o
not awaken him!" is what the mother seems to say; and these words form
the title under which the picture first appeared.

Greuze could not altogether escape the blight of that artificiality
which was everywhere characteristic of his times, and nowhere more
conspicuous than in France. "Soyez piquant, si vous ne pouvez pas etre
vrai," was his advice to a fellow artist, Ducreux; and his own work too
often shows evidence of the sacrifice of truth to piquancy. His single
figures and heads are not, as a class, so true to nature as his
compositions, although they are much better known to the public.
Scattered far and wide through all the great art galleries of the world,
they have been greatly admired for their delicate coloring, and for
those qualities of prettiness which are always attractive.

Nearly all these purport to be representations of children, but they are
certainly not like the children of our own households, nor, indeed, like
those of the same artist's domestic pictures. They reverse the proverb,
by being young heads on old shoulders, the face and features of
childhood on the mature and well-developed figure of womanhood. The
expression, too, is a curious combination of childlike simplicity with
the sentimental melancholy of young maidenhood; and one cannot escape
the impression that the models are not genuine peasant children, but
pretty and somewhat worldly young women, masquerading in pastoral
costumes for a fancy ball.

From the long list of examples of this class, both figures and heads, a
few well-known subjects will suggest the type: The Milkmaid, the Little
Pouter, Simplicity, the Girl with an Orange, and the Broken Pitcher.

[Illustration: THE BROKEN PITCHER.--GREUZE.]

The last is probably more familiar than any other work of Greuze. It
attained an immense popularity in the lifetime of the artist, attracting
many people to his studio. Among the visitors was Mademoiselle
Philipon, afterwards known to fame as Madame Roland, and her delightful
description[14] gives a complete idea of the picture:--

"It is a little girl, naive, fresh, charming, who has just broken her
pitcher; she holds it on her arm, near the fountain where the accident
occurred. Her eyes are downcast, her lips half parted; she tries to
account for her mishap, and does not know if she is in fault. Nothing
could be more piquant and charming. The only criticism one could suggest
is that Monseiur Greuze has not made the little maid s