THE TIMES IN WHICH GREUZE LIVED
It was that period of the eighteenth century before the Revolution
when society was at its worst, the paints and powders that covered its
face, the scents which over-perfumed its body, its manners artificial
as the antics of marionettes, being emblematic of its state of mind.
Society was, in short, so corrupt it could not become any more so, and
at length, weary of the search for a new sensation, there was nothing
for it but a sudden rebound to some sort of morality.
Opportunist philosophers appeared quickly on the scene, and began to
preach the pleasant doctrine that man was born very good, full of
honesty and good feeling, running over with generosity and all the
virtues, and if he did not keep so, it was because the miserable
conventions of society had drawn him from the original perfection of
his state. To find virtue you must look among those of humble estate,
the poor who thought of nothing but their work and the bringing up of
their large families. Away, then, from social life and its
corruptions, return to the simple ways of the lowly and needy--thus
and thus only could France be regenerated!
The aristocratic victims of their caste drank all this in eagerly, and
their exaggerated efforts to follow the new cult of simplicity made
the bitter-tongued Voltaire describe them as “mad with the desire to
walk on their hands and feet, so as to imitate as nearly as possible
their virtuous ancestors of the woods.”
Diderot, whose sudden burning enthusiasms and throbbing eloquence
would have carried away his hearers in spite of themselves if they
had not been only too eager to listen, was the great apostle of the
new doctrine, and, always in extremes, he boldly dragged his moral
theories into even the realm of art.
“To render virtue charming and vice odious ought to be the object of
every honest man who wields a pen, a paint-brush, or the sculptor’s
chisel,” he declared.
The vivid intelligence of Greuze seized the position, and sure of at
least attracting attention if nothing else, he set to work to paint
some scene which would fall in with the prevalent “debauch of morals,”
as some one called it. Thus, “Le Père qui lit la Bible à ses Enfants”
appeared at that psychological moment which does so much to ensure
success. Further, it came as a refreshing change to a public weary of
the pleasant insipidities of Boucher, of a long-continued series of
pale pastorals showing the doubtful pleasures of light love. It was,
moreover, a novelty, for no one had painted such subjects before in
France.
[Illustration: PLATE III.--LA MALÉDICTION PATERNELLE
“La Malédiction paternelle,” or “The Father’s Curse,” is in the
Louvre, and is one of the best known of Greuze’s moral pictures.
It is one of his worst productions. Observe the theatrical
attitudes and gestures, the too carefully arranged draperies,
etc., of the actors in this exaggerated scene, which in real
life would pass in formless disorder and rough confusion.]
And so more than the expected happened. From the day of its exhibition
till the Salon was closed, it was surrounded by admiring crowds, and
every one said, “Who is this wonderful Greuze?” Those there were who
replied that Greuze had not painted the picture himself, was incapable
of such work, for the overweening personal vanity that marred Greuze’s
character had already made for him many enemies; but the happy
preacher-painter proved his position, and but gained additional
interest from the discussions that raged round him.
From this moment Greuze’s position was assured. He was made _agréé_ of
the Academy, which among other privileges gave him the right to
exhibit what he liked there in future. He sold the celebrated picture
for a comparatively large sum to a Monsieur de la Live de Jully. He
made hosts of friends, many of them influential. One of his new
acquaintances offered to provide him with a studio. Another, l’Abbé
Gougenot, invited him to accompany him to Italy to study art, an offer
which was accepted.
Greuze stayed two years in Italy, but except that some of his pictures
have Italian names and show Italian costumes, this visit exercised no
perceptible influence on his work, and in 1757 he returned to steady
work in the Paris which was to be for him the scene of so many
triumphs--and later, of so much despair.