Ernest Meissonier, Meticulous Technique and Celebrated Realism

It is a rags-to-riches story for the future painter of canvases, destined later to sell at a hundred thousand francs per square decimeter. He shared his poverty lightheartedly with a chosen circle of friends, yet from the beginning while still hopeful to pursue his dreams, he was unable to enter the classes of famed artist Paul Delaroche, whose monthly charge for admission to the studio had reached the exorbitant sum of twenty francs. The author of The Princes in the Tower was immensely popular throughout France, so Messonnier had to contend himself with frequenting the Louvre and copying. But he found replicating pictures of some religious figures and emblems of saints for certain publishers in the Rue Sainte to be his help and give him a financial footing while seeking better training. Monsieur Messonnier always had a habit of occupying himself in drawing. upon any material that was at hand in his moments of imposed inaction. And Monsieur Clarty mentions a publisher with whom he had dealings in his youth, who made a practice of keeping him waiting in an ante-room in which the table was supplied with pencils and bits of paper, which Monsieur Messonnier regularly doodled without noticing what he was doing, with valuable sketches which the ingenious publisher regularly converted into money. Yet Messonnier found instruction with accomplished painter Léon Cognier, who opened up his studio to him. And the precocious student learned quickly and was able to couple his time at the Louvre where he found the works of Gabriel Metsu, a Dutch painter from the Golden Age, to be his aim to replicate in his own way small-sized works of great technical skill and ingenuity. Yet work was beginning to come his way. In Messonnier's later works of illustration, the young painter was already gifted with a considerable portion of that versatility of talent which is an attribute of real genius, and showed this in the series of illustrations published again by his friend Kermer, for which he drew the figures of the prophet Isaiah, Saint Paul and Charlemagne, besides a considerable number of tailpieces, headings for chapters, and ornamental letters. He was engaged at the same time upon the illustrations of a new edition of Lamartine's Chute d'un ange, of which the woodcuts were most unsatisfactorily engraved. It appears from the narrative of M. Bertie that the art of wood engraving was not at that time much cultivated in Paris. The ink blocks of this and other early works of Messonnier were sent to England to be engraved, and the English engravers, says M. Bertie, massacred them. But from the beginning there were connections to be made if he was to emerge as a bona fide artist. So, not long after he arrived in Paris, Messonnier boldly approached the renowned art publisher Kermer, seeking work. However, his youth and eagerness worked against him at first. Kermer, wary of such an inexperienced artist, told Messonnier and his friend who had introduced him that he had no work available at the moment. By chance their polite conversation before parting turned to the topic of life masks, which were highly popular at the time. Much like having a photograph taken today. Seizing the opportunity, Messonnier boasted that just the previous Sunday he had made life masks of the esteemed Johannot brothers, and that he knew them well. Recognizing the value of such connections, Kermer accepted an invitation to Messonnier's studio the following Sunday to have his own mask made. Once there, he couldn't resist commissioning a watercolor painting similar to one he spotted at the studio. This encounter only partially opened the doors of the publishing house to Messonnier. When his friend Marville, a prolific if unremarkable etcher, suggested that Messonnier contribute to Kermer's edition of Paul and Virginia, the publisher hesitated, but he cautiously offered Messonnier a single illustration, but only to be re-engraved, a copy. Messonnier completed the task brilliantly, impressing Kermer enough to secure additional commissions for Paul and Virginia and The Indian Cabin, both of which later became prized collector's editions, and secured Messonnier much recognition. Théophile Gautier would later praise Messonnier's extraordinary attention to detail, calling his ability to capture personalities with precision one of his most distinctive and celebrated of talents. Authoritative critics assert that these attempts, in which the master modestly refused to say anything more than that they are simply essays, will eventually become the most precious treasures that bear his signature. Besides, with one exception, the smoker, being popularized by a large number in printing, were quite limited in number and already eagerly sought after by collectors. But what of his paintings? We find he benefited by the popularizing of the mass media of etching. That was Messonnier's incursion into the realm of expert engraver, an incursion from which he reaped both fame and fortune. He profited from it above all in being able to continue to paint. For the fact remains that from the time of his youngest efforts, such as the patrol removing a body from an outpost, his earliest known work, to swell somewhat that famous monthly income of 15 francs, he never abandoned his brushes. By 1839, Messonnier, at 28, attracted the attention of the critics. For example, you may find in a paper called Le Artiste, from a critique of the Salon, he adds, and I almost forgot an adorable little English doctor by Monsieur Messonnier, a charming miniature in oil, extraordinarily fine and subtle. Then signed by Jules Jeunin, who at that time maintained over French criticism, a sort of reverential authority which, so far as the national school of painting was concerned, was then heralded with an almost exaggerated cordiality, commenting on the small size of Messonnier's pictures. That is the one thing that, for the world at large, contemporaries and future generations alike, is the keynote of his talent. Messonnier has always painted on such a small scale, is what one would begin by saying, if one wanted to explain the artist, to reveal him to someone who did not know him, and what endless things have been said in addition, by way of praise, criticism, and discussion, regarding the slightness of the canvases or panels to which the artist applied himself. Every biographical notice of Monsieur Messonnier begins with a description of his ateliers at Paris or at Poissy, one visiting his studio and workshop. It would be observed of his military paintings that every soldier has a distinct and special type of countenance, and in addition to the pictures, the hall is crowded with small statuettes of wax, modeled by Messonnier himself for his studies, representing such subjects as men on horseback and horses in various forms of motion, the muscles of which are modeled with a perfection of anatomical accuracy and boldness. Amongst the other objects collected in this remarkable museum are a number of bridles of black leather, with silver ornaments and curious bits. Besides his Paris mansion, Messonnier has another at Poissy, where he lives in the summertime. Here there are two studios, one at the top of the house and the other adjoining the stables, for use in inclement weather. The salon at Poissy has those quaint little square windows, which so often figure in the backgrounds of his pictures. He built the country house as he built the house in town, and he fitted it up with artistic luxuriance, designing most of the furniture himself, notably the silverware of the table. Each place has cost him something in the millions. The bill for the house in Paris was augmented by his resolution to have all the work of the very best. He takes particular pride in the thoroughness and accuracy of each new picture. For example, a monument of glory to the first Napoleon of 1814. Messonnier dressed himself in an old coat of the Emperor's and sat on a saddle on a housetop in the falling snow of a gloomy day in winter, and with a mirror before him, painted in the somber tints of the winter sky on the flesh of his face and the flakes of snow on his coat sleeves, all for the right notes and colouring that mean so much toward truth. He remained hospitably friendly, with a welcoming smile to all, and was praised as he is by everybody. He has no conceit in his nature, his hair growing thickly above his broad and open forehead, his beard flowing down over his breast like a river, his robust activity as a cavalier. He's at the age of 68 as solid and as active as at 40. You see him to be well-seasoned, sympathetic, and warm, a man who loves his friends as he loves the truth, with all the passion of a man of 20 years. He never attempted to paint actual skirmishes or battles. It was not that he did not want to, or had not cherished the dream of doing so, but he had never seen a battle, and a battle is a thing that cannot be reconstructed, like a marching column or a detail of camp life. Accordingly, he painted none, because he decided, with a certain lack of confidence, that he did not really know what a battle was. Yes, Ernest Meissonnier was involved in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71, though not as a soldier, but as part of France's National Guard. When war broke out between France and Prussia, Meissonnier, despite being in his mid-50s, volunteered and was appointed a colonel in the National Guard. His role was largely symbolic and organizational, rather than one of active combat, but he took his duties seriously. During the Siege of Paris, 1870-71, when the city was surrounded by Prussian forces, Meissonnier played a role in organizing defenses and maintaining order. His patriotism and deep admiration for France's military history likely motivated his involvement. However, like many in France, he witnessed the devastating defeat of the French army and the fall of Emperor Napoleon III. The war had a profound impact on Meissonnier, both personally and artistically. His deep respect for France's past military glories, especially the Napoleonic era, contrasted with the humiliation of 1870. He later created works reflecting themes of military leadership, defeat, and heroism, though he did not directly depict the Franco-Prussian War as he had with Napoleonic campaigns. In the latter years of his life, Meissonnier, already a celebrated painter of historical and military scenes, took on an entirely different role, that of a public servant. In 1878, the people of Poissy, a small but historically significant town on the outskirts of Paris, elected him as their mayor. For Meissonnier, this was not merely an honorary title, it was a duty he took on with the same meticulous attention to detail that had made him famous as an artist. Poissy, known for its medieval heritage and its proximity to the Seine, was a town with both promise and challenges. Meissonnier, shown here in a painting by Adolphe von Menzel, despite his international fame and connections in the Parisian art world, remained deeply committed to his local community. He saw in Poissy a place that could thrive with proper care and leadership. Unlike many artists who shied away from politics and administration, Meissonnier embraced his role as mayor with the same discipline he had applied to his paintings. Despite his administrative responsibilities, Meissonnier never abandoned his art. He continued to paint, often retreating to his studio in Poissy, where he could immerse himself in historical reconstructions and battle scenes. His dual role as an artist and mayor was a testament to his deep sense of discipline and dedication. By the time he stepped down from his position in 1891, Meissonnier had left an imprint on Poissy, not just as one of France's greatest painters, but as a leader who had sought to enhance the town's beauty and functionality. His tenure as mayor, though often overshadowed by his artistic legacy, revealed a man who saw civic duty as another canvas, one that required patience, vision, and an unyielding commitment to detail. And finally, we hope you enjoyed the rags-to-riches story of an artist whose talent would not be denied, and who fought the odds to win big. His single-mindedness of direction never wavered, and despite the fashions and fluctuations in the art markets, his work still shines. He was the consummate technician who has risen again. So with that, thank you for your donations and for subscribing to the channel. There is also a link below for any amount, and remember to leave a like. So until next time, it's bye for now.