There is, in the work of Puvis de Chavannes, so much harmony and
balance; the place occupied by each figure is so perfectly planned to
accord the unity of the whole, that one does not perceive at first,
because of the wise ordering of the assembled parts, how many-sided the
artist's genius was. And so it happens that the landscape painter in him
does not appear excepting under analysis. Yet few artists have advanced
the science of landscape so far; indeed, in all his compositions it
holds a position, if not of first importance, at least one equal to that
of his figures. In his eyes it was not a matter of convention, a
decoration, an accessory, but an indispensable part of the picture, so
indispensable indeed that, without the landscape the picture would not
exist. In short, it is in his landscape that Puvis de Chavannes has
always placed the local colour of his compositions, and not in his
figures. The latter are generally clad in antique fashion, in order to
remain representative of humanity in general, but the setting is local:
his _Ave, Picardia Nutrix_, for instance, shows us the land of Picardy
with its level plains and its melancholy horizons: similarly, the two
frescoes in the Palace of Longchamps reproduce faithfully the
sun-flooded coast of Marseilles and the animation of its quays;--and yet
the hurrying crowds upon them belong to no definite race nor to any
determinable epoch.
It is always so in the paintings of Puvis de Chavannes: the landscape
and the living figures harmonize, fit in, complete each other, and the
consummate art of the landscape painter yields in no way to that of the
painter of figures.
[Illustration: PLATE VIII.--WAR
(In the Museum, Amiens)
This work dates from the same period as _Repose_ and _Peace_. It marks
the début of Puvis de Chavannes in his career as an artist. In spite of
some reminiscences of his training, his individuality already asserts
itself, and the originality of composition is unmistakable.]
Puvis de Chavannes has been criticized on the ground that in such of his
pictures as evoke antiquity, he sacrificed accepted tradition and
acquired knowledge. From this to a direct charge of ignorance was an
easy step; and it was quickly taken. That the artist attached a mediocre
importance to accuracy in decoration or antique costume, there can be no
question. Truth, in his eyes, consisted less in the detailed
reconstruction of garments than in the faithful representation of that
eternally living model, the human soul, over which whole centuries have
passed, without availing to modify it. All else is merely accessory
and secondary, if not actually negligible. At the same time, no one was
ever more truly impregnated with the spirit of antiquity, as he had
imbibed it from his readings, from his travels and from his own
meditations. Contrary to what has been thought, he was not proud; nor
held himself aloof from all other schools of painting except his own.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Puvis was acquainted with all
the schools; and no one admired more sincerely than he the great masters
of each and every country. He had traversed Italy, Germany, and the
Netherlands, examining, studying, admiring. And here is precisely
wherein his great glory consists; that having studied all methods,
analyzed all processes, he still remained true to himself,--in other
words, that he was a painter of inimitable originality.
Puvis de Chavannes kept abreast of all the ideas that stand for
personality and progress. Far from being a recluse, solely concerned
with his own painting, he followed the contemporary literary movement,
and none of the happenings that took place around him escaped his
knowledge.
Nevertheless, his chief preoccupation was his art and his desire to
express, with his brush, the greatest possible degree of human nature.
This he achieved in his magnificent series of immortal works; but it was
only at the cost of a vast amount of conscientious labour. Few masters
have had so keen an intuition of beauty, or a higher and more
spontaneous inspiration; and no one, perhaps, has been so distrustful of
himself, of his inspiration, of his intuition. He did not surrender
himself to them until he had submitted them to the test of searching
argument and uncompromising common sense. It is due to this careful
weighing in the balance, to this wise mingling of youthful enthusiasm
and mature severity that the work of Puvis de Chavannes owes that
harmonious beauty that insures it an eternal glory.
And so, when in 1898 he passed away, not a dissenting voice was raised
amid the concert of eulogies and of regrets which marked his end. For a
long time previous, Puvis de Chavannes had ceased to have detractors;
admiration had stifled envy. And, from the moment that he crossed beyond
the threshold of life, Puvis de Chavannes entered fully into
immortality.