YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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YALE UNIVERSITY
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HpHE firm of William Schaus, 415 Fifth
Avenue, New York, in existence since
1850, has been responsible for the introduc
tion into the United States of many of the
most notable works of the Men of 1830.
There are now in the collection of
William Schaus wonderful paintings by
Cazin, Corot, Daubigny, Diaz, Dupre,
Jacque, Millet, Rousseau, and Troyon. A
famous portrait of Bismarck, by Lenbach;
Flameng's historical picture, " Bonaparte's
Return from Italy;" and perhaps the finest
example of Felix Ziem, "Constantinople,"
are also to be found in the collection.

These Pictures on Exhibition
at the
SCHAUS ART GALLERIES
415 Fifth Avenue
Between 37th and 38th Streets
New York
March 16th to April 16th
1910

" One must be able to use the trivial to
give expression to the sublime ; there is the real
-power."
— Millet.

Dupre's Studio, ITsle Adam
—Page 72

The Homes of the
Men of 1830

BY
Alexis Jean Fournier

New York
William Schaus
1910

Copyright, 1910
By William Schaus

All Rights Reiervtd

A 7
<2> lo

THE BARBIZON PICTURES
BY
Alexis Jean Fournier

By HERBERT W. FAULKNER

RULY, Alexis Fournier is a veri
table disciple of the Masters of
the Barbizon School. It is as
if he had walked and talked
with each and all beneath the shade of Fon-
tainebleau Forest.
Mr. Fournier has lovingly studied the
lives of these, his masters, and has gone to
the homes of each, there to live over again
in his eager imagination what they lived and
saw and did. In each place he has patiently
sought out their haunts and working grounds
— living in Daubigny's studio, sailing down
the Oise with Corot, and associating with

THE BARBIZON PICTURES
the peasants of Millet — and has looked at
Nature through their eyes; thus treading
in their footsteps, breathing their artistic
atmosphere, dwelling in the very pictures
that they painted. In so doing he has ac
quired a rare insight into the works of the
Barbizon painters, and is peculiarly fitted to
interpret their meaning.
And this intimate and sympathetic asso
ciation with the Masters and their pictures
has enabled Mr. Fournier to present us, as
a friend might do, at the studios and fire
sides of Millet, Daubigny, and their asso
ciates. It is a privilege to be introduced by
one free to lift the latch and always a wel
come guest ; and thus, through Mr. Fournier,
we share the poetry and associations that
cluster around Auvers and l'Isle-Adam,
Cernay and Barbizon.
Mr. Fournier conceived a noble idea
when he planned this Barbizon series — an
idea far beyond mere illustrating of certain
scenes and localities. It is an idea born of
love and admiration for his great predeces
sors, and brought to perfection through

THE BARBIZON PICTURES
years of study and research and many leagues
of travel. With all his deep sentiment, Mr. Fournier
is preeminently frank and true ; and these
studies of his, with all their poetry and charm,
are unquestionably true to their originals, and
reveal to us, the beholders, genuine and exact
pictures of these home-scenes where the Mas
ters of the School of 1830 moved and felt
and painted their immortal, glowing canvases.
When we reflect that Mr. Fournier is of
French parentage, we may incline to explain
by atavism his warm sympathy with and in
timate understanding of these great French
men. Personally, I prefer to believe that it
is not the French blood that calls, but rather
that the frank, sensitive nature of a true ar
tist in him is attuned and responds to what is
best in all Art of all Time.

CONTENTS

Page

The Barbizon Pictures, by Alexis Jean Fournier.

By Herbert W. Faulkner  3

An Evening with Francois Millet fits . . 9

The Men of 1830:

Antoine Louis Barye ... .29

Jean Charles Cazin .

32
Jean Baptiste Camille Corot
34
Charles Francois Daubigny
40
Narcisse Virgile Diaz de la Petia
42
Jules Dupre ....
47
Charles Emile Jacque
51
Jean Francois Millet
53
Pierre Etienne Theodore Rousseau
57
Constant Troyon
61
The Homes of the Men of 1830:
The Pere Gannes Inn ..... 65
Barye's Studio ..... .66
Cazin's Studio .... 66
Corot's Studio  .68
Daubigny'? Home ...... 68
Daubigny's First Studio . ... 69
The River Oise at Auvers
69
Page

Daubigny's Studio ....

70

Daumier's Studio

71

Diaz's Studio .

71

Dupre's Studio

72

View from Dupre's Home

73

Jacque's Studio

73

Millet's Studio

73

Millet's Birthplace .

74

The Door to Millet's Studio

74

Millet's Country

75

Rousseau's Studio

75

ILLUSTRATIONS

Dupre's Studio, 1'Isle Adam
Millet's Studio, Barbizon
Corot's Studio, Ville d'Avray
Diaz's Studio, Barbizon

Frontispiece
Facing page 12
Facing page 36
Facing page 44

The River Oise at Auvers. Daubigny's
Houseboat in the foreground . Facing page 70
Rousseau's Studio, Barbizon . . Facing page 75

AN EVENING WITH
FRANgOIS MILLET FILS

| ARBIZON, a hamlet of a hundred
thatched cottages, is but a day's
walk from Paris. It is on the
edge of the forest of Fontaine-
bleau, that stretched-out dream of emerald
and mystery that formed the vast school
room in which the greatest group of land
scape painters the world has ever known
acquired the cunning that eventually startled
artistic Paris and sprang like wildfire to the
remotest lover of art on earth.
It must have been the hand of Fate
that led such sensitive-souled men as Millet,
Corot, Dupre, Rousseau, and Diaz to the
sequestered seclusion of tiny, rural Barbizon.
Once its inspiring atmosphere had lashed
their blood into glad ferment and their

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
brushes into incessant activity, the Barbi
zon masters returned but seldom to Paris.
Only the most urgent errands tempted them
back. Paris was too severe, too fatiguing,
and its fevered air was not fit for them to
breathe. To Barbizon every lover of landscape
canvas goes on pilgrimage. The visitor can
understand why it was that Paris saw many
of her painters taking mysterious leave, and
why, when she saw them return again for
brief visits, these men of silent manners
wore such contented smiles — the smiles of
supremely happy men.
The pilgrim to Barbizon beholds cab
bages and roses growing side by side, cot
tages boasting striking wealth of color,
gleaming vines weaving around them caress
ingly, where hearts are open like the cottage
doors, where thieves are not feared, where
hospitality runs rampant. The village awakes
at rise of sun, and its peasantry sinks to
sleep before nine at night.
Little wonder that here that brilliant
group of painters found the open door of
10

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
opportunity to work out their ideals with
brush and colors. Into the woods they would
plunge at break of day with painting traps
and color boxes, and with pipe in mouth, to
create those fairies of the sunlight and fix
them upon canvas for all posterity, to flood
the vast forest with dreams destined to astound
the Paris they had abandoned.
Writes Alexandre Piedagnel: "In this
solitude, disturbed only by their cries to one
another, they painted the masterpieces that
will live forever. An enchanted wood it was
— with its immense boulders, clad in velour-
like tones with soft mosses, irridescent with
the gossamer of glistening sunlight of morn
ing ; trees of grandest forms rising gnarled
from the underbrush ; spots of golden sun
light, emerald, turquoise, and blue ; bits of
sky showing through the trees to vie in color
effect with the tail of the peafowl ; dew-drops
gleaming in various values on many tones of
green, now silver, now gold, now emerald,
now fire. All this did Diaz and his fellows
fix upon canvas, with limpid, obedient brush."
One day in the summer of 1907, Alexis
11

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
Fournier, the American landscape-painter,
who considered Dupre his master from the
time he began to paint, returned to Barbizon
with his painting traps. His mission was one
none ever had undertaken. He had come to
paint the pictures of the studios of the Bar
bizon masters. All summer long he so
journed in the quaint little village, making
studies of the homes of these distinguished
men, letting the atmosphere and the spirit of
the place sink deep into his memory, and
transferring them upon canvas.
During his stay at Barbizon, many in
teresting experiences fell to the lot of Mr.
Fournier. The peasant folk of the popu
lace thereabout could not comprehend why
this stranger, bent upon some mysterious
mission known only to himself, should spend
day after day sketching certain homes of the
locality. To their simple minds it seemed
utterly incomprehensible that anyone should
evince so deep an interest in the homes of
the little village. For the people of the ham
let seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that
Barbizon, glorified and immortalized by the
12

Millet's Studio, Barbizon
— Page 73

¦

r^
•5'-"
i
If 1
s
\ ^^^
B
AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
company of Masters who had left Paris for
its rural seclusion, is known and beloved to
the remotest corner of the world of art.
While making his studies for the series
of twenty paintings, it was the good fortune
of Mr. Fournier to spend a memorable even
ing with Francois Millet. Millet fils was at
this time as old as his famous father at the
time of the latter's death. The younger
Millet looks much like his father, whose
favorite son and pupil he was, and has fol
lowed closely in his father's steps as a
painter. " Yes, I do remember you," said the
younger Millet as he greeted Fournier in his
garden in Barbizon. " We met the evening
of the Tableaux at the Nouveau Theatre in
Paris. And quite a success, too, was your pres
entation of "The Angelus" with live models.
They were the same costumes that father
used, you remember. Well — well ! Indeed,
you are most welcome ! So you are to paint
the studios of the masters of Barbizon I An
idea 1 Truly strange that no one has thought
of it before. Eh bien, come ; dinner is served
13

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
inside. Madame will be glad to meet you.
She expects you this evening. We are glad
you came. Yes, indeed!"
The two painters entered, short, stout,
stockily built Millet leading the way, limping
slightly as he supported himself on his two
canes. He presented the visitor to Madame
Millet, an American woman of rare culture.
He was in a talkative mood and made a
jovial host.
" Now do help yourself to our simple
fare," he importuned his guest. " This wine
is from the Midi, mild, and I think you will
like it. Stand on no ceremony, I pray you,
my friend. Yes, dear," he added, addressing
his wife, " our friend is to paint all the
studios. Isn't it an idea? Yes, and a task,
my friend. " Ah, you Americans — how can you
know what has passed inside those four
walls ? If those walls could speak, my good
sir — what of the hopes and fears, and joys
and anguish I And the work, work, work I
Ah, the moments of successes and failures
of this Grand Soul! Ah, to have known
14

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
my dear and beloved father was to have
loved him, I can assure you !
" Do you realize what a sacred taber
nacle is that modest affair across the street?
It is now an empty cage," sighed the narra
tor. " He is gone. The window above,
opening on the street, was that of my room.
Do not think lightly of it, my friend, for
truly the place is sacred to me and mine.
It all comes back to me to-night. Such
scenes! How kind, how patient my dear
mother was to us all ! But we were too
young to have suffered as they must have.
" Yes, father came here first, you know.
It was soon after he had met Diaz at his
Paris studio. Diaz always loved my father,
and was one of the first to admire his talent.
That day in Paris Diaz said : ' To think that
you with your talents are going to go and
bury yourself out there in the woods, when by
remaining here in Paris you will be clothed
in silks and satins ! ' 'Ah, yes, true,' replied
father, ' that is exactly what I hope to avoid.'
' Well, go, and God help you ! I am dis
gusted with you.' 15

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
" But Diaz was the first to follow, resolv
ing to come here and build that elegant house
and studio that you will soon paint. ' Well,'
he said, when he had seen the place, ' if
Barbizon is good enough for you, Millet,
it is good enough for me.'
" Meanwhile, Rousseau, Jacque, Barye,
and others, were coming for their summers.
Corot, Troyon, Ziem, Camille Paris, and
Chaigneau came also to visit. What gather
ings of a winter evening, often here, oftener
yonder at Rousseau's studio ! They called the
latter the Club, and would sit and talk far into
the night. I can see them sitting before
the hearth as we are now, smoking, jesting,
and talking about their grand art. Art was
a very serious matter with them. Often
old Diaz would come stamping in with his
wooden peg and interrupt the session by
yelling : ' Well, will you never get through
with this cursed art ? Have you not enough
of it all day, that you must also talk about
it all night? Now, enough of that, or out
you go, everyone of you miserable painters ! '
" Yes, it was Diaz who really kept them
16

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
from themselves, always jolly, always jesting,
poking fun at all of them, kind-hearted, al
ways making the rounds to see how the rest
fared, and when one's mood became too sad
or severe, he would devise some prank to
brighten things. I remember how he used
to come to the door impersonating a poor,
miserable tramp, dressed for the part in
rags, and implore them for a crust of bread,
and telling a grim story of having lost his
way in the forest. He always fooled them
thus when the weather was ' temps de chien '
(dog weather). One evening Diaz arrived
at father's studio just before Rousseau en
tered, and said breathlessly : 'At last, Millet,
I have found you a model — an old shepherd
for your picture — a lame, old, wretched thing
— but then he'll be cheap.' Then the door
opened and Rousseau entered. Recognizing
the painter, father burst into a roar of
laughter. "When Rousseau saw the joke, he
cried : ' Say, Millet, isn't it awful to have this
rascal among us, who insists on being gay
even on a night like this ? One would think
17

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
that he had sold a picture. Yes, even one
of his own ! '
"Ah, what times were those, Fournier,"
continued the narrator. " Dear, jolly, old
Diaz ! And he would often play the part of
the Good Samaritan, buying father's pictures
and Rousseau's and saying that a wealthy
American had paid for them. Yes, my dear
friend, they all tasted poverty and misery,
though not one of them would admit it
if he were here with us to-night. But pardon
me if I seem to talk too much about my dear
father," said the painter suddenly, with tear-
dimmed eyes. " Please pass me your glass 1
You see, I was my father's favorite, and was
with him so much !"
" How different Corot was from your
father!" declared Fournier.
" Yes, in life and temperament he was
very different. Thank you for saying that,
my friend. You know them well, I see.
How father had to struggle! Struggle is
the word — for he always had to struggle with
his work. We could always tell when he was
in the midst of a hard task, for he would look
18

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
the part, and talk so, even to us children.
Mon Dieu, he would even ask our advice
about a picture, and would confide in us as
to what he hoped to do with certain works —
the good God willing.
" One day during the stress of a hard
task, nothing less than ' The Man with the
Hoe,' when father was trying to overcome a
bad mood or a headache out under yonder
apple tree, Corot happened along in a car
riage, and cried : ' Come, Millet, enough of
this ! Come, go with me through the forest.
We will spend a few days in the woods, and
it will do you good.'
" ' But my picture,' objected my father,
' what of that ? ' His mind was full of it, and
he feared that a respite would make him lose
that which he had been trying for so long to
put into it. ' Look at my picture here, Corot,'
he continued. 'Tell me — am I doing it?'
" Corot looked, and his reply only irri
tated my father. ' Yes, yes. Well, but what
of it all ? The same peasant as usual. Your
man is awful. Oh, he is a brute. But then
I think you will get something out of it yet.'
19

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
"'But,' said my father, 'what of the
theme? Don't you see, Corot, what this
man means to us, or should mean? I am
not painting a man with a hoe, I am painting
the man with the hoe.'
" ' Well, well, he's an awful specimen,'
rejoined Corot, wearily. ' Come, let's go
out. It will do you good. You need a
change.' " You see, not even Corot understood
father at that time," continued the son.
" What contrasts they were ! Well, father
went with him, and we did note a new gaiety
about him when he returned, but it soon
passed away, and he applied himself again
to his ' The Man with the Hoe.'
" Do you see, Fournier, that simple sun
set study there on the wall? That is my
father through and through. What memo
ries it brings back to me ! We were together
much out yonder in the fields, I hanging on
my father's neck. Often he would say rev
erently : ' Francois, my son, do you see how
beautiful it is — how wonderful ! My son, it
is God ! ' Then he would forget all about
20

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
me, using both arms to gesticulate as he talked
on with the others present, and leave me to
hang on to his neck by my own strength.
" Returning from the fields we met many
peasants. Father would always speak to them,
and shake hands warmly. They addressed
him always as ' Monsieur Millet.'
" There was a simplicity and a truthful
ness about father's philosophy that would
often crystallize into epigram. He would
often say, ' One must be able to use the
trivial to give expression to the sublime;
there is the real power.' Also he would say:
' The soul of each artist is a mirror in which
Nature reflects herself in a peculiar manner.'
Again : ' The whole world without art would
be a vast wilderness.' Once he said: 'Yes,
we are happy together to-day, but it is only
after one has suffered that one can be just.
Now, for instance, there is my old umbrella,
which in this case is Truth, a real object
existing, a need, a fact. There it stands, all
soiled, where I threw it yesterday when it
was miserable and rainy. To-day it is clear
and warm, and we have nearly forgotten yes-
21

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
terday and the need of our old umbrella.
It is our real friend, ever ready there in the
corner, so let us not forget it, although we
are gay and care-free to-day.'
" I tell you," the son spoke on, " it is
the strain that counts, the work, doing one's
share in this world, each according to his
capacity. To have had experiences, to be
able to understand humankind, makes life
real. Only he who lives thus can have some
thing to say with the pen or the brush. We
are only peasants.
" I think no more sensitive-souled man
than my father ever lived. One day a drunken
man was on the street in front of the house
in a very boisterous mood. Suddenly father,
at work in the studio, began to imitate him.
I was horrified to see father acting so, and
exclaimed : ' Why, father, what art thou
doing? '
" ' Yes, my son, thou art right ; I forgot
myself,' he replied, deeply affected by my
reprimand. And for three days he was so
depressed over it that he was in a sulking
mood.

22

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
" When he was not busy in his studio,
father was a great companion. He was al
ways entertaining us, drawing pictures to
illustrate our yarns. Often when I was read
ing, father would ask if I could see the pic
ture the book described. This, fortunately
for me, led to our working a great deal to
gether. Let me show you my copy-book,
into which he sketched many things. In it
is the original study for ' The Woodcutter's
Family,' or ' Hunger.' It shows an empty
larder and two old people sitting before a
fire-place in dejected attitudes, an empty,
upturned soup-pot, and no fire. The story
was ^ Le Petit Poucet,1 and this drawing was to
illustrate the passage 'We will not be able
longer to feed our children — we will have to
lose them in the woods.' It was a compete
tion between my father and me. Of course,
he won. Often to amuse us children, he
would make these drawings of the Ogre.
My, how well I remember it all, and how
frightened I was when father imitated the
Ogre, growling like a wild beast, and open
ing his mouth terrifically, to show how the
23

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
monster would tear the flesh of little boys
with his teeth! He also illustrated for
us the story of Little Red Riding Hood.
He drew many pictures for little Antoine,
the grandchild. He would draw with a
burnt match dipped in ink — with anything.
What fun when he used to entertain little
Antoine, imitating the cry of our favorite
goat, and playing many pranks !
" One evening father tried an experiment
with the child. He drew the youngster with
his cheeks puffed out blowing at the enor
mous flame of a great candle. The baby
looked intently at this for a little while, then
turned with satisfaction and blew at the can
dle standing on the table.
" It was a real triumph, and father re
marked upon the importance of this as a
principle of art. He had exaggerated the
size of the candle in the picture, so as to
make it more readily recognized by the child.
So in painting, he declared, certain forms,
effects, and expressions should be accen
tuated, even exaggerated, and brought into
stronger relief than they exist in real life.
24

AN EVENING WITH MILLET FILS
" Sometimes we would go to Paris to
gether to hear an opera or to witness a play,
and father would invariably point out how
much simpler it might have been, indica
ting where he thought it might have been
improved." The hour was late when Mr. Fournier
bade his host and hostess good-night at the
gate in the high wall. Madame Millet de
clared, " Well, my dear Francois, how beauti
fully you have talked to-night. Really, Mr.
Fournier, it is a long time since I have heard
or seen Francois so full of this theme as he
has been to-night. It is a compliment to you,
my friend." On another occasion Mr. Fournier asked
Millet why it was that his work is not better
known. " Great God," returned Millet with a
smile, "do you realize who my father was?
It is rather handicapping sometimes to be
known as the son of your father."

25

THE MEN OF 1830

" The soul of each artist is a mirror in
which Nature reflects herself in a peculiar
manner."
— Millet.

ANTOINE LOUIS BARYE
1796-1875

ARYE'S youth was darkened by
a poverty that could afford him
no schooling, and by conscrip
tion for service in the army at
the age of sixteen. Emerging from the
army, he plunged into the study of art.
Despite his conventional training, Barye
manifested from the beginning a startling
sense of mass, energy of conception, and
preference for dramatic action, born of his
experience as a soldier ; and these characterize
all of his sculpture.
Yet, with all his innate genius, ill-success
and repeated failures drove him back at
length to the trade of his earlier youth, and
he remained at the goldsmith's bench for
eight years. His specialty was the modeling
29

B ARYE
of animals for watch-charms, brooches, and
other jewelry, and he entered passionately
into the study of his models. For hours he
would sit in front of the cages of wild ani
mals in menageries, making hasty studies
with lumps of wax, for future use. All
through his life the study of natural history
and the anatomy of animals ruled him. The
energy and reality he put into his sculpture
were startling. So bitter were his rivals that
they demanded hotly of the authorities,
" since when has the Tuileries become a
menagerie." The Tuileries boasted many of
Barye's bronzes.
So non-commercial was he that as a sales
man he was a joke. He appeared utterly
unwilling to part with certain pieces of
sculpture, insisting, even when the purchaser
was anxious to buy, on making certain
changes before a piece left his workshop.
Naturally his shop and foundry did not
pay, and those who had financed the ven
ture at last sued him and seized his mod
els ; and the self-contained, austere artist re
paired to the more congenial atmosphere of
30

BARYE
Barbizon. Here he began to paint, mani
festing in his canvases the same grandeur of
aspect and intensity of life that showed in
his sculpture. As a painter he lacked the
skilful execution of his colleagues at Barbi
zon, but showed wonderful vigor, character,
and essential truth. He worked stubbornly
and tirelessly, until at last he succumbed to
heart disease.
His wife often importuned him to make
his signatures more legible. "Be tranquil,"
he would answer. " Twenty years hence they
will be searching for it with a magnifying
glass."

31

JEAN CHARLES CAZIN
1841-1901

LTHOUGH Cazin was a Bar
bizon painter of the second
generation, to his soul Fate
vouchsafed the incomparable
spirit of Corot and Millet by some strange
magic. Cazin was born in the Department of
Pas-de-Calais, and the remembrance of his
early home colored all of his art. His father,
a country physician, would often take him as
a boy over the surrounding country to visit
patients. The way lay over a waste of
dunes ; the villages were merely clusters of
huts lost in the immensity of gray sky and
tawny soil; and when, in later life, Cazin
painted the Holy Land, it wore the aspect
of this silent, meagre, humble land of his,
32

CAZIN
and its illumination was a flood of spiritual
light rather than physical.
He has no fancy for rich and luxuriant
landscapes, but for the humbler, simpler
scenes, the barren plains and hillsides, the
mournful sea behind them, and the poor
hovels of the villagers rising from a ground
marked with thistles and withered grass.
He paints deserted shores, the dingy huts of
fishermen, lonely roads, ramshackle houses
with lights stealing from the windows,
clothing these in a wonderful atmosphere.
These landscapes, which he knew so well,
lent themselves readily to the painting of
landscapes of Holy Writ. The lone evening-
star in the dimming heavens to him was the
self-same star that appeared to the shep
herds of Mesopotamia, that cast its beams
upon Rebecca at the well.
Cazin paints not for to-day, or for yes
terday, or for to-morrow, but forever. He
paints not a star, but the star. He human
izes. He generalizes.

33

JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT
1796-1875

OROT, the most brilliant genius
of the Barbizon school, outlived
all his colleagues save Dupre
and Daubigny.
He sounded an altogether new and
seductive note in his landscapes. He man
aged, somehow, by a magic that never has
been explained, to catch the very motion
of atmospheric conditions. His trees, his
clouds, his veil of haze at dawn, do not lie
at rest upon his canvas ; they seem to move,
to quiver. There is a soughing motion
about his foliage, a vague drifting of his
clouds. He painted in a softer key than
most of his fellows ; but his paintings are
strangely luminous, and are hung always
with atmosphere. His note is unique. He
34

COROT
dispersed light throughout his picture.
There seems to be no central point of light ;
it seems to ooze from everywhere. The
whole picture is charged with a dim, sub
dued light that bewilders the imitator.
His mother a Parisian milliner, his father
a thrifty and successful tradesman, it fell to
Corot's lot to peddle wearing-apparel back of
a haberdasher's counter. When he learned
that good salesmanship according to the
Parisian canons lay not in selling good
materials but bad, he resolved to flee
the paths of commerce; so at the age of
thirty, he entered into the greener pastures of
art. Though the fields were green and in
viting, the road was rough. Struggling
for years on a slim paternal annuity of three
hundred dollars, he did not distance the
spectre of poverty until during the last few
years of his life. Poverty made it impossible
for him to marry. When at last his income
amounted to 50,000 francs a year, his gener
osity knew no bounds, and he delighted in
lavishing great sums upon the poor.
Corot broke into the Salon in 1827, and
35

COROT
exhibited there all his life; but Paris was
loath to recognize his genius. He defied
all the rules of landscape painting, and liter
ally caught Nature on the wing. The strange,
mystic quality of his work confused his critics,
and they dismissed it with the verdict of
" over-aesthetic." His brush was weirdly
able to handle easily the most formidable
problems that confront a painter.
He literally painted song, sunshine, good
cheer, optimism. A subtle, illusive, intangi
ble, spiritual quality characterizes his work.
His work seems unlike the skilful product
of the hand, rather an uncanny something
born straight from the spirit. It possesses
a daring quality. He displays, without paint
ing them at all, the shimmer of morning, the
foliage kissed by the dawn, the spider threads,
the dew shivering on the grass. He intoxi
cates the imagination of the beholder until
he perceives things which only the spiritual
eye can discern. His brush is a sprite, a
coquette. His scenes seem always to sug
gest something that is just going to happen.
They trick the soul into a strange expectancy.
36

Corot's Studio, Ville d'Avray
—Page 68

COROT
He believed that art is a matter of soul, that
the things one saw and knew all about were
not worth painting, that only the intangible
was splendid.Corot wrote a remarkable letter to a
friend, describing the day of a painter.
"A landscape painter's day is delightful.
He gets up at three in the morning, before
sunrise, goes and sits under a tree, and
watches, and waits. There is not much to be
seen at first. Nature is behind a white veil,
on which some masses of form are vaguely
indicated. Everything smells sweet. Every
thing trembles under the invigorating breezes
of the dawn.
" Bing ! A ray of yellow light shoots
from horizon to zenith, rends the veil of
gauze behind which the meadow, the valley,
the hills lay hidden, but the vapors of night
still hang like silver tufts on the cold green
grass. " Bing ! Bing ! The sun's first ray —
another ray — and the flowers awake into joy
ful mood, and each is drinking its drop of
quivering dew. The leaves feel the cold,
37

COROT
and move to and fro. Under the leaves the
unseen birds are singing. The flowers are
saying their morning prayers. Amoretti,
with gauzy wings, a-tilt on the tall grasses,
make them sway.
" We can see nothing, but the landscape
is there, all perfect behind the translucent
gauze of the mist, which rises, rises, rises,
inhaled by the sun, revealing the silver river,
the meadows, the trees, the cottages, the
vanishing distance. We now distinguish all
that we divined before.
" Bam ! The sun is risen. Bam ! A
peasant crosses the field with cart and oxen.
' Ding ! Ding ! ' says the bell of the ram that
leads the flock of sheep. All things break
forth into glistening and glittering and shin
ing in a full flood of light — of pale, caressing
light. The distances, simple in contour, are
harmonious in tone and lose themselves in
an infinity of sky across an air misty and
touched by azure. The flowers raise their
heads. Birds flit about. A horseman ap
pears and vanishes down a declining path.
The willows spread like peacocks on the
38

COROT
river-bank. It is adorable. I paint ! I
paint !
" Boom I Boom ! Boom I The sun
aflame burns the earth. Everything becomes
heavy. Everything becomes serious. Let
us return home. One sees everything.
There is nothing there longer. We can see
too much now. Let us go home."
So beloved was Corot among the art
students of Paris that he was known univer
sally as " Pere Corot." When he died they
mourned him as sons.

39

CHARLES FRANgOIS DAUBIGNY
1817-1878

i LTHOUGH Daubigny was un
usually fond of painting water
scenes, his brush ran the gamut
of landscape painting. He lit
erally plied his brushes from childhood to
death, for even as a boy the brush and paint
box were his playthings. His first lessons
at drawing were given him by his father,
himself a drawing master, who often ex
hibited in the Salon.
His greatest genius lay in his incessant
and unremitting work. His key is generally
high, and quickly arrests attention. An
impulsive, naive simplicity characterizes
everything he did, and only when he attempts
the sphere of the classical does his work ap
pear unreal and fail to command sympathy.
40

daubigny
While painting snuff-boxes, clocks, and
china to help support his family, Daubigny
took occasion to fill his portfolios with stu
dies and sketches that served him well in his
subsequent career. He made swift progress
as an engraver, etcher, and painter, and ex
hibited in the Salon before he was nineteen.
A walking trip to Italy in his youth, in com
pany with an enthusiastic companion, sent
the sunshine of the South dancing through
his veins, intoxicating him with a keen love of
beautiful landscape that served him through
all his life thereafter. This happy tempera
ment reflects itself in all his canvases.
Daubigny was a great traveler, and al
ways a lover of the water. So fond was he
of it, that his friends called him Captain
Daubigny. His boat, the Bottin, was his
floating studio. It was sometimes rowed,
often towed, and from it he watched the
lazy shores slip by and the reeds of rivers
bending at the touch of its prow.

41

NARCISSE VIRGILE DIAZ
DE LA PENA
1808-1876

,IAZ was the only painter in the
Barbizon group who sprang
from other than French ancestry.
His father was a Spanish politi
cal fugitive, and to the son fell the inheri
tance of a fiery passion that flamed through
his soul all his days and flashed into every
canvas. The whirl of Spanish blood in his
veins gave him heat of temper and imparted
fire and daring to his paintings.
Diaz looms supreme as a painter of in
terior woodland scenes. While not pitched
in the higher keys, his tones are generally
the luminous browns, and his colors are
wondrously vivid. Men and women, gaily
garbed, inhabit these mysterious Diaz forests
42

DIAZ
— sometimes Spanish, often Oriental — while
gayest flowers peep here and there from the
ground. Where the sky shows through the
trees, it is generally strong and vivid blue.
Born in Bordeaux while his father, a
conspirator against King Joseph Bonaparte,
was fleeing from place to place, young Diaz
came into a world that seemed hard set
against him. His mother, a teacher, died
when he was only ten. Too wild, too im
petuous for the mild hand of his guardian,
Diaz received litde training of wholesome
kind, and he ran away often, to roam the
great woods of Sevres. One day he was bit
ten by a reptile, and his leg had to be am
putated, and he hobbled through the rest of
life on a wooden peg.
Diaz refused to become the printer's
devil his guardian wished to make of him
and he was apprenticed as a porcelain dauber,
at which task he met Dupre. His genius
and originality manifested itself even in this
work, but his superintendent frowned upon
any departure from the set rules of the game,
and Diaz became rebellious and longed for
43

DIAZ
freedom from the bondage of his appren
ticeship. He read with great passion the fiction
that dealt with the Orient, and he painted
figures of Turks and women of the harem,
eliciting the judgment that they never could
have been done save by one who had traveled
in the East. Yet he never had been more
than a few miles from Paris in all his life.
Soon Diaz met Rousseau, and together
they led the advance guard of the revolters
against classical art. They worked together
at painting, and at the age of twenty-three
Diaz began to exhibit in the Salon. He had
already accepted Rousseau as his master, and
deemed him so until his death. They went
together to Fontainebleau. At first, despite
their attachment, Rousseau made no over
tures to disclose the secret of his magic with
the brush to Diaz, and always painted alone
in the forest. Soon Diaz might have been
seen diving through the woods in secret pur
suit of the other, to fathom if possible the
source of Rousseau's prowess, to gaze on the
other as he worked without disturbing him.
44

Diaz's Studio, Barbizon
— Page 71

DIAZ
But the method brought Diaz no results,
and at last in sheer desperation and in fierce
chagrin over his failure to succeed, he poured
out the yearnings of his soul to Rousseau,
and was thenceforth rewarded by the other's
closest friendship and unrestrained tutelage.
By 1844 Diaz was commanding great prices
for his canvases, and he sold in profusion.
At Barbizon, Diaz's wide-spread sales were
the marvel of Millet and the others. Diaz
was the wealthiest painter of Barbizon.
When Diaz was nominated Chevalier of
the Legion of Honor, he was furious because
the name of Rousseau, his master, had been
omitted, and at the banquet, when he was
installed, rose and proposed the toast: "To
Theodore Rousseau, our forgotten master."
Diaz figured at Barbizon as the strong
staff of his weaker brethren. Millet and
Rousseau leaned upon him as upon a brother.
He was their broker in the corrupt picture-
market of the day; and his genial and bois
terous good cheer did much to buoy their
spirits up when they felt the stress of failure
and disappointment. They could not have
45

DIAZ
done their work, probably, without the asso
ciation of this robust, dark-skinned, gypsy
like Diaz, brusque as a Castilian, eloquent
and voluble as an Italian, who was forever
making sport of his own wooden leg, and
smoking his pipe incessantly. When he had
more money in his possession than he needed,
he would cast it pell-mell into obscure cor
ners of his studio ; and it was a fine treasure
trove on occasions of search when he found
himself penniless. As he painted in the
forest, he used to sing and shout and stamp
his wooden leg in boundless enthusiasm.
His own pictures he sold with consum
mate salesmanship. The canvases of others
that he possessed he refused to part with. On
one occasion, Dumas fils discovered a canvas
of Tassart's in Diaz's studio, and desired
greatly to purchase it. " My friend," ex
claimed Diaz, " I sell Diaz, but not Tassart."

46

JULES DUPRE
1812-1889

UPRE painted the gentler scenes
of nature, but painted with start
ling vigor. His key was low,
but wonderfully luminous. Cat
tle chewing their cud, horses drinking lazily
at a pool of water, sheep standing idly in the
sunshine, with luminous clouds floating se
renely overhead — these are characteristic of
Dupre. He lacked the rugged, massive
strength of Rousseau, painting with a softer,
seductive quality.
Dupre was a porcelain dauber as a youth,
as well as a clock painter. It was a good
training school for him. Diaz, Cabat, and
others had been pushed into the same tread
mill. Sundays they would ramble along the
Seine, dreamy-eyed and impressionable, re-
47

DUPRE
turning to paint during the week the things
that they had seen, upon plates for the
bourgeoisie. Thus grew their love for land
scape, destined to lure them on and on into
the realms of the masters. When time af
forded, they would go to the Louvre, to
study and to dream.
Fate picked out a street peddler of
curios to discover the genius of the boy
Dupre. He ordered a landscape from him,
done not on porcelain, but on canvas. The
peddler's commission touched a hitherto un
discovered spring in the lad, and thenceforth
landscape painting was his passion.
At the age of nineteen Dupre broke
into the Salon of 1831. Lenormant, the
critic, liked his pictures and characterized
them as "calm and peaceful pastures," as
"an art healthy and attractive as our peasant
nurses." Dupre's key-note once sounded,
he did not swerve from his original point of
view, fixed with precocious sureness at this
early age. His canvases are always the quiet
and pastoral pictures reflecting the peace of
country life. And when the renaissance of
48

DUPRE
the French landscapists hit art broadside, a
critic said of Dupre that his landscape with
a hedge in the middle showed such an accu
racy of touch in the foliage, so rich and so
powerful a method of modeling the plants,
so happy an arrangement of light, that one
was inclined to yield altogether to hope.
An interesting study in contrasts was
the close-welded friendship between Dupre
the gentle, and Rousseau the tempestuous.
Their studios were side by side, and they
habitually refused invitations which excluded
the other. Dupre took no part in the dash
ing revolutionism of Rousseau ; it was this
which eventually caused their quarrel.
For years, latterly, Dupre did not ex
hibit, and remained by himself. He died at
Barbizon, where he had gone to join the
famous little band of landscapists.
Dupre is always true in his rendering of
the atmosphere upon canvas. He cajoles
into color the cooling moisture in the air which
rises from saturated vegetation after a storm,
or the sultry glare of drought, or the dance
of a sun-beam, or the drift of a cloud, or
49

DUPRE
the mirror of the sky in a pool. It is always
air — real air — that one sees and seems to
breathe, that fascinates one, and gives life
and reality to the picture. And throughout
his canvases there stands forth a stern, big
modeling that imprints itself deep upon the
memory.

50

CHARLES EMILE JACQUE
1813-1894

|,ACQUE'S greatest power lay in
' the painting of pastoral scenes
with heavy foliage and of stable
interiors with animals. His work
lacks the striking, suggestive qualities of
Millet, and is more prosaic than the brilliant
Corot. He lived for many years with these
two painters at Barbizon, and was their
bosom companion.
In Paris he dabbled in various call
ings before he finally settled down, as a
wood engraver and etcher, to the drudgery
of illustrating books. He also served for
five years in the French army, and during
his service made sketches of all the officers.
His caricature sketches of this period won
him wide praise, and were collected in a
51

JACQUE
book. When later he held an exhibition of
his engravings, they amounted, even at this
early day, to a total of 353 plates. In
England he did engraving for editions of
Shakespeare and Sir Walter Scott. Many
of his etchings and engravings were such
fine examples of workmanship that to-day
they are very precious.
Having put bread in his larder by illus
trating, he resolved to acquire glory through
painting, and took up the brush in 1845.
His sheep were not swift to leap the bar
riers into public favor, but once they did
the market was flooded with fake "Jacques."
He exhibited but three times in the Salon.
At the age of fifty-four, the etcher-painter
was decorated with the cross of the Legion
of Honor. Yet in 1848, while struggling for
recognition, he was forced to sell ten pictures
for three hundred francs. To-day these are
worth thirty thousand francs.
His hobby while he lived at Barbizon
was raising fowls. These served him well
as models in his barnyard scenes.

52

JEAN FRANgOIS MILLET
1814-1875

ILLET'S prevailing note is aus
terity, and his inspiration a severe
realism. He was born on the
stern cliffs of La Hague, that
overlook the sea by Cherbourg. His parents
were peasants, and he was born to the
harsh labors of the fields. Little wonder,
therefore, that the Bible and Virgil
were his favorite books, despite the fact
that he read omnivorously everything from
Homer to the novels of Cooper.
The Municipality of Cherbourg recog
nized his genius and voted him an annuity
of two hundred dollars. Once in Paris, he
struggled for technique and expression with
the energy of despair, and drew and painted
53

MILLET
pot-boilers for from one to five dollars each
to augment his scanty income.
Millet is the painter of homely folk and
homely scenes. His earlier work was classi
cal allegories from the Greek legends. Later
he matured into implicit truth to nature,
painting the pastoral, the peasantry, that
which he saw, and knew, and understood.
His draughtsmanship became marvelous.
Millet lived hard and died poor, and
now his paintings are fought for and bring
incredible prices. His shyness, his halting
manners, his meagreness of word — these
made men misunderstand him. They called
him violent, rude, ill-educated, a revolutionist,
a back-woodsman. Had they been able to
scan his soul they would have known that he
was full of compassion for the hard lot of
the poor. Born to labor in the fields, it was his
passion to paint peasants at their toil. He
painted them with severe restraint, with a
mighty simplicity, with a profoundly classi
cal touch. He is the artistic expression of
the hard-headed, callous-handed, manly race
54

MILLET
of the Norman peasantry. No romance, no
idealization creeps into his point of view.
He sees clearly, and with not a touch of pity,
yet not without a fine compassion. He ac
cepted the hard lot of the peasant with the
resignation of the fatalist. He considered
it the natural and inevitable lot of man who
must earn his bread by the sweat of his brow.
This is the incessant note in his painting.
And he painted not for the nineteenth cen
tury alone, nor for Normandy, nor for Bar
bizon, but for all mankind, and forever.
Witness the titles of his canvases :
" The Man with the Hoe," " The Sower,"
" The Winnower," " The Gleaners," " The
Potato-Planters," "The Grafter," "The
New-Born Calf," "The Spaders." The can
vases of Millet are truly named. They tell
of no pity, only of resignation, of deep-seeing
understanding, of the translation of things
and men as they are into color and shadow.
Millet stands for the elimination of de
tail. Yet by his sovereign draughtsmanship
he makes one feel the actual structure of
hands and feet and bodies, and their actual
55

MILLET
function. By virtue of this severe economy
of detail, there is imparted to his work a
simple splendor that knows no approach.
He avoided with a sort of horror the merest
verging upon the sentimental. His realism
is supreme. The sacrifice of beauty shocked
the men of his time and his fellow painters
as well. Yet he never swerved from the
truthful presentation of hectic toil, heroic
endurance, grievous monotony, burdens
wearily to be borne.
To Barbizon, where Millet spent the
last twenty-seven years of his life with his
large family, he carried his abiding melan
choly, his deep sincerity, his rugged nobility;
and Barbizon loved him.

56

PIERRE ETIENNE THEODORE
ROUSSEAU 1812-1867

,OUSSEAU is famous for his
remarkable trees, for the start-
lingly vivid colors of his sunsets,
and for the strength and vivid
ness of his atmosphere. His landscapes
always startle the eye, and sinking deep into
the memory, afford an ever-present source
of pleasure. See his " Mont Girard," im
ported by William Schaus, and now in the
Metropolitan Museum.
A Rousseau tree, once seen, never can
be forgotten. He looms gigantic as a
painter of oaks. They are gnarled and
strong. They are solid, massive, rugged.
There is none of Corot's misty, quivering
57

ROUSSEAU
atmosphere in Rousseau. His atmosphere
is bold, vivid, and sharply defined.
His landscapes show no human figures.
His love is for the earth and its growths.
As a boy he was secretary to the proprietor
of certain saw-mills in the forests of Franche-
Comte. There the insatiable love of the
woods took possession of him. Later his
hatred of the Academy drove him into soli
tude in the mountains of Auvergne.
His work was a personal struggle with
Nature. He strove to transfer absolutely
into the space of his canvas all the charac
teristics of Nature he beheld — the solidity of
the ground, the growth of plants and trees,
the complications of foliage, the infinite tap
estries of weeds and grass, the hardness of
rock, the softness of marsh, the flow, the
transparency, the reflection of water, the
play of the clouds over the scene, their fab
ric, their lights, their shadows.
Smitten by poverty in the beginning,
he lived to become wealthy. His generosity
toward friends knew no bounds. He bought
their pictures under another name, and his
58

ROUSSEAU
purchase of Millet's "The Grafter" is a
drama in itself.
He had watched closely the progress
of the painting. " Millet works for his
family," he said one day to Sensier. " He
wears himself out like a tree that bears too
many flowers and fruits, and toils night and
day for his children. This time I mean to
find him a buyer." A week later he wrote
to Sensier : " Well, I have kept my word,
and have sold Millet's picture. I have
actually found an American that will give
4,000 francs for ' The Grafter.' "
The sum named by Rousseau sounded
incredible to the ears of Sensier, who had
tramped the streets of Paris in a vain effort
to find buyers who would give 1,000 francs
for Millet's other pictures. He smiled, and
owned frankly that he believed Rousseau's
American was a myth. One morning
Rousseau called upon him and paid over
4,000 francs in gold. Sensier begged to be
allowed to see this nabob who possessed so
great an appreciation of art. Rousseau
finally consented to arrange a meeting, and
59

ROUSSEAU
invited Sensier to meet the other at his home
the next day. Sensier presented himself and
was met at the door by Rousseau.
" Come in," he said, " our American
friend is waiting within."
Sensier entered, but looked around in
vain for the American. Rousseau remained
silent for a few minutes, apparently enjoying
the other's perplexity. Then he said : " Well,
if you must know it, I am the American.
But swear that you will not divulge my secret
to anyone. Millet must believe in the ex
istence of the American. It will cheer him
up and help me to buy some more of his
pictures at a reasonable price."
It was an entire year before Millet dis
covered his friend's plot.

60

CONSTANT TROYON
1S10-1S65

K§s§i£_-5&ROYON, who was closely associ-
^\1 HP t ate<^ W1^1 tQe Barbizon painters,
Oof *¦ f S ,
^5^n"v3 stancls preeminent as a painter
'^^ v*^~-"a of cattle. As such he never has
been excelled. He painted his animals from
the life, and his brush always caught them on
the move. They run, they walk, they rumi
nate on the Troyon canvases. Yet, they
are skilfully subordinated to his landscape,
and are introduced purely to compliment it.
Like Diaz and Dupre he began life as a
porcelain painter. So closely did he devote
himself to mastering the art of painting
porcelain, that it took him years to rid him
self of the ear-marks of that profession. As
a landscape-painter his road was hard, and
his earlier canvases are with difficulty recog-
61

TROYON
nized at all as Troyons. Not until he was
forty years old did he acquire the power that
made him famous. It was only during the
last fifteen years of his life that he produced
his truly great pictures.
Troyon exhibited frequently at the Salon,
and Emperor Napoleon III. was his friend
and patron. He won many medals, and was
a wearer of the cross of the Legion of Honor.
In point of draughtsmanship alone, his
cattle, sheep, and dogs show the master-hand.
No painter ever has succeeded in making
these animals live upon canvas as did Troyon.
He kept large kennels at Barbizon, and was
so fond of his dogs that he would romp with
them at all hours of the day and night.
Troyon had no studio of his own at
Barbizon, but shared that of Jacque.

62

THE HOMES OF THE
MEN OF 1830

" The whole world without art would be a
vast wilderness."
—Millet.

The Pere Gannes Inn
The Pere Gannes Inn, that quaint little hostelry at
Barbizon, has sheltered more great artists and celebri
ties in general than any hotel of its size on earth.
It was here that every one of the Barbizon masters
took up his abode on first coming to the village to
paint. Its register bears the signatures of them all —
Corot, Millet, Dupre, Jacque, Rousseau, Troyon,
and the rest. And it is at the Pere Gannes that
pilgrims to Barbizon usually make their homes while
their visits last.
If the walls of the old inn could tell stories, they
would recount wondrous tales of the great painters'
return at twilight from the woods where they had
spent the day painting, laden with traps, pipes in
their mouths, and ready for a jovial evening before
the roaring fire on the hearth. Great were the festivi
ties at the Pere Gannes. The impetuous Diaz making
the whole inn tremble as he stamped his wooden peg
furiously in appreciation of someone's joke, the bub
bling Corot, the pleasant Dupre, jolly old Captain
Daubigny, and even the stern and melancholy Millet
keyed up to the proper pitch of enthusiasm and
camaraderie — what a picture !
Mr. Fournier has painted the old inn at twilight, its
lamp casting a pleasant glow into the gathering dusk,
prescient of the festivities the inn will boast after
nightfall.

65

THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
Barye's Studio
Barye's simple and almost commonplace abode has
remained practically unchanged since his death. It is
surrounded by a wall through which opens a large
gate. The house is kept white with repeated coats of
whitewash. The roof is tiled, and there are a num
ber of dormer windows. Lattice-work covers the
main facade supporting grape-vines. Mr. Fournier
chose to paint this studio at night under the light of
the full moon. The following inscription is over the
gate: "1796-1875. Antoine Louis Barye, Sculpteur,
Habita cette Maison."
Cazin's Studio
One day at Outro-sur-Mer, while Mr. Fournier was
painting Cazin's studio, a friendly peasant, curiously
inclined, stole up cautiously and peered over the
painter's shoulder.
" How wonderful it is, Monsieur ! " he said. " One
can see that Monsieur understands his trade. Alas,
it is not mine ! But then one must do what one can.
Each one to his trade — n' est-ce pas ?"
The peasant paused, as if loath to withdraw and to
leave the painter and the picture on the canvas, which
grew, even as he gazed, under the caress of the brush.
Mr. Fournier worked on without looking around at his
questioner. Suddenly the peasant sighed, and added
sadly : " Oh, heavens, I could never do that — no, not
me! It's no use ! I never could ! Well, Monsieur,
bon courage. You are at your work. I will go back
to mine. The weeds in my potatoes are calling me."
It was not long before another voice accosted the
painter, who continued to work. Again Mr. Fournier
painted on, undisturbed by the peasant's approach.
Monsieur is making a beautiful picture of the Cazin
villa," began the newcomer in French.
66

THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
"Thank you, my friend," returned the painter.
"Monsieur is a stranger in these parts?" inquired
the other.
" Yes, I came this season for the first time."
" Monsieur is from the Midi, evidently ?"
"No, I am an American," returned Fournier.
"An American ? And have you ever heard the name
of Cazin?"
" Oh yes, I know M. Cazin. I have met him."
" You have met him ? Where ?"
"At the Salon in Paris — also at our club there."
"Then you know his work ?" questioned the inter
rogator. " Yes, very well," answered the painter, working on.
" What do you think of his work ?"
"M. Cazin is a very great artist, as well as a very
great man. But why shouldn't he be? He has a
great woman for a wife, and like other great men he
has learned all he knows from her. She is as great in
art as the master himself. In sculpture she is a Millet. ' '
At these words the person behind the painter ap
proached nearer. "Thank you, mon ami" he re
sponded; " I see you know me very well."
Astonished at the other's words, Mr. Fournier looked
up for the first time, to see that the man at his side
was M. Cazin himself, as he had often seen him, in his
shirt sleeves, leather belt, and light canvas trousers,
bare-headed, his gray hair floating in the breeze, on
his face a friendly smile, and his hand outstretched.
"Monsieur has paid me a great compliment," he said
warmly. "Will Monsieur come and see me? I should
like to have Mme. Cazin meet Monsieur. Please do
not forget us. Au revoir, mon ami."
And thus began what subsequently developed into a
most intimate friendship between the American painter
and the " Grand Cazin."

67

THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
Corot's Studio (Facing page 37)
Corot's studio is at Ville d'Avray, not far from Paris.
It has become a fashionable resort, and is surrounded
by cafes and gardens. At the pond, overlooked by
the master's studio, one sees the countless models
gazed at for hours by the great Corot — its lily-pads,
its wondrous willows, its clouds drifting lazily over
head. The studio remains as it was when Corot
painted in it. The house is of massive stone and
plaster, and is spaciously built. A gate off the lawn
opens into the flower, fruit, and kitchen gardens. It
is a picture of the pleasant comforts of home, of ease
without excess, taste without tinsel. About it seems
to hover the quaint flavor of olden times, the bright
gladness of flowers, the freedom of wild, green vines,
the benediction of great, branching trees. From the
window of his studio, it is said, Corot, after all were
asleep, would gaze far into the night upon the sky,
absorbed in its study, upon the silent pools of water and
the infinitesimal motion of the trees. Thus would the
dreamer gaze upon the world, encompassed by silence
and solitude. He would also study the landscape
from this window at the hours of morning and of
evening, gazing at the atmosphere during these magic
moments when it was charged with humidity and
impregnated with transparent mist rising above the
waters. These were the periods of his greatesr inspi
ration. Corot said: "I go out and visit Nature;
then I invite Nature into my studio. I go out to dream
of Nature; then I return to paint my dreams."
Daubigny's Home
Daubigny's first house at Auvers-sur-Oise was a
little thatched stone hut. It was near the bank of the
river Oise, on the outskirts of the woods. It was
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THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
known as the Poacher's Home, also as the Charcoal
Burner's Hut. Daubigny lived in it only the first
summer of his residence in the country, and the cabin
was torn down about 1902. This painting shows
grain shocks surrounding the house and in the neigh
boring woods.

Daubigny's First Studio
This is Daubigny's first studio home at Auvers-
sur-Oise. The studio is now rented every summer to
visiting painters, and it was here that Mr. Fournier
made his home while making the studies for his series
of Barbizon paintings. The Rue Daubigny is shown,
as well as the entrance to Villa des Vallees, the name
of Daubigny's establishment.

River Oise at Auvers (Facing page 70)
This painting of the beautiful river Oise shows
Daubigny's house-boat in the foreground. Never was
there a more famous boat of its size in all Europe.
Though only 35 feet long, it was large enough to float
down the river with its distinguished occupants,
Daubigny, Corot, Dupre, and others of the Barbizon
coterie. Laden with traps and canvases, the boat and
its masters would drift idly down the river on memora
ble journeys — unparalleled inland voyages. Elaborate
preparations would precede the departure, and the
peasants would be invited for a great picnic dinner be
fore the painters were off. Four men would sleep in
the little cabin of the boat, while four more would be
assigned to bunks in the tent on deck. Night and
day the painters would ply their brushes. Never in
history have there been any other such journeys of
famous men, characterized by such merry banter, such
69

THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
incessant toil. So attached was Daubigny to his
house-boat that he sunk it for a year during the
Franco-Prussian War, fearing that the Prussians would
molest it.
The painting shows the effect of landscape, and atmos
phere after a rain, with the skies still lowering, but
rent by patches of light. The village shown in the
background is Pontoise, the county seat.
In the Louvre are many etchings by Daubigny,
illustrating amusing incidents of the trips in the
house-boat. The boat was called the Bottin — called
thus in derision at first by the small boys of the
neighborhood .

Daubigny's Studio
Daubigny's studio has a plain exterior, and stands in
a pretty garden with a park-like wood. The main
studio is in the centre of a cluster of living-rooms.
The dining-room is curious and cozy, and the build
ings, interior walls and doors are decorated with
paintings of the masters of his time. There is a
unique bed-chamber in the house, decorated by Dau
bigny himself, with an ornate frieze showing toys and
things calculated to delight children's hearts. The
bed is canopied with a background of a painted
apple tree, nearly life-size, all in blossom, with birds
and birds'-nests, and the simple cot itself forming one
of the nests. This was made for the little daughter
of the painter. The studio, 30 by 40 feet in dimen
sions, is one of the most remarkable in the world, with
a huge fireplace having a bust of Daubigny over it.
The four walls are covered by paintings on canvas
designed by Corot and painted by Daubigny. The
silvery gray-greens of the paintings cast a shimmering
sheen throughout the remarkable room. These paint-
70

The River Oise at Auvers. Daubigny's
Houseboat in the Foreground
—Page 69

THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
ings are each about 24 by 30 feet in size, and are still
well preserved. The usual high, vine-clad stone
wall separates the studio from the picturesque street
named Rue Daubigny. At the entrance to the home
is a bronze plate bearing the inscription "Villa des
Vallees." The home is occupied by Bernard Dau
bigny and Mrs. Karl Daubigny, and by other rela
tives of the dead painter.

Daumier's Studio
The Daumier studio is occupied to-day by relatives of
Daubigny, to whom Mrs. Karl Daubigny gave Mr.
Fournier a note of introduction and by whom he was
made thoroughly welcome. The studio faces a sunken
garden, in which are massed pretty tangles of rose
bushes, vines, and other growths. The studio was
adapted from a building originally a barn. Here it
was that Corot found Daumier one day when it had
been reported to him that Daumier, old and blind, was
to be put out because of unpaid rent. Corot threw his
arms around his friend's neck and cried boyishly :
"Ah, my dear Daumier, this time we can defy them
to cast you out into the street, for I have bought the
place and here are the papers to prove it. I beg you
to accept this from me." And Daumier, feeble, and
deeply moved, replied: "Oh, it is you, Corot, my
dear boy. Well, yes, since it is you — and from only
you could I accept this without blushing."

Diaz's Studio (Facing page 44)
A tablet over the ornate gate of the elegant abode of
Diaz bears the following inscription: "NarcisseVirgile
Diaz de la Pena, Peintre, 1807-1876, Habita cette
Maison." The vine-clad house is now owned by a

71

THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
Belgian nobleman. Within the cool retreat inside
the outer wall, close to the moss-stained walls and
under the great trees, Mr. Fournier painted his picture.
There are trelisses, vine-clad gothic gables, an old
well, graveled walks, flowers in abundance, bits of
ancient sculpture here and there, an orderly sloping
lawn smooth as velvet and suggestive of old tapestry
in this mediaeval-like abode of the wealthy Diaz.
Everything about the place — its ornateness, its ele
gance, its ordered neatness — suggest Diaz, the Beau
Brummel of the Barbizon group of painters, this
handsome Spaniard who could not help reflecting the
color of his soul in his abode.
Dupre's Studio (Frontispiece)
Mr. Fournier's painting shows the Dupre studio as it
still stood in 1900 at 1'IsIe-Adam, with the fountain
monument erected to the master directly under his
window. The view from the studio window was won
derful, and furnished abundant inspiration and material
for the great landscapist. Skirting it was a common
where the villagers were accustomed to assemble, and
where the older men of the place played the game of
le boulle (bowling on the green) , and where jovial
audiences of old men would witness the sport as they
drank from their mugs of beer or cider and smoked
long-stemmed pipes. It is one of the most charming
localities in all France. The Dupre studio was a
spacious affair, and at the time this painting was made
it was about as the master had left it, with its easels
and its unfinished studies and canvases in evidence.
It was a sanctum in every sense of the word, and
Dupre was seldom visited there, save by the members
of his family and a few others when a new picture, on
which he had been working from ten to twelve years,
was completed. 72

THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
View from Dupre's Home
This view was painted several times by Dupre from
the window of his studio. The effect is that of
morning, after a rain. The view is a wonderfully
charming one, and the surrounding country boasts
none of equal beauty. The famous bridge, Le Pont du
Cabouillet, is shown. At one end of the bridge, cele
brated in French history, stands a monument to those
who fell in the memorable engagement at this spot.
Jacque's Studio
The home of the last of the Barbizon painters has
been improved somewhat since its master's death. It
has become a veritable establishment, with its elabo
rate driveway skirting the Forest of Fontainebleau.
It is a long, rambling villa-like house of timber and
cement and stone, painted in warm colors. The
lawn, gravel walks, and the flower-beds are kept in
charming state. Vines are everywhere. The visitor
pulls the bell-cord on the outside wall beside the
bronze-plate inscribed " Le Souvenir," and Mme.
Vannaisse, the owner, responds. She and her brother
enjoy their abode thoroughly — the home of Jacque,
Troyon, Camille Paris, Ziem, and Gassies. Jacque's
studio and that of Diaz are the two most elaborate
studios of the group.
Millet's Studio (Facing page 12)
Mr. Fournier has pictured for us Millet's home on a
winter evening. It was on such an evening that he
first saw it, and this first impression sank deeply into
his mind. The painting so truthfully reflects out of
the forbidding, wintry scene the hard lot of the man
that lived and toiled and suffered within the studio.
Everything about it is connotative in striking fashion
of Millet. Its theme pervades every inch of the can-
73

THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
vas : the hard lot of man who is born to toil with long
patience and to take up burdens wearily to be carried.
Witness the details of Mr. Fournier's painting — the
stern skies splashed by the light of the declining sun,
which serve only to throw into more startling relief the
landscape's gloom, the chilling pool of water in the
street, the cold sheet of snow on the roof, the cow
traveling tired up the street. The melancholy of the
scene is relieved only by the warm glow of light seen
in the window of the house. It is early candle-light,
and the family within are seated about the supper-
table. Yet, the effect of this cheering oblong of light
is so strategically strong that the melancholy of the en
tire picture is wrung into a very gentle melancholy.
Millet's home looked as it appears in the painting up
to the time of his death. It has been changed some
what since. Across the street stands the home of
Millet fits.
Pn just such a winter evening did Mr. Fournier and
a little band of intrepid painters arrive to paint Bar
bizon in the clutch of the cold.
Millet's Birthplace
This painting shows Millet's birthplace in Normandy,
in a little town named Gruchy, near Cherbourg. It
shows a long row of thatched houses in the austere
environs of the master's birthplace. The scene is at
twilight, a woman feeding geese, with chickens wan
dering about in the foreground.
The Door to Millet's Studio
Here we are shown the vine-covered wall of the
Millet studio and the little door that leads from the
garden into the studio. The picture was painted in
the garden. The enclosing walls are thickly matted
with tangling foliage, which is skilfully shown in
this painting.
74

Rousseau's Studio, Barbizon
— Page 75

THE HOMES OF THE MEN OF 1830
Millet's Country
This picture of Millet's country, showing sheep grazing,
and the shadows of late afternoon thrusting across the
landscape, is one of the brightest and most luminous
paintings in the group. Harpignies, Fournier's mas
ter, gave it the highest praise on a certain occasion,
lauding the quality which pervades it, its atmospheric
strength, the singular skill with which the little build
ing in the picture is thrown into the sunlight.
Rousseau's Studio (Facing page 75)
The studio of Theodore Rousseau is now the property
of Barbizon village. There is the customary wall, a
grilled iron gate, a court filled with paths and shrub
bery, roses, clematis, and grape-vines. There are two
buildings, one the house and studio, the other the
chapel building. Back of these is the garden, and then
the plains and fields stretching flatly away to the hori
zon. The studio, above the living rooms and reached
by a winding stairway, is rented each summer to some
visiting artist. The sky-light is shown in Mr.
Fournier's painting. The door shown in the painting
leads to the living-room, the scene of many stirring
seances in Barbizon days. It was known as The Club,
and giant logs blazed on its hearth, splashing light
into the faces of famous men. It was in this room
that Rousseau died, and that Vallardi, a friend of
Rousseau's, took his life by stabbing himself in the
heart with Mme. Rousseau's scissors, and barely es
caped setting fire to the house by upsetting a candle.
The building which is now the chapel was once a
barn, and was then turned into a studio-like affair by
Rousseau and used as a place of exhibition for his pic
tures. The chapel is simple, and contains a small
altar, bits of church sculpture, and a large lithograph
signed by Millet, presented by Mme. Millet.
75

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