When Greuze returned to Paris his repute was greater than it had ever been before. It was now the fashion to visit his studio, and royal princes, the nobility, the Emperor Joseph the Second and other foreign notabilities came to see _La Cruche Cassée_, _La Malédiction Paternelle_, _La Dame de Charité_, _Le Fils Puni_, and other paintings which happened at that time to be still in his possession. He amassed money notwithstanding the great losses caused by his wife's lawless extravagance. High prices were paid for his paintings, and the engravers Massard, Gaillard, Levasseur and Flipart were kept busy making plates, the impressions from which were in the houses of Paris, of the provinces, and of foreign countries. Moreover, curious dilettanti, people of the kind whose chief regard is for technical and accidental states of the plates, began to collect these engravings, and to compete with one another to possess them. One engraver, Jean Georges Wille, had always been the staunch friend of {13} Greuze; and his son, Pierre Alexandre, became a pupil in Greuze's studio. At a time when the artist had been less known, it was Wille who disseminated a knowledge of his works, not only in France, but also in Germany. POVERTY AND DEATH Suddenly, amidst all the splendour of his great reputation, the Revolution smote Paris, and Greuze was bereaved of all his glory. The pension he had received from the King ceased with the authority of the King. The attention of the people was withdrawn from him, and such regard as was paid to pictures during this distracted epoch went to the paintings of David, who was both painter and politician. Greuze's ironical inquiry each morning, "Who is King to-day, then?" is significant of the instability of the time. No more the elite of Paris crowded round his easel; but one of his two daughters still remained with him; and a number of his scholars, especially his girl pupils, were faithful to the end. "You have a family and you have talent, young man," he once said to Prudhon; "that is enough in these days to bring about one's death by starvation. Look at my cuffs," continued the old man bitterly; and then Greuze would show him his torn shirt-sleeves, "for even he could no longer find means of getting on in the new order of things." {14} How poor he was may be inferred from his letter to the Minister of the Interior: "The picture which I am painting for the government is but half finished. The situation in which I find myself has forced me to ask you to pay me part of the money in advance, so that I may be enabled to finish the work. I have been honoured by your sympathy in all my misfortunes; I have lost everything but my talent and my courage. I am seventy-five years of age, and have not a single order for a picture; indeed, this is the most painful moment of my life. You have a kind heart, and I flatter myself that you will relieve me in accordance with the urgency of my need."