Chapter II: Conclusion (1)

Temperament of Montmartre and her Free Lances--Plea
for a National Gallery of Black and White Art Pp. 81–83

I

A. STEINLEN

There is no modern illustrator whose work has more completely won the admiration of his fellows of the brush, whatever their predilection in art, than Steinlen. Be the studio in Paris, in London, in Munich, be it even in Timbuctoo, from some discreet corner will be drawn a treasured copy or two of _Gil Blas Illustré_ illustrated by Steinlen--forthwith to be discussed, and as surely lauded without stint.

This is not to imply that Steinlen is what is termed “a painter’s painter” and nothing more; for the artist we are now considering is one of the few who are sufficiently great to have captured the warmest appreciation from the public at large, as well as from the critical ranks of his fellow workers.

The “painters’ painter” is, as a rule, if nothing else, a master of technique, one whose work shows on the face of it the sheer joy evinced in the skilful manipulation of the medium employed--the exceptions to this rule being the men whose work reflects some subtle or involved workings of the brain, and whose great thoughts are felt to outweigh the shortcomings of faulty technique. They are of course styled “painters’ painters” because their work appeals to artists and other highly trained critics; and it is useless to expect any but the most sensitive among the public to appreciate them. In smoothness and “softness” consists the acme of technical perfection in the eyes of the untrained, who, as regards figure subjects, prefer something which appears to the artist to be inane and common-place, and as regards landscape subjects, insipid prettiness is always preferred to greatness or originality of view. In either case an excess of detail is a “sine quâ non,” and such _plébiscites_ as have been taken in England have almost invariably proved that the inferior painters are the most popular.

Yet, occasionally a great artist arises who will upset these canons, and compel the admiration of connoisseur and public alike; such an one is Steinlen.

Just as it may be presumed that J. F. Millet’s popularity extends to all classes, so is it certain that the “Millet of the streets” will be equally widely and lastingly appreciated.

The pioneer work that Millet did in interpreting the toilsome life of the French peasantry has been extended by Steinlen to the denizens--reputable and disreputable--of the nearer suburbs of Paris.

Born in Lausanne, he was trained for the church; and we may feel sure that had he joined that profession he would have been a forcible advocate of the poor and the ill-favoured, and that his blunt honesty of diction would have dealt his congregation some rude shocks indeed.

This was not to be, however, for the art in the man would out. In 1882 he journeyed to Paris; there to undergo much privation and many hardships before getting a foothold in the form of a drawing accepted by the paper _Le Chat Noir_, which was to prove the first rung on his ladder to fame.

Rudolph Salis’ artistic _cabaret_ of the “Black Cat” was the editorial office of this paper, and at the same time a centre of all that was Bohemian and daring and go-ahead, a forcing ground of impatient talent. These first notable studies by Steinlen were of cats and of children. It was here that our artist met the authors whose work he was later to illustrate; more particularly he struck up a friendship with that fierce poet _cabaretier_, Aristide Bruant, whose powerful and terror-striking poems dealt with the very world that interested Steinlen to the quick, and provided him with the stimulus for many of his finest drawings. They both show us the, to us, shabby joys of the _faubouriens_, and their terrible struggles with one another and with Dame Fortune.

Steinlen’s field of labour has been in the so-called eccentric quarters of Paris--that is to say, on that soiled fringe of nondescript outlying districts of the _Ville Lumière_, which is separated from the city proper by the circlet of shabby-genteel exterior boulevards. Many of these suburbs were at one time peaceful, outlying villages; but they have now been swallowed, and more or less thoroughly digested, by the metropolis. Thus it comes that many of them consist of a queer mixture of humble rustic abodes jostling against towering blocks of tenement buildings, or busy factories for ever being pressed outwards by the expanding city.

No less incongruous than these streets are their inhabitants,--chiefly composed of armies upon armies of toiling workers, while there is nevertheless an effervescing sediment or substratum of those who live by violence and crime. The less successful of those who trade on the weaknesses and follies of a vicious city are forced by circumstances to live in these cheaper suburbs, just as are the poorest of the honest classes; and this is so despite the fact that throughout Paris the upper stories of all flats are occupied by the lower, or at any rate the poorer, classes.

Curiosity, and a search for novel experiences wherewith to whet their jaded appetites, brought numbers of roysterers of a higher social grade to the places of amusement affected by this poverty-stricken and criminal population. These same humble places of amusement, more particularly round and about Montmartre rapidly flourished out of all recognition of their former selves, and until the recent waning of the craze others were frequently being added to the list. This influx added to the complex character of such neighbourhoods. Artists, authors, and other persons of more or less Bohemian tastes, many of them men of great renown and genius, have ever found their home on the commanding heights of the Montmartre cliff.

Among them Steinlen has settled, perched high over the myriad glittering roofs and towers and domes of Paris, which lies seething far below. The roar and clatter of the great city reach his window but fitfully, as the sounds are hurried hither and thither on the wings of wayward breezes, the while great stretches of urban landscape are plunged into purple shadow or bathed in golden sunlight as the fleeting clouds chase one another across the great dome of sky.

Most of the artists to be referred to in this little volume are intimately connected with this same breezy, turbulent suburb, and also with the before-mentioned “Chat Noir”. This _cabaret_, founded and carried on by Salis, himself an artist, for years attracted _le tout Paris_ by means of its _réunions_ of the most up-to-date artists, authors, and actors, and its unique theatre. Along with its sprightly, risky weekly paper it would form matter for a weighty volume of itself. The students from the _Quartier Latin_, moreover, came to share their joyous, reckless hours of leisure between their own beloved neighbourhood of the _Boul’ Mich’_, and the far-away Mount of the Windmills--Montmartre.

Peasants, workgirls, the starving, the insane, the destitute, those who are fighting misery and those who are making it, garrotters, thieves, murderers, and a large assortment of parasitical ruffians as well, have all found a sympathetic student and recorder in Steinlen. He understands them, he has a big heart, and he pities them all, and what is more he makes us, willy-nilly, pity them also. He delights in showing us that one little touch of remaining nature that makes the whole world akin, and will out in his most abandoned wretch. He makes us feel that his criminals are what nature and cruel circumstances have led them to be. Never does he descend to the narrow-minded, short-sighted, spiteful views of current events, discernible in the work of so many of his talented _confrères_. The firm tenderness of his nature reveals itself in the very lines of his drawings, which, as if to counterbalance the brilliant vivacity of the work of so many French illustrators, display a sturdy thoroughness and sanity.

A notable feature about his work is that--although he depicts the most depraved and immoral, as well as the most poverty-stricken of his fellow citizens--it cannot be said to be low or vulgar.

His drawings of simple peasant life have all the air of having been undertaken as a relaxation from the contemplation of more lurid subjects. He sallies forth among his chance models, sketch-book in hand, ready to put down notes of salient features and expressive poses, later to be incorporated in the wonderfully complete drawings which are shown to the public.

Steinlen is a prolific worker. First in importance among the many publications whose pages he has enriched comes the _Gil Blas Illustré_. It was Steinlen who initiated the idea of this Paris daily paper issuing a halfpenny supplement on Sundays containing feuilletons and poetry, illustrated with drawings to be reproduced in two or more colours. Since the year 1891, and until recently, the front and frequently other pages of this paper have consisted of splendid drawings by him, as a rule depicting some terrible or pathetic episode in the lives of the _faubouriens_ or _faubouriennes_ to whom we have already alluded. In every case a background, equally masterly and full of local character, has been introduced. This series of essentially modern subjects was occasionally varied by the appearance of a drawing such as the _Chevalier à la Fée_ or _Les Digitales_, inspired by some mediæval incident or legend. These Steinlen would treat in an entirely different but equally successful manner--the style employed somewhat resembling that of another masterly designer, namely, Eugène Grasset. Of his more usual style to pick out such splendid drawings as his suicide in _À l’eau_, the terrible street fight in the _Voix du Sang_ or _Le Vagabond_, _L’Immolation_, _Pour les Amoureux et pour les Oiseaux_, _Marchand de Marrons_ or _14 Juillet_, is but to recall hundreds of others equally worthy of special attention.

In 1895 the _Gil Blas_ employed more colours in its reproductions, and Steinlen rose to the occasion with some daring colour schemes exemplified in _La Terre Chante au Crépuscule_, _Le Poil de Carotte_ and many another drawing. Towards 1896 the range of his subjects noticeably widened.

Among other publications to which he has contributed one recalls _Le Chambard_, in which appeared splendid lithographs from his own hand, _La Feuille_, _L’Assiette au Beurre_, _La Vie en Rose_, _Le Canard Sauvage_, etc. In the following music albums will be found some further superb lithographs by Steinlen, namely, _Chanson de Montmartre_, _Chansons du Quartier Latin_, and _Chanson de Femmes_. Among the books he has illustrated are: _Les Gaitès Bourgeois_, _Prison fin de Siècle_, _Dans la Rue_, and _Dans la Vie_--the latter in colour.

Description of a few of his notable drawings, culled here and there, may help us to a better understanding of their quality.

First, then, he shows us the gallery of some dark, putrid Assembly Hall; the air is thick with garlic, and oaths, and gas, whose garish light illuminates a disreputable mob of frenzied anarchists, who are applauding with delirious gusto the sentiments of “Down with everything,” “Death to every one.”

REVOLUTION

(_Lithographed Poster_)]

Next we are taken to some dull, superstitious Breton hamlet; a blind and crippled tramp has arrived, hobbling through on crutches. We feel that his infirmities have hardly saved him from a career of violence. We can almost hear his raucous appeal for alms, as it falls on the ears of a group of simple village children, pitying, yet more than half-fearing, the uncanny stranger--just as they did the chained bear that passed through a week before.

Less gruesome is a great healthy farmer’s lass, surrounded by cocks and hens and clattering her wooden shoon across the cobbled farmyard; or the two fresh little laundry girls, swinging along laden with three great baskets of clean linen. “Look out! there’s another of those beastly bicycles,” says one of them; “and on Sunday too,” comments the other.

Then again there are idyllic scenes on the sordid Paris fortifications, or yet further afield. _Trompe la Mort_ shows us a crowd of humble folk scandal-mongering in hushed tones, their tittle-tattle provoked to its utmost by the climax indicated in the background by a sombre hearse. Another drawing transports us to the midst of a crowd in quite a different frame of mind. A hue and cry has been raised, and an infuriated mob is tearing down the street at the heels of its hapless prey. Next we see one of the many drawings dealing with a side of life which in less safe hands might be offensive. An unctuous old harpy waylays two fresh little workgirls, and insidiously lays the seeds which, to her profit, shall lead to their downfall. Steinlen occasionally, if rarely, makes drawings of which humour is the motive power. Among these I recall a café-concert study of his. Yvette Guilbert, at that time as thin as a lath, holds the stage, and among the audience is a great, porpoise-like woman who says, threateningly to her poor, inoffensive little wisp of a husband--“Perhaps that’s your style.... Satyr.”

One of his most charming drawings reproduced in colour in _Le Rire_ is called “le bon Gîte.” The hapless Krüger, all war stained, is seated in some peaceful Dutch cottage, where Queen Wilhelmina, as an awe-struck peasant lassie, fills for him the pipe of peace, the while her martial German husband eagerly engages the old man in fighting his battles over again.

Nor can we forget the splendid double-page drawing that appeared in _L’Assiette au Beurre_ for May 23, 1901. Here we see a big boy’s seminary, representing the French army of the future, the hope of the country, going out for its daily walk in charge of a number of priests--every one of them a monument of craftiness, superstition or bigoted intolerance, thus representing the power that poisoned a great nation’s sense of justice during the hateful period of the Dreyfus trials.

Then again in the same paper for June 27, 1901, appears among others one of his most notable drawing, a veritable _tour de force_, representing the harrowing scene of the identification of corpses after the dynamite explosion at Issy.

It is interesting to compare such powerful work as this with one of his earliest successes, namely the illustrations to _Les Gaitès Bourgeoises_, a set of _chic_ and delicate little pen-drawings instinct with humour and gaiety.

Steinlen is a giant in the artistic poster movement. Some of his productions were lithographs in colour of enormous size, each printed from as many as thirty different lithographic stones. Here and there a poster would give him the opportunity to introduce some of the marvellous drawings of cats for which he is so justly renowned; and in this connection we cannot forbear mentioning two splendid drawings of cocks which appeared in the earlier numbers of _Cocorico_, as well as some wonderfully spirited comic drawings of frogs in a volume entitled “Entrée de Clowns.”

Those who keep an eye on the picture galleries of the Paris streets can never forget, so splendid was their design and colouring, Steinlen’s great posters for _La Rue_, or the equally long and fresco-like groups of realistic Parisian types advertising the “Affiches Charles Verneau.” Then, who does not love the “Lait Pur Sterilisé” poster with its golden-haired little girl in scarlet drinking out of a saucer, while three inimitable cats beg at her knee. His poster for Zola’s “Paris” was a poem in itself; and in the “Tournée du Chat Noir” the noble beast concerned is treated to a glory of decoration. Then there are his daring “La Feuille” poster, his “Yvette Guilbert,” and many another, not to mention programme covers and such smaller game.

Finally, Steinlen has produced charming etchings, both in colour and in black and white, and such splendid oil paintings as _Les Blanchisseuses_.

_Gil Blas Illustré_

EN PROMENADE

(_Pen drawing_)]

II

CARAN D’ACHE

Emmanuel Poiré, better known by his Russian pseudonym of Caran d’Ache (pencil), is a public benefactor, in that he has considerably added to the gaiety of nations; and if it be true that one laughs and grows fat, then he must also be responsible for much of the extra weight that those nations carry with them.

The man upon whom one may count to make one merry is sure to be popular. Caran d’Ache, as we have already hinted, has made whole nations merry, and he is a popular favourite. It is true that sometimes his own infectious laughter is cynical, or spiteful, or cruel to a minority, but he always has the majority to laugh with him, and follow him in his pictured tirades--be they well-considered or ill-considered. But, after all, that is perhaps a matter of politics, or nationality, or religion, or what not; and the fact remains that his drawings are irresistibly humorous, and are always excellent works of art.

Caran d’Ache was born in Moscow, of French parents, but when twenty years of age he came to Paris, where his innate talent soon evinced itself.

While undergoing his military service in the early eighties his unquenchable passion for drawing was put by the authorities to their practical use, in making studies of past and current military uniforms for the War Office. The costumes of the glorious Napoleonic era and of Germany were made a speciality, and the knowledge thus acquired was carefully retained by the young artist, and served him in good stead in his later years.

Caran d’Ache, like every thorough-going Frenchman, preserves his love for the army, incidents in whose life he is never tired of depicting with that spirited brilliance we have come to know so well. And the military officer’s smartness of bearing has stuck to him, for he is recognised as an “_ultra chic_”,--a very dandy among the illustrators, and an eccentric one at that. Yet at the same time he refuses to associate himself with the smart set in Paris; he has too much of the artist temperament for that.

He was early attracted to the “Chat Noir” on the Butte of Montmartre, and Rudolph Salis--that keen exploiter or genial art patron, which you will--was not long in appreciating the talent of his client. Soon we hear of him achieving an artistic triumph with his astoundingly perfect shadow pantomime, _L’Epopée_, at the little “Chat Noir” Theatre. Caran d’Ache had spared no trouble to make his silhouettes and the effects in which they were set as perfect as possible. No greater pains could have been taken preliminary to the painting of a series of Salon pictures; and he reaped fame as his reward.

“_L’Epopée_” dealt with Napoleon’s succession of military triumphs. Opportunity was thus early given to M. Poiré to display his astonishing knowledge of the horse in all its varied attitudes.

The horse he delights and excels in is a magnificent, proud, high-mettled beast, whom he puts at some breakneck charge, or causes to career about in high-strung excitement. Caran d’Ache’s army horses are not surpassed even by those of such acknowledged masters as Meissonier and Détaille. _The Studio_ published some splendid equine studies of his a year or so ago, which must have been a revelation to those who had previously looked on Caran d’Ache as a comic artist and nothing more.

His drawings have been produced in innumerable papers, magazines, and books, and are for ever being re-reproduced abroad. Collections of his caricatures have been published as “L’Album Caran-d’-Ache,” “Bric-a-Brac,” “Le Carnet de Cheques,” “La Comédie du Jour,” “Les Courses dans l’Antiquité,” “Fantaisies,” “Galérie Comique,” “Les Peintres chez-eux,” apart from his illustrations to “C’est à prendre ou à laisser,” “Prince Kozakokoff,” “Malbrough,” &c. More recently “L’Album” published a selection of his works, including some drawings done in a bolder style than that which he generally produces for reproduction,--such are the _Battery of Dreadnoughts_, bold and grim, and the splendid _Charge_. In the drawing of himself there is a good specimen of those caricature portraits for which he is so renowned.

His work appeared in the pages of _Tout Paris_, _La Vie Moderne_, _La Revue Illustrée_, and _Le Chat Noir_, &c.; superb military sketches came out in _La Caricature_; and every week he carries on a running fire of pencilled commentary in _Le Journal_, and _Le Figaro_, contributing at the same time to _Le Canard Sauvage_, and _Le Rire_. A special number of the latter paper entitled _Tactique et Stratégie_ consisted of a short series of vigorous military cartoons, representing various epochs, drawn on a large scale, and some of them reproduced in colours.

However, it is by his stories without words that Caran d’Ache has attracted most attention, and, it must be confessed, they are simply captivating. Comic stories have been told by the same means in Germany for half a century or more, but Caran d’Ache is credited with having introduced the progressive drawing into France.

Caran d’Ache’s little tales need not a syllable of explanation. All is told by the subtlest of alterations in the expressions on the faces of his figures, in the movements of their bodies, or of other animated or inanimate bodies; there is never any mistaking the gist of a Caran d’Ache story. His attention to detail is marvellous, yet everything takes its right place, and the venue is never confused.

Nothing could better than--say--the set of thirty-eight drawings entitled _M. Toutbeau catches the 5.17 a.m. Express_. We trace the dear, fat old fellow through all his agony. He is asleep. He wakes in a perspiration of fright--ten to five--on with them--that accursed tight boot--almost forgot to wash--tie--good gracious, seven to--hallo, there goes a button--_Palsembleu!_--5 o’clock--hair done--now for my coat--I shall never do it! And so on, through all the terrors of hasty packing, ringings for the servant, getting, discussing and paying the hotel bill--umbrella left behind and recovered at the last moment--the dash into a crawling cab--and then Mr. Toutbeau is seen beaming in his first-class railway carriage.

Who does not know the _Great Expectations_ set, wherein the expectant nephew, to his joy, is telegraphed for by his dying uncle; and how the latter miraculously gets stronger and plumper day by day, just as the erstwhile buoyant and vigorous nephew’s growing disappointment drags him visibly nearer and nearer to an untimely grave.

Then there is the little set of three _Shooting Impressions of my Friend Marius_, who presumably hails from the _Midi_. First he is in the North of France with his gun and his dog--nothing in sight, _no game at all_! Next he is in the Midlands, both man and dog are happier, _There’s just a little_, and a bird has been bagged. Lastly, he’s in his beloved and romantic _Midi_ and _there’s too much_; there’s no room to walk for the game; they press round and caress the bloodthirsty Marius, a hare is making up to the dog, and one confiding game bird has brought its nest of young and actually settled with them on the gun barrel!

Another splendid set is that of _The Finest Conquest of Man_, wherein is traced the marvellous horsemanship of a swell, who, with the greatest of ease and suavity, completely subdues a very demon of a horse.

But we could proceed thus _ad infinitum_ and yet never give an idea of the wonderful spirit of the drawings, which must be seen to be loved.

Most of them are executed with a thin, very precise and sensitive line. How successfully he can manage bold masses when necessary we can judge by his excellent Cossack poster for the “Exposition Russe,” or in those used to advertise the exhibition of his own works at the Fine Art Society, London, in 1898.

III

H. DE TOULOUSE LAUTREC

Lautrec is one of those artists whose work is so uneven and out of the ordinary, that opinions as to its merits or demerits will ever remain as strongly divided now that he is gone, as ever they were during his lifetime. His short life work consists of a mixed series of talented absurdities, and of veritable _tours de force_. His genius, alas! was of the species that borders on insanity. Occasionally the border was overstepped.

In more ways than one Aubrey Beardsley’s short life may be compared to that of Lautrec. His genius was of a similar order, and as one examines his work, so will one be inclined first to call him an unwholesome incompetent, and next feel convinced that he is a pioneer artist of the first rank.

Lautrec’s life story is a very pathetic one. With him in 1901 was extinguished the last remnant of an ancient line of nobles. His father was an amateur sculptor and painter, who was extremely fond of sport. The family came to live in Paris in 1883. The artist son was a dwarf, and after fighting hard against his handicap, and cheerfully entering the ring to tilt successfully for fame, his mind gave way, and he died at an early age in his father’s castle at Albi, after having been confined in a private asylum.

Lautrec’s student days were passed in Paris at Cormon’s _atelier_. His work done from the life in the studio did not hold out any great promise of later achievement; but, as is often the case, the untrammelled work he did outside was recognised at once as being out of the ordinary, and frequently of great merit. He would bring to the studio to show his comrades very clever sketches of types he had encountered during his rambles along the Boulevards. Indeed, Lautrec occasionally asserted with some bitterness in after days that it was these studies that had inspired Steinlen to make the character-drawings through which he had become famous--Steinlen having previously made cats and children his chief study.

However this may be, one has not much patience with such claims. Real plagiarism is a detestable thing, but surely there is room for more than one artist in the field of the life of the poor, or of the amusements of a huge city like Paris, without being suspected of that offence. In any case Steinlen has treated his subject as no one else has done, or probably could do.

Lautrec was deservedly popular with his fellow students; his excellent wit, delivered in a strident voice, and punctuated with the gesticulations of a pair of extraordinarily short arms, always proved entertaining to those in the midst of whose company he happened to be.

His best work is probably to be found amongst his posters and portraits. His illustrations, except in his earliest work, as seen in _Paris Illustré_, more frequently show those crude vagaries of form and colour, which would point to an unevenly balanced judgment.

That Anquetin’s drawings strongly influenced Lautrec’s work is evident, while Raffaëlli, Degas and Renoir were his particular gods in art. Whether Ibels influenced him, or _vice versâ_, it is difficult to judge; but in any case there is a remarkable similarity in the aims and peculiarities of their art.

_Paris--Collection Bernheim_

AT THE MOULIN ROUGE

(_Oil-Painting_)]

There is a magnificent poster of the poet-saloon-keeper, Aristide Bruant, by Lautrec, which alone would have been sufficient to place him high among modern artists. Bruant in a large soft hat and wrapped in a cloak of a gorgeous subdued blue, moves with vivid energy across the sheet. His strong face, printed in grey, is wonderfully rendered with a few telling strokes. Little less attractive is his Bruant at the Ambassadeurs Music Hall. These are but two of many fine posters, done since his first essay in 1888, to advertise the stars of that peculiar firmament of the Cafés Chantants, to which Lautrec was drawn as a moth to the flame.

He lithographed posters of Cissy Loftus, of the beautiful Anna Held, _La Goulue_ the dancer of the Moulin Rouge, and May Belfort; and being particularly attracted by the picturesque possibilities of Yvette Guilbert, with her then lithe figure and inevitable long black gloves, he introduces her into many of his works. Then there is a remarkable poster advertising _Babylone d’Allemagne_, and a yet more striking one for _La Vache Enragée_, where we see a mad cow charging an old coloured dandy down a street. There is also the startling advertisement for “_L’artisan moderne_,” and the truly terrible “At the Foot of the Scaffold.” Apart from these there are his posters “in little,” and programme-covers, such as those for _Le Missionaire_ and _L’Argent_.

The very peculiarities and incomprehensibilities inherent in Lautrec’s work were sure to arrest attention, and demand that scrutiny which is of the very essence of the successful poster. In every one of Lautrec’s poster designs there is something strikingly unusual. Very rarely is a figure drawn in its entirety; the margin cuts off part of it, otherwise the design would have been too conventional for him.

The artiste Caudieux zig-zags across a stage seen in violent perspective, while down in a corner is a worried member of the orchestra studying the coming bars. Caudieux’s head is full of life and pent-up strength, and the whole movement of this quaintly placed figure is striking in the extreme.

Jane Avril’s poster shows an anæmic-looking artiste doing a high kick on the stage. The foreground is occupied by a monster hand holding the head of a ’cello in the orchestra.

The poster for the _Divan Japonais_, on the other hand, shows us a lady and gentleman in the audience listening to a singer on the stage, behind an orchestra. Of the singer we see monster black gloves, and everything but the head; of the orchestra we are shown two ’cello heads, and, of the conductor, the arms alone. The lady in the foreground--who looks as though she always turned night into day--is wonderfully depicted, as is her companion, the dissipated, bearded swell. Perhaps his most graceful work in the poster line is that advertising _Elles_.

Finally in the poster for _La Gitane_, an unsavoury actress, arms akimbo, who comes right out of the design in the left hand foreground, smiles over her shoulder at the bold bad brigand who strides, in shadow, out of the poster at the top right hand corner. In all these and his other posters the lettering is bold and legible.

Lautrec’s studies in the music halls are uncompromising in their garishness; he apparently does not attempt to seek beauty where it exists in such small quantities, or has been so carefully hidden. He delights in the flare and glare, the powder and paint, the discords and the inconsistencies of the thing. He prefers the raucous screech of the bold-faced jig, whose reputation as a songstress rests on her fine limbs, to the exquisite song of the highly-trained opera singer. He would reject gold in favour of tinsel. Yet this same man in another mood would paint a splendid and refined portrait.

Then there is Lona Barrison, jauntily leading her white horse out of the ring, followed by her manager with the pale chrome hair and beard; and then the hideous negro--“Chocolat dancing in a bar.” All of these figures, despite their faulty drawing and their element of caricature, carry conviction with them.

Lautrec’s travels in Spain, in England, Holland, and Belgium seem to have left little impression on his work. It is probable that the unhealthy surroundings and late hours imposed by his studies in café-concerts, in green-rooms, in libertine ballrooms and worse, hastened the end of that frail, feverish life--a life like that of a gaudily coloured rocket, brilliant and soon spent.

In his later years he had evinced a great attraction towards the repulsive and the gruesome, and took a pleasure in seeing medical operations performed. Curiously enough, his studio window overlooked a cemetery.

_By De Toulouse Lautrec_

YVETTE GUILBERT]

IV

PAUL BALLURIAU

Balluriau is best known as the artist who has supplemented Steinlen’s realism in the pages of the _Gil Blas Illustré_ with drawings full of fancy and imagination. Just as we shall call Morin the Watteau, so he may be styled the Boucher of the modern French press.

His work, however, has not been confined to the pages of _Gil Blas_, for his gay and irresponsible (we had almost said reckless and unfettered) sketches have been noticeable in many another journal of far less steady gait. Nor has he restricted himself entirely to allegorical or eighteenth-century pastoral subjects. Occasionally he bursts forth as a strong modern realist, walking sturdily in Steinlen’s steps.

Balluriau has that thorough knowledge of the human figure which enables him to draw it with freedom and certainty, and makes him a painter of classical allegories _par excellence_. Further, he has a broad, open style, and a very charming and delicate sense of colour. His favourite medium is apparently the chalk point, which he handles vigorously; occasionally, however, he varies his method by using pen and ink.

For ten years past his brilliant work has graced the pages of _Gil Blas Illustré_. He is essentially the artist of lovers; and no better choice of an illustrator for that paper’s series, “Les Poètes de l’Amour,” than that of Paul Balluriau could have been made.

To judge by these illustrations Cupid has handed over all the resultant knowledge of his long experience to Balluriau; for there is very little about the outward signs of love and passion which he has not carefully noted, thereafter to render in his drawings. From the first shy gesture to the tender murmur of adoration, and thence, through the whole gamut, to the frenzied passion of uncontrollable love--we find the recording crayon of Balluriau to be ever present.

The settings in which he places his graceful lovers, his Bacchanalian dances, his fauns and his nymphs, are suitably idyllic and beautiful.

Innumerable are the backgrounds of fair lawns shaded by great trees, of lovely bowers, and of secluded nooks in some great park in Dreamland.

Perhaps there is some serio-comic difficulty to be settled, and we see two charming little ladies, in high powdered coiffures and bared to the waist, fighting a duel with swords under the trees. Or perhaps it is twilight, and some deep and placid stream murmuring beneath the darkling trees carries on its bosom a fairy bark and its cargo of love.

Then it is the mysterious hour of moonrise, and in the shadow of the garden wall, which climbs serpent-like up hill and down dale, we shall find our lovers serenely happy, but hushed by the beauty of the waking night.

Frequently Balluriau will carry us back to a century of delicate silks and satins; and in the broad sunlight will show a band of amorous _beaux_ and _belles_, full of the _joie de vivre_, and about to start a game of blind man’s buff. His figures live within their old-time costumes; he draws handsome men and beautiful women, for the ugly or the grotesque rarely attract him. But he has proved in such charming works as his “Printemps,” and many others, that he also finds in the lovers of to-day sufficient beauty to include them in his _répertoire_. The embrace of the sentimental young student in the felt hat and caped overcoat, who has just met the darling of his heart in the Bois de Boulogne, is every whit as tender and graceful as is that of the perruqued _galant_ of the eighteenth century, arrayed in pink satins, who, behind a sculptured satyr, has stolen a kiss from his coy and dainty partner in the last minuet on the sward. Look, in his illustration to “Badinage Sentimental,” how natural is the whole scene, how easy the pose, and how charming the face of the little _Parisienne_, who listens, half fearing the ardent words of the young exquisite who is stealing a conversation with her.

Balluriau also knows how to deal with subjects requiring more vigour of treatment--such as he displays in his Breton figure subjects. His drawing _Partance_ is a case in point. The scene is laid in a sailors’ _cabaret_, on the tiled floor are rough tables, at and on which sit peaceful groups of Breton peasants; and sailor-men and buxom _bonnes_ are bidding each other their last adieux--for the sailors are about to embark in one of the ships we see through the wide-open window.

And in the rare drawings where he touches on poverty and serious tragedy he proves himself impressive and capable of deep feeling. His drawings _La Toussaint Héroïque_, the terrible beer-house brawl, _L’Été_, and _Un Mendiant Rousse_, are worthy of Steinlen.

But it is in his illustrations of classical and allegorical subjects that he stands alone, and shows his greatest individuality.

Such subjects as his _Bacchantes_, his weird _Vers le Sabbat_, his _Chloé_, or his _La Mort des Lys_, to mention but a few in the _Gil Blas_ alone, could have come from no other hand; for excellency of draughtsmanship combined with trained composition and an exquisitely refined sense of colour, they are hard to beat.

_Courrier Français_

“MIMI PINSON, TU IRAS EN PARADIS!”]

V

FRÉDÉRIC VALLOTTON

Vallotton’s work has probably appeared less frequently in the French press than that of many of his _confrères_ to whom we are directing our attention.

His drawings are marked by a singular boldness of execution; and his skilful manipulation of masses of pure black gives his work distinction, and makes them attractive on any page.

Good draughtsmanship, and this clever use of unbroken black masses--wherewith to indicate and model both his shadows and his half-tones--is wherein Vallotton struck out a new line for himself, and established his individuality. This he did, too, at a time when there was a lamentable aberration evident among the ranks of the French illustrators. It became the fashion for the comic draughtsmen to draw as though they could not draw--a proceeding which provided a grand opportunity for those who could not draw if they would to join their ranks on even terms, and to pass as geniuses of a very _spirituel_ order.

The irritating group to whom I refer, in its frantic efforts to be original, hit on the idea of drawing with the _naïveté_ of the untutored child; and this _rôle_ was for several years acted so thoroughly that some of the papers looked as if their illustrations had been copied from a collection of babies’ slates. Terrible examples of this evident incapability passing muster as genius may be seen in the ludicrous discords by “Bob,” and, in a less degree, in the many works by Dépaquit, Delaw, Rabier and others.

Midway between this group of _soi-disant_ or actual incompetents, and the valiant band of thorough unflinching draughtsmen of realism--in whose ranks we find Renouard, Steinlen, Léandre, Huard, Malteste, Wély, and others--came an intervening group. Their work was, and is, extremely interesting. They adopted much of the _naïveté_ of the _enfantillistes_, but wedded to it much knowledge and artistic feeling. In this class one may mention Lautrec, who wavered between one group and the other, Ibels, who did much the same, Jossot, who, amongst a large number of weird drawings, has produced some really fine, strong work in black and white and in colour, Metivet, who has similarly produced both classes of work, Hermann Paul, an undeniably great draughtsman, and the subject of this chapter, Frédéric Vallotton.

The curious thing about Vallotton’s drawings is that we do not miss the half-tones; the unbroken blacks are so skilfully managed that we do not feel the want of Nature’s intervening tones between pure black and pure white. His convention in no wise shocks one, but gives keen artistic pleasure.

This question of the accepting of conventions must strike one as a very remarkable matter. The human face, in reality covered with a smooth, soft skin, delicately gradated in tone and colour, is quite completely and satisfactorily conveyed to us by Vallotton, in a cunning arrangement of black splotches; while Huard will model the delicate roundness of a cheek with two or three bold black lines in curves. In both cases we at once realise the truth to Nature, and can even from such suggestions conjure up the particular colouring and flesh texture of the person represented.

Vallotton adds a keen sense of humour to his great ability as a draughtsman. Look at his coloured drawing _Don’t Move_, in _Le Rire_, where we see a petty official and his family, tidied up for the occasion, being photographed on a national fête day. A typical photographer, engrossed in his work, counts one! two! three! preparatory to removing the cap from his camera. So engrossed in his counting is he that he does not notice that his carefully composed group is becoming rapidly discomposed. In the foreground is fat _nou-nou_, beaming down at the youngest hopeful in her arms; yet more bulgy _maman_ swerves over to tickle her youngest, while the next eldest clutches her mother’s skirts in terror of the great ugly man with the camera.

In the background is the father of the family, looking over his wife’s shoulder at the baby; while he places one hand on the shoulder of his eldest boy, who is rapidly outgrowing his knickerbockers, but is nevertheless determined to “come out well” in the group. The party is completed by the grown-up sister, who toys coyly with a straw flower lent her for that exact purpose.

A couple of drawings record with equal force and truth the effect on the public of the cry “Stop Thief.” First we see the excited rabble in full chase; and then the victim (absolutely innocent) being hurried off to the police station by victorious gendarmes, followed by a gesticulating crowd of knowing ones, who declare the prisoner is a murderer who has killed a woman and six children. On another page are two street wrestlers, drawn to the life. One of them is shouting himself hoarse in his endeavours to collect a crowd to witness the marvellous accomplishments of his colleague, a mountain of flesh who is about to lift a stupendous pair of dumb-bells.

Yet another coloured drawing in _Le Rire_, called _Le Coup de Main_ is very remarkable in its composition and handling, and like most of Vallotton’s work shows an appreciation of Japanese methods. It depicts a team drawing a huge block of stone which has come to a standstill, while a group of labouring men are all lending a helping hand to get the huge white mass on the move.

Among the papers which Vallotton has helped to illustrate may be mentioned _Le Cri de Paris_, _Le Sifflet_, and _Le Canard Sauvage_.

The hoardings of Paris have been enlivened from time to time by vigorous posters by Vallotton, a class of work to which his art is eminently adaptable. A most notable example was the bold and telling one he cut on the wood, for the publisher Sagot. But it is Vallotton’s portraits of contemporary celebrities that entitle him most to lasting fame. Some of these have appeared in the French journals, as a magnificent set of powerful woodcuts, done in a large style and on a large scale.

A fine example of this work was published in _The Studio_ in 1899, in a portrait of Puvis de Chavannes, which Vallotton drew and cut on the wood specially for that journal.

A very subtle and delicately coloured reproduction of Vallotton’s work in colour appeared also in _The Studio_ a few years back; and an excellently rendered landscape woodcut by him appeared in the volume that so fully indicated the claims of modern wood engraving, namely, “L’Image.”

VI

LOUIS MORIN

Morin is the Watteau of the modern illustrated press. He is, so to speak, an eighteenth-century _maître galant_ of the twentieth century. He inherits Watteau’s gaiety and light-hearted joy in the fêtes and intrigues of the butterfly life of a time now gone by--a life half imaginary and half real. His figures tip-toe airily through an atmosphere scented with roses, ever ready for ardent love-making, for a stately minuet on the sward, or for a reckless break-neck dance over the cobble stones. Anon his figures laze in swan-like gondolas, gliding along the moonlit canals of Venice to the throbbing music of the mandoline. Moreover, all his delightful personages are instinct with life; they flirt and romp, and their boisterous gaiety is infectious; we must laugh with them for sheer joy--aye, and weep with them, now and then, for sheer sorrow.

Morin wields magic pens and pencils. His lines are full of nerve and _verve_; they are impelled by the passionate excitement of the moment, and can be no mere outcome of patient plodding. If ever an artist’s fingertips were the ready, unquestioning servants of a lively brain, those fingertips are Morin’s; in its effervescent spirit and gaiety, the quality of his brain is essentially Gallic.

(_By himself_)]

Morin was born in Paris in 1855, and was educated (education being much against his youthful will) first at Versailles, and then at one of the Paris Lycées. He was trained as an architect, but left that profession in favour of sculpture, producing excellent portrait busts and such exquisite work as his “Moineau de Lesbie,” &c. As an author Louis Morin has gained great distinction. His “Cabaret du Puits sans Vin,” written in 1884, was crowned by the Académie Française, and further was awarded a gold medal at the Paris Exhibition.

In 1883 he had produced “Jeannik,” a book resulting from a stay in his beloved Brittany, and illustrated with eighty-seven drawings of eighteenth century Brittany. Later he travelled in Italy, and found inspiration for his book, “Les Amours de Gilles,” which he adorned with 178 spirited sketches of the _beaux_ and _belles_ of Old Venice, their manners and their customs. In 1886 he wrote and illustrated “La Légende de Robert le Diable,” to charm the little ones. He has also illustrated for his juvenile admirers, “Pikebikecornegramme,” and “Dansons la Capucine”; later he wrote and illustrated with ninety sketches his delightful “L’Enfant Prodigue.” Then there are his works on “French Illustrators,” and on “Quelques Artistes de ce Temps,” as well as “Dimanches Parisiens,” with twenty-five etchings by the greatest wood engraver of modern times--A. Lepère.

He has also illustrated the following books: “Vieille Idylle” with twelve drypoints, “Le petit Chien de la Marquise,” “Les Cerisettes,” “Le dernier Chapître de mon Roman,” “Vingt Masques,” “Carnavals Parisiens” (with 178 drawings), and “Les Confidences d’une Aïeule.”

In the early eighties Morin started drawing for _La Caricature_ and _Le Chat Noir_, and later on for the _Revue Illustrée_, the _Revue des Lettres et des Arts_, _Figaro Illustré_, _St. Nicolas_, _Le Canard Sauvage_, _La Vie en Rose_, &c.

Morin was one of the leading spirits of the “Chat Noir” shadow pantomimes, and produced there in 1890 his enchanting “Carnaval de Venise,” in 1892 “Pierrot Pornographe,” in 1894 “Le Roi débarque,” and in 1896 “L’honnête Gendarme.” In 1891 he produced his pantomime “Au Dahomey” at the Musée Grévin.

A fair sized room having been acquired as an annexe to the artistic _cabaret_ of the “Chat Noir,” a white sheet was fixed at one end of it over a miniature stage, and surrounded by a quaint and elaborate gold frame. From the wings at the rear were thrown on to the sheet the shadows of marvellous little figures cut out by such artists as Morin, the great Henri Rivière, Caran-d’-Ache, Henri Somm and others, who thereby achieved great fame. All kinds of ingenious little pieces of machinery and clever combinations were invented and employed to build up the great success, which proved attractive enough to draw “all Paris” to Montmartre for some years, and to fill the pockets of proprietor Rudolph Salis, the “King of Montjoie-Montmartre,” so full that towards 1897 he was enabled to purchase and retire to a noble estate in the country. From this estate, however, he was shortly to be recalled by the magnetic attraction of his beloved Montmartre.

A glance at the pages of the _Revue des Quat’ Saisons_, which consists of four dainty parts written and illustrated by Morin, serves to give us a very good idea of his later work. Each of the quarterly parts is contained in a paper cover embellished with a different design in colour by the artist-author, which gives one a foretaste of the treat of spices contained within; for within, interspersed amongst the larger plates of a refined colouration, are numberless little masterpieces of pen draughtsmanship, incredibly gay and graceful and supple. Morin herein shows himself a superb draughtsman, his excited little figures career about the pages, their shapely forms palpitating and quivering with the _joie de vivre_. The artist’s quick eye has detected the slightest inflection in the body’s outline, caused by some momentary and wayward impulse, and crystallises the beautiful thing for his own joy and for ours.

The intoxication of the carnival pervades the greater part of this book, whose literary contents consist of a series of chapters on such interesting matters as the “Courrier Français Ball,” “The Ball of the Medical Students,” and the final two Quat’z’arts Balls--at which latter the Paris art students and their models used, until the heavy hand of the law fell upon them, to vie with one another in producing the most artistic and audacious groups of revellers in (and without) fancy dress ever seen. Another chapter is devoted to a “Night Fête at Venice” in the olden time, with its scenes of love and revelry. Yet another, illustrated with silhouettes such as helped to make the success of the Chat Noir Theatre, deals with the influence of that institution on latter-day Art and Poetry. Then follows an article on “Spanish and Eastern dances,” illustrated with gracefully whirling votaries of the terpsichorean art; next comes a chapter on “Modern Sculpture,” decorated with irresistibly comic drawings of models posing in excruciating attitudes to satisfy the modern sculptor’s supposed craving for originality.

The amount of ingenuity, facility, and anatomical sureness shown in this little set astounds one.

Most of the drawings have evidently been done with a very flexible pen, capable alike of giving a line that with but slight pressure passes from great delicacy to corresponding strength.

_By Louis Morin_
]

The _Vie en Rose_ contained many contributions from Morin; occasionally he essayed a drawing executed with the bold thick line then in vogue, but anything approaching brutality in method or subject could not but come amiss to him, and it is in such delightful fancies in this journal as the _Façon de voir la vie en Rose--Le Dessinateur_--that we see him at his best. A draughtsman of elegant appearance, surrounded with bric-a-brac, is here seen in his censer-perfumed studio, reclining on an enormous rose-coloured cushion; his cigarette is in one hand, and the crayon which is limning a female form in the other. Two adoring little models watch and guard him; while a procession of respectful art patrons stream in humbly to offer their thousand-franc notes for the sketches he is tossing off.

Other less discreet studio incidents, treated with even more delicacy of colour and draughtsmanship, are contained in the journal.

Morin stands alone in his particular style of workmanship: those who have come nearest him are the joyful and boisterous Robida, and the more reserved Henri Pille.

From all the above it is easy to gather that Louis Morin is little short of a genius; a charming and wonderful personality, endowed with one of the keenest and most versatile brains of our day.

VII

CHARLES HUARD

Huard has done for the denizens of the godly, deadly dull French villages and provincial towns of France what Steinlen has done for Paris--and he has done it exceedingly well. It is difficult to conceive how these worthy people, so fully convinced of their own importance, so proud of their deviltries and or their little wickednesses, and so full of tittle-tattle about their neighbours could have been better introduced to us.

Huard’s collection of one hundred sketches, published in book form, and entitled “Province,” should prove a valuable document to future writers on the manners and customs of a section of French provincials at the commencement of the twentieth century. He interests himself mainly with the local official and _petit commerçant_ (or tradesman) classes, deviating occasionally to draw within his net a few stray soldiers, or some dignified member of the old nobility of France.

A man of healthy mien and fine physique, Huard is excessively reserved and retiring, seeking the companionship of very few, and entirely engrossed in his work. Moreover, he is most modest, and has in no wise been spoilt by the lasting success and renown his work has earned for him, at an age when others are but commencing to hammer at the door of Fame.

Huard was born in Paris, but brought up in a provincial town. His schooldays, we are told, were marked by indomitable diligence in the successful finding of means of evading the tedium of one school after another. It is a ludicrous fact that although none of his humorous sketches are actual portraits, his own townspeople have taken such dire offence at what appeared to them as hits at themselves, that they have so far boycotted the satirist that he willingly banishes himself from the town in which he passed his youth. It is even reported that one old lady said, quite seriously, that if he ever dared to draw her she would disfigure him for life with vitriol. Possibly this is the marvellous person, in a good temper, whose physiognomy appears on the cover of the Huard number of “L’Album.”