what I was sure was more than the dealers would then give him for them; and so we parted, the best of friends. But what followed shows how, even then, his mind was unhinged. I had walked fully two miles in the direction of Paris, and was entering a shop in the Rue de Richelieu, when I became aware that Meryon, much agitated, was following me. He said he must have back the proofs I had bought of him; that they were of a nature to compromise him, and from what he knew of 'the etched work which I called my own,' he was determined I should not take them to England with me! I, of course, gave them to him, and he went his way." The same eminent authority says: "The art of Meryon stands alone. Like the work of every true genius, it resembles in no one feature the work of any one else. His method was this- First, he made not a sketch, but a number of sketches, two or three inches square, of parts of his picture, which he put together and arranged into a harmonious whole. What is singular, and a proof of his concentrativeness, is that the result has none of the artificial character usual to this kind of treatment, but that it is always broad and simple, and that the poetical motive is never lost sight of." Mr. Hamerton says: "His work was sanity itself," - and Victor Hugo wrote during the artist's lifetime: "These etchings are magnificent things. We must not allow this splendid imagination to be worsted in the struggle. Strengthen him by all the encouragements possible." While the renown of Meryon must always rest upon the twelve principal plates of the "Paris Set," yet his personality if not his great art is maintained in several prints of fantastic verses composed as well as etched by himself. These verses remind one of the similar productions of William Blake; but here the parallel ends, for the English artist, though always poor, lived a happy life, and died at a good old age. Others of his works (notably some of the portraits) were done for bread, and the etcher evidently had little heart in his work. But though some of those prints are greatly inferior to others, yet everything from the hand of this unique genius is worthy of study. Thus lived, suffered, and died the unhappy Meryon. To him, of all artists, was reserved the power to make stone walls eloquent. Rembrandt could paint or etch the soul of a man in his face; Corot made every landscape a poem; but Meryon, while giving exact pictures of the buildings of his native city, imparted to them at the same time his own intense personality to a degree never before achieved. The style and touch of any great artist are easily recognized — for example, the Italian Piranesi, whose etchings of ancient Roman ruins have a grandiose splendor almost greater than the buildings themselves; but style is a different endowment from this intangible gift of personality. John Stuart Mill gives us an intellectual impersonality; but who can read the Vicar of Size of the LA MORGUE original print, 93 by 8 inches. From the etching by Meryon. This building-"The Doric little Morgue" was demolished years ago. The new Morgue is far away from this. This etching one of Meryon's most powerful works - is dated 1854. From a technical point of view it is a masterpiece, and in it are eminently visible his power of instilling poetry and picturesqueness into the most uninteresting material. |