Jean-François Millet, peasant and painter; . d sobriety of Hne. Millet and Jacque hired studios-—such studios! — in peasantshouses, and set out together to discover the country. I often visitedthem at this time. They were in such a state of excitement that they 11 82 JEAN-FRANgOIS MILLET. could not paint. The majesty of the old woods, the virginity of therocks and underbrush, the broken bowlders and green pastures,intoxicated them with beauty and odors. They could not think ofleaving such enchantment. Millet found his dream lying before touched his own sphere ; he felt the blood of his
Jean-François Millet, peasant and painter; . d sobriety of Hne. Millet and Jacque hired studios-—such studios! — in peasantshouses, and set out together to discover the country. I often visitedthem at this time. They were in such a state of excitement that they 11 82 JEAN-FRANgOIS MILLET. could not paint. The majesty of the old woods, the virginity of therocks and underbrush, the broken bowlders and green pastures,intoxicated them with beauty and odors. They could not think ofleaving such enchantment. Millet found his dream lying before touched his own sphere ; he felt the blood of his family in hisveins; he became again a peasant. The following is from his first letter from Barbizon, June 28th,1849: We have determined, Jacque and I, to stay here some time, and wehave each taken a house. The prices are very different from those in Paris,and as one can get there easily if necessary, and the country is superb, wewill work more quietly than in Paris, and, perhaps, do better things. In fact,we want to stay here some Noon. V, Millet at Barbizon — The Sower — Deaths of huGrandmother and Mother, THE some time which he was to stay at Barbizon was twenty-seven years,— all the rest of his life. From the time Millet went to Barbizon he became the rustic,and gave to his pictures an elevation, a largeness, which have madehim unique in our art,— one who speaks a language hitherto echo of country life, its eclogues, its hard work, its anxiety,its misery, its peace, the emotions of the man bound to the soil,— allthese he will know how to translate, and the inhabitant of the citywill see that the trivial can be made to serve the sublime, and thatsomething noble can be evolved from the commonest acts of life. His first fever quieted. Millet painted the rustic scenes whichstruck him — sawyers at work at gigantic trees, wood-gatherers,charcoal-burners, quarrymen worn out with their frightful toil,poachers on the scent, stone-breakers, road-lab
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherlondo, bookyear1881
