Here began that lifelong friendship with Hubert Robert, already making his mark as an artist, and with the Abbé de Saint-Non, a charming character, who was to engrave the work of the two young painters, and greatly spread their names abroad thereby. Saint-Non’s influential relations procured him free residence in the Villa d’Este, where the other two joined him, and a delightful good-fellowship between the three men followed—the Abbé’s artistic tastes adding to the bond of comradeship. So two years passed pleasantly along at the Villa d’Este, one of the most beautiful places in all Italy—the ancient ruins hard by, and the running waters and majestic trees leaving an impression upon Fragonard’s imagination, which passed to his canvases, and never left his art—developing a profound sense of style, and a knowledge of light and air that bathed the scenes he was to paint with such rare skill and insight. Here grew that love of stately gardens which are the essence of his landscapes, and which won to the heart of a child of Provence.
In distant Paris the making of history was growing apace. Gossip of it reached to Italy. A backstairs intrigue almost dislodged the Pompadour from power. D’Argenson and the queen’s party threw the beautiful and youthful Madame de Choiseul-Romanet, not wholly unflattered at the adventure, into the king’s way to lure him from the favourite. The king wrote her a letter of invitation. The girl consulted her noble kinsman, the Comte de Stainville, of the Maurepas faction or queen’s party, a bitter enemy to the Pompadour. De Stainville, his pride of race wounded that a kinswoman of his should be offered to the king, went to the Pompadour, exposed the plot, and forthwith became her ally—soon her guide in affairs of State.
In the midst of disasters by sea and land the Pompadour persuaded the king to send for De Stainville, and to make him his Prime Minister. He was created Duc de Choiseul in December 1758. He had as ally one of the most astute and subtle and daring minds in eighteenth-century France—his sister Beatrice, the famous Duchesse de Grammont. The king found a born leader of men. Choiseul brought back dignity to the throne. He came near to saving France. Choiseul was the public opinion of the nation. He founded his strength on Parliament and on the new philosophy. He became a national hero. He could do no wrong. He rose to power in 1758; and at once stemmed the tide of disaster to France.
The Parliament men took courage. Philosophy, with one of its men in power, spoke out with no uncertain voice. All France was listening.
Fragonard had at last to turn his face homewards; and dawdling through Italy with Saint-Non, staying his feet at Bologna and Venice awhile, the two friends worked slowly towards Paris, Fragonard entering his beloved city, after five wander-years, in the autumn of 1761, in his twenty-ninth year, untainted and unspoiled by academic training, his art founded upon that of Boucher, enhanced by his keen study of nature. He reached Paris, rich in plans for pictures, filled with ardour and enthusiasm for his art, ambitious to create masterpieces, and burning to distinguish himself.
III
THE DU BARRY
When Fragonard came back to Paris on the edge of his thirtieth year it was to find that a great change had come over his master Boucher. The old, light-hearted, genial painter was showing signs of the burning of the candle of life at both ends. His art also was being bitterly assailed by the new critics—the new philosophy was asking for ennobling sentiments from the painted canvas, and the teaching of a moral lesson from all the arts. Boucher stood frankly bewildered, blinking questioning eyes at the frantic din. Old age had come upon him, creeping over the shrewd kindly features, dulling the exquisite sight. He could not wholly ignore the change that was taking place in public taste. The ideas of the philosophers were penetrating public opinion. The man of feeling had arisen and walked in the land. They were beginning to speak of the great antique days of Greece and Rome. Fickle fashion was about to turn her back upon Dresden shepherds and shepherdesses and leafy groves, and to take up her abode awhile with heroes and amongst picturesque ruins.
Arrived in Paris, Fragonard at once set himself to the task of painting the historic or mythologic Academy-piece expected from the holder of the Prix de Rome on return from the Italian tour. He painted “The High Priest Coresus slaying himself to save Callirhoë,” which, though badly hung at the Salon, and still to be seen at the Louvre, was hailed with high praise by the academicians and critics. The only adverse criticisms of coldness and timidity levelled against it sound strange in the light of his after-career, which, whatever its weaknesses, was not exactly marked with coldness nor eke with timidity.