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Updated: May 24, 2025
Poussin, observing against the dark panelling of the wall a magnificent portrait of a woman, exclaimed aloud, "What a magnificent Giorgione!" "No," remarked the old man, "that is only one of my early daubs." "Zounds!" cried Poussin naively; "are you the king of painters?" The old man smiled, as if long accustomed to such homage.
He had left in France some of his masterpieces, models of that, new, independent, and conscientious art, faithfully studied from nature in all its Italian grandeur, and from the treasures of the antique. "How did you arrive at such perfection?" people would ask Le Poussin. "By neglecting nothing," the painter would reply.
Thus, were we inclined to pursue further this mighty subject, yonder landscape of Claude, calm, fresh, delicate, yet full of flavor, should be likened to a bottle of Chateau Margaux. And what is the Poussin before spoken of but Romanee Gelee? heavy, sluggish, the luscious odor almost sickens you; a sultry sort of drink; your limbs sink under it; you feel as if you had been drinking hot blood.
Many years afterwards, Poussin, in speaking of this period, said to Chantilon: 'I have sometimes gone to bed without having tasted food since the morning, not because I had no means of paying at a hostel although that also has befallen me at times but because, after having my soul filled with the glorious beauty of ancient art, I could not endure to mingle in the low, sordid scenes of a cheap eating-house.
The poet Cowper sings of Berries that emboss The bramble black as jet; and truly a plant which diffuses so many benefits, even under the least advantageous circumstances, may well deserve encomium. Nicholas Poussin was born at Andelys, in Normandy, in June 1593.
This pleasant life lasted for a year; Marini was his Mecænas; orders for paintings flowed in on him; and when, in 1625, his patron went to Rome to visit Pope Urban VIII., Poussin would have accompanied him, but for an honourable dread of breaking some engagements which he had made.
A story is told of Poussin, the French painter, that when he was asked why he would not stay in Venice, he replied, 'If I stay here, I shall become a colourist! A somewhat similar tale is reported of a fashionable English decorator.
Many critics, among them one severer than Sainte-Beuve, the late Edmond Scherer, have given excellent reasons for Lamartine's absolute as well as relative importance, and perhaps it is a failure in appreciation on our part that is really responsible for our feeling that Poussin is not quite the great master the French deem him.
In another he folds his little hands, and looks up to Heaven, as if devoting himself to his appointed suffering, while the Mother looks down upon him with a tender resignation. Guido did not excel so much in children, as in the Virgin alone. Poussin, Carlo Dolce, Sasso Ferrato, and, in general, all the painters of the seventeenth century, give us pretty women and pretty children.
He had found means of getting to Rome; there he worked, there he lived, and there he died, returning but once to France, in the height of his renown, for just a few months, without even enriching his own land with any great number of his works; nearly all, of them remained on foreign soil. Le Poussin, born at the Andelys in 1593, made his way with great difficulty to Italy.
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