The Village Bride (L'Accordée de Village).—This is the short title of the work "Un Mariage à l'instant où le père de l'accordée délivre la dot à son gendre." The first title was Un Père qui vient de payer la dot de sa Fille. The scene is a great country kitchen, which has a freedom from furniture that is refreshing in these days of senseless overcrowding. Stone steps lead from the kitchen to an upper chamber. A shelf, a gun, a lantern, a great cupboard, and a few chairs and a table, would almost complete an inventory of the movables. Twelve people, arranged as though they were on the stage of a theatre, or for a tableau vivant, take part in the scene. The parish official, sitting at a small table, has registered the marriage, and one of the children toys with the document. The father of the bride, a venerable old man with white hair, has just handed to his son-in-law a small leather bag, containing his daughter's marriage portion, and he is now holding forth in true melodramatic style, his face to the gallery, and, as one may fancy, the limelight streaming on his head. The bridegroom, a tall, handsome fellow, listens in a respectful attitude; and the pretty bride, whose eyes are downcast, has her arm linked in his, and the fingers of one hand are laid lovingly upon one of his hands. Her other arm is held by her mother, a comely matron, dressed in simple and picturesque attire. The bride's sisters and brother watch with intense interest, except one little girl of five or six years, who feeds a hen and chickens on the kitchen floor. Another sister has her head upon the bride's shoulder, and a third is weeping. In the incident of one of the chickens, balanced on the edge of the dish of water, trying its wings, some writers have seen an allegorical reference to the marriage. It is said that the head of the bride is a portrait of Mademoiselle Ducreux when she was fifteen years of age. In this painting Greuze's tendency to cause his figures to assume self-conscious poses is apparent; but there is not so much of theatricality here as to spoil the picture, and thus one may still derive some pleasure from a contemplation of the scene. It is interesting to remember that this is the picture which caused such a sensation during the last few days of the Salon of 1761. It was bought by Monsieur de Marigny for 3,000 livres, and at the sale of his pictures, twenty years later, the price paid for it was 16,650 livres. The picture is now in the Louvre in Paris. It has often been reproduced. During the life of the artist it was engraved by Flipart, and then was reproduced in colours by Alix. Greuze also painted a replica of the picture.
ROBESPIERRE.
Portrait of Maximilien Marie Isidore Robespierre.—In John Morley's "Critical Miscellanies" we are told that "In the Salon of 1791 an artist exhibited Robespierre's portrait, simply inscribing it The Incorruptible. Throngs passed before it every day, and ratified the honourable designation by eager murmurs of approval. The democratic journals were loud in panegyric on the unsleeping sentinel of liberty. They loved to speak of him as the modern Fabricius, and delighted to recall the words of Pyrrhus, that it is easier to turn the sun from its course than to turn Fabricius from the path of honour." Mr. A. G. Temple, F.S.A., has written recently that efforts have been made to identify the Salon portrait with this one, but unsuccessfully. Robespierre's ancestors were Irish people, but he was born at Arras. After a successful career as a lawyer he became a member of the States-General, and Mirabeau prophesied, "That young man believes what he says; he will go far." Carlyle has described him as "That anxious, slight, ineffectual-looking man, under thirty, in spectacles; his eyes (were the glasses off) troubled, careful; with upturned face, snuffing dimly the uncertain future times; complexion of a multiplex, atrabiliar colour, the final shade of which may be pale sea-green." He was small and weakly, fond of solitude, and sober in most things except in speech. Fluent and rhetorical, he soon won fame with the populace; but an analysis of his speeches reveals them "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." The latest criticism has dubbed him "a phrase-making charlatan." On July 28, 1794, still clad in the inevitable blue coat, white waistcoat, short yellow breeches, white stockings, and shoes with silver buckles, he himself perished on the guillotine that had removed so many of his enemies.
The Listening Girl.—Another of Greuze's exceedingly pretty heads. This picture, like the Girl's Head draped with a Scarf in the National Gallery, is an excellent representative of that numerous class of the artist's work that consists of the heads of girls. The face is exceedingly dainty, and the workmanship excellent. The picture forms one of the Wallace Collection, and is, therefore, easily accessible to the public. Although it is now called The Listening Girl, it is not certain that this title expresses the intention of the artist.
THE BROKEN PITCHER.
(La Cruche Cassée)
The Broken Pitcher (La Cruche Cassée).—No picture by Greuze is more widely known than this one. In one of Madame Roland's letters we are able to gain an idea of what was thought of the work at the time that it was painted. She has written: "It is a girl, naïve, rosy, charming, who has broken her pitcher. She holds it on her arm, near to the fountain where the accident has happened. Her eyes are not too wide open; her mouth is still partly open. She wonders what account to give of the misfortune, and does not know whether she is to blame or not. It would not be possible to find anything more piquant or more pretty, and the only matter upon which one would be right to reproach Monsieur Greuze is that he has not made the little girl so sorry but what she would be ready to go to the fountain again." The derangement of the draperies, the incongruity of the lapful of flowers, the impossible way in which the pitcher is being carried, are not less characteristic of Greuze than the sweet face and the general charm and beauty of the painting. It is, indeed, one of Greuze's most winsome works, and its fascination will continue to captivate all but the most hypercritical. The original is in the Louvre, but Greuze painted the subject again with modifications, and there are a number of sketches and studies in existence. For instance, in the National Gallery of Scotland there is the preliminary sketch in oils for this work, and many prefer this sketch to some of Greuze's more finished pictures.