Far from confining himself within the narrow limits of one branch of his
profession, Vernet determined to take as wide a range as possible. At
Rome, he made the acquaintance of Lucatelli, Pannini, and Solimene. Like
them, he studied the splendid ruins of the architecture of ancient Rome,
and the noble landscapes of its environs, together with every
interesting scene and object, especially the celebrated cascades of
Tivoli. He paid particular attention to the proportions and attitudes of
his figures, which were mostly those of fishermen and lazzaroni, as well
as to the picturesque appearance of their costume. Such love of nature
and of art, such assiduous study of nature at different hours of the
day, of the phenomena of light, and such profound study of the numerous
accessories essential to beauty and effect, made an excellent landscape
painter of Vernet, though his fame rests chiefly on the unrivalled
excellence of his marine subjects. Diderot remarks, that "though he was
undoubtedly inferior to Claude Lorraine in producing bold and luminous
effects, he was quite equal to that great painter in rendering the
effects of vapor, and superior to him in the invention of scenes, in
designing figures, and in the variety of his incidents."
At a later period, Diderot compared his favorite painter to the Jupiter
of Lucian, who, tired of listening to the lamentable cries of mankind,
rose from table and exclaimed: 'Let it hail in Thrace!' and the trees
were immediately stripped of their leaves, the heaviest cut to pieces,
and the thatch of the houses scattered before the wind: then he said,
"Let the plague fall on Asia!" and the doors of the houses were
immediately closed, the streets were deserted, and men shunned one
another; and again he exclaimed: 'Let a volcano appear here!' and the
earth immediately shook, the buildings were thrown down, the animals
were terrified, and the inhabitants fled into the surrounding country;
and on his crying out: 'Let this place be visited with a death!' the old
husbandman died of want at his door. Jupiter calls that governing the
world, but he was wrong. Vernet calls it painting pictures, and he is
right.
It was with reference to the twenty-five paintings exhibited by Vernet,
in 1765, that Diderot penned the foregoing lines, which formed the
peroration to an eloquent and lengthy eulogium, such as it rarely falls
to a painter to be the subject of. Among other things, the great critic
there says: "There is hardly a single one of his compositions which any
painter would have taken not less than two years to execute, however
well he might have employed his time. What incredible effects of light
do we not behold in them! What magnificent skies! what water! what
ordonnance! what prodigious variety in the scenes! Here, we see a child
borne off on the shoulders of his father, after having been saved from a
watery grave; while there, lies a woman dead upon the beach, with her
forlorn and widowed husband weeping at her side. The sea roars, the wind
bowls, the thunder fills the air with its peals, and the pale and
sombre glimmers of the lightning that shoots incessantly through the
sky, illuminate and hide the scene in turn. It appears as if you heard
the sides of the ship crack, so natural does it look with its broken
masts and lacerated sails; the persons on deck are stretching their
hands toward heaven, while others have thrown themselves into the sea.
The latter are swept by the waves against the neighboring rocks, where
their blood mingles with the white foam of the raging billows. Some,
too, are floating on the surface of the sea, some are about to sink, and
some are endeavoring to reach the shore, against which they will be
inevitably dashed to pieces. The same variety of character, action, and
expression is observable among the spectators, some of whom are turning
aside with a shudder, some are doing their utmost to assist the drowning
persons, while others remain motionless and are merely looking on. A few
persons have made a fire beneath a rock, and are endeavoring to revive a
woman, who is apparently expiring. But now turn your eyes, reader,
towards another picture, and you will there see a calm, with all its
charms. The waters, which are tranquil, smooth, and cheerful-looking,
insensibly lose their transparency as they extend further from the
sight, while their surface gradually assumes a lighter tint, as they
roll from the shore to the horizon. The ships are motionless, and the
sailors and passengers are whiling away the time in various amusements.
If it is morning, what light vapors are seen rising all around! and how
they have refreshed and vivified every object they have fallen on! If it
is evening, what a golden tint do the tops of the mountains assume! How
various, too, are the hues of the sky! And how gently do the clouds move
along, as they cast the reflection of their different colors into the
sea! Go, reader, into the country, lift your eyes up towards the azure
vault of heaven, observe well the phenomena you then see there, and you
will think that a large piece of the canvass lighted by the sun himself
has been cut out and placed upon the easel of the artist: or form your
hand into a tube, so that, by looking through it, you will only be able
to see a limited space of the canvass painted by nature, and you will at
once fancy that you are gazing on one of Vernet's pictures which has
been taken from off his easel and placed in the sky. His nights, too,
are as touching as his days are fine; while his ports are as fine as his
imaginative pieces are piquant. He is equally wonderful, whether he
employs his pencil to depict a subject of everyday life, or he abandons
himself completely to his imagination; and he is equally
incomprehensible, whether he employs the orb of day or the orb of night,
natural or artificial lights, to light his pictures with: he is always
bold, harmonious, and staid, like those great poets whose judgment
balances all things so well, that they are never either exaggerated or
cold. His fabrics, edifices, costumes, actions, men and animals are all
true. When near, he astonishes you, and, at a distance, he astonishes
you still more."