_J. B. C. Corot_ (French: 1796-1875).
Corot is one of those original painters who bring new aspects
of nature and modes of beauty into ken. He is usually classed
with the Barbizon School (see p. 691), but he stands alone with
a peculiarly subtle and individual note of his own. "Rousseau,"
he once said, "is an eagle; I am only a lark." His mood, though
often tinged with melancholy, is tender, and delicate; what he
loved was not the grandiose in form or colour, but rather all
that was glimmering, uncertain, evanescent--such as the "shade
by the light quivering aspen made," or delicate effects, at
early dawn, or in moonlight. To read his letter on "the day of
a landscapist"[260] is the best introduction to his art. "One
rises early, at three o'clock in the morning before the sun is
up, one goes and sits down at the foot of a tree, one looks and
waits; he does not see much at first. Nature resembles a white
tablecloth, where he can hardly distinguish the profiles of
some of the masses. Everything is scented, everything trembles
with the fresh breeze of the dawn." And then, again, when the
sun has set: "Bien! bien! twilight commences. There is now
in the sky only that soft vaporous colour of pale citron.
One is losing sight of everything, but one still feels that
everything is there. The birds, those voices of the flowers,
say their evening prayer, the dew scatters pearls upon the
grass, the nymphs fly ... everything is again darkened; the
pond alone glitters. Good, there is my picture completed." It
was only gradually that Corot reached the style upon which
his fame rests. He was born in Paris of humble parents, and
served for some years in a draper's shop. He was twenty-two
before he was able to follow his artistic bent. He made the
usual classical tour to Italy, and it was not till 1843 that
he began to reveal the characteristic charm which he had found
in French landscape. He painted what few eyes are wont to see
and had to create the taste by which he was to be admired. But
affluence came to him, and he gave as readily as he received.
Many stories are told of his benevolence, and the love which he
inspired is recorded in the title, "le père Corot," by which
he was called. As a mark of their esteem his fellow-artists
presented him with a gold medal shortly before his death. His
last words were characteristic of his art and his life. It was
his practice to sketch early and late in the open air, dreaming
his pictures as he studied, and to "paint his dreams" in the
studio. "Last night," he said as he lay on his death-bed,
"I saw in a dream a landscape with a rosy sky; it will be
marvellous to paint." He was seen to draw in the air with his
fingers. "_Mon Dieu_" he said, "how beautiful that is; the most
beautiful landscape I have ever seen." His old housekeeper
offered to bring him his breakfast. He smiled and said, "To-day
Père Corot will breakfast above."
This little picture is characteristic of one of Corot's tastes. "He
loved," we are told, "water in indetermined clearness and in the
shining glance of light, leaving it here in shadow and touching it
there with brightness. He loved morning before sunrise, when the white
mists hover over pools like a light veil of gauze; he had a passion for
evening which was almost greater; he loved the softer vapours which
gather in the gloom." (Muther.) The picture was painted in 1871, and
was purchased by Fantin-Latour at the posthumous sale of Corot's works.