Vernet, notwithstanding he loved to depict the sea in its most convulsed and terrible aspects, was a perfect gentleman of the French school, whose manners were most amiable and engaging. What he most loved after painting was music. He had formed at Rome, an intimate friendship with Pergolesi, the composer, who afterwards became so celebrated, and they lived almost continually together. Vernet placed a harpsichord in his studio for the express use of his friend, and while the painter, carried away by his imagination, put the waters of the mighty main into commotion, or suspended persons on the towering waves, the grave composer sought, with the tips of his fingers, for the rudiments of his immortal melodies. It was thus that the melancholy stanzas of thatchef d'œuvreof sadness and sorrow, theStabat-Mater, were composed for a little convent in which one of Pergolesi's sisters resided. It seems to one that while listening to this plaintive music, Vernet must have given a more mellow tint to his painting; and it was, perhaps, while under its influence, that he worked at his calms and moonlights, or, making a truce with the roaring billows of the sea, painted it tranquil and smooth, and represented on theshore nothing but motionless fishermen, sailors seated between the carriages of two cannons, and whiling away the time by relating their travels to one another, or else stretched on the grass in so quiescent a state, that the spectator himself becomes motionless while gazing on them.
Pergolesi died in the arms of Joseph Vernet, who could never after hear the name of his friend pronounced, without being moved to tears. He religiously preserved the scraps of paper, on which he had seen the music of theStabat-Materdotted down before his eyes, and brought them with him to France in 1752, at which period he was sent for by the Marquis de Marigny, after an absence of twenty years. Vernet's love for music procured Grétry a hearty welcome, when the young composer came to Paris. Vernet discovered his talent, and predicted his success. Some of Grétry's features, his delicate constitution, and, above all, several of his simple and expressive airs, reminded the painter of the immortal man to whom music owes so large a portion of its present importance; for it was Pergolesi who first introduced in Italy the custom of paying such strict attention to the sense of the words and to the choice of the accompaniments.
Though Vernet rose to great distinction, he was never fully appreciated till long after his decease.At the present day, he is placed in the first rank of marine painters, not only by his own countrymen, but by every other nation. He himself pronounced judgment on his own merits, the justness of which, posterity has sanctioned. The sentence deserves to be preserved, for it is great. Comparing himself to the great painters, his rivals, he says, "If you ask me whether I painted skies better than such and such an artist, I should answer 'no!' or figures better than any one else, I should also say 'no!' or trees and landscapes better than others, still I should answer 'no!' or fogs, water, and vapors better than others, my answer would ever be the same but thoughinferior to each of them in one branch of the art, I surpass them in all the others."
The Marquis de Marigny, like his sister, Madame de Pompadour, loved and protected the arts. It was mainly through his influence that Vernet was invited to Paris in 1752, and commissioned to paint the sea-ports of France. No one could have been found better fitted for the ungrateful task, which, though offering so few resources, required so much knowledge. Thus imprisoned in official programme, Vernet must have felt ill at ease, if we may judge from a letter which he wrote to the Marquis at a subsequent period, with respect to another order. Indeed, the truth of his remarks were verified inthe very series just mentioned, which are not considered among his happiest productions. The following is the main part of the letter referred to, dated May 6th, 1765:
"I am not accustomed to make sketches for my pictures. My general practice is to compose on the canvass of the picture I am about to execute, and to paint it immediately, while my imagination is still warm with conception; the size, too, of my canvas tells me at once what I have to do, and makes me compose accordingly. I am sure, if I made a sketch beforehand, that I should not only not put in it what might be in the picture, but that I should also throw into it all the fire I possess, and the larger picture would, in consequence, become cold. This would also be making a sort of copy, which it would annoy me to do. Thus, sir, after thoroughly weighing and examining everything, I think it bestthat I should be left free to act as I like. This is what I require from all those for whom I wish to do my best; and this is also what I beg your friend towards whom I am desirous of acting conscientiously, to let me do. He can tell me what size he wishes the picture to be, with the general subject of it, such as calm, tempest, sun-rise, sun-set, moon-light, landscape, marine-piece, etc., but nothing more. Experience has taught me that, when I am constrained by the least thing, I always succeed worse than generally."If you wish to know the usual prices of my pictures, they are as follows:—For every one four feet wide, and two and a half, or three high, £60, for every one three feet wide, and of a proportionate height, £48; for every one two feet and a half wide £40; for every one two feet wide, £32; and for every one eighteen inches wide, £24, with larger or smaller ones as required; but it is as well to mention that I succeed much better with the large ones."
"I am not accustomed to make sketches for my pictures. My general practice is to compose on the canvass of the picture I am about to execute, and to paint it immediately, while my imagination is still warm with conception; the size, too, of my canvas tells me at once what I have to do, and makes me compose accordingly. I am sure, if I made a sketch beforehand, that I should not only not put in it what might be in the picture, but that I should also throw into it all the fire I possess, and the larger picture would, in consequence, become cold. This would also be making a sort of copy, which it would annoy me to do. Thus, sir, after thoroughly weighing and examining everything, I think it bestthat I should be left free to act as I like. This is what I require from all those for whom I wish to do my best; and this is also what I beg your friend towards whom I am desirous of acting conscientiously, to let me do. He can tell me what size he wishes the picture to be, with the general subject of it, such as calm, tempest, sun-rise, sun-set, moon-light, landscape, marine-piece, etc., but nothing more. Experience has taught me that, when I am constrained by the least thing, I always succeed worse than generally.
"If you wish to know the usual prices of my pictures, they are as follows:—For every one four feet wide, and two and a half, or three high, £60, for every one three feet wide, and of a proportionate height, £48; for every one two feet and a half wide £40; for every one two feet wide, £32; and for every one eighteen inches wide, £24, with larger or smaller ones as required; but it is as well to mention that I succeed much better with the large ones."
Antoine Charles Horace Vernet was the son of Claude Joseph Vernet, and born at Bordeaux in 1758. He acquired distinction as a painter, and was made a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, and of the order of St Michael. He chiefly excelled in battle and parade pieces of large dimensions; and he thus commemorated the battles of Rivoli, Marengo, Austerlitz, Wagram, the Departure of the Marshals, and other events of French history which occurred during his artistical career. More pleasing to many are his smaller pictures, mostly referring to battles and camps. He was uncommonly successful in depicting the horse, and there are numerous equestrian portraits by him, which are greatly admired. His studies from nature, and his hunting pieces, for vivacity, spirit, and boldness of conception, are only rivaled by those of his son Horace. Many of his works have been lithographed; the twenty-eight plates in folio, illustrating the Campaign of Bonaparte in Italy, are esteemed among his most successful efforts. He died in 1836.
A short time before his death, Charles Vernet, having some business to transact with one of the public functionaries, called at his office and sent in his card. The minister left him waiting two whole hours in the anteroom before he admitted him to his presence, when the business was quickly dispatched. Meeting Vernet at a soiree soon afterwards, the minister apologized for hisapparentneglect, which not appearing very satisfactory to the veteran painter, he mildly rebuked him by observing, "It is of no consequence, sir, but permit me to say that I think a little more respect should have been shown to the son of Joseph and the father of Horace Vernet."
A Norman priest, who lived in the middle of the seventeenth century, named the Abbé Malotru, was remarkably deformed in his figure, and ridiculous in his dress. One day, while he was performing mass, he observed a smile of contempt on the face of M. de Lasson, which irritated him so much that the moment the service was over, he instituted aprocess against him. Lasson possessed the talent of caricature drawing: he sketched a figure of the ill-made priest, accoutred, as he used to be, in half a dozen black caps over one another, nine waistcoats, and as many pair of breeches. When the court before whom he was cited urged him to produce his defense, he suddenly exhibited his Abbé Malotru, and the irresistible laughter which it occasioned insured his acquittal.
In the early part of Frank Hals' life, to accommodate his countrymen, who were sparing both of their time and money, he painted portraits for a low price at one sitting in a single hour. Vandyke on his way to Rome, passing through the place, sat his hour as a stranger to the rapid portrait painter. Hals had seen some of the works of Vandyke, but was unacquainted with his person. When the picture was finished, Vandyke, assuming a silly manner, said it appeared to be easy work, and that he thought he could do it. Hals, thinking to have some fun, consented to sit an hour precisely by the clock, and not to rise or look at what he fully expected to find a laughable daub. Vandyke began his work; Hals looked like a sitter. At the close, the wag rose with all his risible muscles prepared for a hearty laugh; but when he saw the splendid sketch, he started, looked, and exclaimed, "You must be either Vandyke or the Devil!"