Some of Ingres’ portraits are fine works of art, but they want life. Old David’s portrait of “Pius VII” is far better than Ingres’ best. I consider the chef-d’œvre of Ingres to be the painting which he executed for one of the ceilings of the Louvre, representing the “Apotheosis of Homer.” This work has been removed to where it can be seen more comfortably, but when in situ it looked very noble and dignified, especially when contrasted with the trashy commonplace plafonds of the neighboring rooms.
Many a young student has gazed with admiration at this work until he got a pain in his neck, and it is the powerful influence for good which the “Apotheosis of Homer” had on the then rising generation which constitutes Ingres’ best claim to the celebrity he enjoyed during a long life.
Surprise has been recently expressed at Ingres’ prejudice against anatomy. It is perfectly true that he disliked the look of a skeleton, and small blame to him, but I don’t think he was opposed to any of the students consulting the anatomical figure. He had never learned any thing about either bones or muscles himself, and therefore could not see any benefit to be derived from the study. His contempt for anatomy as an adjunct to art was shared by a good many other French masters, nor can I much wonder at it when I recollect the courses of anatomy we used to attend. A professor from the Ecole de Médecine would give a dozen dry lectures on the bones and muscles, just as if he were addressing a lot of medical students who would be called upon in after years to perform difficult surgical operations.
What would interest us, and be of use to us as artists, was never mentioned.
I don’t know whether a more artistic kind of anatomy is now taught in Paris; if not, I sympathize greatly with the students who attend the lectures.
Another pupil of David’s who for a few years made a great sensation was Leopold Robert, the painter of “The Pêcheurs de l’Adriatique,” “The Moissonneurs,” and similar scenes of Italian peasant life. Two of these pictures are now hung in the Louvre, and it is marvellous to me how they could ever have been much admired by artists.
I am not surprised at their popularity with the general public, for they made a very nice pair of engravings, and there is a beauty about the women which is captivating at first sight; but the figures are all posing, as if for a photographic group, and these once celebrated pictures now appear to me rather contemptible. L. Robert (like Gros) committed suicide, and it was perhaps on this account that the two men used often to be compared together, sometimes (I am ashamed to say) to the disadvantage of Gros.
Granet is the last artist I shall mention who actually studied in David’s atelier. He never attempted the heroic style like Girodet, Guérin, and many others, nor did he endeavor, like Leopold Robert, to idealize Italian fishermen and peasants. He began with architectural interiors, and during a long life never changed his style. His figures, generally of medium or small size, are remarkably well drawn. Their action is perfectly natural, and they are always in their right places. Few artists ever lived whose work was more thorough and faultless than old Granet’s. An excellent colorist, a sound draughtsman, and by no means deficient in poetic feeling, he had but one blemish, and that was the habit of using bad materials.
I remember his large picture of the Mass at Assisi soon after it was painted. The dim but glowing light of the church was admirably rendered, but now, alas! the picture has become so black that it is difficult to make out the figures. I believe he was in the habit of using dark-red grounds for his pictures, and this no doubt accounts for their so rapidly losing their brilliancy.
Granet was a native of Aix, near Marseilles, and in his old age returned to his native town, but used to contribute regularly to the annual exhibition in Paris; and his pictures were always admired, not only by the public, but by all the young artists, with whom he was a great favorite.