Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot: At His Core

"A Windmill in Montmartre" by Corot

"Even had Corot died at seventy-nine without seeing a ray of the coming aureole, we can fancy no despairing exit. Material cares never weighed upon him in his bachelorhood, and he had a merry heart. The fact of living and the act of painting were almost enough for him, and the appreciation of a few brother artists filled his cup.

We read of seasons of brief discouragement, and there were tears in his eyes sometimes when he came home from a Salon where his pictures were obscurely placed and he had overheard a scoffing phrase. But a look at his easel soon brought comfort, and the darling children of his hand were there in a complete collection to assure him that he had not lived in vain. 

'It must be confessed,' he once exclaimed, 'that if painting is a folly it is a sweet one - one that should excite envy, not forgiveness. Study my looks and my health, and I defy anyone to find a trace of those cares, ambitions, and remorseful thoughts which ravage the features of so many unfortunate folk. Ought one not to love the art which procures peace and contentment, and even health, to him who knows how to regulate his life?' 

But just here was Corot's talisman shared, alas, with how few! He knew how to regulate his life, and knew what it meant to live for his painting and to paint for himself."

(Excerpts from "Six Portraits: Della Robbia, Correggio, Blake, Corot, George Fuller, Winslow Homer" by Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer.)