(In the Louvre)
This is one, and perhaps the most successful of many slightly varying
versions of the same subject, which the artist first lithographed in
1834 and painted in 1838. The Louvre picture was executed in 1838.
Delacroix, from his school days to his death, was an ardent admirer of
Shakespeare's genius, and was deeply impressed by the Shakesperian
productions which he witnessed during his short sojourn in London.
[Illustration: PLATE III.--THE DEATH OF OPHELIA]
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The case of Delacroix was different. He had dared to bring passion and
intense dramatic expressiveness into a subject taken from literature.
He had chosen a mediaeval poet, instead of going back to classic
antiquity. And he had used pigment as it was not used by any of his
contemporaries. He had used it in truly painter-like fashion, making
the colour itself contribute to the emotional appeal of the drama and
giving to the actual brushwork functional value in the building up of
form. The writhing bodies of the Damned surrounding the boat and
gleaming lividly through the terrible gloom are painted with a superb
mastery which recalled to Thiers "the boldness of Michelangelo and the
fecundity of Rubens," and which made Gros exclaim, "This is Rubens
chastened!"
The outcry raised by the Davidists did not prevent the Government from
purchasing the picture for the not very formidable amount of L50. The
artist thus honoured and acclaimed a genius by the most competent
judges was in the same year placed last among sixty candidates in a
competition for one of the School prizes! Henceforth Delacroix
abstained from exposing himself to such rebuffs. Even Gros' tempting
offer to prepare him at his studio for the coveted Prix de Rome could
not shake his determination. He continued to work independently,
gaining his bare livelihood by caricatures and lithographic
illustrations of no particular distinction. He never went to Italy;
and it is worthy of note that herein he followed the rare example of
the two greatest _painters_ of his country: both Watteau and Chardin
had kept clear of Rome and its baneful influence.
The horrors of the Greek War of Independence provided Delacroix with a
magnificent subject in the "Massacre of Scio," which he sent to the
Salon of 1824. Here was indeed rank defiance of those rules of "the
beautiful" in art which had been formulated by the School of David, and
which even in a scene of bloodshed and horror expected heroic poses and
the theatrical grouping of the "grand style." Delacroix had dared to
depict hideous death in the agonised face of the woman with the child
on the right of the picture, blank despair verging on insanity in the
old woman by her side, the languor of approaching death in the limp
form of the man in the centre. He had arranged his composition
contrary to all accepted rules; he had painted it with the fire of an
inspired colourist. The glitter of light and atmosphere was spread
over the receding landscape and sky--Delacroix had seen Constable's
"Hay Wain" and two other works by the English master at this very
Salon. They came to him as a revelation. He obtained permission to
withdraw his picture for a few days, and--so the story goes--completely
repainted it with incredible rapidity. The truth is probably that
under the impulse of the profound impression created upon him by
Constable's art, he added certain touches and extensive glazes to the
background. In this connection it is interesting to note that M.
Cheramy, whose magnificent collection includes a superbly painted study
of the dead mother and child for the "Massacre of Scio," has bequeathed
this important fragment to the National Gallery, on condition that it
shall hang "beside the best Constable."
The "Massacre of Scio" was violently attacked as an outrage against
good taste, but found a warm defender in the Baron Gerard, and was
again bought by the Government for L320. It may not be out of place
here to state that there is but scant justification for the
often-repeated assertion that Delacroix's rare genius did not receive
official recognition until very late in the master's life, and that he
was not given his fair share of official commissions. We have seen
that, in spite of the outcry raised by the academic faction, the
Government encouraged the young artist by acquiring the first two
pictures exhibited by him at the Salon. At brief intervals he
continued to receive important commissions: for the "Death of Charles
the Bold," from the Ministry of the Interior; the great battle-piece
"Taillebourg," for the gallery at Versailles; the decoration of the
Chamber of Deputies, of the Libraries at the Luxembourg and the Palais
Bourbon, of the Salon de la Paix at the Hotel de Ville, of a chapel in
the Church of Saint Sulpice; a wall-painting in the Church of St.
Denis; the "St. Sebastian" for the Church of Nantua; and the ceiling of
the Galerie d'Apollon at the Louvre--not to speak of the numerous works
commissioned or bought from him by Louis-Philippe. Thus, it will be
seen, there was no lack of "official recognition," although it is quite
true that to within a few years of his death he was generally forced to
accept wholly inadequate prices for his paintings.