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Updated: June 5, 2025
Jules Stewart's father, a great lover of good pictures and one of Fortuny's earliest patrons, had invited Whistler to his house in Paris to see his collection, and in the course of the visit drew from a hiding-place a small panel of Meissonier's, of a quality so high that any dealer in Paris would have given him $30,000 for it. Whistler would not even glance at it.
It was easy to see where the power of his brush lay. No timid, uncertain, niggling stroke ever came from that torso or forearm or thigh. He hewed with a broad axe, not with a chisel, and he hewed true that was the joy of it. The men of Meissonier's time, like the old Dutchmen, worked from their knuckle joints.
Eugene Delacroix sent splendid canvases, the Entree des Croises a Constantinople, among others, to the Versailles Museum, the generous and personal creation of King Louis Philippe. Meissonier's masterpieces were spreading his reputation far and wide, and near him clustered a swarm of great landscape painters Corot, Jules Dupre, Rousseau, Troyon.
Delightful technique! Wonderfully powerful! In that way you can always get along. I know that those two are very blase about everything, but admiration always pleases an artist." Sunday morning they left for Poissy. Just a few steps from the station, at the end of the church square, they found Meissonier's property.
Yet everything he left behind him, even unconsidered trifles, are found to be of value, and the sale of the contents of his studio just ended in Paris brought nearly five hundred thousand francs, although the collection contained not a single finished picture of importance, but was made up almost entirely of unfinished studies and of sketches. Meissonier's industry was constant and untiring.
Delightful technique! Wonderfully powerful! In that way you can always get along. I know that those two are very blase about everything, but admiration always pleases an artist." Sunday morning they left for Poissy. Just a few steps from the station, at the end of the church square, they found Meissonier's property.
Edmund About writes that "to cover M. Meissonier's pictures with gold pieces simply would be to buy them for nothing; and the practice has now been established of covering them with bank-notes." Meissonier seldom painted the figure of a woman in his pictures, but all of his subjects were wholesome and fine.
"You must not say that, Loudon," he replied; "I will never believe my son to be a coward." "But I don't like it," I pleaded. "It hasn't got any interest for me, and art has. I know I could do more in art," and I reminded him that a successful painter gains large sums; that a picture of Meissonier's would sell for many thousand dollars.
In 1865, Meissonier's son Charles, himself a very good painter, went to a costume-ball dressed like a Fleming of the seventeenth century and looking as if he had stepped out of a picture by Terburg. The costume had been made with the greatest accuracy, and Meissonier was so pleased with his son's appearance that he made a study and sold it for two thousand francs.
Just pay them compliments, nothing but compliments, always compliments; in that way, if you say anything foolish it will be overlooked. Do you know Meissonier's paintings?" "I should say I do." "Have you read the Rougon-Macquart series?" "From first to last." "That's enough. Mention a painting from time to time, speak of a novel here and there and add: "'Superb! Extraordinary!
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