THE PAINTER OF THE "HORSE FAIR."

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 160, 8 July 1899, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE PAINTER OF THE "HORSE FAIR."

DEATH OF ROSA BONHEUR; AN { ECCENTRIC GENIUS.

i (From Our London Correspondent.) j LONDON, June 2.

There has never been, I suppose, an j artist more thoroughly indentifled , with a single picture than Rosa Bon- j heur was with her famous "Horse Fair." Nobody—outside expert eire- . les—ever spoke of her in connection with anything else. I myself must , have seen many other paintings of the , deceased artist but I confess the only i one besides her chef d'oeuvre of which 1. retain distinct remembrance is the | almost equally masterly "Oxen l Ploughing" in the Luxembourg. Mdlle. Bonheur proved a success from the beginning of her career, in fact i could boast obtaining £600 for her j first picture. The "Horse Fair" was executed as long ago as 1849, and real- j ised £12,000. After passing through j several hands it was purchased by an American multi-millionaire, aud now hangs in the Central Park Museum Gallery, New York. This is a fact Australians and New Zealanders passing through the States should not overlook. We have a replica of "The Horse Fair" in the National Gallery, but it has not the vivacity of the original. Mdlle. Bonheur had a dumpy and rather maeuline personality which she enhanced by wearing bree —I mean male attire. The dress had the advantage of enabling her when young to pass unmolested at horse-fairs and so forth, and when she grew older she modified it considerably. A friend describing her appearance lately said: —"Rosa Bonheur's physiognomy in its intense intellectuality and animation recalls the portraits of Michelet and Thiers. Her hair, 'in silvery slips,' is worn short, and adds to the impression of similitude. I do not think I ever saw so striking a face —a thoroughly French' face, moreover —as are those of the two great writers just named. Her hands, too, are remarkable, the delicate taper fingers and filbert nails being eminently characteristic of her countrywomen. On the breast of her black alpaca blouse, or rather short coat, she wore the rosette of the Legion of Honour, most prized, naturally, of her many decorations." Mdlle. Bonheur calmly continued her work during the siege of Paris, though her studio at Fontainbleau was far too near belligerents for absolute comfort. The story goes that one morning the late Emperor Frederick (then of course Crown Prince) rode up at the head of a regiment of Uhlans, and dismounting in Rose Bonhem's courtyard graciously begged permission to see the great artist's work. A servant carried the message to her mistress, and in a few seconds returned with the answer: —"The Crown Prince of Prussia is welcome to look at the pictures he wishes to see, but Rosa Bonheur cannot, and will not, entertain her country's conqueror." The Prince, of course, was greatly taken aback by such an answer. For a moment he stood undecided, then said carelessly, "Well, well, so be it, but as I cannot see the artist Ido not care to see her pictures. But tell Rosa Bonheur that her courage is above that of men, for in all France there is not a householder who would have dared defy Frederick of Prussia at the head of a regiment of soldiers." Rosa Bonheur lived a very retired life, seeing only the people who came to see her. "I do not care for society, in the usual acceptance of the term," she replied to a query on the subject. "I love animals for whom I hold receptions iv my studio. The society of books and thoughts of great minds are congenial companions."

"Will you tell me something of your daily life?"

"Oh, it is too simple and monotonous to be interesting, in fact, it is that of a peasant. I rise with the dawn, and retire to rest at nightfall. I devote some six or seven hours a clay to my work and my evenings to reading."

Mrs Crawford in some notes on the great French animal painter says: — "Character showed itself in all her works and words, and in her actions treat and small. She was whollly free from Ihe kind of eccentricity that arises from irritable nerves and selfconsciousness, but she never let conventionalities stand in the way of her artistic tasks. She felt she had merit, but not ofthekindthat ordinary people looked for. As they were sure to misunderstand her, she kept out of their way and led an extremely secluded life with her brother and sister when she was in Paris, and at her chalet at By. That abode is spoken of in the announcement of her death as a cottage. It was rather a villa, with a big studio, where oxen and cows and other animals could stand to be painted. Behind was a clearing in the forest of Fontainbleau, which was used as a park or paddock for animals."