Publisher's Synopsis
In Paris, in the Rue Coquilliere, Louis the Fifteenth being King of France-or rather the Pompadour holding sway thereover-there lived a witty, amiable fellow who plied the art of painting portraits in oils and pastels after the mediocre fashion that is called "pleasing." This Louis Vigee and his wife, Jeanne Maissin, moved in the genial enthusiastic circle of the lesser artists, passing through their sober day without undue excitement; for fame and wealth and the prizes of life were not for them. Boucher was lord of art; and La Tour and Greuze and Chardin were at the height of their genius; but honest Louis Vigee could but plod on at his pleasing portraits, and sigh that the gods had not borne to him the immortal flame. Yet he was to come near to the glory of it-nearer than he thought. 'Twas a pity that he was robbed of the splendour of basking in the reflected radiance, and by a fish's bone."
