Such was the opinion of the artist, who in 1836 offered the same pictures over again; it was also the opinion of the jury of that year, for it accepted them.
Two years later, Meissonier exhibited a Monk Consoling a Dying Man. This canvas attracted the attention of the Duke of Orleans, who bought it for five hundred francs. (Fourteen years later, at the sale consequent upon the Duke’s death, this same Monk was resold for 4,000 francs.)
In 1839, Meissonier attracted the attention of the critics. For example, you may find in a paper called L’Artiste, in a critique of the Salon: “And I almost forgot an adorable little English Doctor, by M. Meissonier, a charming miniature in oil, extraordinarily fine and subtle.” These lines were signed by Jules Janin, who at that time maintained over French criticism a sort of sacerdotal sovereignty, comparable only to that which, so far as the national school of painting was concerned, was afterwards held by the artist whom Janin then heralded with an almost exaggerated cordiality.
PLATE V.—AWAITING
(In the Musée du Louvre)
This painting, which is frequently confused with another by the same artist, entitled The Man at the Window, is chiefly noteworthy for its finished detail and prodigious ability of execution. Meissonier herein reveals his profound understanding of the principles of chiaroscuro.
But the small size of Meissonier’s pictures! That is the one thing that, for the world at large, contemporaries and posterity alike, is the keynote of his talent: “Meissonier has always painted on such a small scale!” That is what one would begin by saying, if one wanted to explain him, to reveal him to some one who did not know him. And what endless things have been said in addition, by way of praise, criticism, and discussion, regarding the scantiness of the canvases or panels to which the artist applied himself!
Underlying this whole matter of smallness there is, without any paradox, a rather big question. Beyond doubt, material dimensions in works of art are not taken into consideration, so long as these dimensions remain within moderation. It is equally certain that, short of introducing revolutionary modifications into our aesthetic creed, we would refuse to accept as a work of art anything that exceeded too far these limits of moderation, or fell too far below them. Is it not the same in life and in society, where exaggerated giants and undersized dwarfs find that they are outcasts, each in his own way, outside the common law, and regarded simply as curiosities?
Granted: but what is the limit? Does Meissonier surpass it, and are his pictures too small?
Very well, let us answer categorically: no! No, they are not too small, considering, first of all, their subject; secondly, their mode of presentment, their composition, their treatment as to decoration; and, lastly, the vividness and intensity of their details.