1721)
FRENCH SCHOOL
No. 982.—THE EMBARKATION FOR THE ISLAND OF CYTHERA
(L’Embarquement pour Cythère)
On a mound in the foreground, under a group of trees on the right, by a garlanded terminal figure of Venus, are seated a young woman and a pilgrim; at their feet is Cupid, whose wings are covered by a black cape. To the left a cavalier helps a young woman to rise from the lawn. In the centre of the composition another pilgrim leads away his partner, encircling her waist with his arm. On the left, in the middle distance, is a procession of lovers in pairs moving towards a gilt barge with a chimera at the prow and two semi-nude rowers. Cupids are floating in the air above the barge. In the background a lake surrounded by bluish mountains.
Painted in oil on canvas.
4 ft. 2 in. × 6 ft. 3½ in. (1·27 × 1·92.)