CONCLUSION
Temperament of Montmartre and her Free Lances--Plea
for a National Gallery of Black and White Art Pp. 81–83
I
A. STEINLEN
There is no modern illustrator whose work has more completely won the
admiration of his fellows of the brush, whatever their predilection in
art, than Steinlen. Be the studio in Paris, in London, in Munich, be it
even in Timbuctoo, from some discreet corner will be drawn a treasured
copy or two of _Gil Blas Illustré_ illustrated by Steinlen--forthwith
to be discussed, and as surely lauded without stint.
This is not to imply that Steinlen is what is termed “a painter’s
painter” and nothing more; for the artist we are now considering is
one of the few who are sufficiently great to have captured the warmest
appreciation from the public at large, as well as from the critical
ranks of his fellow workers.
[Illustration]
The “painters’ painter” is, as a rule, if nothing else, a master of
technique, one whose work shows on the face of it the sheer joy
evinced in the skilful manipulation of the medium employed--the
exceptions to this rule being the men whose work reflects some subtle
or involved workings of the brain, and whose great thoughts are felt
to outweigh the shortcomings of faulty technique. They are of course
styled “painters’ painters” because their work appeals to artists and
other highly trained critics; and it is useless to expect any but the
most sensitive among the public to appreciate them. In smoothness
and “softness” consists the acme of technical perfection in the eyes
of the untrained, who, as regards figure subjects, prefer something
which appears to the artist to be inane and common-place, and as
regards landscape subjects, insipid prettiness is always preferred to
greatness or originality of view. In either case an excess of detail is
a “sine quâ non,” and such _plébiscites_ as have been taken in England
have almost invariably proved that the inferior painters are the most
popular.
Yet, occasionally a great artist arises who will upset these canons,
and compel the admiration of connoisseur and public alike; such an one
is Steinlen.
Just as it may be presumed that J. F. Millet’s popularity extends to
all classes, so is it certain that the “Millet of the streets” will be
equally widely and lastingly appreciated.
The pioneer work that Millet did in interpreting the toilsome
life of the French peasantry has been extended by Steinlen to the
denizens--reputable and disreputable--of the nearer suburbs of Paris.
Born in Lausanne, he was trained for the church; and we may feel sure
that had he joined that profession he would have been a forcible
advocate of the poor and the ill-favoured, and that his blunt honesty
of diction would have dealt his congregation some rude shocks indeed.
This was not to be, however, for the art in the man would out. In
1882 he journeyed to Paris; there to undergo much privation and many
hardships before getting a foothold in the form of a drawing accepted
by the paper _Le Chat Noir_, which was to prove the first rung on his
ladder to fame.
[Illustration]
Rudolph Salis’ artistic _cabaret_ of the “Black Cat” was the editorial
office of this paper, and at the same time a centre of all that was
Bohemian and daring and go-ahead, a forcing ground of impatient
talent. These first notable studies by Steinlen were of cats and of
children. It was here that our artist met the authors whose work he
was later to illustrate; more particularly he struck up a friendship
with that fierce poet _cabaretier_, Aristide Bruant, whose powerful
and terror-striking poems dealt with the very world that interested
Steinlen to the quick, and provided him with the stimulus for many of
his finest drawings. They both show us the, to us, shabby joys of the
_faubouriens_, and their terrible struggles with one another and with
Dame Fortune.
Steinlen’s field of labour has been in the so-called eccentric
quarters of Paris--that is to say, on that soiled fringe of nondescript
outlying districts of the _Ville Lumière_, which is separated from the
city proper by the circlet of shabby-genteel exterior boulevards. Many
of these suburbs were at one time peaceful, outlying villages; but they
have now been swallowed, and more or less thoroughly digested, by the
metropolis. Thus it comes that many of them consist of a queer mixture
of humble rustic abodes jostling against towering blocks of tenement
buildings, or busy factories for ever being pressed outwards by the
expanding city.
No less incongruous than these streets are their inhabitants,--chiefly
composed of armies upon armies of toiling workers, while there is
nevertheless an effervescing sediment or substratum of those who live
by violence and crime. The less successful of those who trade on the
weaknesses and follies of a vicious city are forced by circumstances to
live in these cheaper suburbs, just as are the poorest of the honest
classes; and this is so despite the fact that throughout Paris the
upper stories of all flats are occupied by the lower, or at any rate
the poorer, classes.
Curiosity, and a search for novel experiences wherewith to whet their
jaded appetites, brought numbers of roysterers of a higher social
grade to the places of amusement affected by this poverty-stricken
and criminal population. These same humble places of amusement, more
particularly round and about Montmartre rapidly flourished out of all
recognition of their former selves, and until the recent waning of the
craze others were frequently being added to the list. This influx added
to the complex character of such neighbourhoods. Artists, authors, and
other persons of more or less Bohemian tastes, many of them men of
great renown and genius, have ever found their home on the commanding
heights of the Montmartre cliff.
[Illustration]
Among them Steinlen has settled, perched high over the myriad
glittering roofs and towers and domes of Paris, which lies seething
far below. The roar and clatter of the great city reach his window but
fitfully, as the sounds are hurried hither and thither on the wings
of wayward breezes, the while great stretches of urban landscape are
plunged into purple shadow or bathed in golden sunlight as the fleeting
clouds chase one another across the great dome of sky.
Most of the artists to be referred to in this little volume are
intimately connected with this same breezy, turbulent suburb, and
also with the before-mentioned “Chat Noir”. This _cabaret_, founded
and carried on by Salis, himself an artist, for years attracted _le
tout Paris_ by means of its _réunions_ of the most up-to-date artists,
authors, and actors, and its unique theatre. Along with its sprightly,
risky weekly paper it would form matter for a weighty volume of itself.
The students from the _Quartier Latin_, moreover, came to share
their joyous, reckless hours of leisure between their own beloved
neighbourhood of the _Boul’ Mich’_, and the far-away Mount of the
Windmills--Montmartre.
Peasants, workgirls, the starving, the insane, the destitute, those
who are fighting misery and those who are making it, garrotters,
thieves, murderers, and a large assortment of parasitical ruffians as
well, have all found a sympathetic student and recorder in Steinlen.
He understands them, he has a big heart, and he pities them all, and
what is more he makes us, willy-nilly, pity them also. He delights in
showing us that one little touch of remaining nature that makes the
whole world akin, and will out in his most abandoned wretch. He makes
us feel that his criminals are what nature and cruel circumstances
have led them to be. Never does he descend to the narrow-minded,
short-sighted, spiteful views of current events, discernible in the
work of so many of his talented _confrères_. The firm tenderness of his
nature reveals itself in the very lines of his drawings, which, as if
to counterbalance the brilliant vivacity of the work of so many French
illustrators, display a sturdy thoroughness and sanity.
A notable feature about his work is that--although he depicts the most
depraved and immoral, as well as the most poverty-stricken of his
fellow citizens--it cannot be said to be low or vulgar.
His drawings of simple peasant life have all the air of having been
undertaken as a relaxation from the contemplation of more lurid
subjects. He sallies forth among his chance models, sketch-book in
hand, ready to put down notes of salient features and expressive poses,
later to be incorporated in the wonderfully complete drawings which are
shown to the public.
Steinlen is a prolific worker. First in importance among the many
publications whose pages he has enriched comes the _Gil Blas Illustré_.
It was Steinlen who initiated the idea of this Paris daily paper
issuing a halfpenny supplement on Sundays containing feuilletons
and poetry, illustrated with drawings to be reproduced in two or
more colours. Since the year 1891, and until recently, the front
and frequently other pages of this paper have consisted of splendid
drawings by him, as a rule depicting some terrible or pathetic episode
in the lives of the _faubouriens_ or _faubouriennes_ to whom we have
already alluded. In every case a background, equally masterly and full
of local character, has been introduced. This series of essentially
modern subjects was occasionally varied by the appearance of a drawing
such as the _Chevalier à la Fée_ or _Les Digitales_, inspired by
some mediæval incident or legend. These Steinlen would treat in an
entirely different but equally successful manner--the style employed
somewhat resembling that of another masterly designer, namely, Eugène
Grasset. Of his more usual style to pick out such splendid drawings
as his suicide in _À l’eau_, the terrible street fight in the _Voix
du Sang_ or _Le Vagabond_, _L’Immolation_, _Pour les Amoureux et pour
les Oiseaux_, _Marchand de Marrons_ or _14 Juillet_, is but to recall
hundreds of others equally worthy of special attention.
In 1895 the _Gil Blas_ employed more colours in its reproductions,
and Steinlen rose to the occasion with some daring colour schemes
exemplified in _La Terre Chante au Crépuscule_, _Le Poil de Carotte_
and many another drawing. Towards 1896 the range of his subjects
noticeably widened.
Among other publications to which he has contributed one recalls _Le
Chambard_, in which appeared splendid lithographs from his own hand,
_La Feuille_, _L’Assiette au Beurre_, _La Vie en Rose_, _Le Canard
Sauvage_, etc. In the following music albums will be found some further
superb lithographs by Steinlen, namely, _Chanson de Montmartre_,
_Chansons du Quartier Latin_, and _Chanson de Femmes_. Among the books
he has illustrated are: _Les Gaitès Bourgeois_, _Prison fin de Siècle_,
_Dans la Rue_, and _Dans la Vie_--the latter in colour.
Description of a few of his notable drawings, culled here and there,
may help us to a better understanding of their quality.
First, then, he shows us the gallery of some dark, putrid Assembly
Hall; the air is thick with garlic, and oaths, and gas, whose garish
light illuminates a disreputable mob of frenzied anarchists, who
are applauding with delirious gusto the sentiments of “Down with
everything,” “Death to every one.”
[Illustration: STEINLEN
REVOLUTION
(_Lithographed Poster_)]
Next we are taken to some dull, superstitious Breton hamlet; a blind
and crippled tramp has arrived, hobbling through on crutches. We feel
that his infirmities have hardly saved him from a career of violence.
We can almost hear his raucous appeal for alms, as it falls on the
ears of a group of simple village children, pitying, yet more than
half-fearing, the uncanny stranger--just as they did the chained
bear that passed through a week before.
Less gruesome is a great healthy farmer’s lass, surrounded by cocks
and hens and clattering her wooden shoon across the cobbled farmyard;
or the two fresh little laundry girls, swinging along laden with three
great baskets of clean linen. “Look out! there’s another of those
beastly bicycles,” says one of them; “and on Sunday too,” comments the
other.
Then again there are idyllic scenes on the sordid Paris fortifications,
or yet further afield. _Trompe la Mort_ shows us a crowd of humble
folk scandal-mongering in hushed tones, their tittle-tattle provoked
to its utmost by the climax indicated in the background by a sombre
hearse. Another drawing transports us to the midst of a crowd in
quite a different frame of mind. A hue and cry has been raised, and
an infuriated mob is tearing down the street at the heels of its
hapless prey. Next we see one of the many drawings dealing with a side
of life which in less safe hands might be offensive. An unctuous old
harpy waylays two fresh little workgirls, and insidiously lays the
seeds which, to her profit, shall lead to their downfall. Steinlen
occasionally, if rarely, makes drawings of which humour is the motive
power. Among these I recall a café-concert study of his. Yvette
Guilbert, at that time as thin as a lath, holds the stage, and among
the audience is a great, porpoise-like woman who says, threateningly
to her poor, inoffensive little wisp of a husband--“Perhaps that’s your
style.... Satyr.”
One of his most charming drawings reproduced in colour in _Le Rire_ is
called “le bon Gîte.” The hapless Krüger, all war stained, is seated in
some peaceful Dutch cottage, where Queen Wilhelmina, as an awe-struck
peasant lassie, fills for him the pipe of peace, the while her martial
German husband eagerly engages the old man in fighting his battles over
again.
Nor can we forget the splendid double-page drawing that appeared in
_L’Assiette au Beurre_ for May 23, 1901. Here we see a big boy’s
seminary, representing the French army of the future, the hope of
the country, going out for its daily walk in charge of a number of
priests--every one of them a monument of craftiness, superstition or
bigoted intolerance, thus representing the power that poisoned a great
nation’s sense of justice during the hateful period of the Dreyfus
trials.
Then again in the same paper for June 27, 1901, appears among others
one of his most notable drawing, a veritable _tour de force_,
representing the harrowing scene of the identification of corpses after
the dynamite explosion at Issy.
It is interesting to compare such powerful work as this with one
of his earliest successes, namely the illustrations to _Les Gaitès
Bourgeoises_, a set of _chic_ and delicate little pen-drawings instinct
with humour and gaiety.
Steinlen is a giant in the artistic poster movement. Some of his
productions were lithographs in colour of enormous size, each printed
from as many as thirty different lithographic stones. Here and there
a poster would give him the opportunity to introduce some of the
marvellous drawings of cats for which he is so justly renowned; and in
this connection we cannot forbear mentioning two splendid drawings of
cocks which appeared in the earlier numbers of _Cocorico_, as well as
some wonderfully spirited comic drawings of frogs in a volume entitled
“Entrée de Clowns.”
Those who keep an eye on the picture galleries of the Paris streets can
never forget, so splendid was their design and colouring, Steinlen’s
great posters for _La Rue_, or the equally long and fresco-like groups
of realistic Parisian types advertising the “Affiches Charles Verneau.”
Then, who does not love the “Lait Pur Sterilisé” poster with its
golden-haired little girl in scarlet drinking out of a saucer, while
three inimitable cats beg at her knee. His poster for Zola’s “Paris”
was a poem in itself; and in the “Tournée du Chat Noir” the noble beast
concerned is treated to a glory of decoration. Then there are his
daring “La Feuille” poster, his “Yvette Guilbert,” and many another,
not to mention programme covers and such smaller game.
Finally, Steinlen has produced charming etchings, both in colour
and in black and white, and such splendid oil paintings as _Les
Blanchisseuses_.
[Illustration: STEINLEN
_Gil Blas Illustré_
EN PROMENADE
(_Pen drawing_)]
II
CARAN D’ACHE
Emmanuel Poiré, better known by his Russian pseudonym of Caran d’Ache
(pencil), is a public benefactor, in that he has considerably added
to the gaiety of nations; and if it be true that one laughs and grows
fat, then he must also be responsible for much of the extra weight that
those nations carry with them.
The man upon whom one may count to make one merry is sure to be
popular. Caran d’Ache, as we have already hinted, has made whole
nations merry, and he is a popular favourite. It is true that sometimes
his own infectious laughter is cynical, or spiteful, or cruel to a
minority, but he always has the majority to laugh with him, and follow
him in his pictured tirades--be they well-considered or ill-considered.
But, after all, that is perhaps a matter of politics, or nationality,
or religion, or what not; and the fact remains that his drawings are
irresistibly humorous, and are always excellent works of art.
Caran d’Ache was born in Moscow, of French parents, but when twenty
years of age he came to Paris, where his innate talent soon evinced
itself.
While undergoing his military service in the early eighties his
unquenchable passion for drawing was put by the authorities to their
practical use, in making studies of past and current military uniforms
for the War Office. The costumes of the glorious Napoleonic era and of
Germany were made a speciality, and the knowledge thus acquired was
carefully retained by the young artist, and served him in good stead in
his later years.
Caran d’Ache, like every thorough-going Frenchman, preserves his love
for the army, incidents in whose life he is never tired of depicting
with that spirited brilliance we have come to know so well. And the
military officer’s smartness of bearing has stuck to him, for he is
recognised as an “_ultra chic_”,--a very dandy among the illustrators,
and an eccentric one at that. Yet at the same time he refuses to
associate himself with the smart set in Paris; he has too much of the
artist temperament for that.
He was early attracted to the “Chat Noir” on the Butte of Montmartre,
and Rudolph Salis--that keen exploiter or genial art patron, which
you will--was not long in appreciating the talent of his client. Soon
we hear of him achieving an artistic triumph with his astoundingly
perfect shadow pantomime, _L’Epopée_, at the little “Chat Noir”
Theatre. Caran d’Ache had spared no trouble to make his silhouettes and
the effects in which they were set as perfect as possible. No greater
pains could have been taken preliminary to the painting of a series of
Salon pictures; and he reaped fame as his reward.
“_L’Epopée_” dealt with Napoleon’s succession of military triumphs.
Opportunity was thus early given to M. Poiré to display his astonishing
knowledge of the horse in all its varied attitudes.
The horse he delights and excels in is a magnificent, proud,
high-mettled beast, whom he puts at some breakneck charge, or causes to
career about in high-strung excitement. Caran d’Ache’s army horses are
not surpassed even by those of such acknowledged masters as Meissonier
and Détaille. _The Studio_ published some splendid equine studies of
his a year or so ago, which must have been a revelation to those who
had previously looked on Caran d’Ache as a comic artist and nothing
more.
His drawings have been produced in innumerable papers, magazines,
and books, and are for ever being re-reproduced abroad. Collections
of his caricatures have been published as “L’Album Caran-d’-Ache,”
“Bric-a-Brac,” “Le Carnet de Cheques,” “La Comédie du Jour,” “Les
Courses dans l’Antiquité,” “Fantaisies,” “Galérie Comique,” “Les
Peintres chez-eux,” apart from his illustrations to “C’est à prendre
ou à laisser,” “Prince Kozakokoff,” “Malbrough,” &c. More recently
“L’Album” published a selection of his works, including some drawings
done in a bolder style than that which he generally produces for
reproduction,--such are the _Battery of Dreadnoughts_, bold and grim,
and the splendid _Charge_. In the drawing of himself there is a good
specimen of those caricature portraits for which he is so renowned.
His work appeared in the pages of _Tout Paris_, _La Vie Moderne_, _La
Revue Illustrée_, and _Le Chat Noir_, &c.; superb military sketches
came out in _La Caricature_; and every week he carries on a running
fire of pencilled commentary in _Le Journal_, and _Le Figaro_,
contributing at the same time to _Le Canard Sauvage_, and _Le Rire_.
A special number of the latter paper entitled _Tactique et Stratégie_
consisted of a short series of vigorous military cartoons, representing
various epochs, drawn on a large scale, and some of them reproduced in
colours.
However, it is by his stories without words that Caran d’Ache has
attracted most attention, and, it must be confessed, they are simply
captivating. Comic stories have been told by the same means in Germany
for half a century or more, but Caran d’Ache is credited with having
introduced the progressive drawing into France.
Caran d’Ache’s little tales need not a syllable of explanation. All is
told by the subtlest of alterations in the expressions on the faces
of his figures, in the movements of their bodies, or of other animated
or inanimate bodies; there is never any mistaking the gist of a Caran
d’Ache story. His attention to detail is marvellous, yet everything
takes its right place, and the venue is never confused.
[Illustration: “THE COMBAT”]
Nothing could better than--say--the set of thirty-eight drawings
entitled _M. Toutbeau catches the 5.17 a.m. Express_. We trace the
dear, fat old fellow through all his agony. He is asleep. He wakes in
a perspiration of fright--ten to five--on with them--that accursed
tight boot--almost forgot to wash--tie--good gracious, seven to--hallo,
there goes a button--_Palsembleu!_--5 o’clock--hair done--now for my
coat--I shall never do it! And so on, through all the terrors of hasty
packing, ringings for the servant, getting, discussing and paying the
hotel bill--umbrella left behind and recovered at the last moment--the
dash into a crawling cab--and then Mr. Toutbeau is seen beaming in his
first-class railway carriage.
Who does not know the _Great Expectations_ set, wherein the expectant
nephew, to his joy, is telegraphed for by his dying uncle; and how the
latter miraculously gets stronger and plumper day by day, just as the
erstwhile buoyant and vigorous nephew’s growing disappointment drags
him visibly nearer and nearer to an untimely grave.
Then there is the little set of three _Shooting Impressions of my
Friend Marius_, who presumably hails from the _Midi_. First he is in
the North of France with his gun and his dog--nothing in sight, _no
game at all_! Next he is in the Midlands, both man and dog are happier,
_There’s just a little_, and a bird has been bagged. Lastly, he’s in
his beloved and romantic _Midi_ and _there’s too much_; there’s no room
to walk for the game; they press round and caress the bloodthirsty
Marius, a hare is making up to the dog, and one confiding game bird has
brought its nest of young and actually settled with them on the gun
barrel!
Another splendid set is that of _The Finest Conquest of Man_, wherein
is traced the marvellous horsemanship of a swell, who, with the
greatest of ease and suavity, completely subdues a very demon of a
horse.
But we could proceed thus _ad infinitum_ and yet never give an idea of
the wonderful spirit of the drawings, which must be seen to be loved.
Most of them are executed with a thin, very precise and sensitive line.
How successfully he can manage bold masses when necessary we can judge
by his excellent Cossack poster for the “Exposition Russe,” or in those
used to advertise the exhibition of his own works at the Fine Art
Society, London, in 1898.
III
H. DE TOULOUSE LAUTREC
Lautrec is one of those artists whose work is so uneven and out of the
ordinary, that opinions as to its merits or demerits will ever remain
as strongly divided now that he is gone, as ever they were during his
lifetime. His short life work consists of a mixed series of talented
absurdities, and of veritable _tours de force_. His genius, alas! was
of the species that borders on insanity. Occasionally the border was
overstepped.
In more ways than one Aubrey Beardsley’s short life may be compared to
that of Lautrec. His genius was of a similar order, and as one examines
his work, so will one be inclined first to call him an unwholesome
incompetent, and next feel convinced that he is a pioneer artist of the
first rank.
Lautrec’s life story is a very pathetic one. With him in 1901 was
extinguished the last remnant of an ancient line of nobles. His father
was an amateur sculptor and painter, who was extremely fond of sport.
The family came to live in Paris in 1883. The artist son was a dwarf,
and after fighting hard against his handicap, and cheerfully entering
the ring to tilt successfully for fame, his mind gave way, and he died
at an early age in his father’s castle at Albi, after having been
confined in a private asylum.
Lautrec’s student days were passed in Paris at Cormon’s _atelier_.
His work done from the life in the studio did not hold out any
great promise of later achievement; but, as is often the case, the
untrammelled work he did outside was recognised at once as being out
of the ordinary, and frequently of great merit. He would bring to
the studio to show his comrades very clever sketches of types he had
encountered during his rambles along the Boulevards. Indeed, Lautrec
occasionally asserted with some bitterness in after days that it was
these studies that had inspired Steinlen to make the character-drawings
through which he had become famous--Steinlen having previously made
cats and children his chief study.
However this may be, one has not much patience with such claims.
Real plagiarism is a detestable thing, but surely there is room for
more than one artist in the field of the life of the poor, or of the
amusements of a huge city like Paris, without being suspected of that
offence. In any case Steinlen has treated his subject as no one else
has done, or probably could do.
Lautrec was deservedly popular with his fellow students; his
excellent wit, delivered in a strident voice, and punctuated with the
gesticulations of a pair of extraordinarily short arms, always proved
entertaining to those in the midst of whose company he happened to be.
His best work is probably to be found amongst his posters and
portraits. His illustrations, except in his earliest work, as seen in
_Paris Illustré_, more frequently show those crude vagaries of form and
colour, which would point to an unevenly balanced judgment.
That Anquetin’s drawings strongly influenced Lautrec’s work is evident,
while Raffaëlli, Degas and Renoir were his particular gods in art.
Whether Ibels influenced him, or _vice versâ_, it is difficult to
judge; but in any case there is a remarkable similarity in the aims and
peculiarities of their art.
[Illustration: DE TOULOUSE LAUTREC
_Paris--Collection Bernheim_
AT THE MOULIN ROUGE
(_Oil-Painting_)]
There is a magnificent poster of the poet-saloon-keeper, Aristide
Bruant, by Lautrec, which alone would have been sufficient to place
him high among modern artists. Bruant in a large soft hat and wrapped
in a cloak of a gorgeous subdued blue, moves with vivid energy across
the sheet. His strong face, printed in grey, is wonderfully rendered
with a few telling strokes. Little less attractive is his Bruant at
the Ambassadeurs Music Hall. These are but two of many fine posters,
done since his first essay in 1888, to advertise the stars of that
peculiar firmament of the Cafés Chantants, to which Lautrec was drawn
as a moth to the flame.
[Illustration]
He lithographed posters of Cissy Loftus, of the beautiful Anna Held,
_La Goulue_ the dancer of the Moulin Rouge, and May Belfort; and being
particularly attracted by the picturesque possibilities of Yvette
Guilbert, with her then lithe figure and inevitable long black gloves,
he introduces her into many of his works. Then there is a remarkable
poster advertising _Babylone d’Allemagne_, and a yet more striking
one for _La Vache Enragée_, where we see a mad cow charging an old
coloured dandy down a street. There is also the startling advertisement
for “_L’artisan moderne_,” and the truly terrible “At the Foot of the
Scaffold.” Apart from these there are his posters “in little,” and
programme-covers, such as those for _Le Missionaire_ and _L’Argent_.
The very peculiarities and incomprehensibilities inherent in Lautrec’s
work were sure to arrest attention, and demand that scrutiny which is
of the very essence of the successful poster. In every one of Lautrec’s
poster designs there is something strikingly unusual. Very rarely is a
figure drawn in its entirety; the margin cuts off part of it, otherwise
the design would have been too conventional for him.
The artiste Caudieux zig-zags across a stage seen in violent
perspective, while down in a corner is a worried member of the
orchestra studying the coming bars. Caudieux’s head is full of life and
pent-up strength, and the whole movement of this quaintly placed figure
is striking in the extreme.
Jane Avril’s poster shows an anæmic-looking artiste doing a high kick
on the stage. The foreground is occupied by a monster hand holding the
head of a ’cello in the orchestra.
The poster for the _Divan Japonais_, on the other hand, shows us
a lady and gentleman in the audience listening to a singer on the
stage, behind an orchestra. Of the singer we see monster black gloves,
and everything but the head; of the orchestra we are shown two
’cello heads, and, of the conductor, the arms alone. The lady in the
foreground--who looks as though she always turned night into day--is
wonderfully depicted, as is her companion, the dissipated, bearded
swell. Perhaps his most graceful work in the poster line is that
advertising _Elles_.
Finally in the poster for _La Gitane_, an unsavoury actress, arms
akimbo, who comes right out of the design in the left hand foreground,
smiles over her shoulder at the bold bad brigand who strides, in
shadow, out of the poster at the top right hand corner. In all these
and his other posters the lettering is bold and legible.
Lautrec’s studies in the music halls are uncompromising in their
garishness; he apparently does not attempt to seek beauty where it
exists in such small quantities, or has been so carefully hidden. He
delights in the flare and glare, the powder and paint, the discords
and the inconsistencies of the thing. He prefers the raucous screech
of the bold-faced jig, whose reputation as a songstress rests on her
fine limbs, to the exquisite song of the highly-trained opera singer.
He would reject gold in favour of tinsel. Yet this same man in another
mood would paint a splendid and refined portrait.
Then there is Lona Barrison, jauntily leading her white horse out of
the ring, followed by her manager with the pale chrome hair and beard;
and then the hideous negro--“Chocolat dancing in a bar.” All of these
figures, despite their faulty drawing and their element of caricature,
carry conviction with them.
Lautrec’s travels in Spain, in England, Holland, and Belgium seem
to have left little impression on his work. It is probable that the
unhealthy surroundings and late hours imposed by his studies in
café-concerts, in green-rooms, in libertine ballrooms and worse,
hastened the end of that frail, feverish life--a life like that of a
gaudily coloured rocket, brilliant and soon spent.
In his later years he had evinced a great attraction towards the
repulsive and the gruesome, and took a pleasure in seeing medical
operations performed. Curiously enough, his studio window overlooked a
cemetery.
[Illustration:
_By De Toulouse Lautrec_
YVETTE GUILBERT]
IV
PAUL BALLURIAU
Balluriau is best known as the artist who has supplemented Steinlen’s
realism in the pages of the _Gil Blas Illustré_ with drawings full of
fancy and imagination. Just as we shall call Morin the Watteau, so he
may be styled the Boucher of the modern French press.
His work, however, has not been confined to the pages of _Gil Blas_,
for his gay and irresponsible (we had almost said reckless and
unfettered) sketches have been noticeable in many another journal
of far less steady gait. Nor has he restricted himself entirely to
allegorical or eighteenth-century pastoral subjects. Occasionally he
bursts forth as a strong modern realist, walking sturdily in Steinlen’s
steps.
Balluriau has that thorough knowledge of the human figure which enables
him to draw it with freedom and certainty, and makes him a painter of
classical allegories _par excellence_. Further, he has a broad, open
style, and a very charming and delicate sense of colour. His favourite
medium is apparently the chalk point, which he handles vigorously;
occasionally, however, he varies his method by using pen and ink.
For ten years past his brilliant work has graced the pages of _Gil Blas
Illustré_. He is essentially the artist of lovers; and no better choice
of an illustrator for that paper’s series, “Les Poètes de l’Amour,”
than that of Paul Balluriau could have been made.
To judge by these illustrations Cupid has handed over all the resultant
knowledge of his long experience to Balluriau; for there is very little
about the outward signs of love and passion which he has not carefully
noted, thereafter to render in his drawings. From the first shy gesture
to the tender murmur of adoration, and thence, through the whole gamut,
to the frenzied passion of uncontrollable love--we find the recording
crayon of Balluriau to be ever present.
The settings in which he places his graceful lovers, his Bacchanalian
dances, his fauns and his nymphs, are suitably idyllic and beautiful.
Innumerable are the backgrounds of fair lawns shaded by great trees, of
lovely bowers, and of secluded nooks in some great park in Dreamland.
Perhaps there is some serio-comic difficulty to be settled, and we see
two charming little ladies, in high powdered coiffures and bared to
the waist, fighting a duel with swords under the trees. Or perhaps it
is twilight, and some deep and placid stream murmuring beneath the
darkling trees carries on its bosom a fairy bark and its cargo of love.
Then it is the mysterious hour of moonrise, and in the shadow of the
garden wall, which climbs serpent-like up hill and down dale, we shall
find our lovers serenely happy, but hushed by the beauty of the waking
night.
Frequently Balluriau will carry us back to a century of delicate
silks and satins; and in the broad sunlight will show a band of
amorous _beaux_ and _belles_, full of the _joie de vivre_, and about
to start a game of blind man’s buff. His figures live within their
old-time costumes; he draws handsome men and beautiful women, for
the ugly or the grotesque rarely attract him. But he has proved in
such charming works as his “Printemps,” and many others, that he also
finds in the lovers of to-day sufficient beauty to include them in
his _répertoire_. The embrace of the sentimental young student in the
felt hat and caped overcoat, who has just met the darling of his heart
in the Bois de Boulogne, is every whit as tender and graceful as is
that of the perruqued _galant_ of the eighteenth century, arrayed in
pink satins, who, behind a sculptured satyr, has stolen a kiss from
his coy and dainty partner in the last minuet on the sward. Look, in
his illustration to “Badinage Sentimental,” how natural is the whole
scene, how easy the pose, and how charming the face of the little
_Parisienne_, who listens, half fearing the ardent words of the young
exquisite who is stealing a conversation with her.
Balluriau also knows how to deal with subjects requiring more vigour
of treatment--such as he displays in his Breton figure subjects. His
drawing _Partance_ is a case in point. The scene is laid in a sailors’
_cabaret_, on the tiled floor are rough tables, at and on which sit
peaceful groups of Breton peasants; and sailor-men and buxom _bonnes_
are bidding each other their last adieux--for the sailors are about to
embark in one of the ships we see through the wide-open window.
And in the rare drawings where he touches on poverty and serious
tragedy he proves himself impressive and capable of deep feeling.
His drawings _La Toussaint Héroïque_, the terrible beer-house brawl,
_L’Été_, and _Un Mendiant Rousse_, are worthy of Steinlen.
But it is in his illustrations of classical and allegorical subjects
that he stands alone, and shows his greatest individuality.
Such subjects as his _Bacchantes_, his weird _Vers le Sabbat_, his
_Chloé_, or his _La Mort des Lys_, to mention but a few in the _Gil
Blas_ alone, could have come from no other hand; for excellency of
draughtsmanship combined with trained composition and an exquisitely
refined sense of colour, they are hard to beat.
[Illustration: A. WILLETTE
_Courrier Français_
“MIMI PINSON, TU IRAS EN PARADIS!”]
V
FRÉDÉRIC VALLOTTON
Vallotton’s work has probably appeared less frequently in the French
press than that of many of his _confrères_ to whom we are directing our
attention.
His drawings are marked by a singular boldness of execution; and
his skilful manipulation of masses of pure black gives his work
distinction, and makes them attractive on any page.
Good draughtsmanship, and this clever use of unbroken black
masses--wherewith to indicate and model both his shadows and his
half-tones--is wherein Vallotton struck out a new line for himself,
and established his individuality. This he did, too, at a time when
there was a lamentable aberration evident among the ranks of the French
illustrators. It became the fashion for the comic draughtsmen to draw
as though they could not draw--a proceeding which provided a grand
opportunity for those who could not draw if they would to join their
ranks on even terms, and to pass as geniuses of a very _spirituel_
order.
The irritating group to whom I refer, in its frantic efforts to
be original, hit on the idea of drawing with the _naïveté_ of the
untutored child; and this _rôle_ was for several years acted so
thoroughly that some of the papers looked as if their illustrations had
been copied from a collection of babies’ slates. Terrible examples of
this evident incapability passing muster as genius may be seen in the
ludicrous discords by “Bob,” and, in a less degree, in the many works
by Dépaquit, Delaw, Rabier and others.
Midway between this group of _soi-disant_ or actual incompetents, and
the valiant band of thorough unflinching draughtsmen of realism--in
whose ranks we find Renouard, Steinlen, Léandre, Huard, Malteste,
Wély, and others--came an intervening group. Their work was, and is,
extremely interesting. They adopted much of the _naïveté_ of the
_enfantillistes_, but wedded to it much knowledge and artistic feeling.
In this class one may mention Lautrec, who wavered between one group
and the other, Ibels, who did much the same, Jossot, who, amongst a
large number of weird drawings, has produced some really fine, strong
work in black and white and in colour, Metivet, who has similarly
produced both classes of work, Hermann Paul, an undeniably great
draughtsman, and the subject of this chapter, Frédéric Vallotton.
The curious thing about Vallotton’s drawings is that we do not miss the
half-tones; the unbroken blacks are so skilfully managed that we do not
feel the want of Nature’s intervening tones between pure black and pure
white. His convention in no wise shocks one, but gives keen artistic
pleasure.
This question of the accepting of conventions must strike one as a
very remarkable matter. The human face, in reality covered with a
smooth, soft skin, delicately gradated in tone and colour, is quite
completely and satisfactorily conveyed to us by Vallotton, in a cunning
arrangement of black splotches; while Huard will model the delicate
roundness of a cheek with two or three bold black lines in curves. In
both cases we at once realise the truth to Nature, and can even from
such suggestions conjure up the particular colouring and flesh texture
of the person represented.
Vallotton adds a keen sense of humour to his great ability as a
draughtsman. Look at his coloured drawing _Don’t Move_, in _Le
Rire_, where we see a petty official and his family, tidied up for
the occasion, being photographed on a national fête day. A typical
photographer, engrossed in his work, counts one! two! three!
preparatory to removing the cap from his camera. So engrossed in his
counting is he that he does not notice that his carefully composed
group is becoming rapidly discomposed. In the foreground is fat
_nou-nou_, beaming down at the youngest hopeful in her arms; yet more
bulgy _maman_ swerves over to tickle her youngest, while the next
eldest clutches her mother’s skirts in terror of the great ugly man
with the camera.
In the background is the father of the family, looking over his wife’s
shoulder at the baby; while he places one hand on the shoulder of
his eldest boy, who is rapidly outgrowing his knickerbockers, but is
nevertheless determined to “come out well” in the group. The party is
completed by the grown-up sister, who toys coyly with a straw flower
lent her for that exact purpose.
A couple of drawings record with equal force and truth the effect on
the public of the cry “Stop Thief.” First we see the excited rabble in
full chase; and then the victim (absolutely innocent) being hurried
off to the police station by victorious gendarmes, followed by a
gesticulating crowd of knowing ones, who declare the prisoner is a
murderer who has killed a woman and six children. On another page
are two street wrestlers, drawn to the life. One of them is shouting
himself hoarse in his endeavours to collect a crowd to witness the
marvellous accomplishments of his colleague, a mountain of flesh who is
about to lift a stupendous pair of dumb-bells.
Yet another coloured drawing in _Le Rire_, called _Le Coup de Main_
is very remarkable in its composition and handling, and like most of
Vallotton’s work shows an appreciation of Japanese methods. It depicts
a team drawing a huge block of stone which has come to a standstill,
while a group of labouring men are all lending a helping hand to get
the huge white mass on the move.
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF M. DRUMONT]
Among the papers which Vallotton has helped to illustrate may be
mentioned _Le Cri de Paris_, _Le Sifflet_, and _Le Canard Sauvage_.
The hoardings of Paris have been enlivened from time to time by
vigorous posters by Vallotton, a class of work to which his art is
eminently adaptable. A most notable example was the bold and telling
one he cut on the wood, for the publisher Sagot. But it is Vallotton’s
portraits of contemporary celebrities that entitle him most to lasting
fame. Some of these have appeared in the French journals, as a
magnificent set of powerful woodcuts, done in a large style and on a
large scale.
A fine example of this work was published in _The Studio_ in 1899, in
a portrait of Puvis de Chavannes, which Vallotton drew and cut on the
wood specially for that journal.
A very subtle and delicately coloured reproduction of Vallotton’s
work in colour appeared also in _The Studio_ a few years back; and an
excellently rendered landscape woodcut by him appeared in the volume
that so fully indicated the claims of modern wood engraving, namely,
“L’Image.”
VI
LOUIS MORIN
Morin is the Watteau of the modern illustrated press. He is, so to
speak, an eighteenth-century _maître galant_ of the twentieth century.
He inherits Watteau’s gaiety and light-hearted joy in the fêtes
and intrigues of the butterfly life of a time now gone by--a life
half imaginary and half real. His figures tip-toe airily through an
atmosphere scented with roses, ever ready for ardent love-making, for
a stately minuet on the sward, or for a reckless break-neck dance over
the cobble stones. Anon his figures laze in swan-like gondolas, gliding
along the moonlit canals of Venice to the throbbing music of the
mandoline. Moreover, all his delightful personages are instinct with
life; they flirt and romp, and their boisterous gaiety is infectious;
we must laugh with them for sheer joy--aye, and weep with them, now and
then, for sheer sorrow.
Morin wields magic pens and pencils. His lines are full of nerve and
_verve_; they are impelled by the passionate excitement of the moment,
and can be no mere outcome of patient plodding. If ever an artist’s
fingertips were the ready, unquestioning servants of a lively brain,
those fingertips are Morin’s; in its effervescent spirit and gaiety,
the quality of his brain is essentially Gallic.
[Illustration: LOUIS MORIN
(_By himself_)]
Morin was born in Paris in 1855, and was educated (education being much
against his youthful will) first at Versailles, and then at one of the
Paris Lycées. He was trained as an architect, but left that profession
in favour of sculpture, producing excellent portrait busts and such
exquisite work as his “Moineau de Lesbie,” &c. As an author Louis
Morin has gained great distinction. His “Cabaret du Puits sans Vin,”
written in 1884, was crowned by the Académie Française, and further was
awarded a gold medal at the Paris Exhibition.
In 1883 he had produced “Jeannik,” a book resulting from a stay in
his beloved Brittany, and illustrated with eighty-seven drawings of
eighteenth century Brittany. Later he travelled in Italy, and found
inspiration for his book, “Les Amours de Gilles,” which he adorned with
178 spirited sketches of the _beaux_ and _belles_ of Old Venice, their
manners and their customs. In 1886 he wrote and illustrated “La Légende
de Robert le Diable,” to charm the little ones. He has also illustrated
for his juvenile admirers, “Pikebikecornegramme,” and “Dansons la
Capucine”; later he wrote and illustrated with ninety sketches his
delightful “L’Enfant Prodigue.” Then there are his works on “French
Illustrators,” and on “Quelques Artistes de ce Temps,” as well as
“Dimanches Parisiens,” with twenty-five etchings by the greatest wood
engraver of modern times--A. Lepère.
He has also illustrated the following books: “Vieille Idylle” with
twelve drypoints, “Le petit Chien de la Marquise,” “Les Cerisettes,”
“Le dernier Chapître de mon Roman,” “Vingt Masques,” “Carnavals
Parisiens” (with 178 drawings), and “Les Confidences d’une Aïeule.”
In the early eighties Morin started drawing for _La Caricature_ and
_Le Chat Noir_, and later on for the _Revue Illustrée_, the _Revue des
Lettres et des Arts_, _Figaro Illustré_, _St. Nicolas_, _Le Canard
Sauvage_, _La Vie en Rose_, &c.
Morin was one of the leading spirits of the “Chat Noir” shadow
pantomimes, and produced there in 1890 his enchanting “Carnaval de
Venise,” in 1892 “Pierrot Pornographe,” in 1894 “Le Roi débarque,” and
in 1896 “L’honnête Gendarme.” In 1891 he produced his pantomime “Au
Dahomey” at the Musée Grévin.
A fair sized room having been acquired as an annexe to the artistic
_cabaret_ of the “Chat Noir,” a white sheet was fixed at one end of
it over a miniature stage, and surrounded by a quaint and elaborate
gold frame. From the wings at the rear were thrown on to the sheet
the shadows of marvellous little figures cut out by such artists as
Morin, the great Henri Rivière, Caran-d’-Ache, Henri Somm and others,
who thereby achieved great fame. All kinds of ingenious little pieces
of machinery and clever combinations were invented and employed to
build up the great success, which proved attractive enough to draw
“all Paris” to Montmartre for some years, and to fill the pockets of
proprietor Rudolph Salis, the “King of Montjoie-Montmartre,” so full
that towards 1897 he was enabled to purchase and retire to a noble
estate in the country. From this estate, however, he was shortly to
be recalled by the magnetic attraction of his beloved Montmartre.
[Illustration]
A glance at the pages of the _Revue des Quat’ Saisons_, which consists
of four dainty parts written and illustrated by Morin, serves to give
us a very good idea of his later work. Each of the quarterly parts
is contained in a paper cover embellished with a different design in
colour by the artist-author, which gives one a foretaste of the treat
of spices contained within; for within, interspersed amongst the larger
plates of a refined colouration, are numberless little masterpieces
of pen draughtsmanship, incredibly gay and graceful and supple. Morin
herein shows himself a superb draughtsman, his excited little figures
career about the pages, their shapely forms palpitating and quivering
with the _joie de vivre_. The artist’s quick eye has detected the
slightest inflection in the body’s outline, caused by some momentary
and wayward impulse, and crystallises the beautiful thing for his own
joy and for ours.
The intoxication of the carnival pervades the greater part of this
book, whose literary contents consist of a series of chapters on such
interesting matters as the “Courrier Français Ball,” “The Ball of
the Medical Students,” and the final two Quat’z’arts Balls--at which
latter the Paris art students and their models used, until the heavy
hand of the law fell upon them, to vie with one another in producing
the most artistic and audacious groups of revellers in (and without)
fancy dress ever seen. Another chapter is devoted to a “Night Fête
at Venice” in the olden time, with its scenes of love and revelry.
Yet another, illustrated with silhouettes such as helped to make the
success of the Chat Noir Theatre, deals with the influence of that
institution on latter-day Art and Poetry. Then follows an article on
“Spanish and Eastern dances,” illustrated with gracefully whirling
votaries of the terpsichorean art; next comes a chapter on “Modern
Sculpture,” decorated with irresistibly comic drawings of models posing
in excruciating attitudes to satisfy the modern sculptor’s supposed
craving for originality.
The amount of ingenuity, facility, and anatomical sureness shown in
this little set astounds one.
Most of the drawings have evidently been done with a very flexible pen,
capable alike of giving a line that with but slight pressure passes
from great delicacy to corresponding strength.
[Illustration:
_By Louis Morin_
]
The _Vie en Rose_ contained many contributions from Morin; occasionally
he essayed a drawing executed with the bold thick line then in vogue,
but anything approaching brutality in method or subject could not but
come amiss to him, and it is in such delightful fancies in this journal
as the _Façon de voir la vie en Rose--Le Dessinateur_--that we see
him at his best. A draughtsman of elegant appearance, surrounded with
bric-a-brac, is here seen in his censer-perfumed studio, reclining on
an enormous rose-coloured cushion; his cigarette is in one hand, and
the crayon which is limning a female form in the other. Two adoring
little models watch and guard him; while a procession of respectful
art patrons stream in humbly to offer their thousand-franc notes for
the sketches he is tossing off.
Other less discreet studio incidents, treated with even more delicacy
of colour and draughtsmanship, are contained in the journal.
Morin stands alone in his particular style of workmanship: those who
have come nearest him are the joyful and boisterous Robida, and the
more reserved Henri Pille.
From all the above it is easy to gather that Louis Morin is little
short of a genius; a charming and wonderful personality, endowed with
one of the keenest and most versatile brains of our day.
VII
CHARLES HUARD
Huard has done for the denizens of the godly, deadly dull French
villages and provincial towns of France what Steinlen has done for
Paris--and he has done it exceedingly well. It is difficult to conceive
how these worthy people, so fully convinced of their own importance,
so proud of their deviltries and or their little wickednesses, and so
full of tittle-tattle about their neighbours could have been better
introduced to us.
Huard’s collection of one hundred sketches, published in book form, and
entitled “Province,” should prove a valuable document to future writers
on the manners and customs of a section of French provincials at the
commencement of the twentieth century. He interests himself mainly
with the local official and _petit commerçant_ (or tradesman) classes,
deviating occasionally to draw within his net a few stray soldiers, or
some dignified member of the old nobility of France.
A man of healthy mien and fine physique, Huard is excessively reserved
and retiring, seeking the companionship of very few, and entirely
engrossed in his work. Moreover, he is most modest, and has in no wise
been spoilt by the lasting success and renown his work has earned for
him, at an age when others are but commencing to hammer at the door of
Fame.
[Illustration]
Huard was born in Paris, but brought up in a provincial town. His
schooldays, we are told, were marked by indomitable diligence in the
successful finding of means of evading the tedium of one school after
another. It is a ludicrous fact that although none of his humorous
sketches are actual portraits, his own townspeople have taken such
dire offence at what appeared to them as hits at themselves, that they
have so far boycotted the satirist that he willingly banishes himself
from the town in which he passed his youth. It is even reported that
one old lady said, quite seriously, that if he ever dared to draw her
she would disfigure him for life with vitriol. Possibly this is the
marvellous person, in a good temper, whose physiognomy appears on the
cover of the Huard number of “L’Album.”
Of course it is not to be denied that Huard has “made game” of the
provincials; and, knowing the inherent pettiness of the classes he has
held up to ridicule, it is small wonder that they resent fun poked
at their expense by one who to them can appear to be no less than a
traitor. Huard, however, is never spiteful or malicious; he sees better
and further than his neighbours, and he knows how to tell the truth
about what he has seen, without being warped by local influences.
A perusal of “Province,” and other works to be mentioned, will, I am
sure, prove the truth of these remarks.
His figures are as a rule set in fitting urban landscapes, every whit
as truthful as the personages they frame. Look at the drawing among
those classed _Les Officiels_, entitled _Midday Mass is far the most
aristocratic_--wherein a procession of regular church-goers debouches
out of a picturesque, half-hearted, somnolent High Street into the
blazing sunlight of the “Grande Place.” The local member and his wife,
the lawyer, and all the other pious scandalmongers of the town are
going to make their daily penitence. We can see these good folk, we
can feel the sunshine, and we can even hear the clangour of the bells
in the church tower. Then look in another sketch at the two editors of
_The Revenge_. Were ever such _chauvinistes_, such firebrands? Getting
on in years--true; but as dangerous as not yet extinct volcanoes, they
reek of pistols for two and coffee for one.
A drawing labelled _The Express conveying the President will pass at
five o’clock_, is most amusing. There, on the little railway platform,
is gathered all the official rank and society of Tilliere-Sur-Ruron.
Inflated, yet nervous, they fidget about, awaiting impatiently the
proudest moment of their lives. We know them all; the mayor with
his address is there, surrounded by his satellites of the Municipal
Council, all arrayed in heirloom dress suits, members of the Gymnastic
Society are there--some lithe, some burly--then there are _ces braves
pompiers_, and the stern gendarmes; and behind them, dressed in their
best, but shut out from view and from seeing, are the townspeople in
their thousands. No matter, they are about to receive a main topic of
conversation for many a weary year to come.
Then there are the poor, dear, terrible old ladies, to whom Huard
introduces us under the heading “Les Vieilles Dames,”--thin-lipped,
moustachioed, bigoted, deadly-dull personages are they, most of them;
but they do not think so. They are contented, and are even conceited,
as to the figure they cut, despite their shocking clothes; for is not
each of them so much more Parisian in appearance and manners than
“Madame Chose”--round the corner, and just out of hearing.
Here and there, however, we are presented to some real dignity, the
dignity which pertains to old parchment. For example there are the
portraits of _the Mlles. Petanville de Grandcourt, in whom will expire
the most purple blood of the country_.
Under _Soirs de Province_ we are shown with quaint humour the nocturnal
dissipations of a provincial town. Two troopers, one as drunk as the
other, are zig-zagging an erratic coursee home to barracks. One says
to the other: “Vidalène--you hurt me to the quick ... you won’t wait
for me because you think I’m drunk ... you are ashamed of me!” Again,
the musical genius of the place has brought his violin to an at-home,
and says: “What I prefer in music is imitations. Listen, I’ll give you
first ‘Mother-in-Law in hysterics,’ and then ‘The Nightingale.’”
Then amongst the group of drawings headed _Rentiers et Retraités_ look
at the two retired tradesmen, chatting in the middle of a deserted
square. In bated breath one of these busybodies relates to the
other--“You know the whole town is agog with it. Mrs. Lepinçon visited
the new dentist three times in the same day!”
A splendid set of drawings is included in the group _Au café_. We
can see that they are so many _resumés_ of the hurried sketches, for
ever being made in the sketch-books which are Huard’s never-failing
companions. The handling, whether in pen and ink or in chalk, is always
frank and bold, and occasionally is like that of Raffaëlli. Among the
_Raisonneurs et Sentimentaux_ are two old gossips seated on their
favourite bench on the fringe of the town; it is evident that neither
of them, even in his palmiest days, could have set the local brook
on fire. Yet one of them explains that “there have only been two men
who have understood the proper course for France to pursue--M. Thiers
and I. M. Thiers is dead, and they will not listen to me!” A joyful
break in the monotony of life in the provincial town is most admirably
rendered in _Market day at Pavigny-le-Gras_. Everyone and everything
is fat, and hot, and smiling. Joy and plenty are the key notes of the
harmony; exuberant good nature exudes from every pore. Even the houses
around the Place de la Cathédrale seem to beam and bulge in purring
contentment.
A review of Huard’s work leads one to regret that he does not render
his survey of provincial types more complete, by occasionally including
studies of that manly and womanly beauty which exists in even the most
forsaken community, to leaven the predominant ugliness. However, it may
be that such forms of rustic beauty do not attract Huard, and we must
rest grateful for his view of such types as do interest him deeply.
M. Huard--equally with several others of the illustrators mentioned in
this little volume--has been honoured by having an entire number of
“L’Album” devoted to his work. Therein we learn that to the few Huard
is known as a most able oil and pastel painter of seafaring folk; and
the etchings and chalk drawings reproduced convince us that it is a
well-earned reputation. The double-page centre drawing of the number
consists of a masterly _Return from Mass_, in which we see the good
souls repairing homewards in the moonlight, soothed and contented in
mind and in spirit. A few pages further on we come to two _piou-pious_,
or “tommies,” enjoying their _Plaisir du Dimanche_: they are seated,
and one of them smokes a cheap cigar. The comment runs, “You wanted to
come here so as to show yourself off smoking a cigar; but we could have
had much more fun at the station watching the trains go through.”
_Le Rire_ has published a quantity of Huard’s work, the strength and
vigour of which never seems to fail. The subjects are frequently drawn
from the quays of Paris, or from cafés and restaurants patronised
by visitors from the provinces to the gay city. The humour of a
drawing called _Plages_, in which a rather vulgar Paris tripper
to the seaside, paddling with her friends, exclaims in astonished
appreciation--“By Jove, sand like at Charenton” (shall we translate
Putney?), is apparent to all. In these, as in all his sketches, whether
drawn from a low Paris “pub,” or from an innocent village café, indoors
or out, the entire truth to nature of the type chosen, the very cut and
hang of every garment is absolutely convincing, and unerringly put in
with a few bold touches of the pen.
A pathetic drawing is that of the poor workwoman, who has tramped out
to the sordid wastes of the _fortifs_, or fortifications of Paris; and,
in her enjoyment of the faint echo of the real country, there to be
found, exclaims--“If I were rich I’d come here every day!”
Huard has drawn for _L’Assiette au Beurre_, _L’Image_, _Le Rire_,
and _Cocorico_ some remarkable military subjects, in which he has
depicted the French soldier to the life. Here, we have him disclosing
to a comrade on the quay his modest dreams of fortune--there, he
is discussing rations with his colonel, and in another splendid
double-page drawing we see him at night, shouting some rude refrain,
and painting the town scarlet generally; but the finest of all is
perhaps a vivid drawing in colour of a squad on a drill ground,--red
caps, white suits, and a yellow background,--the whole making a
most striking page. Huard is very successful with these coloured
illustrations, many of which appear in _Le Rire_, and charm us with
their quaint breadth and simplicity of treatment. Nothing in this way
could be better than the old _concièrge_ and his dumpy wife, who are
painting a cast of the “Venus of Milo” with canary yellow, and decide
that it is much prettier like that, and much less indecent.
For the exhibition of _La Demi Douzaine_, the little group of artists
among whom he exhibits his marine work, Huard has done an excellent
poster.
[Illustration: _By J. Wély._ (_p. 57_)]
VIII
J. WÉLY
Wély is one of the more recent stars in the firmament of Parisian
illustrators; nevertheless he shines with a peculiar brilliance of his
own.
His drawing of the female form divine, more or less disclosed in
dainty _décolleté_, is well nigh unsurpassed. The excellence of the
draughtsmanship, which is so generally attained in the Paris Schools
of Art, is very frequently not traceable in work produced later in the
artist’s career. This, however, is not the case with Wély; the sureness
of drawing required in the schools remains, plus a large quantity of
vim and _esprit_. The adjective which best labels his work is charming;
and here it may be well to state that the more emancipated any one
is the greater the number of Wély’s drawings he is able to admit to
his collection, to charm again and again. For Wély is the artist of
adventures--the adventures of the bedroom. He is a humorist, and not
a caricaturist. He has too much love of human beauty to caricature
the human face and figure, and it is possible that for the same reason
he never produces a coarse drawing; however risky the situation he
depicts, that which attracts and interests one is the beauty of his
drawing, and the technical dexterity of his handling.
It is possible that admiration for the work of Jules Chéret, the master
poster-maker, has had something to do with the formation of his style.
His work, like that of most of the later illustrators, is done with
chalk or charcoal, very little pen-work being produced. The perfection
to which the photo-reproduction of drawings now attains has been
chiefly responsible for this, together with the praiseworthy attempt of
the modern men to vie with the magnificent series of drawings on stone,
done half a century ago, by Gavarni, Daumier, De Beaumont, Cham, and
other splendid draughtsmen. The revival of their method of treating
drawings with a broad point seems for the time to have more than half
submerged the exquisite pen-and-ink work, such as was contributed
to the illustrated papers some twenty years ago by Lunel, Courboin,
Jeanniot, Vogel, José Roy, Vierge, Luigi Loir, Moulignié, Gorguet,
Robida, G. Stein, Galice, Myrbach, G. Scott, F. Fau and others. But
the situation is saved by the fact that Guillaume, Caran-d’Ache, Job,
Morin, and a few other leading illustrators are still faithful to pen
and ink. In any case it is certain that of those who use crayon,
charcoal, or lithographic chalk, none produce work which is so subtle
and yet so facile and so sure as Wély. He is a light-hearted Steinlen
of my lady’s dressing-room; or an emboldened Helleu.
The relations between artist and artist’s model frequently attract
Wély’s pencil, while other outside subjects seem to tempt him much less
frequently. The hard-working, penniless, happy-go-lucky artist _rapins_
he draws are a delightful crew, most excellently put upon paper.
A specimen of his humour is indicated in the words accompanying one of
his rare pen and ink drawings, which appeared in _Cocorico_. A _chic_
little lady is seated in a shop, while a female attendant unrolls pile
after pile of material in the hope of supplying her wants. The lady
says: “Why certainly, show me some more: I’m not a bit tired.”
A beautiful little drawing, of two dainty Parisiennes gossiping on a
pier, discloses the method he has employed to produce a telling piece
of work. The outline has been rapidly sketched in with a few bold,
subtly curving lines from a pen, while modelling and colour have been
given to the whole with deft crayon touches. We feel the joy the artist
must have evinced in regulating the pressure he put on the crayon, so
as to give each line its exact breadth, and depth of tone. The pleasure
he takes in manipulating his medium is always manifest in his work. The
complete modelling of a dainty neck and shoulders, or of a shapely
ankle, is frequently accomplished by the merest touch of the chalk--but
a touch in exactly the right place, and of exactly the right size.
Wély has contributed to the pages of the _Frou Frou_; and very
frequently to _La Vie en Rose_. His small illustrations to “Aristophane
à Paris,” and to “La Maîtresse du Prince Jean,” which first appeared in
the latter journal, are full of ability, humour and vivacity. A drawing
entitled _Quelques Predictions pour 1902_, shows us a delightful little
coquette in _déshabillé_, who is consulting the cards with an old woman
fortune-teller, the while a tiny kitten plays with a ball of worsted.
They are so life-like and so subtly depicted that we almost expect to
see them move on the paper. _Passe temps du jeune Age_, is one of the
most astoundingly able and beautiful studies of the nude that one can
recall by any artist, and also appears in _La Vie en Rose_.
The type of man usually introduced into our artist’s drawings is not
conspicuous for its beauty; it generally depicts a bit of a scamp, a
_bon viveur_, who is used artistically as a foil to some fresh and
dainty young person of the opposite sex.
Several pages in colour, which appeared in the _Vie en Rose_, evinced
a charmingly refined sense in that direction; while some illustrated
covers for _Le Rabelais_, each most successfully dealing with an
entirely different and difficult colour problem were among the most
striking examples of that branch of art yet produced.
[Illustration:
_By J. Wély_
]
[Illustration:
_By Malteste_
PSYCHOLOGUE]
IX
LOUIS MALTESTE
Among the workers on the French illustrated papers none produces a
steadier flow of thoroughly conscientious, sound work than Louis
Malteste.
His are no chance effects, no _tours de force_ of mere eccentricity or
charlatanism, but are the outcome of knowledge, hard work and assurance.
He is a splendid draughtsman, unerring and direct, a seeker and finder
of individual character, who does not attempt to electrify the world
with his audacity, or his at-any-cost originality; for he is content to
delineate for us, in masterly fashion, specimens of humanity as they
appear to the man of keen discernment.
At the time of the loathsome trials of Dreyfus, Malteste was one of
several artists who specially distinguished themselves by splendid
sketches of the actors concerned therein. In the writer’s possession
is a collection of these spirited and life-like drawings. They are
doubly admirable when one considers under what disadvantages they
were produced. The task of the artist, told off to a sweltering,
over-crowded court-house, surcharged with violent excitement, and
commissioned to make portrait groups of interested persons, who are
incessantly changing their positions, is none too easy. Yet these
drawings show no hesitation; in each case some fleeting gesture or
attitude is caught in a vigorous drawing, and fixed for ever.
No wonder then that publishers such as Hachette, and the weekly
illustrated papers _Le Monde Illustré_, _L’Illustration_, &c., should
have availed themselves of his talent; or that when he turned his
crayon to more fanciful subjects he should have found a ready outlet in
the pages of such papers as _La Vie en Rose_, _Le Rire_, _L’Assiette au
Beurre_, and many others, wherein to let fly that _gauloiserie_ which
flows in the veins of even the most serious Frenchman.
Most of the drawings in _La Vie en Rose_ are excellent works in chalk
of actions governed by sudden impulse; and, in technique, strongly
recall the admirable drawings of the English draughtsman, Gunning
King, whose work Malteste has probably never seen. It is most likely,
however, that the style of both artists has largely resulted from
profound and well-placed admiration of the work of the veteran Renouard.
There is in _La Vie en Rose_ an amusing series of drawings by Malteste
of coachmen of all grades--each a strong piece of work, full of
character, and well placed on the page. Another series in colour
consists of fancy portraits of potentates; here again Malteste has
distinguished himself, as witness the _Léopold, Roi des Belges_, a
harmony in white, yellow, and brown. Malteste shows himself as a tender
colourist in the excellent drawing of a milking scene, entitled _La
Traité des Blanches_; another farm scene, _Le Fléau_, is as excellent
an example of black and white work, and only surpassed by the chalk
drawing _Psychologue_, a superb delineation of two ragged, storm-beaten
rag pickers toiling homewards with their baskets.
His little studies of queer bits of gnarled humanity are splendid;
witness his _Femmes Fidèles_, _La Femme qui prise_, his droll lady who
declares _There is nothing like a good swig_, his _Woman with a Dog_,
his _Woman with the Cats_, or the group called _Types of Electors in
the Ville Lumière_. We recognise all those electors at first sight;
there is the heavy, obstinate man, who gets his way by force of
sheer dead-weight, there the suave complaisant “good-sort,” there
the pugnacious, quixotic fellow, who adores a riotous meeting, there
the pensive philosopher, and so on. There is no mistaking the true
character of any one of them; to a companion page of _Femmes Infidèles_
the same remarks apply.
A noteworthy quality in Malteste’s work is the invariably excellent
drawing of the hands. To any but the surest draughtsmen hands are a
veritable _bête noire_, to be avoided whenever possible.
Besides his reputation as an illustrator, Malteste has made his mark as
a painter of note, and in collaboration with Gélis-Didot has executed a
charming poster for _L’Absinthe Parisienne_; while his poster for the
Théâtre Antoine is one of the finest things of its kind yet produced.
[Illustration: DE TOULOUSE LAUTREC]
X
J. L. FORAIN
The collection of two hundred and fifty sketches, published in book
form under the title “La Comédie Parisienne,” at once established
Forain as a firm favourite both with the public and with artists.
It could not well have been otherwise. For these tender, graceful,
little sketches touching on the private life and foibles of dancers,
bankers, lawyers and others, appealed to the risible faculties and the
sympathies of all Parisians; while artists admired the delicacy of
touch and apparent facility with which the little scenes were “flicked
in.” The expression “apparent facility” is purposely employed; for
despite the appearance of careless ease of execution conveyed by the
slightness of these sketches, those who have seen the artist at work
know that for each sketch presented to the public three or four have
been rejected by their author as unsatisfactory.
A very large proportion of the drawings in “La Comédie Parisienne,”
treat of matters to which it is quite customary to refer in French
publications, but which in England are discreetly relegated to the
confidential whisper of intimates; so that it is rather difficult here
to give specimens of the delicate wit displayed therein,--lest it
should be classed as indelicate wit. The standard of delicacy topples
over at such very different angles in England and on the Continent.
Whatever the subject treated, however, one is struck by the keen
observation these drawings display, the requisite movement or attitude
being perfectly rendered with the minimum number of lines. They are
snap-shots of propitious moments; but taken by an artist’s eye in place
of a photographic lens, and an artist’s science to display what is
necessary and to discard what is unnecessary for the illustration of
the point at issue.
The drawings here and there reflect the touch of melancholy in the
author’s nature, as well as his caustic wit.
A charming and sympathetic drawing is that of the working man playing
with his crooning babe, while the mother, who is getting supper ready,
says to her husband “Ah! wouldn’t you be stunning, if you’d only give
up drinking.” In another drawing a poor woman says to her drunken
husband “Aren’t you ashamed to be in this state on a Tuesday?” How
telling too the sketch of the rascally picture dealer who bursts in on
the famishing artist and his starving wife and baby, and says--“I must
have three Corots and a Diaz within six days--Madame, make him work!”
Then there is another delightful artist subject. The landlord breaks
in on poor hard-working Pinceau. “Sir, you’ve made me call twenty
times--you owe me seven quarters’ rent, I tell you I’ve had enough of
it!” “Gracious--is that all you’ve got to think about then,” is the
cool reply.
How beautiful in its simplicity and how exquisitely the curt legend
“---- Rothschild,” fits that drawing of the little ballet dancer who
whispers the portentous name into the ear of her sister _coryphée_, the
while the moneyed man behind the scenes passes them.
Once more, look at the husband stupefied at the bill which accompanies
the host of packages in the midst of which he and his wife are
standing. “What, what! two thousand seven hundred and fifty-three
francs, forty five centimes! and all that so as to go away to the
seaside for three weeks!”--“Well, yes, you are right, my dear, I will
send back one of the umbrellas!”
These drawings are almost all executed with a thin, pin-point pen line,
of even thickness throughout, and with flat tones of shading added
by means of mechanically engraved dots. Forain, Vogel, and Willette,
although their methods differ, are among the few who now illustrate
with such faint lines and aim at such fragile effects.
A collection in book form of his political and topical illustrations,
which had appeared in _Le Figaro_ were republished under the title
“Doux Pays.”
The number of _L’Album_ devoted to Forain contains able sketches, done
in wash and chalk, which are stronger in effect, although incomplete
looking; and bear the impress of having been dashed off at great speed
while the inspiration lasted. A very subtle drawing of the nude,
entitled, _The Tub_, however, is included in the number, as well as
some strongly indicated work in colour.
Forain’s work has been widely published; we have seen it in _Nous,
Vous, Eux_, in _Le Figaro_, in _Les Femmes, il n’y a qu’ça_, _Le
Courrier Français_, _L’Indiscret_, _Le Rire_, in _L’Assiette au
Beurre_, in _The Studio_, and elsewhere.
He has done bold poster work, _Le Salon du Cycle_, _La Parisienne
du Siècle_, &c.; and he did a series of splendid up-to-date designs
for a mosaic frieze, which was inserted in the front of a boulevard
restaurant some few years back.
To _Le Rire_ he has been a pillar of strength; and this journal has
called forth some of his best efforts, generally drawn in with crayon
or brush, and completed with a wash of two or three such faint colours
as grey-green and pale brick-colour, being treated frankly as sketches
and nothing more. Yet how amply complete is such a drawing as that
of the little powdered _cocotte_ in the black hat receiving the last
touches to her toilette from her maid, while her vicious, bony, mother
waits impatiently to hurry her off to the evening’s rendezvous. Another
fine drawing culled from the same source introduces us to a squat lady
sculptor, modelling from a beautiful nude female model. The shapeless
sculptor cries out, “There! you’re posing so badly that I shall have to
finish it from myself--before the glass.”
An exhibition of Forain’s work, which was held on the Eiffel Tower in
1890 or 1891, under the auspices of the _Courrier Français_, achieved
for the artist a great success; although he had a terrible struggle at
the outset of his career, even at one time appealing to Renouard to get
him a job to draw anything,--“anything, fashion plates, or never mind
whatsoever.”
Forain is yet another past _habitué_ of the Montmartre “Café des
Hydropathes” (which later developed into the “Chat Noir”) who has
achieved fame and riches. He now lives in a splendid mansion in one
of the most fashionable quarters of Paris, immersed as ever in his
studies, and taking up sculpture as a relaxation. He works in a vast,
untidy studio amidst an astounding litter of studies and papers, from
which he but occasionally tears himself for a rapid spin in his beloved
motor-car.
XI
CHARLES LÉANDRE
Léandre must be a terror to the members of the official classes in
Paris, for they must live from day to day in mortal fear lest they
shall have fallen a prey to his deft pencil. He must ever persuade them
of their own irresistible comicality, and thereafter they must always
feel more like Léandre’s caricatures than like themselves, and must
inevitably act likewise.
Léandre not only caricatures the faces and figures of his subjects,
but he caricatures their mien and manners; their politeness, their
self-satisfaction, their _hauteur_, their cringing, in his hands exudes
from every pore.
[Illustration: LÉANDRE
(_From the collection of the Chat-Noir_)
RUDOLPH SALIS
(_Seigneur de Chat-noir ville_)]
Yet he is not cruel, he does not lead us to hate his originals; he
makes us enjoy them, and laugh good naturedly at and with them.
He shows us their unmistakable features, as though seen through a
distorting but discriminating mirror. We can well imagine one of his
victims, impressed with the undeniable truth of Léandre’s portrait of
himself, shunning daylight altogether, after the publication thereof;
and refusing to walk abroad carrying those weasel eyes and that
terrible nose, which previously he had flaunted on the boulevards with
such evident pride. Indeed, a dose of Léandre might well be prescribed
as a cure for swollen head.
[Illustration: A. WILLETTE
MA CHANDELLE EST MORTE]
It must not be imagined from the foregoing that portrait caricature
alone occupies the pencil of our artist. His book of subtle wash
drawings entitled “Nocturnes,” and the lively pages of _Le Rire_,
_L’Album_, _L’Assiette au Beurre_, and other journals are embellished
with his cartoons and comic drawings, covering a fairly wide range of
subjects. He is moreover a serious portrait-painter of great feeling
and delicacy. We may look on him almost as an _animalier_, or natural
history artist making a speciality of that droll, brainy, beast--man,
recording all his different varieties, and watching his every gesture
and movement.
In his cartoons he occasionally approaches the somewhat nervous style
of Willette, whom we incline to think time may prove to have been
an overrated artist. The stronger method of Léandre, however, is
particularly noticed in such drawings as _Le Ministère en Vacances_ and
_Le Retour du Général Duchesne_ in _Le Rire_; and here we may mention
how much many of the most excellent of the younger artists--such as
Steinlen, Léandre, Malteste, Redon, Sabattier, Tilly, and Huard in
France, Lockhart-Bogle, Hartrick, Almond and Gunning King in England,
evidently owe to that giant among draughtsmen--Paul Renouard.
[Illustration]
Léandre was born at Champsecret, Orne. It is easy to trace the
influence that a course of modelling in plaster under the decorator
Bin, which he attended after leaving college and arriving in Paris,
impressed on his work, for all his heads have a strong sculpturesque
feeling about them. Later he became a pupil of Cabanel at the Beaux
Arts School; and we, who know the ways of Paris art students, can well
imagine the uproarious series of “_charges_” or caricatures, he must
have painted of his fellow students, and possibly of his professor. For
it is certain that later on he handled the _gens sérieux_, with whom
he was brought into contact at the _reunions_ given by his uncle--the
Deputy Christofle, with but scant regard for their dignity.
Settling in Montmartre, he rapidly captured the _quartier_ with his
marvellous caricatures of the “types” of the neighbourhood, and of
the Bohemians of the greater Paris who flocked to its _cabarets
artistiques_. Thenceforward his fame has rapidly spread far and
wide: of course he was a patron of the _Chat Noir_, and later of the
_Quat’z’Arts_, to whose papers he contributed.
We have only to examine his drawings to realise that--given the
opportunity to publish his work--success was inevitable. Before me
is one of his drawings in _Le Rire_--“The effect of Latin and table
salt on a youth of Normandy.” It represents a christening scene in the
church of a Normandy village. The irreverent babe in granny’s arms is
howling the roof off its mouth, while the ancient cleric with port-wine
nose, his service interrupted, essays to quiet the little darling; and
we can see he is only debarred by professional etiquette from using
language unfitting the Church. Grandpa beams good-naturedly at the
wickedness of his latest descendant, while the fond mamma joyfully
simpers her complete approval of the hopeful’s lung power. A priggish
chorister holds a long guttering church candle, which his hot hands are
melting in the middle; outside in the porch the bell-ringer with a jug
of cider and a glass is pulling his hardest at the joy bells, and a
background of fidgeting, yawning children completes the picture.
Then look at the gaily-coloured page which transports us to the middle
of a village fête. All among the garlands and Japanese lanterns the
firemen are making merry with their lady admirers. The drummer of
the squad, a lusty fellow, is stealing a kiss from a protesting, yet
willing, kitchen-maid.
An astounding drawing of a bacchanalian orgy entitled _Ribote de Noël_
appeared in No. 112 of _Le Rire_, and the whole reeling scene of
drunken revelry is marvellously rendered. In the largeness of the forms
and the rollicking _abandon_ of the whole scene we are reminded of our
own Rowlandson, an artist whose work is thoroughly appreciated across
the Channel. The quintessence of quaintness is reached in another
drawing, which again reminds us somewhat of Rowlandson. It is a drawing
contained in _L’Album_, entitled “La Folie des Grandeurs--Les Yeux plus
grands que le Ventre”; and shows us a queer little Tom Thumb of a man
smoking a cigar, and speaking in the language of the eye volumes of
admiration for the mountainous woman against whose knee he lolls.
[Illustration: LÉANDRE
LES CHANTEURS DE MONTMARTRE
(_Tourney Poster for Yvette Guilbert_)]
Other illustrations by Léandre appear in _Le Grand Guignol_, and in the
comic paper _La Vie en Rose_. To a little collection of caricatures
of (then) reigning sovereigns, entitled “Le Musée des Souverains,”
Léandre contributed some remarkably clever work. President Faure, Queen
Victoria, the Emperor of Austria, the King of the Belgians and King
Menelik, all come in for a more or less trying pictorial analysis by
Léandre. The drawing of Menelik is a most wonderful piece of work, but
unfortunately intended to be humiliating to Italy; and here we may
mention that Léandre has always been attracted by general political
cartooning, as well as his more frequent local cartoon work, but
however much his estimate of the nations, as seen from the Gallic point
of view, may tickle outsiders, we feel he is a good Frenchman, and the
artistic quality of his work never fails. His double-page drawing in
_Le Rire_ of the “Senators going to War against the Chamber” is crowded
with caricature portraits of politicians hurrying out to do vigorous
battle, each showing by the introduction of some subtle little device
his own marked peculiarity or fad.
[Illustration: LÉANDRE
(_By himself_)]
Léandre has frequently introduced a self-portrait into his sketches,
and he is evidently as critical of himself as of others. He always
shows us a serio-comic little man with chubby cheeks, bulging,
spectacled eyes, and a big inquisitive nose dominating a small
turned-up moustache and starveling beard. Some of his own military
service adventures he has depicted for us in mock heroic style in “Les
Treize Jours de Léandre.” Among notable caricature portraits is that
of Drumont, the arch Jew-baiter. In a coloured drawing entitled “The
Ogre’s Repast,” we see this noisome person with a chain of Semite
“portions” round his neck poising a gory Jewish head on his fork
previous to making a meal of it. In fine irony a cross hangs on his
breast.
His drawings of concerts and musical conductors throb and thrill with
sound, the very paper on which they are printed seems to vibrate with
the volume of it.
The Comédie Française supplied him with subjects for a splendid set
of caricatures; and the rustic inhabitants of his native village of
Champsecret form the foundation of yet another delightful series
entitled “Ma Normandie.”
That the tragic side of life touches Léandre deeply is evident, if only
from a couple of drawings which appeared in _L’Assiette au Beurre_.
The first is entitled “Saison des eaux--chacun va aux eaux suivant
ses moyens”; and we see a starving, distracted mother, plunging to
eternity in the foul depths of a canal, while her tiny children, all
unconscious of their fate, clutch her skirts and are being hurled to
death with her. The other drawing bears the legend, “What have they
been doing, sir? Sleeping without paying for it!”--which is given as
the conversation passing between a little milliner’s girl and an old
gentleman, who are watching a long procession of dejected outcasts
being led to the lock-up by ferocious-looking policemen, while behind
them is a wall inscribed with the mocking legend, “Liberté, Egalité,
Fraternité.” The poor prisoners are evidently not criminals, but merely
the crowded-out failures of a great city, who have perforce been
obliged to sleep in the streets.
Léandre’s posters, such as his “Les Cartomimes” and “Le Vieux Marcheur”
display all his captivating characteristics, but look hardly robust
enough in style to stand the attacks of weather on a street hoarding.
Léandre, however, is a great draughtsman, and there can be no mistaking
this fact.
[Illustration:
_From l’Album_ DEUX AMIS By LÉANDRE
]
XII
CONCLUSION
It may be held that some of the Illustrators whose work we have been
considering are but slightly connected with Montmartre, and that there
is no such thing as a Montmartre school. Such contentions are both
right and wrong, according to the manner in which one cares to approach
them.
It is incontestable that in the very informality and independence of
their various styles these artists are echoing the spirit of that
Montmartre in which they all have spent so many joyous hours. With the
“Butte,” one associates breeziness, irresponsibility, and a youthful
impatience of restraint. From her lofty perch Montmartre can survey at
leisure, and if it needs be point the pencil of derision at the world
of Paris surging at her feet; but it must not be forgotten that if she
be light-hearted she is also ever warm-hearted. Her interest in the
follies of life is even surpassed by her deep sympathy with those who
are struggling against its miseries.
It is possible that, as time goes on, some other quarter of Paris will
take the place of Montmartre, as the nursery of young free-lances,
and will inspire future Bohemians to other great deeds in the world
of art. Mayhap the honoured quarter will be “Montparnasse,” or the
vicinity of the “Luxembourg;” or perhaps it will be the “Butte de
Chaumont,”--the other great cliff of Paris, surrounded in this instance
with a romantic park, and peopled with a toiling, excitable, working
population,--that will attract the next group of illustrators of
modern city life. However that may be, Paris supplies a never-failing
succession of highly talented artists who, as they leave the schools,
different as their methods may be, group themselves around some
chosen neighbourhood, some _cabaret_, some master of the art, or some
illustrated periodical. Already there is a brilliant group of yet
younger illustrators risen in Paris, since the advent of those with
whom this volume deals.
The fact that most of the papers in which these illustrations appear
are unknown to, or unpalatable to, the British public, renders it
certain that, with but few exceptions, the accomplished work of
these modern masters of black and white art will never be as widely
appreciated in England as it deserves to be.
And this is one more justification of the writer’s long-urged plea that
in London we are sadly in need of a National Water Colour and Black
and White Gallery, for which the best obtainable examples of such work
could be procured by gift or purchase, and thereafter exhibited. Stowed
away in drawers and cupboards at the British Museum, at the National
Gallery, and probably at South Kensington Museum and elsewhere--visible
only in driblets, after regulated application, is untold wealth of
beautiful drawings which should rightly be _displayed_ on the walls
of such a gallery as is suggested. Beautiful examples of work by
living illustrators, both British and foreign, could be obtained
for a comparatively nominal sum, and would exemplify a powerful and
fascinating development of modern art; which meets the requirements
of the day, in its own line, as fully as did the work of those early
Italian masters in _their_ time, which the nation’s art buyers collect
so assiduously and at so much cost.
But such a gallery would be incomplete were it to pass by without
example the strength of Steinlen, the dainty elegance of Wély or Morin,
Huard’s types of provincialism, Forain’s delicacy of design, or the
humorous observation of Caran d’Ache. To be complete and cosmopolitan
it must chronicle within its walls something of that defiance of
convention, that exuberance of youthful audacity, seeking ever fresh
paths within the unexplored--above all, that single-minded devotion to
art for its own sake which belongs to these Illustrators of Montmartre.
[Illustration: A. WILLETTE]
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
London & Edinburgh
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they
were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation
marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left
unbalanced.
The following French words, misspelled or with accented letters,
were corrected, but others may have been missed. Also, when the same
misspelling occurred more than once, it was not changed.
Page 5: Ville Lumiére => Ville Lumière
Page 9: Chevalier a la Fèe => Chevalier à la Fée
Page 9: Eugéne Grasset => Eugène Grasset
Page 9: A l’eau => À l’eau
Page 9: les Oisseaux => les Oiseaux
Page 12: le bon Gite. => le bon Gîte.
Page 30: Les Poétes de l’Amour => Les Poètes de l’Amour
Page 32: La Toussaint Heroique => La Toussaint Héroïque
Page 32: L’Etè => L’Été
Page 34: confréres => confrères
Page 35: soidisant => soi-disant
Page 42: A. Lepére => A. Lepère
Page 42: Aieule => Aïeule
Page 43: Musée Grèvin => Musée Grévin
Page 43: Henri Riviére => Henri Rivière
Page 57: decollété => décolleté
Page 64: Le Monde Illustrê => Le Monde Illustré
Page 65: La Traite des Blanches => La Traité des Blanches
Page 66: Gelis-Didot => Gélis-Didot
Page 66: Thêatre => Théâtre
Page 70: du Siécle => du Siècle
Page 75: du Genéral => du Général
Page 78: Ribote de Noel -> Ribote de Noël
Not changed:
Page 10: Les Gaitès Bourgeois
Page 12: Les Gaitès Bourgeoises
Page 18: Charge (perhaps should be “Chargé”)
Pages 17 and 43: Caran-d’-Ache
Page 75: reunions (perhaps should be “réunions”)
Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs
and outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support
hyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to
the corresponding illustrations.
The poor image quality of “Deux Amis” occurs in at least three
different copies of the original book, and probably was printed that
way.