In February of 1845 he wrote that he had not stopped for a single hour, including Sundays and holidays; consequently he was exhausted in body and mind, and unable to go on for the time being. He had just sent five paintings to the Exhibition. A letter received in Ornans on the 22nd of March 1845 states that he had only one painting accepted: Guittarrero. This portrait, in spite of its real merit, is inferior to that of the previous Salon. It is less realistic and an obvious compromise between what was happening around Courbet and what he himself was feeling vaguely and was soon to bring forth without ambiguity or hesitation. Several canvases from this period (1844–1845) are as worthy of attention as Guittarrero. Lovers in the Country, Sentiment of Youth is a highly poetic painting. The artist has put himself in the picture from the shoulders up in left profile, his long hair blowing in the wind. Against him leans a very pretty girl, with a delicate and poetic profile tilted toward her right shoulder, her pale skin emphasised by her blonde hair cascading over her temples and ears. It would appear that the young woman is the Joséphine who was for so long the painter’s model and mistress. Having seen this painting it is impossible to maintain the idea that Courbet was incapable of sentimentality. This work, as well as the painting entitled The Hammock, foretold the great master that Courbet would later become.

      Another painting, entitled The Prisoner of the Dey of Algiers but sometimes incorrectly called Job, is another example of Courbet’s hesitations during this period. An old man with a long beard sits in his prison half-naked, a blanket thrown over his head and body. Near him is a jug, and he is pulling the blanket down over his legs in a pose that the classical painters would not have disowned.

      Is The Wounded Man from this period? The painter is shown full face, with a bloody wound in his chest. His face is pale and bloodless, his lips without colour, as if he were on the point of dying. The dark landscape increases the horror of this tragic moment. The catalogue from Courbet’s private exhibition, at the Pont de l’Alma in 1867, included this notation after the title; “(Paris. 1844). Rejected for the salons of 1844, 1845, 1846 and 1847 by the jury made up of members of the Institut.” However the catalogue from the Courbet exhibition at the École des Beaux-Arts in 1882, written by Castagnary, disagreed strongly with this date. According to him, “The free and supple technique of this painting shows that it is not the work of the artist’s early years; it is from 1854. The catalogue of the painter’s first private exhibition, in 1855, attests to that; to accept 1844 would be to accept that it was painted at the same time as Lovers in the Country, Sentiment of Youth and Man with a Leather Belt, Portrait of the Artist, which would be a step backward.” However, this opinion by Castagnary may not be entirely correct; it is quite possible that The Wounded Man is the “portrait of a man, life size,” mentioned in the letter of February, 1845. Nor is it proven that the Lovers in the Country, Sentiment of Youth and Man with a Leather Belt, Portrait of the Artist are in any way inferior to The Wounded Man. This latter work is very close to the other two in terms of inspiration, and it suffices to compare the two faces in Lovers in the Country and in The Wounded Man to see that they are similar. What may have led Castagnary astray is that the artist probably revised his work about 1854, in view of the 1855 Exhibition, possibly touching it up a bit. There seems little doubt that it was composed in 1844.

      All these paintings indicate a difficult struggle, one which was becoming bolder and bolder. “In the coming year,” he wrote on the 10th of March 1845, “I must do a large painting which will definitely get me recognised for what I truly am, for I want all or nothing. All those little paintings are not the only thing that I can do… I want to do large-scale painting. One thing is certain, that within five years, I must have a name in Paris; that is what I strive for. It’s hard to get there, I know; there are not many, and out of thousands there may be only one who breaks through. To move faster, I only lack one thing, and that’s money in order to boldly execute what I have in mind.”

      So he was very pleased when a dealer from Amsterdam, who liked his work very much, declared that he had found nothing in the various studios of Paris better than what Courbet was doing. He bought two of his paintings for 420 francs, commissioned another, and assured him that he would make him famous in Holland. At last he was free, for the moment, from the “boring portraits, and women who insist on fair complexions, in spite of everything.”

      Audaciously, to show that he could paint in the grand manner, he attacked a canvas that was “eight feet high by ten wide”. This was a “mighty work”, because he wanted to finish it before leaving for Ornans, or at least to be well enough along for it to be dry and easy to paint over after the vacation.

      However, his own enthusiasm wore him out fairly quickly, and he decided to return home. The little town provided the happier company of his childhood friends, the musician Promayet and the jolly Urbain Cuenot. One can only imagine the good times had by this band of hearty fellows, whether they set out to go hunting, fishing, hiking, or wooing the ladies.

      Back in Paris, Courbet briefly set aside his grand ideas. In those winter days, in fact, he had neither enough time nor enough light “to work seriously at it”. Moreover, he would have had to be more certain of selling this type of painting; what could one do with it otherwise? However, he took up his work again with his “usual determination; come what may, double or nothing!”

      He began to show signs of discouragement. In January 1846, he stated that “there’s nothing harder in the world than making art, particularly when no one understands it. Women want portraits without shadows, men want to be dressed up in their Sunday best; there’s no way out. To earn money with things like that, you’d be better off walking on a treadmill. At least then you would not be abdicating your convictions.”

      In March, he sent eight paintings to the Salon that had “already received much praise,” and he awaited the opening with great impatience. He would care very little, he said, about the opinion of the members of the jury “if that weren’t so important for one’s reputation”. Otherwise, rejection of his works would merely have proved that he did not think like them, and that would have been a compliment to him. Here we have another glimpse of the rebel that had emerged at school, and which he would become as an artist. His judges, through excessive haste, self-centredness or lack of caring, missed the opportunity to recognise his efforts, and themselves encouraged him to become their own formidable enemy.

      Once again, the tide was against him and only his portrait was accepted. Obviously there was “ill will” against him. The judges were “a bunch of old fools who had never been capable of anything and were out to stifle the younger generation who could walk all over them”. Being rejected by them was therefore an honour.

      8. Small Portrait of the Artist with a Black Dog, 1842.

      Oil on canvas, 27.5 × 22 cm.

      Musée municipal de Pontarlier, Pontarlier.

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