[665] - In this era of international expositions there is perhaps no department in which their stimulating influence has been more strongly felt than in the fine arts; for nowhere else can be compared to such advantage, which, life the development of railroad systems and electrical appliances, are among the features of the age, one of the effects has been to give to art whence new departures might be taken, where artist and public alike might discover how much they have yet to learn, how much to unlearn.

While the display of art at the Centennial Exposition was not its strongest feature, it served, among other purposes, to give impetus to professional education, and for that reason, apart from the question of merit, it is and will be remembered. That since 1876 we have acquired a better knowledge of what constitutes real art, together with more ability to produce it, there is sufficient evidence in the home exhibition here to be passed in review. Notwithstanding its defects and shortcomings, we have now at least a school of our own, with a large and intelligent constituency among whom there is no want of culture and discrimination. Even to those whose homes are far removed from art centres, such exhibitions tend, as in other departments, to quicken the sense of comparison and appreciation, to define more clearly our position in the scale of modern achievement.

In the number, and in some respects the quality of the exhibits, none of the former collections will bear comparison with that which is the crowing artistic feature of the Columbian exposition. Never before were there so many participants both national and individual, covering the entire realm of art, and some of whom, as Brazil and New South Wales, have found no place at previous exhibitions. While in painting and statuary it may have been excelled by the Parisian display of 1889, this cannot be said of other departments. In engravings, etchings, drawings, and architectural designs, the galleries are especially strong, and this is as might be expected, for only in these and kindred branches, all of comparatively [667] modern growth, has any decided progress been made within recent years. Engraving, it may be said, is as much as art peculiar to the nineteenth century as devotional paintings were to the middle ages, one especially developed by the demand for illustrated works, publishers and readers fixing the standard of excellence in the nineteenth century, as did priests and worshippers in the fifteenth. Thus it is that progress has been rather in artistic processes than in art itself; for here is a branch in which new modes of treatment are being constantly evolved to keep pace with the exigencies of the times, and hence with a certain freshness and vigor that does not pertain to art in its highest sense. The latter, though with new tendencies and developments, has been far less progressive, the improvement being almost restricted to countries where art is still in its formative period, while in the great centres, as in Italy and France, art, whether plastic or pictorial, remains at best where it was. In architecture treated as one of the fine arts there has been perceptible progress, and of this no further proof is needed than the hundreds of scholarly and appropriate designs contained in the exhibition.

Of the city of the Fair it has been well remarked by one of its artificers that in these leviathan structures architecture in its highest sense is not represented. "Rather," he says, "are they a scenic display of architecture composed of models executed on a colossal state, and with a degree of apparent pomp and splendor which if set forth in marble and bronze might recall the era of Augustus or Nero." But however just may be this remark, it does not apply to all the buildings, and especially to the temple of fine arts, a gem of the purest water, and reproducing in its graceful outlines the chaste and classic features of the Ionic school, taking as the keynote of the plan the temple of Athena Polias in the Erectheum, though with traces of the Corinthian and Doric orders. Among those who have beheld this edifice, of itself a work of art, their pleasure was not impaired by regret that within a few brief months it was doomed to demolition; for here was no ephemeral structure, but one with walls of bricks; with merely a coating of staff, and with roof of iron, steel, and glass, one which after the close of the Fair would remain as among its monuments, to be used for museum purposes and for the safe keeping of the many valuable exhibits presented to the management.

The Art Palace, suitably located in the norther section of the grounds and dividing the main edifices from state and foreign pavilions, is the only windowless structure of the Exposition. By the glazed ceilings a sufficiency of light is furnished, and through the structural design of the interior so modulated as to display to the best advantage the various classes of exhibits without conflict of shadow or reflection. To relieve them from monotony the exterior facades were adorned with mural paintings representing the history of art, and to give to them a play of light and shade the building was partially surrounded with a colonnade, its pillars, eight feet from the wall and nearly thirty in height, forming a covered walk or piazza extending from the central portal to the corner pavilions. To this portal broad flights of stairs, flanked by balustrades and terraces lead from a landing place on the northern arm of the lagoon.

The general plan, apart from its decorative features, may be described as that of a continuous series of compartments, flat-roofed, sky-lighted, somewhat less than 50 feet high, and resting on a basement raised nine feet above ground, the entire structure forming an oblong, 500 feet in length by 320 in width, and covering an area of nearly five acres. At the corners are projecting pavilions of similar height, giving accent to the design. The clear stories and roofs over the several courts are fashioned with level sky-lines, and from their [668] central point of intersection rises from a spacious rotunda to an elevation of 125 feet, and with nearly half that diameter, a dome surmounted by Martiny’s heroic statue of Fame. The principal entrance-ways, in the centre of each of the main facades, are in the form of porticos, with columns of the Ionic order, and above them are attics, on the pilasters of which are figures resembling those of the temple at Agrigentum. In the middle of the end facades are similar porticos, but on a less imposing scale.

By the Exposition architect already quoted the exterior design of the Art Palace is thus described: "The objects of this building seemed very clearly to invite a monumental expression, set forth in terms connected with the evolution of the highest civilizations in history, associated with the greatest triumphs of art, established by the usages of the greatest masters and formulated by the schools and academies of all nations. It was necessary that it should be pure, formal, and stately, entirely free from caprice or playfulness, refined by scrupulous elegance of detail, and enriched by every device of decorative sculpture which could be consistently recalled by historic art, so that when completed it should be fit to enshrine the figures and groups in marble and bronze, the paintings in oil, water color and fresco, the carvings in ivory, wood, and marble, the bas-reliefs engravings, etchings, and drawings by which the century is taking its rank in history. It was a part of the scheme to make the numerous statues, friezes, and other decorations, in the round and in relief, replicas of the greatest masterpieces of Greek and Renaissance art, so that the building itself should be a museum, not of historic sculpture only, but of painting."

In the interior the fundamental plan was not, as in other buildings, a great central hall, but a continuous series in two divisions of courts and galleries, one devoted to plastic, the other to graphic art, and each with suitable arrangements as to size and shape. On either side of the nave and its intercepting transepts are grouped the exhibits of sculpture and statuary, while from the longer courts there is access to transverse picture galleries, their outer doors opening into larger galleries, forming a continuous promenade and communicating with the corner pavilions. Thus is afforded, with excellent facilities for classification, a hanging space of about 150,000 square feet. Some 25 feet above the main floor is a gallery 40 feet wide surrounding the entire building, and over this another gallery, containing among other exhibits that of the society of Polish artists, presently to be described. In these galleries are most of the water colors, the etchings and engravings, the pastel, pen and ink, charcoal, and other drawings, the architectural themes, and the overflow of paintings in oil, the majority of which, together with nearly all the statuary, find a place on the ground floor.

To Charles B. Atwood, designer-in-chief of the bureau of construction, we are indebted for this reproduction of the purest of classic models; and if we behold with a tinge of regret its perfect outlines, its wealth of artistic embellishment, it is only that these stately colonnades, with the ornamental statuary of the building [669] and grounds adjacent, were not fashioned of some more lasting material than wood and staff. While the chaste simplicity of the design owes little to its decorative scheme, that little is in perfect taste, and the exterior aspect of this edifice cannot be better described than in the two expressive words which Horace applies to the Roman maiden, simplex munditiis.

On the frieze are figures by Martiny, works representing Sculpture, Painting, Music, and Architecture treated as one of the fine arts; between them are medallion portraits of the old masters from the hand of Olin Warner, and on either side winged female forms with floral garlands. Sculpture is the most robust of the four sisters, with opulent form of strong and massive proportions. Painting is a somewhat sensuous muse, as it appears from the lines of her face and figure. Music is skillfully personified, chaste and refined as to features and drapery, and of serious aspect. Architecture is a stately personification, with earnest, thoughtful face, on which is the stamp of intellectual power. On either side of the main portals are female forms supporting the pediments, and near them lions couchant.

The exhibits contained in the Art Building are classified under the following groups; sculpture in marble or bronze, with models, monumental decorations, and casts from original works; paintings in oil; paintings in water colors; paintings on ivory, enamel, metal, porcelain, or other ground work, with fresco paintings on walls; engravings, etchings, and prints; chalk, charcoal, pastel, and other drawings; antique and modern carvings, engravings in medallions or gems, with cameos and intaglios, the final group being devoted to private collections, which are distributed throughout the galleries and include some of the finest works of the great masters. For architecture as a fine art there is no separate group, this branch being included, or rather touched upon in connection with other groups, though forming a prominent feature in several of the national collections. As in other departments, the exhibition will be treated by nationalities, and without special regard to location; but among the many thousands of contributions gathered from every quarter of the world, it will be impossible here to make other than briefest mention of the more prominent works.

In the interests of the Art department, and of American artists in relation to that department, there were established, as I have said, in the principal art centres of Europe and the United States advisory committees, forming the nuclei of juries of selection. Of these committees and juries organized in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Paris, Rome, Florence, and Munich, the members were for the most part not only artists of repute, but the most competent and impartial critics that could be found in the several branches of the profession. Competitors were required to forward their works to the nearest or most convenient point where a jury was established, New England contributors, for instance, sending their exhibits to Boston, and those of the middle states to New York or Philadelphia. Thus was afforded a wide range of jurisdiction, and the cost and delay avoided of sending to Chicago for approval numerous paintings and drawings of which only a small proportion could be accepted. Moreover foreign artists were unwilling to submit their canvases to a jury composed mainly of American critics, and especially of western critics. As matters were thus arranged the [671] Chicago jury was little more than a hanging committee, assigning to each work its space in the order of merit as determined by the juries of selection, from whose decision there was no appeal, those marked No. 1 being first provided for, and then the other classes as room permitted. In December 1892 the work of collecting was finished, and early in the following month the jurors began their unwelcome task. No sooner were the results made known than a storm of indignation arose among the thousands of unsuccessful candidates, and for several weeks the newspapers were filled with groundless charges. That mistakes were made is not denied; but Quis judicabit ipsos judices? Certainly it is not my purpose here to pass judgment upon the judges, whose duties appear to have been faithfully performed, and with no indications of prejudice or partiality.

To the chief of the department, Halsey C. Ives, his aids and advisory committees, is largely due the success of this rich and varied display of graphic and plastic art, forming as it does the culminating features of an exposition which is of itself the most striking manifestation of art that the world has ever witnessed. In the United States section are the choicest works that could be obtained from the painters, engravers, etchers, sculptors, and architects of the day. In Europe the chief visited all the principal countries represented at the Exposition, conferring with the more prominent artists, professional and amateur, with the directors of art schools and museums, with government officials and the commissioners appointed for his department. The result was that European applications exceeded by 130,000 square feet the amount of space at the disposal of the management.

Before proceeding it may here be stated that while one of the most elaborate and attractive exhibitions recorded in the chronicles of art, it has suffered, in common with other departments, from the imposition of a tax on all articles that might be sold for delivery at the close of the Fair. In the organic act which gave to the Exposition its government sanction it was provided that all such articles should be subject to the duty imposed by the revenue laws in force at the date of importation; that all the penalties prescribed by law should be enforced against them, and against persons who might be guilty of any illegal sale or withdrawal. Here in truth was the genius of protection, its evil genius, be it said, and no wonder that in these spacious galleries with all their rich display were lacking some of the choicest productions of foreign artists.

Of a French master of world-wide repute it is related that when asked by one of his American brethren of the craft to send a few of his choicest canvases, he thus declined the request: "No, sir, I thank you, I do not propose to pay your government thirty percent of the value of pictures which I can probably sell to better advantage in Paris, or to take the chance of losing them, or having them returned in damaged condition." While through the precautions of the management risk of loss or injury was reduced to a minimum, the Frenchman’s complaint as to this assessment on the products of his labor was not without justification. Save perhaps for the poll tax, a relic of the dark ages, there is no more barbarous impost than that which thus was laid on Exposition works of art. As well might we tax the cardinal virtues or the ten commandments.

But to provide for a creditable display of American art was the main purpose of the department, and in this connection its chief remarks; "The position held in this Exposition by our artists, as compared with those of other nationalities, will have to do with determining the general estimation of our art by our own countrymen, as well as by foreign visitors, for many years to come. It is therefore of the highest importance to every American engaged in artistic pursuits that the exhibits of American art work should be of the highest quality obtainable; that each example shown represent the highest achievement of the artist, and that the [672] collection as a whole present in a dignified manner the best productions of our native art." Certain it is that if careful selection could accomplish this end, we have in the United States galleries a worthy expression of domestic art; for of the 1,350 works which New York painters submitted for approval only 325 were accepted, while of 600 each from Massachusetts and Pennsylvania artists, 139 and 112 respectively were chosen by the juries; this for oil paintings only, which formed little more than one third of the entire collection. Western candidates fared even worse, only 73 painting in oil being selected from 638 that were offered, with 18 out of 177 water colors.

While by no means "the best display of art from any nation," as the vainglorious among our countrymen would have us believe, the galleries devoted to domestic art contain much that is of value and interest, with more of promise yet to be fulfilled. By American visitors to the Fair none of its departments were inspected with closer scrutiny, with greater solicitude and curiosity, for never before had American art received adequate expression at an international exposition. That we could hold our own in the mechanic and liberal arts, in agriculture, mining, stock-raising, and other branches of industry was not for a moment doubted; but in pictorial and plastic art how would we compare with the painters and sculptors of European nations, their works evolved amid the fostering influences of a civilization compared with which our own is but of yesterday? Must it not be admitted that in art as in literature, we were not old enough to bear such comparison; that our brief cycles of national existence, with their recurring phases of commercial and industrial progress, have not been sufficient to afford a national perspective; that our line of horizon is too near the point of vision, and that only as personages and events recede into distance could be fully developed the ideal faculties essential to our historic art, as to history itself, to poetry, and even to the higher class of fiction? But these questions we will leave our foreign critics to answer; for with a nation, as with an individual, few can judge aright their own achievements.

Of all the criticism pronounced on the American section none were so severe as those of the Americans themselves, and while some were just, more were partially or altogether unwarranted. First of all it was objected that the pictures were too large; that here was not art in its essence but art by the acre, the average dimensions of the canvases rising far above the usual standard. To this it may be answered that, while size is not of itself a merit, the general effect of a series of large galleries, permitting a focus of long range, is better when filled with paintings proportioned to their dimensions. Then it was said that too much space was occupied with a redundancy of commonplace portraiture. Another cause of offence was the imitation of French sensationalism and straining after effect, with the florid coloring and jejune composition of modern Parisian schools. While this may be true in a measure, so that here and there the visitor would ask himself whether he was in the French or American galleries, there are many canvases which rise far above the mediocrity characteristic of [673] Salon exhibitions. At least it can fairly be claimed that within the last score of years there has been a decided improvement in the better class of American art, while of French art, except for the works of the great masters, it can only be said at best that it remains about where it was. In truth it may almost be asserted that this nation of artists, which has taught all the world how to paint, it itself in danger of forgetting the highest principles of art.

But from the charge of alienism the American display cannot be entirely exculpated, and especially is this true of works which take for their theme historic events and characters. Among all this collection of more than 1,000 paintings in oil there is not one of special excellence, and there are not a dozen in all, which treat of the annals of our country. The same remark applies also to our statesmen and diplomats, our drama, music, and literature, none of them finding adequate representation at the hands of our artists. Landscapes there are in abundance, which if not in the style of a Corot or a Daubigny are of unquestionable merit. There are marine and other views, faces and figures of man and beast, flowers and fruits, moonlight and melody ad nauseum. But we search in vain for anything that reminds us of the stirring episodes in our national history, of Lexington or Gettysburg, for instance, of Yorktown or Appomattox. In statuary and paintings many of our historic personages are better represented in the foreign sections than in our own, and in this, our Columbian Exposition, Columbus and his times are almost excluded from the galleries of the United States. To call attention to these defects is but an unthankful task; but as with other departments of the Fair, it is my purpose to described them as they are, or were, and not as we would have them to be. "Do your artists care nothing for your republic?" inquired one of our foreign visitors; and said an American, "After I had made a tour of the galleries, and compared the exhibits of European nations with our own, I felt like a man without a country."

In sculpture and statuary the United States appears to good advantage, considering the slight regard for plastic as compared with graphic art. While there are few who share Emerson’s opinion that sculpture must now be numbered among the lost arts, it may be said that in its highest sense it is practically limited to the French and Italian schools, and even these are not here represented as at European expositions, so far at least as contemporary art is concerned. While from the former are many of her most finished works, including a valuable collection of casts of historic sculpture, the display has been far surpassed at previous exhibitions; and apart from ancient bronzes, Italian statuary, pretty though it be, is stamped by the trivial and inane.

Small, but full of promise, and with several works where promise and performance meet, is New England’s display of statuary, which it need not be said is almost entirely from Boston, the cradle of American art. Among the best of her specimens are Alice Ruggles’ bronze figure of an Italian child, "Aux bords de l’Oise," one which, though somewhat faulty in attitude, is not without grace of form and feature. By the same artificer [674] are plaster casts of "Young Orpheus," and "A New England Fisherman," From Henry H. Kitson comes a piece of bronze statuary whose theme is "Music of the Sea," with two plaster casts and a portrait bust in marble; but this sculptor is better known by his memorial fountain, executed for the Roger Williams park in Providence, representing the figure of primeval man in conflict with an eagle, symbolic of nature’s forces. A work of unquestionable power is "The Angel of Death Arresting the Hand of the Sculptor," by Daniel C. French, a resident of New York but a New England artist. In the features and figure of death as thus personified, there is nothing of a repulsive aspect, but rather a classic dignity and repose, without the least suggestion of violence. In contrast with its stately and commanding presence is the alert and vigorous form of the sculptor, whose mallet is at once arrested by the touch of a resistless hand. In his face is no expression of fear; only of astonishment and regret that his task must forever remain unfinished that his life and work are ended.

Of the contributions by William Ordway Partridge, one is a plaster replica of the statue of Shakespeare erected in Lincoln Park, Chicago; and there are busts of James Russell Lowell, Edward Everett Hale, and other personages real or imaginary. In his "Head of Christ" the features are portrayed with a spiritualized beauty, but rather of Norman or Teutonic than of oriental type. Yet there is nothing of the subdued expression of power which the subject invites; it is rather the face of a dreamer, of one lacking in moral force, in a word it is Christ estheticised rather than deified. In contrast with this is Max Bachman’s plaster bust of "The Son of Man," its intent and earnest features of purely classic outline attenuated by the consuming soul within. Other works by this artist are his plaster bust of a young lady, and a bas-relief of Mrs. Sheldon. Wesselhoeft, sends his "Titania and Bottom;" Anne Whitney, her "Roma," and Katherine Prescott, her "Joy to the New Year, Peace to the Old;" these and a few minor studies completing the list of what New England has to show in this direction.

"Christ and the Little Child," by Thomas Ball, is a marble group whose place is beneath the central dome. Both in conception and execution it differs widely from the delineations of the New England sculptors. It is of the conventional type, life size, but with little else of life in its cold, emotionless expression, cold as the marble of which it is wrought. As a study in what may be termed ecclesiastical statuary it is not without merit; but it has no other merit than this. Christ is supporting on a baluster the figure of the child, to which the left hand points in application of the gold-lettered text beneath: "Whoever, therefore, shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven." But there is no love in these serene and dignified features, and the lines of drapery and figure are stiff and [675] formal, precise, but almost with a mathematical precision. The same remark applies also to Ball’s colossal bronze statue of Washington, and his equestrian statuette of Paul Revere.

A most vigorous composition is Gelert’s "The Struggle for Work," representing three figures contending for a work ticket thrown from a factory window, with a woman and child at their feet. A brawny operative is holding aloft the ticket which a feeble and aged man is trying to wrest from his grasp, and on another side a sinewy youth is stretching his hand toward it. Admirable is the expression of pity for weakness and age mingled with satisfaction over the possession of a prize which means to him daily bread. The woman takes refuge between the feet of her husband, the central figure, holding in her arms a babe, which thus she saves from being crushed in the melee, while a boy is clutching him around the leg, himself in fear that this only chance of obtaining food will be taken from him.

Paul W. Bartlett, well and favorably known for his small figures in marble and plaster, has a bust of his wife, and a medallion portrait of Doctor Skinner. In "Bohemian and Bears" and "The Ghost Dance," he shows what he can do with more ambitious themes. The former represents a Bohemian youth teaching a young bear to dance, with another cub enjoying himself, as bear-cubs will, by rolling on the ground. Its strongest feature is the expression of amusement in the young man’s face while watching the clumsy antics of his pupil, and its puzzled look as it strives in vain to find out just what his master would have him do. "The Ghost Dance," a study of the nude and by no means a pleasing study, shows the figure of an Indian balanced on one foot, with the other raised behind him, arms extended in front and hands hanging limp, wide-open mouth, and in the features an aspect of brutish ignorance mingled with the frenzy of superstition. The muscular treatment is perfect, each thew and sinew rendered with striking fidelity, so that we almost pity the model whose posing must have suggested to him that torture and the fine arts were somehow in close relation.

"The Young Sophocles Leading the Chorus of Victory After the Battle of Salamis," by John Donoghue, is of the French school, adapting modern treatment to studies of the antique. It is not an attractive composition, and is in more than questionable taste. True, that after the battle of Salamis he was chosen to head the chorus of boys at the celebration of that victory; but one cannot imagine the great dramatist posing as a lad nude and with a lyre in hand. Though lads went naked on such occasions, it is not the guise or attitude that one is apt to associate with this the great master of tragedy. The figure is well enough in its way, with erect and supple carriage, head thrown back, and earnest thoughtful features; but it is not suggestive of anyone in particular, and certainly not of Sophocles, either as a youth or at any other period of his life.

[677] - Bush-Brown sends his plaster group, "The Buffalo Hunt," one of the strongest compositions in plastic art displayed in the United States galleries. Triebel has several of his works on exhibition, one of the best of which is a marble statue of a young boy taking from the hook his first fish. Well portrayed is the expression of mingled delight and perplexity as he tries to hold on to his slippery, squirming prize. Tilden’s figures of a young acrobat, a tired boxer, and a baseball player are truthfully delineated; but the best of his compositions is the bronze group representing an Indian bear hunt, with the brute seizing the arm of his assailant and crushing it, bone, flesh, and sinew into a shapeless mass. Among other works of merit which cannot here be noticed in detail, are Adams’ "Primavera" and "St. Agnes Eve;" Bringhurst’s "Awakenings of Spring," in terra cotta; Elwell’s bronze group of Charles Dickens and Little Nell, and his marble group of Diana and the lion, symbolic of intellect controlling brute force; Rogers’ plaster cast of Abraham Lincoln in seated posture; Ruckstuhl’s "Evening," Niehaus’ "Athlete;" Wuertz’ "Murmur of the Sea;" Dallin’s portrait bust of Doctor Hamilton, and equestrian statue, "Signal of Peace," and a dozen of groups and figures by Edward Kemeys, most of them in animal sculpture.

Of painters in oil and water colors many were found worthy to represent New England art, and if among them a large proportion are as yet of [678] only local repute, this does not detract from the merit of their works. First of all may be mentioned the pleasing and individual compositions of Edmund C. Tarbell, whose portraiture of face and figure, especially when taking for his theme the typical American girl, with her changing moods and fascinations, has won for him a foremost rank among American artists. "In the Orchard" is especially true to life, reproducing with breadth of expression and intense vivacity of coloring a summer scene where beneath orchard foliage is a group of comely maidens engaged in converse during an afternoon’s repose. The picture is full and cheerful, wholesome life, of freedom from car, of smiles and sunshine. "Girls and Horse" by the same artist represents a young woman standing by the side of her saddle-horse as he drinks from a roadside watering trough. In "My Sister Lydia" is a portrait which shows to excellent advantage his skillful treatment and freedom of execution.

In different vein is the portraiture of Frank W. Benson, a Salem artist, whose "Portrait of a Lady in White" and "Girt with a Red Shawl" are greatly admired for their delicacy of style and purity of sentiment. I. H. Caliga, an acknowledged master of his art, is represented only by a full length portrait of a Brookline lady by whom it was loaned for exposition, and while not unworthy of its artificer, it is to be regretted tat he did not send some of his more ideal conceptions. Of the four life size portraits by Frederick P. Vinton, his "Portrait of a Lady" is remarkable for vigor and realism of execution. In Mrs. Lilla C. Perry’s paintings are types of childhood, such as none but those who sympathize with children could depict. "The Doll’s Bath," by J. H. Hatfield, is also a pleasing subject from child life, and in his "Letter from Papa" is an excellent specimen of drawing, though somewhat cloudy of hue. Among Frederick W. Freer’s portraits, his "Lady in Black," loaned by the Boston art club, is one of the gems in the New England collection. In Stacy Tolman’s "The Etcher," which is something more than a portrait, is expressed with vivid effect the artist’s concentration on his work. "Carnation and Black," by Joseph De Champ, though not without promise, is faulty as to coloring and in questionable taste.

Among Sargent’s portraits are two of young children, one the son of the sculptor, St. Gaudens, seated in a chair while listening to his mother’s reading. In both is portrayed the true expression of childhood, and with the finest touch of this accomplished but somewhat variable artist. Less to be commended is his "Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth," a full length picture of the great tragedienne in the act of placing the crown on her head. The pose is stiff and the features merely repulsive, without the sublimated expression of evil which the subject invites. Then there is too much blending of hues in the blue and green of the drapery and in the auburn hair, such as Scotch women never wore, and with tresses belonging rather to the English type of womanhood. In other portraits Sargent is seen to better advantage, and shows himself well worthy of his rank as one of the foremost painters of the age.

Whistler’s canvases are hung in the United States section, for he is a native of Lowell, and in this country were his earlier studies, though since thirty he has lived abroad, first in London and later in Paris. Notwithstanding Ruskin’s adverse criticisms as to the works of this artist, there is but one opinion among more impartial judges, and that is that they rank among the first of their class. Of his six paintings two are portraits, remarkably suggestive of character and with excellent color scheme, giving emphasis to the more salient points while minor details are not neglected. "Nocturne, Valparaiso" is a beautiful night scene, with its graceful forms appearing indistinctly amid a delicate symphony of coloring. It is a tender, plaintive subject, musical in key to him whose ear is attuned to the music of art.

Thayer has two excellent portraits of a lady, and of a brother and sister together; but his best and largest painting is the "Virgin Enthroned," where the subject is treated with tenderness and spirituality. It is not in the conventional style, but in his own original vein, as best we like to see him; for Thayer never studied in the Ecole des Beaux Arts, and had he done so it is doubtful whether he would have adopted its technique. So with Brush’s madonna, which nevertheless is a beautiful picture to look upon, revealing all the joy and glory of motherhood, the perfect love and trust of childhood. Let those who are technicians and nothing more cavil at such work, for here are qualities that cannot be overlooked, and none the less valuable that they are not in imitation of the French; for of the French school, with so many of its defects and so few of its merits, there are enough and more than enough in these galleries of domestic art.

Much admired are J. M. Stone’s "Leukopis" and "A Summer Dream," the former a half-length figure of a girl with the pure complexion and chiseled outline of feature which sometimes gives to the well favored among American damsels almost a classic mold. Both figures are somewhat scantily draped, with flesh tints [679] sufficiently pronounced, "A Summer Dream," representing a brown-haired maiden lost in reverie, and in reclining posture, with eyes half closed and slightly parted limps, one hand resting on her bosom and the other holding in her lap a cluster of roses. "Love Awakening Memory" and "The Annunciation" by Mrs. M. L. Macomber are contributions that rise far above the mediocrity inseparable from large exhibitions. There is also noticeable an absence of the labored artificiality characteristic of religious and emblematic themes as portrayed by modern artists. Here rather is the stamp of an earnest individualism, with all the grace and delicacy of a woman’s touch. A religious motif, but of another kind, is displayed in Frank H. Tompkins’s "Good Friday," which illustrates in the figure of a woman kissing the crucifix one of the rites of the Bavarian Catholic church; but a work more generally preferred is his "Mother and Child," an ideal expression of motherhood. Among Ernest L. Major’s canvases, his "Saint Genevieve" depictures in the character of a shepherdess the patron saint of Paris.

"Charity" is the masterpiece among Walter Gay’s productions, which also include as religious themes, "A Gregorian Chant," "A Mass in Brittany," and "Dominican Monk." "Charity" represents a group of aged peasantry, and a little girl receiving alms in the form of a breakfast of dry bread. The features are full of expression, and the light and color in perfect taste, gray and black costumes contrasting with warmer tones. Charles Sprague Pearce’s "Village Funeral in Picardy" is a truthful composition, depicting in faithful and well studied types a number of provincial dames seated outside a house of mourning, their garments as subdued in color as is their assumed expression of grief, - decorous, but without trace of real emotion. By the same artist are "Mother and Child," "The Annunciation," "The Shepherdess," and a couple of portraits, all showing the precision of style for which he is noted. In common with others whose works find a place in the United States galleries, Pearce is sojourning in foreign lands; for to the true artist there is no home save that of his art, and many of those whom I have mentioned as American painters no longer reside in the land of their nativity.

"The Communion," by Gari Melchers, is a painting of remarkable individuality and strength. Worship is its theme, pure and reverent worship, a simple and trusting faith unclouded by the faintest shadow of doubt. The story is forcibly told, with dignity of expression and absolute truth and directness of treatment. For this and other of his works the artist has gathered about all the honors that European schools and salons have to offer, and that these honors have been worthily bestowed there is here sufficient evidence. His "Sermon," for instance, is full of sentiment, but without trace of sentimentality, of beauty and power without undue striving after effect, and if there is also realism, it is an unconscious and not over-studied realism. The scene represents a number of Dutch peasants, most of them women, listening to a sermon in a village church, and that it is a lengthy sermon may be inferred from the fact that one of them has fallen asleep. There is nothing beautiful about these women, and there is nothing very remarkable, except that they are thoroughly Dutch and thoroughly devout women; but their faces are full of character and meaning with a master’s touch. And so [680] with his "Pilots," where men are seated around a table in an upper chamber of an inn, whence is a view of red-tiled roofs and the blue sea beyond. They are merely talking and smoking, except for one who is at work on a model of a ship; but there is a wealth of character in these rugged features, in which one may see at a glance what manner of men they are.

In "Married" and "Skaters" by this artist are traces of the French school, but only as to coloring, in which he never goes to an extreme. A young Dutch peasant is walking proudly and with uplifted head, as though thankful for the blessing as his side, a young woman with downcast eyes, but none the less proud and thankful, as it seems, that her love has been requited. "Skaters" is a love scene amid ice and snow, but with a warm and cheerful home waiting to receive the maiden and her swain with genuine Dutch hospitality. In still another key is "The Nativity," where the subject is treated in original vein. In a stable lies the newborn infant, the mother resting her head on the father’s shoulder. It is daybreak and soon the shepherds will be here, and the wide men and the kings; but there is no suggestion of the supernatural, not even a halo, though with a peculiar light around the child, while the rapt expression in Joseph’s face suggests only the mystery that always possesses him who first becomes a parent. The story of the nativity it told, but told in a style very different to that of the older masters.

Among paintings that are the theme of general comment is Carl Marr’s "Flagellants," exhibited in many a European salon before it found its way to Jackson Park. The procession of the flagellants, it is said, dates back to the days of Saint Anthony, and in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries spread throughout southern Europe, where the devout, with vigorous self scourging, weeping, and groaning, hoped to obtain the deliverance from war and pestilence which their prayers had failed to afford. Such is one of the scenes that Marr describes, with literary as well as pictorial fidelity to truth. The canvas is of mammoth size, and yet it is almost crowded with figures, most of them stripped to the waist, as they pass in procession a cathedral in northern Italy, where some turn aside and others go on their way in a frenzy of fanatical enthusiasm. Old men and children are here, and in the foreground a child is being carried in a litter, with maidens fair of aspect lustily applying the knotted lash to naked backs and shoulders. Notwithstanding its repulsive theme, one cannot but admire this composition for its drawing and coloring, and especially for the grouping of figures and faces, each of which, when viewed at a proper distance, is of itself a study.

"Breaking Home Ties," by Thomas Hovenden, is one of the few works of merit whose theme is descriptive of American life; for as I have said the United States galleries are crowded with depictions of foreign scenes [681] an incidents, to the exclusion of the rich and varied subjects which the artist might have selected almost without stepping from his door. It is a simple and touching story of New England life in days not long gone by. In the "living room" of an old-fashioned farm house, a mother with sad and anxious look is taking leave of her son, who bravely struggles to mask his home-sick longing and lingering. Near by are his sisters and his father, the latter carrying his carpet bag, and in the background his dog. The members of the family have just risen from the last meal which for a time they will take together, and the table is set with the quaintest of china ware, the ingrain carpet and the straight high-backed chairs completing a picture which the New Englander knows so well and loves so well to see.

On two of C. Y. Turner’s canvases are described the oft-told stories of John Alden’s letter and the courtship of Miles Standish, both familiar to the public in reproductive etchings. In the former the puritan captain is standing in front of the fireplace, bethinking him how to indite his tale of love to the bashful scribe who is acting as his amanuensis. In the other John is pleading his rival’s cause with downcast look. He is seated as far away from Priscilla as space will permit, and yet not far enough, it seems, for he is the very picture of embarrassment. The maiden is at her spinning wheel, over which her head is demurely bent, for she is not yet ready to utter the words which Longfellow puts into her mouth: "Why don’t you speak for yourself, John?" The story is told exceeding well, and the entire composition, with all its accessories, is full of the atmosphere of New England life. Another of Turner’s New England scenes is "The Days that Are No More," where a young widow is leading her little girl from the graveyard where her husband sleeps. She is moving slowly and reluctantly, trying in vain to stifle her sobs, as she goes forth alone with her child to take up the weary life that must still be lived, without the strong arm and loving heart that are laid forever at rest.

McEwen’s "Witches" deals with a tragic incident in New England annals. The scene is at Salem, where, manacled in her prison cell, stands a beautiful girl confronting the executioners who are about to lead her to her doom. A withered hag is leaning toward her with uncanny leer, for she also has been condemned, and takes comfort in the though that this fair young life will be crushed out before her own. In the central figure is an expression of pain and surprise but not of terror, for she will meet her fate with dignified resignation, as the victim of superstition or perchance of jealousy, prompting some rival to bear false witness against her. Excellent is the light effect from a window in the background, encircling the maiden’s head as with a martyr’s halo. In "The Absent One" is a similar play of light in a Dutch interior, where on All Souls’ day a young woman is reading to her father from holy writ the passages that tell of the life to come, upon which already his wife has entered. Other works by this artist are "Telling Ghost Stories" and "Judgment of Paris;" but rather would we have had more of his domestic themes.

"The Bathers," by Alexander Harrison, represents a number of women, in the water or on the sand, beckoning to each other and enjoying themselves to their hearts’ content in nature’s garb and in communion with nature. The coloring is excellent, especially that of the water, for in his rendition of moving waters and the play of light upon them Harrison has no superior. It is this quality also that has given to his "Crepuscule" a wide celebrity. Beautiful is the glow of the setting sun reflected from the tranquil waves, whose aspect [683] suggests the majesty of ocean even in its restful mood. These gently curling billows and the foam that crests them seem to be permeated with light, an effect most difficult to produce, and which can only be accomplished by a master of his art. "En Arcadie," pronounced by an able critic one of the best works of the "plein air" school, is a picture of a forest glade peopled by fairies, whose forms are bathed in a soft golden atmosphere of sunlight glancing through the trees. Here again the light and air are perfect; but as with his other compositions, the figures are somewhat lacking in grace and refinement.

"A Surprise," by Birge Harrison, has for its scene the forest of Compiegne in autumn tide, the ground covered with russet leaves, of which only a few remain on the branches above. A peasant girl is gathering wood, and glancing upward for a moment sees an antlered stag within a few rods of where she stands. They are looking at each other, and admirable is the expression of astonishment and fear in the face of each, for both girl and stag are thoroughly alarmed, and a moment later will be running from each other as fast as their limbs will carry them. In "The Return of the Mayflower" a puritan maiden is gazing intently at the approaching vessel, on board of which is her lover. She is a comely damsel, though with features worn with sickness and suffering, love sickness it may be, for their expression is of tender, earnest longing, of impatience that can barely wait until the ship shall reach its haven.

Of the eight canvases from the brush of F. D. Millet his "Window Seat" is one of the best illustrations of his effective and scholarly style. It is a simple story simply told, with sufficient detail and a happy combination of quiet, restful colors. George W. Maynard, by whom is an excellent portrait of Millet, is also noted for harmony of coloring and strength of delineation, as is observed in his "Pomona" and "Civilization," the latter a dignified interpretation of its title. "A Card Trick," one of J. G. Brown’s contributions, and "Soap Bubbles," by Elizabeth Gardner are also among the pictures that tell their own tale, the facial expression in both being admirably rendered. "A Dream," one of the smallest of Charles C. Curran’s canvases, represents a number of fairy-like forms grouped around a soap bubble radiant with prismatic hues. In "Night Market, Morocco," by Thomas S. Clarke, the scene, except for its Moorish figures, might have been in any city where peddlers hawk their goods amid the flare of smoking torches. William Keith and Toby Rosenthal are among those who represent California art, the former with his "Autumn Sunset" and the latter with "A Dancing Lesson of our Grandmothers," a study full of life and action and with evidence of his well-known skill in drawing and coloring. But Pacific coast art was seen to better advantage in the state buildings, and is seen to still better advantage in the Midwinter Fair in San Francisco.

Of Tryon’s thirteen landscapes all but two are loaned by their purchasers, and in each is the refinement and delicacy of touch characteristic of this popular artist. More pleasing than powerful, they are for the most [685] part in minor key, with effects of early morn and evening light, of spring and autumn tide, of the rising moon and the setting sun. Similar in technique, though differing widely as to general results, are Murphy’s "November Grays" and the "Hazy Morn." In contrast with these, and not for their merit, but as samples of the impressionist paintings of the purple and lilac school which disfigure the walls of these galleries, may be mentioned Twachtman’s canvases, one of which is aptly styled a "Decorative Landscape," decorated that is with the all-pervading hues of purple and lilac, relieved here and there by a dash of vermillion or a streak of yellow and white. Not that I would pronounce a sweeping condemnation on all painters of this class, for Corot and Daubigny were impressionists, as are many of the most gifted of American artists; but they are not of the purple and lilac school. One may paint a scene, as at the moment it impresses him, without orange-colored grass or foliage, and without shrouding waters, hills, and plains in filaments of gauze. It is mainly this striving after atmospheric effect at the expense of form and texture that makes such depictions seem blurred and dim, their figures flat, and the entire composition a counterfeit resemblance of its subject. Such paintings may be well enough as artistic fantasies, but they are not as nature paints.

Twachtman’s compositions are by no means the most pronounced of the ultra-impressionist school, and viewed at a proper distance his landscapes are not without their attractive features. More striking examples, for instance, will be found in Vonnoh’s canvases, and especially in his "Duxbury Bay," with its gaudy, disintegrated coloring; in Dannat’s bold looking drawn, we cannot tell whether the crepuscular light which surround it is that of early morn or eve. To the same class belong, among others, Pearce’s "Annunciation" and Du Mond’s "Christ and the Fishermen," both painted in modern style. In contrast with these is Blashfield’s "Christmas Chimes," with its ideal and somewhat daring treatment, yet in perfect harmony with the subject.

To return to landscape scenes may here be mentioned those of John J. Enneking, who with Tarbell, Vinton, and Thomas Allen, all represented in the New England collection, was appointed to the Massachusetts jury of selection on paintings in oil. While in all of Enneking’s canvases is fully justified his high repute as an artist true to nature, perhaps in his "October Twilight in New England" is the most striking expression of his power. Through a bare network of boughs is depicted with remarkable depth and warmth of coloring a golden sunset scene, with foreground of grayish rock, moss-covered and fringed with autumnal leaves. Other of Enneking’s works are "Autumn Afternoon," "November," "Salting Sheep," and "South Duxbury Clam Digger." Of the canvases of Charles H. Davis "Abandoned" shows to excellent advantage his subdued and scholarly style. The scene is a deserted farm house, its crumbling walls and desolate environment in keeping with the sentiment of the theme. In all the paintings of this artist may be noticed a certain gravity of tone and expression, an absence of strong coloring or striking contrasts of light and shade. By those whom such [686] things please he has been accused of dullness and monotony of treatment; but one turns with a sense of relief from the sensationalism all too common in American art to the repose and refinement of these dignified compositions.

A powerful, if somewhat trist and melancholy scene, is Charles H. Woodbury’s "North Sea Dunes," showing a wilderness of sand hills thrown up in unnumbered aeons by the ceaseless action of wind and wave. Here is the very genius of desolation, the sketch being taken from the landward side, and with Liliputian figures of peasant women contrasting with the gigantesque proportions of the dunes. In other vein is Woodbury’s "Tide River," with its breadth of treatment and richness of coloring. A pleasing combination of landscape and genre painting if Knight’s "Hailing the Ferry," a loan from the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. "Moonrise," by Thomas Allen, is a well conceived and executed composition, full of repose and tranquility, one in which the stillness and intangible hues of twilight have been rendered by a master’s hand. Of the four paintings by D. J. Elwell, "Moonlight at Domburg, Zeeland" was executed while a student at the Antwerp academy. Its weird and sombre tones, suggesting rather than portraying an almost invisible landscape, at once established his reputation among Belgian critics when displayed at the Cercle Artistique.

A prominent rank among marine painters is conceded to William G. Norton, among whose works the "Return of the Herring Fleet" is worthy of special note. The scene is on the coast of Holland, where a number of fishing smacks, roomy and broad of beam, are running under full sail toward the beach. Awaiting them is a group of figures essentially Dutch as to feature, figure, and costume. The picture is full of color, life, and motion, the sky filled with swirling clouds and the sea of the dingy cream color peculiar to the coast, changing to a light blue as the horizon is approached. "Rhode Island Coast" is a faithful and unpretentious study by W. Whittredge, by whom also are "The Plains" and "The Old Hunting Ground," both of them loan contributions. "The Seiners’ Return" and "The Open Sea," by Walter L. Dean, are in the best vein of this well known artist, the former especially, with its depth of space and vitality of color, showing thorough familiarity with the details of his craft. A more ambitious work represents, under the somewhat inappropriate title of "Peace," the white squadron of our navy anchored in Boston harbor. Unless it be for a New Bedford whaler there is no more unsightly craft than a modern iron-clad, and worthy of all praise is the skill which has given to these frowning leviathans of war an element of the picturesque, grouped as they are in placid waters and under a summer sky. This picture, it may here be mentioned, is the largest of its class, nine feet in length by more than six in width. "Danger Ahead," by Albert H. Munsell, represents the bow of an ocean steamer running at full speed toward the on-looker, who to grasp the realism of the scene must imagine himself on board a vessel lying in her path and in imminent danger of collision. In contrast with this may be mentioned Jules L. Stewart’s sketch, "On the Yacht Namouna.

Military subjects are but slightly represented. One of the smallest and best among them is "Driven Back," by De Cost Smith, whose time has been largely devoted to the study of Indian life. It represents a party of Sioux warriors emerging from a river by which they are separated from a pursuing squadron of cavalry. [687] "Charging a Battery" and "Silenced" are from the brush of Gilbert Gaul. "An Innocent Victim," portraying an episode in the Franco-Prussian campaign, is by Seymour Thomas, who appears to have gone far afield in search of inspiration, while neglecting the stirring incidents of the civil war. Among the engravings, etchings, and drawings are also a few illustrations of soldier life.

Water colors are plentiful in the United States galleries, forming a copious but not a very comprehensive exhibition; for several of the leading masters, such men for instance as John Lafarge, are here without representation. Among the best of the landscapes and sketches are Minor’s "Moonlight;" Mente’s "Evening Pastoral;" Ochtman’s "Frost;" Eaton’s "Autumnal" and "Indian Summer;" Cabot’s "Wind-Swept Beeches, Naushon Island;" Pierce’s "New England Pasture;" Fidelia Bridges’ "In an Old Orchard;" Hallett’s "Winter Moonlight;" Hardwick’s "Looking Inland;" Alice Stackpole’s "Late Afternoon in Beverley," and Fanny W. Tewksbury’s "New England Homestead." "Portal of Ruined Mission, San Jose, Texas," is by Thomas Allen, who in common with several others is also represented in the collection of oil paintings. Among other architectural themes are Blaney’s "Temple of Neptune;" Rotch’s "Limburg Cathedral," and Colman’s "Mosque" and "Ruins of a Mosque," at Tlemcin, Algeria.

"A Sioux Camp," "Mountain Trail," and "Got Him," are by Henry F. Farny, the last illustrating a mode of dealing with the Indian question which should commend him to the notice of the government. F. Hopkinson Smith has four of his canvases, among which are "The Rialto" and "Venetian Fishing Boats." Edwards sends "An Interesting Subject" and "In the Dunes, Flanders," both of them somewhat broad in style. Abbey’s "Mariana," a study from Measure for Measure, was recently exhibited at the New York Academy of Arts. Clara T. McChesney’s "Still Life" and "The Old Cobbler" are suggestive of the Dutch school. Of the three canvases by Rhoda Holmes Nicholl’s "The Scarlet Letter" is specially to be commended. Pleasing studies also are Church’s "Pandora;" Hassam’s "Fifth Avenue" and "Springtime in the City;" Guerin’s early morning scene in a village street in Kentucky, and Smedley’s contributions, several of them relating to the Exposition grounds and buildings. So also are Turner’s "Flood Tide;" Richards’ "An Atlantic Beach;" Silsbee’s "Monadnock;" Ellen S. Dixey’s "Dresden in January;" Rosina Sherwood’s "September;" McIlhenny’s "Old Friends;" and Kathleen H. Greatorex’ "Carnival." While in these and other works the American school is fairly represented, it must be admitted that the galleries devoted to domestic art appear to better advantage in oil paintings than in the lighter medium of composition.

In etchings may first be mentioned the works of James McNeill Whistler, one of the most finished etchers since the days of Rembrandt, and one of the few who have achieved a world-wide repute in two important branches of art. In his etchings, as in his paintings, the merit is not only in what he puts into them but in what he leaves out, seizing on the central points of interest and giving them suitable emphasis, yet with a sufficiency of detail in subordination to the general effect. In proof of the esteem in which he is held, it may here be mentioned that of the works exhibited in this collection, not one is from his own studio, all of them coming as loans from many cities and from many owners; but as they are three-score in number, touching on a great variety of subjects, they cannot here be reviewed in detail. Stephen Parrish, Charles A. Platt, J. Alden Weir, Alexander Schilling, Charles A. Vanderhoof, Charles F. W. Mielatz, and Mary Nimmo Moran are also liberally represented among the more prominent etchers of original themes.

In engravings, and especially in wood engravings, a leading rank is conceded to American artists, the highest honors at the Paris Exposition of 1889 being conferred on a Massachusetts wood engraver, with minor awards to others of his craft. From this artist, whose name is Elbridge Kingsley, is a choice collection of prints, several of them reproducing the works of acknowledged masters. Portraiture, landscape, marine views, [688] historical subjects, and works in lighter vein are well represented in this department. Among the best of them is the portrait of Jean Baptiste Corot, by M. Lamont Brown, reproducing with singular fidelity and clearness of outline the well-known features of the great landscape painter. W. B. Closson has one of the largest and most valuable exhibits, several of his wood engravings produced by a method of his own invention, the nature of which is still a secret, but of which it may be said that the work is largely done by hand, and has no relation to photo-mechanical processes. All his specimens are of the highest class, representing such masters as Rembrandt, Murillo, Jean Francois Millet, Bonvin, George Fuller, and A. H. Thayer. William J. Dana has landscape studies after Corot and Appleton Brown. Of excellent workmanship are William P. Cleaves’ engravings whose themes are mainly taken from White Mountain scenery. Prominent among the marine views is the "Ship in the Fog," by Harry E. Sylvester, whose prints are also illustrative of church and cathedral architecture.

As loans from a New York publishing company are a number of works by Timother Cole after Michael Angelo, Raphael, Paul Veronese, and other Italian masters. There are not only among the best engravings in the art display but among the best of modern times. Frank French has studies after Martiny, Barye, Fortuny, and others, together with original compositions. Thomas Johnson is strong in portraiture and figures, as also are Henry Wolf and Gustav Kruell. John P. Davis, Francis S. King, H. F. W. Lyouns, and Caroline A. Powell are represented by a variety of themes. In a steel engraving by S. A. Schoff is a marine subject after De Haas, with a copy of Rowse’s well known portrait of Emerson.

Of pastel drawings the collection is larger than in any of the foreign sections; but in the United States as elsewhere, except perhaps in France, this medium is seldom employed and rarely to good effect. Of the famous New York Pastel club only one of its prominent members is represented, and that one by a single contribution - "Good Friends," by William M. Chase. Appleton Brown has several landscapes; Jules L. Stewart, Jacob Wagner, Cecilia beaux, and Anna E. Klumpke have each a portrait; Caroline F. Hecker, a couple of flower pieces; Adelaide Wadsworth, a Venetia scene; Birge Harrison, "Evening on the Seine;" Charles A. Corwin, "Oat Harvest;" and Julius Rolshoven and other skillful pastellists are represented by various subjects.

Of pen, charcoal, and other drawings there is a large collection of excellent quality, one to which the only exception that can be taken is to its size. C. D. Gibson, for instance, has no less than six and thirty pen-drawings on exhibition, together with three wash-drawings. All of them are of unquestionable merit; but if this eminent artist had sent only a few of his best, I cannot but think he would have appeared to better advantage. By Abbey are fourteen Shakespearian illustrations. Pennell and Fenn’s liberal contributions relate almost entirely to architecture. Pyle deals largely with landscapes; Blum, with Japanese, and Castaigne, with [689] Provencal scenes. Reinhart’s charcoals are among the best of their class, especially his portrait of Charles Dudley Warner. Remington inclines to animal and military themes, and Smedley’s drawings cover a wide range of subjects. The Boston school is represented by Woodbury, Small, and Attwood; but in this department as well as in engravings and etchings, some of the most prominent names are omitted from the list of New England contributors; nor are these branches here so much in favor as in New York and Philadelphia.

In architecture in connection with the fine arts, New England appears to excellent advantage, as might be expected from a country which contains among its citizen some of the foremost members of the profession. In monumental and city architecture Boston has almost created a school of its own, though as yet its works may not be fully appreciated, for men have become so accustomed to faulty architecture that they cannot readily accept designs of a superior type. While not original, except for the originality which combines old forms with new compositions, the members of this school have discarded all obtrusive and fantastic elements, reproducing without servile imitation the classic features of earlier days, so far as they can be adapted to modern conditions. If we are to have in this country a renaissance of architecture, it is probably that Boston will be its birthplace, while the dawn of that renaissance may possibly have been forecast in the ephemeral city of the Fair.

The best display of architecture as a fine art is in the Exposition buildings themselves, two of which, apart from state structures are, as I have said, from the designs of Boston artificers. By the firm of Peabody and Stearns, to whom were intrusted the plans for Machinery hall, is exhibited a sketch of its southern portal, with office sketches, all in water colors. From Edmund M. Wheelwright, city architect of Boston, are several designs for public edifices, showing the purity and symmetry of proportion characteristic of his compositions. Of special interest are Longfellow, Alden, and Harlow’s designs in photograph for the Carnegie library and music hall at Pittsburgh, and the city hall at Cambridge. Church, school, and college architecture find expression in drawing from Walker and Kimball; Andrews, Jacques, and Rantoul; Cram, Wentworth, and Goodhue, and the water colors of Sturgis and Cabot, the first of these firms also showing its plans for the Omaha public library and telephone exchange. Of the three water colors shown by Julius A. Schweinfurth, one is a competitive design for the American Fine Arts society’s building in New York. From Arthur W. Wheelwright is also a suggestion [690] for a school of fine arts in connection with a university. H. L. Warren has several handsome compositions, one for a conservatory of music as an appendage to a female seminary, and others for the orphan asylum at Troy, built from his plans. Nearly all the larger cities of the United States, and not a few of the smaller ones, find expression in these galleries, with plans in every style and for every conceivable purpose; but as they are nearly 300 in number I cannot here present them in review.

An interesting feature in the galleries of domestic art is the retrospective exhibit of American paintings, some of them dating far back into the eighteenth century, and consisting largely of portraiture, though covering a variety of themes. The oldest of all is a picture of Bishop Berkeley and his family, painted by John Smybert in 1729. This is the property of Yale University, and is said to be the first canvas from the brush of an American artist containing more than a single figure. Of George and Martha Washington there are portraits executed between 1790 and 1792, with one of Jonathan Warner in 1761, of David Garrick in 1772, of Counselor Dunn in 1795, and of members of the Dana family depicted in the closing years of the century. There are landscapes painted as early as 1810; there is an Indian scene in northern Texas the date of which is 1833; and about this time began to appear more ambitious subjects, as Allston’s "Paul and Silas in Prison" and his "Danae and the Shower of Gold." Thus the collection is continued until it touches on the sphere of contemporary art.

But the centre of interest in the entire art display is the loan collection of foreign works contributed by their owners throughout the United States. This is officially styled a collection of foreign masterpieces, and such in part it is; but among these masterpieces are many inferior pictures masquerading under that title and many others which, though first-class paintings by artists of acknowledged merit, cannot properly be classed as masterpieces. Rather should is be termed an exhibition of the control which French art has acquired over American collectors and connoisseurs; for of its 126 specimens about three-fourths are French, most of the remainder coming from Dutch and English studios. A serious defect in these chambers is the grouping; and this is the more to be regretted that here was supposed to be the finishing touch of the art display, the brightest jewel in the artistic crown of the Columbian Exposition. The arrangement shows neither scale, proportion, symmetry, nor even due attention to the first principles of classification, some of the largest and smallest paintings hanging side by side, and with little regard to quality or subject. Thus Corot’s "Orpheus" was placed in close proximity to the most daring studies of the nude, and Daubigny’s "Cooper’s Shop" hung next to a portrait of Madame Modjeska by Carolus-Duran. Here and there, however, the combination is better, [691] as in one of the chambers where side by side are the smaller works of Millet and Meissonier, Daubigny, Corot, and Theodore Rosseau.

Of the twelve paintings by Corot, each is a masterpiece, and yet all are different, not only showing the versatility of the great landscape painter, but explaining his potent influence as a factor in the history of art. From 1827, when his first picture was hung in the salon exhibition, until the time of his death in 1875, his works were never absent from its wall, and however important were the works themselves, they were far more important as lessons in contemporary art, as developing antecedent tendencies and pointing the way to a more faithful rendition of nature’s truths. By those who have misconceived his style it is alleged that he merely idealized nature, than in his softly intoned effects of foliage and light he suppressed many details which he did not or would not observe. Rather should it be said that he separated from its minor features the central idea which he intended to convey. As one of his biographers remarks: "What he wanted to repeat was not nature’s statistics, but their sum total; not her minutiae, but the result she had wrought with them; not the elements with which she had built up a landscape, but the landscape itself, as his eye had embraced and his soul had felt it. ‘Truth,’ he declared, ‘was the first thing in art and the second and the third.’ But the whole truth cannot be told at once. You cannot paint summer and winter in a single canvas. Not even two successive hours of a summer’s day are exactly alike, and you cannot paint them both," Certain it is that no man worked harder at his task, with more earnest conscientious study, long unrequited even by the scantiest recompense. At thirty he lived on a pension of $300 a year which his father allowed him; at fifty this pension was doubled and still formed his only income; at sixty he had not sold a single picture, except to his brother artists. "Alas," he cried, as the first of his patrons carried away his purchase from the studio, "my collection has been so long complete, and now it is broken."

"Orpheus," with its strong and yet delicate rendering, is one of the most idyllic of landscapes, and in the highest style of classic art. The god of the lyre is greeting the morn, whose soft roseate colors are painted on a crystal sky as only Corot could paint them, and with the sombre tones of the foreground in perfect contrast. Almost beneath the shade of a stately tree whose foliage is tremulous with light, stands the figure of the great musician, his touch giving emphasis to the harmony of the scene, so that nature herself appears to listen. It is impossible to imagine a more beautiful conception or one more delicately executed. Here is the poetry of art, nature’s own poetry, interpreted and accented by the touch of a master who was himself in closest communion, with nature.

"Evening" is in another mood, with radiant sunset sky, whose glow is even on the shadows of the trees beneath which, their figures bathed in the mellow light, maidens dance to the low soft music of foliage attuned by the zephyr’s breath. A second picture bearing this title, together with his "Landscape," "The Path to the Village," and other canvases represent different styles and periods in the life-work of Corot. But a stronger contrast than any is in "The Flight from Sodom," a work in which there is a wide departure from his usual mode of treatment. The landscape is here a subordinate feature, the figures grouped in the foreground forming the objective point of the composition. Lot and his family are well delineated, with suggestion of rapid flight from the devoted city on which his wife is gazing with fatal indecision, hoping perhaps that its doom may not involve the destruction of her home. "Danse des Nymphes" is a beautiful combination of landscape and figure painting, second only to his "Danse des Amours," the former with graceful buoyant figures grouped around a classic [692] temple buried in the woods, representing an ideal world with its fair suggestions of infinite joy and peace. "Environs of Ville d’ Avray" is a study from the neighborhood where most of his days were passed, and whose summer foliage amid the soft evening light he loved so well to paint. Here he lived alone with art and nature, for he never married, taking in place of wife, as he said, "a little fairy called Imagination, who came at his call and vanished when he did not need her."

With the name of Corot that of Charles Francois Daubigny will ever be associated, not only as intimate friends, but as leaders of the school which delivered art from the barren conventionalism of the pseudo-classic period, and carried it far into the domain of reality and truth. Their style had much in common, though in both was marked individuality, Corot having more of sentiment in his works, throwing into them his own poetic imagery, while Daubigny aimed rather at reproducing the impression of the moment in all its freshness of form and coloring. Both were preeminent as landscape and figure painters, and both were more than that, their range extending to many subjects, all of them treated with the strength and beauty of touch which rank them among the classic masters of the age.

"The Banks of the Oise at Auvers," in the loan collection, was exhibited at the salon in 1863, and is one of several themes portraying under various aspects the scenic beauties of this stately river, with its broad and fertile valley. "Boat on the River Oise," hung in the salon of 1851, was one of the works which made his fame. For his "Banks of the Oise," displayed in 1859 was awarded the legion of honor, and still another is "The Banks of the Oise near Bonneville," which graced the salon of 1866. It was in the former year that Daubigny, wearied of following the stream afoot, and sleeping at hotels to catch his sunrise effects, bethought him of building a studio-boat with cabin in the stern which served as workshop, bedroom, and kitchen. This he christened the Botin, and in his little craft voyaged at will along the Oise and Seine with their adjacent waters, where, free from care, he communed with nature, and produced those famous studies of river scenery and river life on which his fame so largely rests. The summer of 1876 he spent on the Normandy coast, and the result is seen in several of his later compositions, one of which is here exhibited under the title "Coast near Dieppe."

As with Corot, the contributions from the brush of Jean Francois Millet are histories of his art life, beginning back in the days when a Boston connoisseur accorded to the then struggling exponent of the Barbizon school the recognition which his own countrymen persistently withheld. The price that was paid for the two-score of pictures which the Bostonian purchased from Millet, including some of his greatest works, it is not given to us to know; but we may be sure it was not much, for at this time they were almost unsalable. Parisians would have none of them, even as a gift, until the story of their sale was noised abroad, and not until many years afterward did they fully appreciate one of the foremost genre and landscape painters of the age.

Among his eight canvases in the loan collection, "After the Bath" is almost diminutive in size but large and strong in art. It is a study of the nude, as were most of his earlier works, until, as is said, the reading of a bible which his grandmother gave him when he left her to try his fortunes in Paris, caused him to exchange these subjects for the portrayal of peasant life. This is to be regretted, for in the undraped figure as Millet painted it, and as few else could paint it, there is nothing at which the most prudish could take offence. But we are more than recompensed in his later works, for here is a breadth of treatment and expression which won the hearts even of Parisian connoisseurs.

[693] - Profound was the sensation created in the salons by his "Man with the Hoe." It is merely a peasant at his task in the field; but in this unpretentious theme is a wealth of suggestion. The man s of repulsive and almost brutish aspect, with uncouth, muscular frame and low, retreating brow, almost hidden beneath a shock of coarse, matted hair. He is panting for breath with open mouth and stooping form, as of a worn-out beast of burden, and in that face, bent over the hoe on which he leans for rest, there is no human expression, no trace of mind or soul. It is merely the face of an animal, and of a savage animal, goaded by toil and suffering. A more pleasing study, but a less powerful one, is "The Sheep-shearers" with a richness and warmth of coloring which is not always found in the canvases of Millet. "The Pig Killers" is one of the gems of the loan collection, as also is "Peasants Carrying a New-born Calf." Perfectly modelled are the figures of the cow and the sturdy young peasants, with their play of limb and muscle, while as to coloring - here is another example of what Millet can do when the subject is in harmony with his mood.

Of the "Reconnaissance" and "View near Poissy," the latter a beautiful landscape with color scheme in light green tints, it need only here be said that they are by Meissonier. From Rousseau, who with Dupre, Diaz, Corot, and Huet, all but the last represented in this collection, began the good work which Daubigny took up, there are four of his landscape paintings, though none of them are quite at his best. Nevertheless in all of them, and especially in his "View on the Seine" and "Landscape in Berry," there are evidences of the strong technique of the great master, whose pictures no one would have, for none could fathom, as he did, the depths of nature’s mysteries. Diaz’ subjects are "La Danse des Almees," "Turkish Women," and "The Descent of the Bohemians," while of Dupre’s three canvases two are studies of the sea. In this connection though of a different school, may be mentioned Claude Monet’s "Harbor of Havre," with its smiling waters and quaint, old-fashioned houses; his "Morning Fog," with its iridescent sea breaking on a dimly outlined cliff; his "Dawn on the Coast of the North Sea," with its pale crimson sunrise; and his "Snow Scene," with its bleak and desolate pathway. In all but the last the light is delicately intoned, giving to nature the soft, dreamy aspect in which she is seen at her best.

In his "Odalisque" and his portrait of Modjeska Carolus-Duran appears at a disadvantage as compared with his paintings in the French section. Rosa Bonheur is well represented in her "Pastoral" and "Sheep," especially in the latter, with its fleecy clouds, in a clear blue sky, and its play of sunlight and shadow. While not among her more ambitious canvases, they are by no means unworthy of her brush. Cazin has four of his studies, among which "The Expulsion from Paradise" is depicted with startling realism. "Tiger Quenching his Thirst" and "Turks Abducting a Girl" are in the well known style of Eugene Delacroix, whose works too often border on the extravagant and sometimes on the grotesque. In his "Christ at the Tomb" the tragic elements are portrayed for all they are worth. There are the stains of blood, the pallid hue of death, the unspeakable agony, and around all the awesome gloom of the sepulchre.

Of the three Raffaellis here exhibted, "Absinthe Drinkers" represents two wrecks of Parisian humanity in the shabbiest of apparel, unkempt, unwashed, unshaven, with hardly a trace of the human in their sodden and ghastly features. They are seated at a table against the bare white wall of a cafe, and at the side of either a slender glass, filled with a pale yellow liquid, tells the tale of wrecked and hopeless lives. L’Hermitee’s "Washerwomen on the Banks of the Marne" is resplendent with sunlight hues; Lefebvre’s "La Cigale" is in his most imaginative vein; "Nymphs Bathing," by Monticelli, is remarkable for its coloring, its strains resembling the lacquer paintings limned on old cabinet work. Jules Breton’s "Song of the Lark" shows the face of a peasant girl raised in wonderment at the sweet music overhead. In his "Colza-gatherers" the laborers are hard at work over their task, all save one who gazes for a moment on the glories of a summer day. A work of exceptional power and character is "The Spy," by Alphonse-Marie de Neuville. Near a table where a group of German officers are taking their evening meal, a Frenchman, disguised as a hunter, is being searched for papers that will doom him to a shameful death.

[694] - In Manet’s "Dead Trocador" are skillfully combined the elements of the picturesque and the repulsive in the old time Spanish bull-fight, the costumes portrayed in brilliant tones and the figures brought into strong relief without elaboration of detail and with strength and simplicity of treatment. The two marine sketches by this artist are in his happiest style. The "Dogs and Hare" is an excellent study by Gustav Courbet, as yet but little known in America, as also is Dagnan-Bouveret, from whom are "Brittany Peasant Girl" and "La Bernoise." Fromentin’s "Falconer" and "Women of Sahara" are here, and among Troyon’s canvases are two of his choicest animal paintings. Degas’ "Race-horses" and "The Dancing Lesson" are of little value except as specimens of the impressionist school from a man seldom completes a picture, and yet is hailed by his brethren as one of the most talented and original artists of the day. The latter represents a number of ballet girls with circling arms pirouetting on satin-covered toes, among them a portly bald-headed ballet master, and seated in the foreground, reading a newspaper, a coarse looking woman attired in blue-spotted cotton gown. There is no attempt at theatrical display; simply a group of bare-legged lasses practicing on a bare floor the art which brings them a livelihood.

Sisley’s "Village Street, Moret" is a neatly executed composition, with pleasing color scheme, especially in its pink roofs contrasting against violet-tinted clouds. A picture by Helleu shows a beautiful light effect in the interior of St. Denis cathedral, with a recess full of dim purple shadows, in the depths of which a stained glass window sheds on a wall and effigied tomb tints of variegated hue. Worthy of note also are Gericault’s "Study of a Cuirassier," Greuze’s "Pouting Child;" Bastien-Lepage’s "Reverie" and "The Thames;" Detaille’s "Flag of Truce;" Ribot’s "Young Politician;" Michel’s "Plain of Montmartre" and "The Horseman; Decamps’ "Oriental Kiosk," and Fantin-Latour’s "Vision of Tannhauser."

England is represented in the loan collection by Watts’ portrait of Joachim, the greatest of modern violinists; Alma Tadema’s "A Reading from Homer;" three of Constable’s studies; a landscape by Barrington; Morland’s "Contentment," and three of Swan’s famous animal paintings. From Germany are canvases by Ludwig Knaus and Fritz von Uhde. From Holland the most noticeable works are "The Flock," by Antonin Mauve, and "A Frugal Meal," by Josef Israels, whose "Alone in the World" is one of the most graphic studies in the Dutch section and in the entire art display. Jacob Maris in his "Canal in Holland" has expressed about all that can be got out of this favorite theme among Dutch artists; but such paintings are not all like this; only by the brush of a Maris and other masters of his school could so much expression by thrown into a commonplace subject. From Belgium there are "The Book Stall," by Hendrick Leys, and "You are Welcome," by Jan Van Beers; while from Sweden comes a single painting by Anders L. Zorn, showing the interior of a Stockholm brewery.

In Italian art there is Michetti’s "Springtime and Love," the spring and love, that is, of Italy’s sunny clime. The scene is by the sea-shore, with grass-covered cliff, verdure reaching almost to the water’s edge, the figures, though a little singular in delineation, standing forth in perfect harmony with nature’s kindly mood. "Beach at Portici," by the Spanish artist Fortuny, is a masterly rendition of sky and sea, with fleecy sunlit clouds flitting across a light blue atmosphere, and on a foreground of glistening sand, figures in gay attire blending with the brilliant hues of flowers and foliage. Finally, there are a few pieces of statuary by the Parisian sculptors. Jean Leon Gerome and Auguste Rodin, the former represented by his tinted marble group of "Pygmalion and Galatea" and the latter by his "Andromeda" and two marble groups of "Francesca and Paolo," - "L’ Amour" and "La Rapture," - all executed under commission for the Museum of decorative arts.

[695] - Among foreign participants the largest space was allotted to the French exhibits, which, except for one of the American loan contributions, occupy the entire eastern annex. While, as I have said, the works of some of the great masters are not here represented, the display is a fair representation of the productions of the various schools, though from it more than a thousand eligible works were excluded merely though want of space. To the lighting of the chambers and the grouping of the pictures and statuary, under the direction of Roger-Ballu and his chief assistant, the former one of the art commissioners and inspector-general of fine arts, no exception can be taken. To give to the entire exhibition and to each of the exhibiting schools an appropriate expression, no pains were spared to insure the artistic grouping of the collections, the galleries being closely veiled until the last painting was in the appointed place.

A feature in this section is the cosmopolitan character of the display; for here are presented not only the works of all the French schools, but many in which there are unmistakable traces of foreign methods of treatment. Almost side by side with the finest landscape paintings of old-school masters are the broadest expressions of modern sensationalism and impressionism. Studies from the nude are plentiful, and as in all French exhibitions, among the best of the works. In most of them, however, there is no suggestion of indecency; for as Thackeray remarks, the draped figure is often more unchaste than that which is depicted as nature made it. Portraiture is well represented, and with many new names on the list of contributors in this as in other departments; for apart from loan collections, the French exhibits, whether of oil paintings, water colors, or drawings, of pastels, engravings, etchings, or architectural compositions, are restricted almost entirely to modern schools.

By Frenchmen and by those who for many years have attended the salons of France, it is conceded that never before, not only in the United States but in the salons themselves, was so varied a representation of French contemporary art. But while one of the most exhaustive collections, it is by no means the best that France could have furnished, and for reasons already stated, falls somewhat short of expectation. Especially is noticed in many of the paintings a certain monotony of coloring, in light and florid tints, without warmth or richness of hue. Though at first the effect is not displeasing, it is impaired by sameness and repetition, just as in the Russian section we turn with a sense of disappointment from the exaggerated and sometimes gaudy strains that mar the style of its depictions. Then there is observed an effeminacy of treatment, a lack of [696] originality in motif and of vigor in execution, giving to some of the compositions the stamp of hopeless mediocrity.

But to the majority of French paintings these remarks do not apply, while in sculpture none of the groups will compare with those which France has contributed. Though, as I have said, her display of statuary has been surpassed at former expositions, several of the great masters find expression, and among nearly 150 works, their subjects ranging from cock-fighting to classic and historic symbolism, there are many of unquestionable merit. In addition to these is a collection of architectural and other casts from the museums of Comparative Sculpture, of Decorative Arts, and of the Louvre, better known as the Trocadero collection, from the name of the palace in which most of the originals are contained. This is of special interest as the most valuable pieces have been presented to the Exposition authorities, and will form the nucleus of an art collection. Here may be traced through several centuries the development of French architecture, and especially of church and cathedral architecture, including the Romanesque, the Gothic, the renaissance, and the designs of more modern schools.

First among the groups is the sculptured portal of the church of Notre Dame du Port at Clermont-Ferrand, an eleventh century composition, the angular rigidity of the figures of Isaiah and John the Baptist on either side of the entrance revealing traces of Byzantine influence. Of the monastery of Charlieu is reproduced a portion of its facade, with diminutive windows, and large double door-way, the lintel surmounted with decapitated images of Christ and his apostles, the mutilation noticeable in these and other figures being probably the work of iconoclasts during the revolutionary era. On the tympanum is a seated form of Christ, with hand uplifted in blessing, and above it a richly ornamented arch. A facade of the church of Saint Gilles is also in part reproduced, its frieze representing in relief scenes from the passion; on the lintel and in the embrasures of the portal are other scriptural scenes. In each of the embrasures are figures of the disciples, their feet resting on lions in the act of devouring man or beast, and elsewhere in the decorative scheme are hunting scenes. The profane, it may here be observed, enters largely into the ecclesiastical architecture of the middle ages, with beasts portrayed in arabesque, saints and angels intermingling with heroes and demigods, while from Pompeiian ruins have been unearthed the winged seraphim characteristics of Christian monuments.

In the casts above described are represented eleventh and twelfth century architecture. To the thirteenth century belongs the cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris, from which are portions of its [697] western doorway, with figures of prophets and kings on either side of the virgin, whose entombment and coronation are also symbolized, angels holding the winding sheet and in the background Christ and his apostles. From the cathedral of Bordeaux there is a large reproduction of the portal of its northern transept, where is a figure of Bertrand, archbishop of the diocese, afterward Pope Clement V. The arch is adorned with delicately executed forms of angels, apostles, prophets, and patriarchs, and in bas-relief superimposed are portrayed on the tympanum the last supper, the ascension, and Christ triumphant. By an unknown artist is a delicate piece of workmanship whose theme is a stone gallery in the cathedral of Limoges. In the decorative scheme are winged heads of angels, headless figures emblematic of the cardinal and other virtues, with monstrous beasts and images sacred and profane, all in the choicest symbolism of the renaissance period. Elsewhere are represented the cathedrals of Amiens, Laon, Reims, Rouen, Lyons, Sens, Aix, Chartres, Bourges, Nantes, and Beauvais, with chapel, cloister, and chateau architecture from the eleventh to the nineteenth century.

Tombs are a feature in this collection, representing among other sepulchres that of the children of Charles VIII, fashioned in 1506, the figures of the princes lying on the top, with angels at either end, and in relief the exploits of Hercules and Samson. Here also is shown the sarcophagus of Francis II and his wife Marguerite de Fois, contained in the cathedral of Nantes, and executed, it is said, in 1507. But a more remarkable work than either is from the tomb of the seneschal, Louis de Breze, the husband of Diana of Poitiers, erected in 1540 in the cathedral of Rouen. In the original the body rests on a slab of black marble; at its head is the form of his wife and at its feet the virgin and child, all the figures being flanked by pairs of Corinthian columns supporting an ornamented entablature, above which is an equestrian statue of the seneschal in full armor, the entire composition forming a choice illustration of renaissance art.

In contrast with these sombre themes are figures of the graces by German Pilon, resting back to back and with joined hands on a triangular base. A cast of a nude statue of Diana by Houdain, with remarkable symmetry of outline, represents the goddess poised on her left foot, and with orthodox bow and arrows. "Voltaire" by the same artist, the bronze original of which is in the foyer of the Comedie-Francaise, is a composition full of power and character. There are also casts of fourteenth and fifteenth century statues of Guillaume de Chanac and Phillippe de Morvillier, with one of King Philippe VI, all from the Louvre at Paris. Animal sculpture finds a place in the collection, especially in the works of Barye, and there are nympths and nereids, tritons and other fabulous creatures, for the most part of somewhat inferior execution.

[698] - Passing to contemporary art, may first be mentioned the statuettes of Meissonier, several of whose less known works are reproduced in bronze or casts in cire perdue. Among them is the figure of Marshal Duroc from Castiglione’s painting of the "Campaign of Italy, 1796." On this he was at work when overtaken by the illness which ended his career. A spirited group by the same artist is the "Heraut de Murice," a trumpeter of the time of Louis XIII, the attitude of his steed showing the tension of extreme excitement. Others are his "Wounded Horse, Siege of Paris," "Dancing Muse," and "Design for a Fire-place," the last intended for his own atelier, its shelf supported by renaissance figures. In the "Four Figures from the Tomb of Lamorciere’ to which Paul Dubois gave several years of earnest work, is a rare combination of the natural and the ideal. Faith is personified in the form of a young woman of virginal purity; charity in a woman with infants in her arms; meditation in a man with bowed head, with downcast features of strong, intellectual mold, and military courage in a youth clad in complete armor, over whose shoulders is a lion’s skin.

A reproduction of "David the Victor," by Antonin Mercie, a pupil of Dubois, though dissimilar in pose, is suggestive of Donatello’s famous statue; but here we have rather a promise than an expression of his more finished style, for this was one of his earliest works. In better vein is his "Quand Meme," the original of which was executed for a monument at Belfort. Its theme is Alsace, symbolized by a young woman grasping the rifle of a wounded French soldier, who clutches the hem of her garment as he falls. "The First Funeral," by Barrias, is one of the masterpieces of French sculpture, even its mutilated condition detracting but little from the force and dignity of this well conceived and powerful composition. Adam is carrying to its resting place the lifeless body of his son; Eve stooping to kiss the brow, and in both a subdued but intense expression of grief, too strong for words or tears. "Mozart as a Child," in the act of tuning his violin, is a beautiful figure, its costume, pose, and suggested motion full of life and truth. Chapu’s "Jeanne d’ Arc" in kneeling attitude is in the best style of this well-known artist, whose themes are mainly from the antique. Falguiere’s "Republican France" is a symbolic statue, ordered for the occasion by the French government. In his figures of Diana is a better illustration of his skill and delicacy of technique. Of the colossal group in bronze, whose theme is Washington and Lafayette, it need only be said that it is one of Bartholdi’s works. A modest and unpretentious work by Raoul Larche is "Jesus Before the Rabbis," representing its subject looking upward at the doctors as though questioned or bethinking him how to answer a question. His attire is of the plainest, consisting only of a single garment, and in the features and figure there is no suggesting of the divine, except for the divinity which belongs to childhood.

A strong and impressive work is Saint-Marceaux’ "Spirit Guarding the Secret of the Tomb," for which was awarded the medal of honor at the Paris salon in 1879. In the features and figure of the genius, his face turned backward as though resenting intrusion, while grasping in his arms a funeral urn, is a wonderful depth of expression. Rodin’s "Burgess of Calais" recalls the familiar story of the siege of that city in the days of Edward III, with the figure of one of its heroic defenders, on which is the impress of stern resolution, portrayed in almost Gothic simplicity of outline. Boucher’s "On the Ground" is one of the best examples of a man digging around a stone with his shovel, and had the form been draped, the effect would be merely that of a common laborer at his daily task. Of nude woman, Idrac’s "Salammbo" is a well executed type, though expressive of nothing in particular. In Marquestre’s "La Cigale" is portrayed with startling realism the sensation of cold. By Delaplanche "Security" is symbolized in true academic vein by the figure of a woman clad in armor, with sword in hand, and in her lap a sleeping infant. In Lanson’s "The Age of Iron" is expressed by a warrior and his vanquished foe the spirit of the age when might was right. "The Blind Man and the Paralytic" is the subject chosen by Jean Turcan and Gustav Michel, the latter of whom has two other statues on exposition.

[699] - In animal sculpture Emanuel Fremiet stands almost alone in his profession, though his choicest works, as the equestrian statue of Jeanne d’ Arc in the Place des Pyramides at Paris, are not reproduced in the French collection. His wounded dog, while a faithful delineation, is one of his minor works. In his "Man of the Stone Age" is symbolized the prehistoric era of the human race, the figure, clad in the skins of wild beasts and grasping a huge hammer with head of stone, standing forth with tense rigidity of outline, and yet in the features is a certain aspect of intelligence and even of dignity. The life-sized groups by August Cain are accurate representations, but lacking in vigor of expression, and would be more in place in a zoological museum than in a gallery of fine arts. One of them represents a rhinoceros goring a tiger, while a second tiger springs at his shoulder. The others are entitle "Eagle and Vulture Quarreling over a Dead Bear" and "Lion Strangling a Crocodile," the latter a feeble composition as compared with a similar theme by Barye in the Trocadero collection.

Turning to the picture galleries, with nearly 500 oil paintings and a large number of water colors, drawings, etching, and engravings, we find here almost every conceivable subject that has occupied the brush of the painter. While a large proportion are in lighter vein, with something too much of the frivolous and altogether too much of the nude, graver themes are well represented. Of portraits, landscapes, mythologic, military, and historic scenes there is a large collection, some by acknowledged masters and others of unquestionable merit, while even religious subjects are treated with all the pathos and seriousness of which the Frenchman’s mercurial temperament is capable.

In portraiture and figure painting may first be mentioned the three works of Carolus Duran, one of which excited much comment at the salon of the Champs de Mars in 1892. It represents in truthful rather than complimentary vein a wealthy middle-aged American woman, seated in state against a background of yellow plush curtains, attired in satin and velvet and bedecked with jewels, her feet resting on a silken cushion, and her face and hair suggestive of powder and rouge. Another portrait is that of a young girl; and a third shows a pleasing figure in gray, both in the happiest style of this master of his special art. Bonnat’s "Cardinal Lavigerie" has more of the Turkish than the episcopal aspect, the red sash and black soutaine beneath his scarlet robe giving to this African primate almost the appearance of a pasha, which is further enhanced by his fez and his swarthy complexion. "Renan," by the same artist, shows a heavy thickset figure and sensuous face peering forth from their enveloping shadow. Chartran’s portrait of Leo XIII is an excellent work; but not, as has been claimed, the only one taken from life.

Raffaelli’s three canvases do not fairly express the power of this eminent master, who appears to much better advantage in the loan collection. "The Grandfather" is over bulky in form, as also is the child by his side. "In the Plain" does little credit to his brush, and his depiction of Brittany peasants is somewhat hard in tone. Of Henner’s "Portrait of My brother," "Lola," and "Slumber," the two last are female heads reproduced in his dreamy, langorous style. Rondel’s "James Gordon Bennett" is one of the gems of the collection, as also is Gustave Courtois’ "Madame Gautherau," both of them life-like and strong conceptions. One of Wencker’s paintings is said to produce the refined and sensitive features of Madame Giroa, another is of Boulanger; but a work more admired than either is his large painting of the Basilica, with its rich Byzantine theme. "Portrait of M. G. A. E.," is the only canvas from Eugene Antoine Guillon, one of the most celebrated painters of historic portraits, among which are "Napoleon’s Adieu to France," "Napoleon at St. Helena," and "John Brown and His Accomplices on Trial." Alfred Guillon, though a sculptor by profession, is also represented by a single picture, the subject of which is "My Little Brother." Another master of historic portraiture is Jean Paul Laurens, who has long stood at the head of his profession, and has exhausted all the honors which his country had to offer. His themes are "Christopher Columbus" and "The Seven Troubadours." Layraud’s portrait of Liszt represents the great composer standing by the side of his instrument. [700] "Young Girl of Tougourth, Algiers" is by Charles Landelle, a most prolific painter, not only on canvas but on everything else upon which paint can be laid.

A pleasing composition is the "Reverie" by Jules Emile Saintin, a medallist of 1866 and with remarkable facility of adaptation, his themes extending from the soubrettes of the Comedie Francais to the dignitaries of the church. The "Portrait of Professor Charcot" is by Saintin the younger, who appears to better advantage in marine and landscape scenes. Henri Gervez’ three canvases are in the familiar style of this well known portrait and genre painter, among whose more famous works are "Diana and Endymion" and "Communion at the Church of the Trinity." In the compositions of Jean Francois Gigoux there is much to remind us of this veteran artist whose "Jean d’ Arc," "Charlotte Corday," and "Death of Cleopatra" are among the masterpieces of the age. So also with Jean Joseph W[c]rts and Louis Picard, the former represented in the salons since 1867 and the latter for nearly half a century. "The Old Peasant" and "Dreaming," are by Edouard Sain, from whose facile brush are many truthful scenes of everyday life. "The Death of Archimedes" is from Edouard Vimont, whose figure paintings range from pagan myth to Christian martyrdom.

One of the strongest subjects, though something more than a portrait, is "Marat, Friend of the People," representing this incarnation of the reign of terror seated at a table while writing his despatches, his coarse animal features and fell shock of unkempt hair giving to him almost the appearance of a beast of prey, so that we could wish his career had sooner been ended by the knife of Charlotte Corday. The work is by Daniel Leon Saubes. Adolphe Yvon’s "Carnot" is a full length portrait of the president of the French republic in cabinet session. "Japan" is a decorative fantasy by Louis Abbema, showing a woman in Japanese attire amid a group of porcelains and embroideries, around which is a border of chrysanthemums. While a pleasing subject, it is somewhat commonplace as compared with other works of this famous artist. "The Falling of the Leaves" represents, amid an autumn landscape, the figure of a pretty woman such as none know better how to paint than Madelaine Lemaire. A fine conception also is her "Chariot of the Fairies," hung in the southern gallery. "The King of the Forest" and "The Overthrow" from the brush of Rosa Bonheur, and "Diana" by Helen D’Etoilles Leroy are among the best of women’s works, the latter a beautiful composition, though with features suggestive rather of a court beauty, than of the stately Artemis. Of the three canvases from Virginie Demont Breton, one has for its subject the training of a young sailor taking his first surf bath as he clings to the arms of his mother. "Young Girl," by Fanny Fleury, has all the delicacy of treatment characteristic of this painter, the only one of a family of artists represented in the French galleries.

"Repose" and "The Friend of the Lowly," by L’Hermitte, are in the best vein of this well known artist, whose style is suggestive of Jean Francois Millet, represented, as are other great masters, only in the loan collection in the United States galleries. In the latter the form of a little child appearing [701] amid a group of peasantry is the strongest feature in this thoughtful composition. "Young Girls" and "Women on the Grass" are from the brush of Alfred Philippe Roll, a pupil of Bonnat, but with strong individuality of style. In Montzaigle’s "Deux Amies" two young women tastefully attired are chatting and sipping their favorite beverage at a cafe. The faces are not displeasing, and the pose and drapery show the touch of a finished artist. "In the Sunshine" and "Spring" are the works of Albert Fourie, whose vein inclines rather to decorative and genre paintings. "Still Life," by Amand Gautier, is the only contribution from this family of painters. Amand, it may here be said, is one of the few artists who have made lithography almost akin to the fine arts. Munier’s "Cupids Resting" is a spirited interpretation of the subject, one of the figures with wings outstretched, and in his face the mischievous expression characteristic of the god of love. "The Cold Bath" is one of the later works of this celebrated painter, whose canvases have found a place at the salon exhibitions for nearly a quarter of a century. A similar theme is Delobbe’s "Breakfast After the Bath," in which a child is offering a handful of fruit to a young woman in seated posture.

"In Sicily" is a typical theme by Aman-Jean, descriptive of peasant life, of sunny skies and landscapes. "The Last Load of Wheat" is by Jules Jacques Veyrassat, an artist known in the salons since 1848, and with wonderful versatility of theme. In "Japanese Chrysanthemums" Jean Benner displays his well known skill as an executant of flowers and fruits. "Solitude" is from the same artist; and "The Alarm" comes from the versatile brush of his twin brother, Emmanuel, "My Birds" and "Decorated Panel, Flowering Laurels" are also from an artist famed for his delicate rendering of flower and fruit subjects, for accuracy of conception and harmony of coloring. His name is Ernest Quost. "Drowsiness" is the subject chosen by Etienne Tournes, whose portraits and figure paintings have long been familiar to frequenters of the salons. "A Singing Lesson in a Public School in Paris" is a pleasing sketch by Auguste Trupheme. "Intemperance" is strongly treated by Duverger, whose figure paintings are suggestive of character and incident. "Don Juan in Hell" is a fair specimen of Andre Rixen’s method of treating idealistic and mythological subjects. In similar vein is "The Dead Conversing in the Other World," by Charles Ronot, whose earlier works were scriptural subjects. Among his later works is "Napoleon in Egypt," the original of which is the property of the state department. "Satyr at Bay" is by Louis Priou, whose "Family of Satyrs" was strongly commended at the Paris Exposition of 1878.

One of the largest paintings in the French section, and among the best of its kind, is "The Blind Man and the Paralytic," by Auguste Barthelemy Glaize. With staff in hand, striding vigorously over a rough country road, a man with sightless orbs is bearing on his back one stricken and wasted by paralysis, whose piercing and lustrous gaze gives stronger accentuation to the theme. Of Jules Breton’s canvases, one of the best represents a group of women on their way to a procession. It is a fine illustration of the sculpturesque mode of treatment which won his fame and has found so many imitators. "Returning from Circumcision," and two other works, are the contributions of Felix Joseph Barrias, the father of Barrias the sculptor, and better know as a decorative artist. Among subjects [702] addressed to American sensibilities are Fournier’s "Washington and His Mother" and Benjamin Constant’s "Triumph of Christopher Columbus," the former a work full of tender expression.

In nude art one of the most dainty productions is Albert Maignan’s "The Birth of the Pearl," representing a female figure reclining in a shell, with arm resting on the head of a boyish figure descending from above. By the same artist are "William the Conqueror" and "The Siren’s Couch," the latter far down in ocean’s depths, amid a bower of sea-weed and coral. Of Rosset-Granger’s three works, his "Young Girl Chasing Butterflies" is a pleasing subject. In "The Stray," showing the undraped figure of a woman cast on the beach by the tide, the drawing is excellent, but the purple tints of coloring are untrue to nature. "Cupid and Psyche" are treated by Thirion in somewhat vaporous hues. Rochegrosse, whose canvases too often incline to coarseness, has two of his chaster works. In "La Toilette," by Mousset, "Myrrha," by Loewe-Marchand, and "La Fourme," by Dubufe fils, the subjects are apparently chosen merely for the purpose of introducing the undraped figure; and why "La Fourme" should be so scantily clad amid wintry snows does not appear to the observer. In better taste is Raphael Collin’s "On the Sea Coast," the subject of which is a group of young women dancing [703] on the sands, one of them with slight drapery of lilac hue. It is a sprightly composition, with all the finish characteristic of the Ecole des Beaux Arts, and less indelicate than Aublet’s "Women on the Seashore," whose scant attire displays rather than conceals the form. "Youth," by the former artist, is a voluptuous theme, and though strongly drawn is somewhat too broadly pronounced.

"Sea Birds and Wave," by Delacroix, shows a young woman exceeding plump of form, who, whatever she is supposed to represent, cannot be mistaken for a sea-nympth. "Une Restoration," by Edouard Dantan, tells its own story with sufficient clearness. Saint Pierre’s "Saadia" displays the full-length figure of a houri reclining on a tiger skin placed over a divan of Turkish rugs, her face in striking contrast with the head of the brute on which it rests. There is no soul in these soft, dreamy features, and there is little intelligence; simply the expression of a beautiful animal, seemingly without vice or virtue, and as void of conscience as a mermaid. "Soudja-Sari," by the same artist, is also an oriental woman, with an expression of tender melancholy in her mournful brooding gaze. A face with wondrous subtlety of charm is portrayed in Jules Machard’s "Ready for the Garden Party," the figure standing erect attired in white, with lips slightly parted and laughter lighted eyes, the very incarnation of joyous womanhood, radiant with innocence and beauty.

Animal paintings and sporting themes are somewhat rare in the French galleries, and for the most part of no special merit. Besnard’s "Two ponies Harassed by Flies" are standing in a [705] purple light which must be at least as unwelcome as their insect pests. "Wild Boar Hunt," by Jules Bertrand Gelibert, is well worthy of this celebrated artist, whose works in similar vein have won for him more than a national reputation. It is to be regretted that there is no forest landscape from his brush, for none can interpret more truthfully the language of the woods. "My Start in Hunting" is by Gabriel Thurner, who is better known for his graphic depiction of fruits and flowers. "Boar on a Farm" is a fair specimen of Leon Charles Hermann’s skill in animal painting. A Spanish bull fight is depicted in Morot’s "El Bravo Toro" with all the vigor and vitality for which this artist is noted, portraying with startling realism the fury of the tortured brute and the frenzied excitement of spectators almost as brutish.

In landscapes and kindred subjects the works of several of the great masters are represented in the loan collection in the United States galleries, and are noticed in that connection. Among those contained in the French section, "Under the Walnut Trees at Vezelay in Spring" is a restful theme, by Adolphe Guillon, one of the acknowledged masters of his art. "Morning Fog" is by Adolphe Appian, a pupil of Corot and Daubigny, a truthful but not a brilliant artist. "Cape Breton Heath" is a contribution from Louise Augustin Anguin, also a disciple of Corot, and especially facile in arboreal paintings. "The Banks of the Seine at Vertheuil" is a pleasing theme by Emile Foubert, bettern known for his paintings for nymphs, fauns, satyrs, and other mythological subjects. "A Foggy Morning" and "High Noon in Provence" are the canvases of Julian Gagliardini, whose paintings cover a wide range of art, from fishing scenes to ecclesiastical architecture. Prosper Galerne’s "Valley of the Loire at Chateaudun" is the work of an artist noted for his studies on the banks of the Seine. "Landscape" is by the late Charles Gosselin, whose paintings were hung in the salons for many consecutive years.

Paul J. M. Sain’s "The Chalky Road near Avignon," though it cannot be termed a landscape, bears the touch of this well known painter of river and woodland scenery. "Plain of Moret" near Fontainebleau is by Leon Richet, noted for his studies in Normandy and Picardy. "In the Basque Country" and "Winter Pastures" show the sober but vigorous treatment which Felix de Vuillefroy brings to bear on all his paintings, whether of landscape, genre, or human and animal figures. In "Black Mountain," "A June Morning," and "An October Evening," August Emmanuel Pointelin displays his well known skill in atmospheric effects. "Road of Vaudancourt" is by Aymar Pezant, whose forte is in winter and moonlight scenes. "Twilight and October Moon on the Banks of the Seine" is from the brush of Adrien Jourdeuil, better known as a decorative artist. Marie-Joseph Iwill’s "November Evening’ fairly expresses the power of its painter, whose forte is in winter landscapes. Julien Dupre’s "Valley of the Durdent" is the only canvas from this family of artists, except for those contained in the loan collection. Adrien Louis Demont has for one of his subjects "Winter in Flanders," but a better work is "Jeunesse," a garden scene, where a young girl is seated on a rustic bench with pigeons cooing at her feet. From his wife Virginie Demont-Breton are also pleasing contributions.

In a harbor scene by Francois Nardi is portrayed with remarkable vitality of treatment the effect of "Mistral Winds Blowing on the Sea." "The Cancale Regatta" is by Eugene Feyen, whose brush has swept [706] the entire realm of art. Among his most famous works is "Gleaners of the Sea" in the Luxembourg collection. In Jean-Baptiste Olive’s "The Isle of Maire near Versailles" are shown in striking contrast the bare yellow shore and the deep blue of ocean. In this locality is the scene of Morlon’s "The Struggle for Life," representing a life-boat and its crew in imminent danger, with the waves dashing against a sheer wall of cliff. Another life-boat theme is by Eugene Berthelon, noted for his landscape studies in the neighborhood of Paris. A turbulent sea breaking on the rocky coast of Quiberon is forcibly depictured by Elodie La Villette. "At Low Tide," by Gustave Ravenue, is the work of a young and promising painter.

Among fishing themes may first be mentioned Rene Gilbert’s "Lone Fisherman," for which was awarded a grand prize at the Paris Exposition of 1889. Dominique Rozier’s painting represents a wharf at Dieppe, on which is a glistening heap of mackerel, with fishermen counting their catch. "Fisherwomen at Cancale," and "A Dock at Antwerp" are from the brush of Marie Auguste Flameng, a salon medallist, and one noted for the truthfulness of her marine and landscape compositions. "Fish," by Guillaume R. Fouace, shows the vigor of execution characteristic of this artist, whose fame was won as a portrait painter. So with "Good Fishing," by Victor Gabriel Gilbert, whose favorite themes are market scenes, among which may be mentioned his "Sunday Afternoon in a Parisian Market."

France is a nation of artists and soldiers, and with her painters and sculptors, especially since the days of Napoleon, war has ever been a favorite theme. "Bonaparte in Italy," by Boutigny, is an excellent representation of the great general who answered thence with victory and scorn the remonstrances of the directory. The scene of "Combat in a Village" is an open plaza, where at early morn the pale sunlight shines faintly through the crisp atmosphere, on one side an old-fashioned diligence, and on another a fountain whose waters are splashing forth beneath the shade of trees. A bugler is sounding the attack, and men are dashing past the fountain or approaching the square from one of the streets near by. A few are stricken down; but the fight is young, and the smoke from the windows of adjacent buildings shows that they are occupied by the enemy in force. In this as in other subjects descriptive of the Franco-Prussian war, the valor of the French soldiery suggests the motif, many of them indicating the turning point of the contest, while in others the result is left in doubt.

In "Pichegru Taking the Dutch Ships on Zuyder Zee," by Charles Edouard Delort, is presented one of the strangest events in the annals of warfare, the fleet being captured by cavalry while imbedded in the ice. "A Barricade of 1830," by George Cain, represents a squadron of cavalry charging hopelessly at the [707] barrier, while under a point blank fire from its defenders and from the houses on every side. Morot de Tours’ "Carnot at Wattignie’s" shows the grandfather of the president at the head of his command. "The Return of the Regiment," by Julien Le Blant, portrays a battalion of starved and half-clad soldiers welcomed home as victors by the Parisian populace. A repulsive incident of the Vendean war is shown in Paul Grolleron’s "A Capture in 1793," in which a group of brutish peasantry are binding and maltreating their prisoner. Of two canvases by Georges Rochegrosse, "The Spoil" depicts an Assyrian soldier guarding a pile of plunder and a group of female captives. Garrison life is touched upon in Eugene Chaperon’s "Douche au Regiment," Marius Roy’s "Zouaves and Foot Soldiers on Duty," and Loustannau’s "Presentation of the Standard to Recruits," "Bridge Work at Bougeval," by the last of these artists, showing the process of constructing a pontoon. Nor should we omit from the list of military subjects Bertreaux’ "Return of a Deserter," Dieterle’s "The Cavalry at Criquebeuf," Guignard’s "Scouts in Flight," and Dumaresque’s "Napoleon Asleep in a Hut," the last a celebrated painter of historic subjects.

Turning to religious themes may first be mentioned "The Women at the Tomb" and "Our Lady of the Angels," by William Adolphe Bouguereau, whose scriptural, classic, and mythologic paintings have found a place in the salons for well-nigh half a century. The subject of "The Women at the Tomb" was suggested by the following passage from St. Matthew, one of the most solemn and graphic in the New Testament, and here needing no apology for its reproduction: "In the end of the Sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, to see the sepulchre. And, behold, there was a great earthquake; for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it. His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow; and for fear of him the keepers did shake and became as dead men. And the angel answered and said unto the women,’Fear not ye; for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here; for he is risen as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.’"

The figures are admirably grouped, all with Hebraic cast of countenance and in Hebraic garb - long, flowing robes over which the head-dress falls below the waist. Only two of the faces are shown and in them is an expression of profoundest reverence and awe, but without any symptom of fear. The stone is standing close to the portal of the sepulchre, and within is the angel, his had pointing upward, severe and majestic of mien, his form and features dimly outlined, but radiant with a glow of supernatural brightness. The entire composition is admirably conceived and executed, with masterly and respectful treatment, a relief in truth from the superficial, irreverent tone all too characteristic of the French method of dealing with sacred subjects. "Our Lady of the Angels" is also an excellent composition, with expression of features as of one beatified and blessed above all other women. Contrast with these and other of Bouguereau’s scriptural themes his "Le Guepier," or "The Wasps’ Nest," the wasps being here transformed into Cupids and their stings into arrows, and we recognize, without going further, his strength and range in art. Of the idyllic school he is one of the leading masters, and few there are whose works have been so widely appreciated throughout the world.

A modern and somewhat irreverent version of "The Descent from the Cross" is that of Jean Beraud. As here portrayed, the tragedy is consummated on the hill of Montmartre; darkness broods over the scene, and around the lifeless body of Christ are gathered his adherents, clad in the jumpers and blouses of Parisian workmen, his mother crowned with a halo but represented as an elderly women, without attempt at idealization. Near by a repulsive figure of the socialist type, shakes his clenched fist at the city lying beneath. To many this picture was one of the most fascinating in the French collection, not for its merit, but for the boldness of its anachronism and disrespect. Judging it merely as a work of art, aside from all considerations of religious motive or sentiment, it does not appear what there is to be gained by thus degrading a study whose theme is the greatest of all human tragedies into what might be a mere incident in the annals of the commune, were crucifixion then an orthodox mode of capital punishment. "The Host," by Jacques Emile Blanche, represents, [709] without trace of dignity or feeling, Christ breaking bread in the household of a humble family. Among the best works of this character is Francois Flemeng’s "The Flight into Egypt," beautifully executed on panels. "The Blind Men of Jericho," by Paul Leroy, is chiefly remarkable for its size. In other canvases is depicted the usual range of biblical subjects, among which may be specially mentioned "The Annunciation," by Alfred Pierre Agache; Max Leenhardt’s "Mary Magdalene;" Albert Dawant’s "Close of the Mass;" Tissot’s paintings of "The Prodigal Son" and "The Fatted Calf." The familiar subject of Christ walking on the water and his apostles crowding to the edge of their boat is well depicted by Duez; but one fails to see why breakers should appear in the midst of the sea of Galilee. Among religious topics may be classed "Fugitive Protestants, 1685," by Maurice Leloir, whose brush has been largely occupied with scriptural themes.

Of paintings in water colors there is a valuable collection from the society of French water color artists. Military themes here find expression in Detaille’s "Soldiers of the Imperial Guard" and Jeanniot’s "Troopers on the March," the latter in humorous vein, showing a group