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 *L 14 East 57th St. 
 New York 
 
 ACC. 
 
J ART EXETBITIONS 
 Thirty French Paintings of the 
 
 Romantic Period. 
 
 Pictures by Corot, Millet, Rousseau and their 
 colleagues are constantly appearing in our exhihi- 
 tions; but some years have passed since we have 
 seen in New York a collection of works by these 
 
 | painters comparable to the one belonging to Mr. 
 H. 8.. Henry, which {s row on view at the Amer- 
 iean Art Galleries, ‘The thirty paintings in this col- 
 lection all date from that period in modern Wrench 
 art which witnessed an effective rebellion against 
 agademic formule and the firm establishment of 
 principles at once naturalistic and romantic. Since 
 1820, the historic date by which that period is 
 known, other “movements” have been started, and 
 gome of them have carried the art of painting 
 /through phases of development almost unsuspected 
 by the Barbizon group. In the study of problems 
 of Mght, especially, Monet and his followers have 
 achieved results beside which those with which 
 Rousseau, for example, was contented, now seem 
 curiously Imited. The present exhibition ‘well 
 serves the purpose, however, of reminding the stu- 
 dent that the dogma of impressionism does not con- 
 Btitute the whole gospel of art. There are many 
 kinds of beauty in painting. The beauty which 
 fired the imagination of men seventy-five years 
 ago may be totally different from that which is 
 preferred to-day, but it is immortal, as the beauty 
 fa immortal that you find in the classical land- 
 scapes of Claude, or in the realistic transcripts 
 from naturé made by Hobbema and the Ruysdaels. 
 That is why the Henry collection, illustrating the 
 School of 1830 so richly, forms an episode of pecul- 
 jar interest in the art season recently opened. 
 
 Tt is very much worth while, at a time when 
 Many artists are fearful of going beyond the unim- 
 passioned notation of fact, to pause in the company 
 of masters whose fidelity to fact could not keep 
 them from indulgence in pootic reveris. There are 
 Seven Corots in this collection, ranged in a row, 
 and every one of them discloses a delicately erno- 
 tional quality. Even in simple sketches like the 
 
 Shateau Thierry’ or the “Premi@res Feuilles: 
 ees do Mantes,” a casual motive is touched with 
 fiore than casual feeling. The painter catches the 
 intimate sentiment of tne locality and lifts 1t to a 
 Tigher power, so that the little window opened on 
 his specific scene is opened really on 2 wider 
 syorld, on the whole sweetness of nature. Corot 
 had the art that conceals art, if ever a landscape 
 painter had it. There is beautiful composition in 
 eertain of his pictures here. In ‘‘The River’’ the 
 atrangement of two groups of trees in the fore- 
 ground, and the balancing of their upright lines 
 with tho risiig ground across the river, would 
 Sliggest the most definite intentions as regards de- 
 Bign. It is the same with the noble picture of 
 “The Glade,” in which three women stand gos- 
 Siping beneath the shadow of great trees. It is the 
 fame with “Iue Matin au Bord du Lac,” with its 
 shepherd piping in the limpld light of dawn. It is 
 the same, finally, with the most important of all 
 these pictures, the “Nymphes .Jouant. avec un 
 Tigre,’”’ a woodland scene into which the painter 
 has introduced figures hinting at the ancient past, 
 but actually made subordinate to the glow of living 
 mature, The point is characteristic. In all these 
 paintings Corot is the careful builder of a well 
 Ordered fabric, his sense of pictorial unity is 
 steadily active, but the impression that he leaves 
 first and last is one of a kind of lyric ecstacy, 
 ‘ Which we trace to nothing more nor less than sheer 
 felight in the sparkle of sun-lit foliage, the wonder 
 
 f sylvan depths, the very unconscious breathing: 
 Of the woods and meadows. Such things touch 
 @hords deep down in the heart of man, it is not 
 With the eye alone that he apprehends them, and 
 
 t is more than @ visual report of them that Corot 
 Bives you. We may note in passing that the charm- 
 Ing figure piece which is included in the group of 
 is pictures, a study of a seated woman called 
 
 ‘Meditation,’ shows, as the landscapes show, the 
 jay of imagination over visible things. 
 
 a 
 
 FOU a 7S EOC e 
 presence of nature, and his four ‘pictures n the 
 Henry collection are four paimced poems. There 
 was, however, in his genius a bold, rugged streak; 
 where Corot is caressing in his treatment of tree 
 
 forms Rousseau defines them with as much energy 
 as precision. He, too, enchants you at once by his) 
 
 sentiment and by his design—nothing | could be 
 happier in the mere disposition of the elements of 
 a, composition than his placing of four tall, slender 
 poplars on the luminous horizon of his ‘Twilight’; 
 but in these four pictures one is constantly com- 
 ing back to the masterly drawing and modelling 
 of the ground, the trees and the sky. The clouds 
 in the ‘Twilight’ are painted with wonderful 
 tenderness. Rousseau is delicacy its@lf in the 
 beautiful “Paysage en Sologne.”’ But everywhere 
 lie is the strenuous searcher after the truth, the 
 man of poetic temperament, but of an insatiable, 
 almost scientific curiosity. It will be observed 
 that in speaking of his works, and of Corot’s, we 
 have made no distinctions as to the merits of this 
 or that canvas. The truth is that Mr, Henry has 
 heen fortunate in most of his purchases. His 
 paintings are nearly all of high rank; where there 
 seem to be differences of value there are really 
 only such differences of attractiveness as may 
 be ascribed to variations in a painter’s mood. 
 Thus Dupré, who is altogether felicitous in the 
 study of a pastoral scene ealled ‘Sunlight,’ is 
 quite as brilliant technically in his “Twilight,” but 
 pleases less because in the second picture he does 
 not so much observe nature for her own sake as 
 dramatize her for the sake of a vivid scheme of 
 light and shade, Troyon, too, though evenly au- 
 thoritative in the three of the paintings that repre- 
 sent him, is not equally beguiling in them all, 
 “Going to Market” is a capital picture, capital in 
 the grouping of the animals and in the handling 
 of the landscape. There is a pleasant rustic note 
 in “The Farrier.” The large cattle piece, on the 
 other hand, ‘ue Retour & la Ferme,” though 
 powerful in execution, is not otherwise a very dis- 
 tinguished performance. Troyon was not, lke 
 Corot or Rousseau, an artist bound to feel a 
 poetic impulse, no matter what the occasion. He 
 painted with a calmer emotion, and sometimes 
 without any emotion at all. 
 
 Daubigny lies somewhere between the extremes 
 we have indicated. If his imagination did not take 
 the highest flights, it at any rate led him far above 
 the ordinary levels. Sympathy is the salient factor 
 fn his work, the sympathy that finds satisfaction 
 not so much in the wilder spaces of the earth as in 
 those scenes that are made more friendly by human 
 habitation. Witness the houses that enter so pict- 
 uresquely into the plan of “The First Shades of 
 Night.” Witness the skill with which he paints 
 the portrait of a place in “'The Harbor,” a place 
 to which we long to give a name, so closely are we 
 taken to the character stamped upon it by men 
 and their affairs. Then there is the solemn moon- 
 light scene, the “Farm at Villerville.’’ In this we 
 catch a glimpse of the sea, and the broad masses 
 or the composition, broadly painted, convey for a 
 moment a sense of aloofness from the interests of 
 everyday life. Wea are alone with the night and 
 with the glory of the moon. But something is 
 suggested here, perhaps by the cattle under the 
 trees, perhaps by’ the shadows through which one 
 fancies one might grope a way up to the farm- 
 house, which points to Daubigny’s love of the coun- 
 ity as a place of domestic happiness, There are 
 touching simoplicities in his art, quiet and grave 
 elements in striking contrast to Corot’s bewitching 
 gayeties. Still another page in that wonderful 
 history of 1830 is unfolded by Diaz. He is the 
 gensuous spirit of the group, the painter of pretty 
 figures, as in the ‘‘Whisperings of Love,” or of 
 rich arabesques of tone, as in “The Forest: Fon- 
 tainebleau.”’ Graver than Daubigny, and even 
 more human, the very antithesis of the pyrotech- 
 nical Diaz, is Millet, with his fragment of grim 
 peasant life, ‘‘The Retreat from the Storm.” There 
 is-splendid dramatic contrast in this between the 
 vigorous movement of the fagot gatherer and the 
 lassitude of the child whom she almost carries by 
 her side. The figures and the background are 
 superbly painted, and the picture as a whole isa 
 thing of poignant meaning, 
 
 After the painters of landscape and idyllic sub- 
 
 J in this collection come the painters who 
 joined to their naturalistic ardor an instinct for 
 romance. There is Delacroix, with two spirited 
 
 See en aaa Miey ew riiiant atta SCelt, eT 
 a most engaging illustration of the exploits of 
 |Amadis de’ Gaule, ‘‘The Release of the Prince: Ss 
 Olga.” "This is a fine example of the impetus 
 
 Which the painters of the day received from lit. 
 erature, from the fever of enthusiasm in which the 
 names of Shakespeare and Victor Hugo were like 
 calls to battle. Decamps stands for the ‘cooler 
 more calculating phase of the moyement, in his 
 picture of “Les Contrebandie an, interior study, 
 a. hoté of travel, of still life, relying for its effect 
 ehiefly upon its bject and its qualities 
 Fromentin, too, is a Uttle insipid after 
 
 temariticism. ‘The Falconers’ 
 jus elegance, and little mo 
 gun to the keenex feeling, to the gusty of the 
 romantic school, in Géricault’s “Starting for the 
 
 Race at Rome’—not a fully characteristic, but 
 still a plausible specimen of the pain of “The 
 Wreck of the Medusa.” We traverse fhe pictures 
 in this collection one by one, and everywhere we 
 find something that is of interest. But most of 
 all do we yalue the broad proclamation of truth 
 saturated in imagination which is made by the 
 ty canvases taken together. It is the kind of 
 that is needed, now and then, in a matertial- 
 
 ic age. 
 
 The Henry pictures occupy the large entrance 
 gallery of the American Art Asseciation. Inthe 
 rooms upstairs there are shown a considerable 
 number of Orisntal objects belonging to Mr. Bunkio 
 Matsuki. Along with a certain amount of modern 
 stuff that is of no great consequence, there are 
 some fine bronzes and porcelains, and the gather- 
 ing of old Japanese prints is exceptionally good. 
 | Ry Cs 
 
 SENATOR CLARK OUTBID: 
 
 LOSES TROYON AT. $65,000. 
 
 . tn He 09 
 
 Art Dealer,.as Agent, Gets Pitture 
 After Brisk, Bidding. 
 
 High pricegjand spirited bidding were the feat- 
 ures of last night’s sale of notable paintings from 
 the collection of H. 8. Henry at Mendelssohn Hall, 
 the total sales amounting to $352,800. ‘‘Le Retour 
 &@ la Ferme,’’ by Constant Troyon,- which prought 
 the highest price, $65,000, was purchased by Her- 
 man Schaus, the Fifth avenue dealer, after a spli- 
 ited fight with Senator W. A. Clark, of Montana. 
 
 The Senator started the bidding at $25,000. The 
 price was raised $5,000 at a time until it was 
 knocked down to Mr. Schaus, who fs said to have 
 een acting as agent for an unknown buyer. The 
 bidding was interrupted frequently by applause. 
 
 Senator Clark was the largest individual buyer 
 of the night, his purchases amounting to $86,200. 
 
 “Te Retour & la Ferme’ was formerly owned by 
 Mr, Schaus'’s father, and was purchased by Mr. 
 Henry at the sale of the late William Schaus’s 
 collection in 1896. 
 
 “The Glade: The Gossips,” by Corot, was another 
 favorite among the buyers, and the bidding on it 
 was very spirited. Senator Clark was finally suc- 
 cessful. 
 
 The bidding on “The Shepherdess and Her 
 | Flock,” by Millet, was exciting, but it was evident 
 
 from the start that Mr, Wasserman was kent on 
 owning the picture, and when he jumped his bid 
 from $12,000 to. $15,000 there were no more competi- 
 
 tors. 
 
 “Sunlight,” another of the Clark purchases, by 
 Rousseau, brought the third highest price of the 
 gale and was a favorite with the audience, as 
 shown. by the bidding. Rp 
 
 0. K. G Billings’s two purchases, “The Retreat 
 from the Storm,” by Millet, and “Chateau Thierry, 
 by Corot, were of the smaller type, costing him 
 $6,700 and $9,800, spectively. The latter canvas 
 was exhibited at Txposition des Cents Chefs- 
 @&diuvre, Paris, in 1892. 
 
 Among the other buyers were Andrew Freedman, 
 §..R. Guggenbelm, Durand-Ruel, Mrs. Arthur 
 Heinze and E. W. Winters. 
 
 ef tone. 
 Delacroix’s 
 
 The list of sales follows: 
 
 JHAN BAPTISTH CAMILLE COROT, 
 "Qhateau Thierry,” ©. K. G, Billings.......+..++ $9,800 
 “Promieres Feuilles, Pres de Mantes,” Bugene 
 
 Glaenzer & Co.. * 7,000 
 “The River,’ Berator W. A Clark. 20,600 
 
 “Nymphes Jourant Avec un Tigre,’ Mr. Blakes— 
 
 le@ ss. - sees sees eenes 
 “Meditation,’* 
 “Matin au Bord du Lac,’ 
 “The Glade: 6 Gossip: 
 
 "GHARLHs FRANCIS DAUBIGNEY. 
 ech’ First Shades of Night,’’ Mrs. James Thomp~ 
 “The Harbor, wi i 
 “Farm at Vi 
 NN 31> eieisiaeciets hd vinss J. sjoieinjela, oi ofa Mem vine o's 
 ALHXANDRY GABRINL DECAMPS. 
 ‘Les Contrebandiers,”” Scott & Fowles..........6- 
 
 “Lion Attaque,’’ Hdadward Brandus...., a 
 (‘Tigre et Serpent,” senator W. A. Clark 
 ‘‘Arabe Montant & Cheval,’ Edward Brandus. 
 ‘The Release of the Princess Olga, Edw: 
 Brandus .. 
 
 $4,800 
 5,000 
 
 7,100 
 FERDINAND VICTOR HUGHNH DELACROIX. 
 
 11,100 
 
 NARCISSH VIRGILE DIA DIAZ DH LA PENA, 
 
 ‘i ‘he Forest; Fontainebleau,’’ §. R. Guggenheim. 
 ‘Whisperings of Love,*’ Scott & Fowles.......++ ‘ 
 
 JULES DUPRE, 
 
 ‘‘Bunlight"; Dursnd Ruell 
 “Twilight; W. A. Clark... 
 
 EUGENS FROMENTIN. 
 “The Falconers'’; Andrew Freedman.. 
 
 85,200 
 5,500 
 
 ~ $8,800 
 18,300 
 
 8,800 
 
 JHAN LOUIS ANDRH THEODORE GHRICAULT. 
 
 “®tarting for the Race at Rome”; W. Henry 
 JHAN FRANCOIS MILLET. 
 
 (The Retreat from the Storm'’’; C.K. J. Billi 
 
 “The Shepherdess and Her Flock’; oduerd Wess 
 
 THEODORE ROUSSEAU. 
 ‘Landscape’: Hy. Winters...........seseseeseee> 
 
 “Paysage eu Bologne’: 
 cBerieke ze aa Valadon & 0 
 
 CONSTANT TROYON, 
 
 3,000 
 
 6,700. 
 15,000 
 
 “The Farrier’; Mra. Arthur P, Heinze % 
 “Going to Market''; Andrew “Breedman. Sadinets 8, 
 “Retour & la Ferme’; Herman Schaus.,.,..—.005 
 
 Total 
 
 30. 
 
 THE PHALANX OF 1: 
 
 a 
 
 At the American Art Galleries in Eat | 
 
 Twenty-third street there is on view a 
 collection of Barbizon masters and others 
 collected by Mr: H. 8. Henry of Philadel- 
 phia. 
 
 | croix are represented, Alexandre Gabriel 
 Decamps, who did not belong to the Fon- 
 tainebleau group, is also in thi; 
 
 a notable one, There are 
 | three Daubignys, one Decamp; 
 | Delacroix, two Diazes, two Dup 
 
 Fromentin, one G 
 | Rousseaus and three Troyons. Mr. Henry 
 must have been wise in his generation, 
 for whether prompted by natural taste, 
 aided by experience, or the recipient of 
 | excellent critical prompting, 
 are eloquent testimony to some one’s fac- 
 ulty of selection. And this is not meant 
 to insinuate that the collector was himself 
 lacking in tact and vision; in the absence 
 of testimony to the coitrary he may be 
 credited with both. At the timehe bought 
 these pictures, mostly from New York 
 dealers, the representatives of French and 
 English houses, there were still collectors, 
 survivals from the Tar and Tallow period, 
 who spent their hard earned cash on Bou- 
 guereaus and Meissoniers and Gérémes, 
 or those Alma-Tademas in which human 
 beings look like marbles and the marbles 
 like soap. 
 
 But it must not be supposed that the 
 
 | Henry pictures are of equal arti 
 Out of the seven Cc 
 
 ault, two Millets, four | 
 
 Thirty in number for the names of | 
 Géricault and his mighty successor Dela- | 
 
 his pictures | 
 
 stie value. | 
 rots only three are 
 
 striking exemplars. “Ohateau Thierry” (1) | 
 
 is rather 
 it not for the sky. 
 miracle. A peasant woman stands in the 
 foreground. The canvas was exhibited 
 at L'Exposition. des Cents Chef-d’Giuyres, 
 Paris, 1892. The Mantes picture (2) is an 
 €xquisite study in spring foliage. It is 
 sighed “Corot” on every tender leaf, on 
 every spar of tree. The same miraculous 
 | clouds and shimmering sky! “The River” 
 (3) will by some be acclaimed the master- 
 | piece of the seven. The tonalities are 
 suave, a tree rears itself in the centre with- 
 | out rhetorical emphasis, the “reflects” of 
 | the heavens are mirroréd on the water; 
 | there is balance, there is a divine lucidity. 
 
 commonplace for Corot—were | 
 That sky is a luminous | 
 
Acc. 
 
 Over all hovers pe: Lhe mood 
 ssque—the Chopin of the Andante Spianato 
 
 or the third Prelude. Without the style 
 cing finish of this canvas, but richer and | 
 
 You | 
 
 more rhythmic, is the “Nymphs” (4). 
 are back to the days of Claude Lorrain, 
 N with a hint of Poussin. But the tree grove, 
 Pine sky, are Corot’s. We are transported 
 out of time, out of spacé without a note of 
 the self-conscious interrogation dear to the 
 Vie men of the nineteenth century. The 
 Sonal harmonies are rich. It is a painting 
 that will be accepted by amateurs as far 
 more characteristically Corot than “The 
 River,” because of its dainty little comedy 
 and its denser woven composition. Yet 
 "Phe River” offers a sincerer mood. 
 “Morning” (6) is a charming éclogue, less 
 Virgilian than suggestive of Lamartine. 
 Liszt could have composed his “Lac de 
 Wallenstadt” here without altering a bar 
 of his music. The mood is sentimental; 
 fature has her mood sentimental for the 
 
 poet as well as her prosaics for the stupid } 
 
 man. “A goat, a four footed melomaniac, 
 listens gratefully to the piping of a shep~ 
 herd. The delicate greens of the foliage 
 and the diffused light are very seductive. 
 One of Corot’s figure pieces with a pleasant 
 landseape background is called “Medita- 
 tion” (5). It is a well balanced composition. 
 A girl with her right hand to her chin sits 
 dreaming. The fabrics of her dress are 
 unobtrusively handled; her overskirt of 
 dull’ salmon red forms a symmetrigal pas-— 
 sage above her knees, where it is gathered. 
 A petticoat shows beneath. The picture 
 will intrigue the fancy of the amateur. 
 It is not a masterpiece. When Millet re- 
 marked that Corot should substitute for 
 his eternal nymphs flesh and blood peasants, 
 had he seen “The Glade” (7) with its gos- | 
 
 sips? Here the charming jewelled meadow, | 
 the lofty trees, the summer atmosphere | 
 
 vibrating with heat and light, the clouds | 
 and the soft sward form precisely a theatre 
 for the joyful dalliance of mythologic 
 beings. Instead the painter has intro- 
 duced three peasant women, heads touch- 
 ing, exchanging their slanders and their 
 small talk. Yet you long for the nymphs; 
 the air is too full of enchantment for home- 
 spun and sabots. No doubt the transcript 
 of an actual scene. Corot was justified 
 in his decorative interludes, decorative 
 motives that would be singularly mis- 
 placed in. a canvas by Millet. To every 
 man his fantasy. And like the little girl 
 of the Wordsworth poem, all these pictures 
 might sing in unison: “We are seven.” 
 Daubigny is always good to feast the eye 
 upon. His “First Shades of Night” (8) is 
 a twilight, a pool of water and the old 
 familiar duo between it and thesky. The 
 sun is behind the horizon; the broken lights 
 and scattered wisps of cloud forms are 
 artfully suggested. A different mood is 
 reflected in “The Harbor” (9) with its cool, 
 dripping beach, its wet lights, its notation 
 of a thriving, populous town. It reminds 
 one of Boudin. 
 like, The third is a “Farm at Villerville” 
 (10), 2 moonlight, with a romantic moon 
 and a flash of far-off sea. 
 ground is of velvety greens, various shades 
 of interlaced greens. It isa large canvas 
 and an excellentone. Folléwing the order of 
 the catalogue we cometoa Decamps (11). A 
 genre piece, an interior, shows us a peasant 
 seated. The table holds a wineflask. There 
 ia another man and achild. A sharp pas- 
 sage of sublight focusses the eye above the 
 child’s head. A very interesting picture. 
 The Delacroix! They are fine speci- 
 mens all, dating from 1851 to 1862. No. 12 
 is a lion, one of those beasts, slouching 
 and 
 
 chopim-" | 
 
 Jongkind has painted the | 
 
 The grassy fore- | 
 
 ferocious, that set the pace for the 
 
 rhythms of its stride, the concentrated cru- 
 elty of eye and of mouth leave the spectator 
 in no doubt as to Delacroix’s superb,mas- 
 tery. He has in No. 13 a tiger and a serpent 
 preparing for combat. The incarnation of 
 suspense is in the canvas. You forget its 
 tones, its lines and masses; drama is in the 
 air. Pure Orientalism is in No. 14, an Arab 
 mounting his horse. It echoes the period 
 that Delacroix spent at Algiers. It is gor- 
 geous in hue and design—and alivel “The 
 Release of the Princess Olga” (15), with its 
 dissonant harmonies of gold and blue 
 and white and black and salmon pink, 
 revives the story of Delacroix’s search 
 after what to-day we call impressionism. 
 Here are juxtaposed broad teuches and 
 shadows show complementary colors. It is 
 a big canvas, the ecme of romanticism and 
 charged with the powerful genius of its 
 ereator. New York has seldom seen four 
 such Delacroix together. 
 
 Neither of the two Diaz pictures is 
 very remarkable. No. 16 is a Fontaine- 
 bieau reminiscence, the blue in the sky 
 and the reflections in the water being the 
 more agreeable notes. Of course the trees 
 that have seen rough weather, are capitally 
 portrayed. “Whisperings of Love” (17) is 
 an artificial but pretty idea. Monticelli 
 could have painted it and it would not have 
 been superior Monticelli. It isnotsuperior 
 Diaz. Jules Dupré is to the front in his 
 “Twilight” (19), a poetic conception, redo- 
 ent of the mystery and sweetness at sun- 
 down. The cloud-shine on the stormy 
 
 looking clouds, chipped and beaten by the 
 wind, does not attenuate the essentially, 
 dreamy quality. No. 18, “Sunlight,” with 
 a peasant guarding sheep under a clump 
 of trees, is interesting chiefly for its sun- 
 light in an autumnal The 
 sheep are not particularly vital. 
 trifle heavy. 
 Fromentin is disappointing. Hi 
 ers” (20) is not vividly concei 
 colorful. His 
 ntuated: 
 
 atmosphere. 
 
 The touch 
 Au 
 
 throughout is a one 
 
 erying de 
 
 acc the 
 
 {éricault (21) is of historie value, one of 
 
 his athletic performances, “Starting the 
 Zace at Rome’—a pack of leashed horses 
 struggling with their grooms, eager for the 
 riderless plunge along the Corso. Above 
 are boxes holding sporting and fashionable 
 folk: There is animation, 
 Yet it is a Géricault, and 
 should score. 
 
 The two Millets are not of equal worth 
 “The Retreat From the Storm” (22) has 
 a touch of the tragic commonplace, and 
 the tempo of the picture is fascinating. 
 Vigor and delicacy are both expressed in the 
 peasant mother and her child. The large 
 pastel s a shepherdess, with its sati 
 ing perspective, and the protagonist, a 
 large, loosely modelled peasant girl, knitting 
 at the head of a brigade of woolly sheep. 
 
 | ‘There isa solitary dog. The light suffuses 
 the figures and gives to the stubbly ground 
 é rpetlike ¢ The entire composi- 
 
 tion’ quivers w subdued radiance. 
 
 eiency is 
 
 Phe 
 
 canvas. is airless 
 
 but no 
 
 name 
 
 alr. 
 such a 
 
 ect. 
 h this 
 
 The girl is characteristic Millet-—an acolyte 
 in th and immemorial service of labor. 
 A mi im picture if ever there was one, 
 \| with its gently uttered parable of work 
 
 and days. 
 | What lovely Rousseaus! Some of 
 irrespective of the claims made by the 
 other canvases in this collection, claims 
 | artistic and pecuniary, would hold to these 
 | four Rousseaus against the rest. ‘The very 
 | small landscape by this master (24) is a 
 gem, rich in color, in composition very 
 | simple. A road, several figures, sunlight, 
 a note or two of blue—but what sunshine, 
 what blue, above all what concentrated 
 The sky is Rousseau. 
 
 us, 
 
 | 
 | 
 
 | harmonies! 
 
 latter day painters and sculptors. The sage en Sologne” (25) is warmer in tone 
 
 tints of its sleek coat, the 
 
 syncopated ' 
 
 | —Rio ui has beei compared to the 
 | Dutchman, Hobbema, and he was a Hob- 
 bema who had known Delacroix. And he 
 also drew from his palette the most silvery 
 chords that paint has ever known. Not 
 Ruysdael, not Cuyp, not Vermeer, boasted 
 the magic silver tone of Rousseau. His 
 “Sunlight” (26) is brilliant and truthful. 
 “Twilight” (27) is not without an Oriental 
 flavor to its glowing sky from which the 
 sun is absent. Here the master speaks 
 and all Barbizon and its genius must be 
 silent. Rousseau was the dominating fig- 
 ure of a group that is arbitrarily arranged 
 for critical convenience! Its members 
 painted the same landscapes, as Mozart and 
 Beethoven composed symphonies in the 
 same key. But with what different results! 
 We say Bach and Handel. We say Mozart 
 and Beethoven. We say Goethe and 
 Schiller, Byron and Shelley, Schubert and 
 Schumann, Raphael and Michael Angelo. 
 How absurd are all such bracketings. They 
 are ready made formulas for ready made 
 minds. These men had no more to do with 
 each other’s art than has Richard Strauss 
 with the rococo prose of Oscar Wilde or the 
 Titanism of Nietzsche. (But Strauss would 
 set a broomstick to music.) Indeed, not 
 so much. Rousseau is as unlike Millet as 
 Raphael was unlike Angelo. Diaz patterned 
 after him. Monticelli developed one side 
 of him—the decorative. Corot, the Chopin 
 of French landscapisis, had no correspond- 
 ence with Troyon or Rousseau, Dupré or 
 Millet. Yet we shall always speak of the 
 “Barbizon painters,” though they were so 
 many men of yariously endowed pictorial 
 gifts who nappeuea vo spring “up at the 
 same time dnd place. ~ What did unite them 
 was a hatred of academic conventions; they 
 loathed the blacks and browns of studio 
 paint. They strove to seo Nature face to 
 face. There were poets in the group that 
 read beautiful meanings into her, like 
 Corot; there were the strong men like 
 Rousseau and Millet, who strove with her 
 and extorted from her marvellous har- 
 monies and veiled messages of patience 
 and misery. Yet they were each man dif- 
 ferent from his fellow. In 1877 came men 
 with still greater aptitude for painting— 
 Manet, Whistler, Degas, Monet, Renoir, 
 Pissaro,Rodinand the rest—and the Barbizon 
 group became history. Their work isidyllic 
 in comparison with that of the so-called im- 
 pressionists— idyllic, poetie, wholly charm- 
 ing, without a trace of brutality, “verism” 
 or “modernity.” Yet are the Barbizonites 
 history. The new comers had laid bare 
 another sort of truth. Painting no more 
 than music may dare halt, may hold fast 
 ; to outmoded conventions, conventions 
 | that were once stirring gospel truths. The 
 painters discover this fact for themselves, 
 then the public follows, and in the rear 
 troop the conservators of the Good, the 
 | True, the Beautiful. This is well. Criti- 
 cism is not prophecy. 
 
 To conclude: ‘Three Troyons (29, 30, 31) 
 attract much laudable curiosity. The 
 scene (29) “Going to Market” seems to be 
 the publiec’s favorite, though the cows in 
 30 are, to commit a Hibernianism, “bully.” 
 Tt is “La Retour & la Ferme,” and was ac- 
 quired in 1896 at the sale of the late William 
 Schaus. It is a sterling example, painted 
 with all the solidity, breadth, richness and 
 yerisimilitude of the artist. A picture 
 with the memory of which to leave the 
 gallery. The sale takes place to-night at 
 Mendelssohn Hall. 
 
 “Pay- ‘ 
 
 30 PICTURES BRING $362,000. 
 
 A TROYON. FETCHES THE TOP 
 PRICE OF $65,000. 
 
 Hy ted / 
 
 Lively Bidding Between’ Hermann Schaus 
 
 @ and Senator Clark—One Corot Sells 
 
 for $24,000—Lowest Price Was $3,060 
 
 and the Average Nearly $12,000. 
 
 The thirty pictures collected by H. S. 
 Henry of Philadelphia were sold last night 
 jn Mendelssohn Hall by the American Art 
 Association for $352,000, Thomas E. Kirby 
 ‘was the auctioneer. 
 
 The top price of the evening was brought 
 by the last picture offered, a Troyon, “Le 
 Retour a la Ferme,” for which Herman 
 Schaus paid $65,000. 
 
 Senator Clark was first in the field after 
 the Troyon, the largest canvas shown 
 during the evening, had won applause. 
 Right on top of his bid, $25,000, “a, fitting 
 opener,” as Mr. Kirby remarked, carne 
 Mr. Schaus, with a raise of $1,000. Thou- 
 sand dollar advances only were considered 
 in this duel, and on several occasions one 
 or the other of the combatants sought to 
 quiet his adversary by making jumps of 
 from $2,000 to $5,000. 
 
 There was a short pause, as if to recon 
 noitre, when the $60,000 figure was reached, 
 put if the Senator from Montana thought 
 that his bid of $500 would shake off his rival 
 he immediately learned his error. Finally 
 Mr. Schaus skipped the regular thousand 
 advance at $63,000 and signalled that hé 
 would pay $65,000. ‘The Senator then 
 dropped out. 
 
 After the sale Mr. Kirby said. that this 
 was the second highest figure ever received 
 ata public art sale in this country for a for- 
 eign painting. . The record price is $66,000 for 
 Meissenier’s “Friedland,” paid in 1888 at 
 the disposal of the A. T. Stewart collection. 
 There is a resemblance between the sale 
 of that picture, which is now in the Metro- 
 politan Museum of Art, and that of Troyon’s 
 painting last night. 
 
 As in last night’s sale, family pride may 
 have had something to do in bringing up the 
 figure for the Meissonier, for Judge Henry 
 Hilton, the son-in-law of Mr. Stewart, like Mr. 
 Schaus, had to face the most spirited bidding 
 to retain for ‘the family possession of the 
 painting. Mr. Kirby said, however, that with 
 the Meissonier went a small portrait of the 
 artist, which he had presented to Mr. Stew- 
 art, and that the Troyon might therefore 
 be said to have brought the record price. 
 
 The thirty pictures included seven Corots, 
 four Rousseaus, three Troyons, three 
 Daubignys, one Decamps, four Delacroixs, 
 two Diazes,two Duprés, one Fremontin, 
 one Géricault, two Millets,: all examples 
 of the Barbizon or “Men of 1830” school. 
 
 One feature of the sale was the large 
 prices received for the small canvases by 
 Corot. Allof the seven were of the smallest 
 ofthe artist’s productions and the lowest 
 price obtained was $7,000 for “Premieres 
 Feuilles: Prés de Mantes.” “The Glade,” 
 with the three village gossips in the fore- 
 ground, brought the highest figure, $24,000. 
 
 For Millet’s,"The Shepherdess and Her 
 Flock,” a fine painting fora museum, $15,000 
 was paid. i : 
 
 The lowest price obtained for a picture 
 at the sale was $3,000, for the only example 
 of Géricault. 
 
 ,THe™"Retour A Ja Ferme” was sold on 
 February. 29, 1896, at the dispersal of W il- 
 jam Schaus’s pictures for $24,500- At that, 
 time Herman Schaus was announced as 
 the buyer, but it is probable that he was 
 acting as agent for Mr. Henry,from whom 
 he bought it back last night. 
 
 The only other pictures in last night’s 
 collection previously offered at public 
 sale in this country were “The Attacked 
 Lion” of Delacroix; which at the Seney 
 sale in 1891 brought $3,925, as against 
 $4,400 bid last night, and “Tiger and Ser- 
 pent,” by the same artist, which has been 
 sold twice previously. Last night’s price 
 ‘was $6,700, an advance of only $200 over 
 the successful bid the last time it was sold. 
 
 The record of the sale follows: 
 
 x 
 
 i—“Chateau Thierry,” Corot; © 
 Billings.....+..5- 
 2—"Premiéres: Feullles: 
 
 Corot; Eugene Glaenzer & Co. + 7,000 
 8—“The River,” Corot; Senator W. A, Clark. 20,600 
 4—“Nymphes Jouant avec un Tigre,” 
 
 Corot; T. J, Blakeslee (for foreigner). 19,100 
 
 5—"“Meditation,” Corot; M. Knoedler & Co. 15,600 
 6—“Le Matih au Bord du Lac,” Corot; S. R. 
 Guggenhbeim........,;- : 
 i—‘The Glade: 
 Senator W. A. Clark... 
 8—"The First Shades of Nig’ 
 Mrs. James Thompson. 
 9—“The Harbor,” Daubignuy: 
 S€TMAN...e0s---+ >: 
 
 Mponitent,” 
 
 10—“Farm_ at 
 
 Daubigny; Edward Brandus. 6,700 
 1i—“Les Contrebandiers,” Decamps; Sco 
 
 & Fowles...... 7,106 
 
 12—"Lion Attaqué.” Delacroix; 
 
 F 
 18—"Sunlight,” 
 Twilight,” Dupr: 
 —"The Falconers, 
 
 Freedman..... 
 2i—"Starting for the 
 
 Géricault, W. Henry. 
 
 22—"The Retreat from the Storm 
 
 Clark. . 
 
 27—"Twilight,” Rousseau, J. Montgomery. 10,100 
 28—‘The Farrier,” Troyon, Mrs. Arthur P. 
 7,600 
 Freedman..... b 16,000 
 30—Le Retour & 
 mann Schaus. 65,000 
 $352,800 
 
“The Phalanx of 1830” 
 
 NOTABLE PAINTINGS 
 
 MR. H. 8S. HENRY 
 
 AMERICAN ART GALLERIES 
 MADISON SQUARE SOUTH 
 NEW YORK 
 
ON VIEW DAY AND EVENING 
 AT THE AMERICAN ART GALLERIES 
 
 From Saturpay, JANUARY 19TH, UNTIL THE MorNING OF 
 THE Day or SALE, INCLUSIVE 
 
 THE PRIVATE COLLECTION 
 
 MR. H. S. HENRY 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 SALE AT MENDELSSOHN HALL 
 
 FORTIETH STREET, EAST OF BROADWAY 
 
 ON FRIDAY EVENING, JANUARY 25ru, 1907 
 BEGINNING AT 8.30 0’CLOCK ae 
 
, oy 
 
 Subscriber's Copy No.2 
 
 EDITION LIMITED TO ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE COPIES 
 
DE LUXE ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE 
 
 OF 
 
 PAINTINGS 
 
 BY 
 
 “THE MEN OF 1830” 
 
 FORMING THE PRIVATE 
 COLLECTION OF 
 
 MR. H. S. HENRY 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 To be Sold at Unrestricted Public Sale on the Date herein Stated 
 
 THE SALE WILL BE CONDUCTED BY 
 MR. THOMAS E. KIRBY 
 OF THE AMERICAN ART ASSOCIATION, MANAGERS 
 NEW YORK: 1907 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY THE AMERICAN ART ASSOCIATION 
 NEW YORK 
 {ALL RIGHTS RESERVED] 
 
 Catalogue Raisonné by Francis D. Millet, NWA. Photogravures by Messrs. Gilbo & Co. 
 Compiled and arranged by Mr. Thomas E. Kirby 
 
Biographical Notes and Appreciations 
 
 OF THE PAINTERS REPRESENTED 
 
JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 1796-1874 
 
 Was there ever a happier man than Pére Corot, or one better loved by his friends ? 
 Happiness and lovableness breathe from his pictures. He had inherited the whole- 
 some hardiness of the middle-class French character; its orderliness and balance, 
 and its shrewd, genial, sprightly cheerfulness. His father, a hair-dresser in the Rue 
 du Bac, number 37, married a milliner’s assistant, who worked at number 1, near 
 the Pont Royal. ‘Two years after the birth of Camille, Madame Corot took over 
 the millinery business, and with such success that under Napoleon I. Corot became 
 court milliner. He sent his son to the high school at Rouen, and afterwards appren- 
 ticed him to a linen-draper’s establishment. When Camille was twenty-three his 
 father yielded to his desire to be an artist, and promised him a yearly allowance of 
 twelve hundred francs, which he doubled twenty-three years later, when his son 
 received the cross of the Legion of Honor; for, as he said, ‘‘Camille seems to have 
 talent after all.” 
 
 Corot entered the studio of Victor Bertin, and for five years pursued the orthodox 
 course of classic training, afterwards visiting Rome and Naples in the company of his master. There he 
 remained two and a half years, returning in 1827 to exhibit at the Salon. Other visits to Italy were made 
 in 1835 and 1845; and it was only after this third visit that his eyes were opened to the charm of French 
 landscape. He was nearly forty years old when he set himself to become the new Corot whom the world 
 Troyon was forty-five 
 
 now knows and delights in, and ten years were passed in maturing his new ideals. 
 when he formed himself, and had only ten years left in which to do the real work of his life; but Corot, 
 although fifty when his art was finally ripened, had yet another twenty-five years in which to gather the harvest. 
 
 He had discovered the secret of rendering air and light. The “Christ upon the Mount of Olives,” 
 painted in 1844, and now in the Museum of Langres, is the first picture which seems like a convert’s con- 
 fession of faith. One might pass the Christ over unobserved; but the star shining far away, the trans- 
 parent clearness of the night-sky, the light clouds, and the mysterious shadows gliding swiftly over the 
 ground—these have no more to do with the false, and already announce the true, Corot. In the most char- 
 acteristic works of his best period he represents the antipodes of his friend Rousseau. Rousseau was dis- 
 passionately objective in his point of view, a master of form and construction, rich in color, while Corot, 
 
 weaker in drawing, saw objects in masses, narrowed the range of his palette, delighting particularly in dark 
 ion of his own poet-dreams: the 
 
 olive greens and pure grays, and vied nature as a medium for the expr 
 one magnificently powerful, the other infinitely tender. ‘Rousseau is an eagle,” Corot himself said, “while 
 
 I am a lark that pulses forth little songs in my gray clouds.” 
 
His father had given him, in 1817, a little house at Ville d’Avray, and here or at Barbizon he spent 
 
 his time when he was not at Paris. How he felt toward nature (for feeling was eminently the method of 
 
 his approach) may be gathered from a letter to Jules Dupré, in which he describes the day of a landscape 
 painter: “One gets up early, at three in the morning, before the sun; one goes and sits at the foot of a 
 tree; one watches and waits. One sees nothing much at first. Nature resembles a whitish canvas on 
 which are sketched scarcely the profiles of some masses; eve ‘ything is perfumed, and shines in the fresh 
 breath of dawn. Bing! The sun grows bright, but has not yet torn asunder the veil behind which lie 
 concealed the meadows, the dale, and hills of the horizon. ‘The vapors of night still creep, like silvery 
 flakes, over the numbed-green vegetation. Bing! Bing!—a first ray of sunlight—a second ray of sun- 
 light—the little flowers seem to wake up joyously. They all have their drop of dew which trembles—the 
 irred with the breath of morning—in the foliage the birds sing unseen—all the flowers 
 
 chilly leaves are s 
 seem to be saying their prayers. Loves on butterfly wings frolic over the meadow and make the tall plants 
 wave—one sees nothing—everything is there—the landscape is entirely behind the veil of mist, which 
 
 mounts, mounts, sucked up by the sun; and, as it rises, reveals the river, plated with silver, the meadows, 
 trees, cottages, the receding distance—one distinguishes at last everything that one divined at first.” 
 How spontaneous a commentary upon his pictures of early morning—nature in masses, fresh and 
 
 «se 
 
 fragrant, the “numbed-green” of the vegetation, the shiver of leaves and the twinkling of flowers, the river 
 plated with silver, and the sky suffused with misty light! 
 In the same letter he describes the evening: “Nature drowses—the fresh air, however, sighs among 
 
 hide themselyes—and desire 
 
 the leaves—the dew decks the velvety grass with pearls. The nymphs fly: 
 
 to be seen. Bing!—a star in the sky which pricks its image on the pool. Charming star, whose brilliance 
 
 is increased by the quivering of the water, thou watchest me—thou smilest to me with half-closed ey 
 
 Bing!—a second star appears in the water, a second eye opens. Be the harbingers of welcome, fresh and 
 
 charming stars! Bing! bing! bing!—three, six, twenty sta All the stars in the sky are keeping tryst 
 in this happy pool. Everything darkens, the pool alone sparkles. There is a swarm of stars—all yields 
 to illusion. The sun being gone to bed—the inner sun of the soul, the sun of art, awakes. Bon! there 
 is my picture done.” 
 
 And very literally his pictures were done in this way during the last part of his life. Forty years of 
 
 practice with the brush had rendered the actual record of the scene comparatively easy, and this he made 
 in Paris, between which and nature he divided his affection. But the picture itself had been made during 
 his periods of contemplation at Ville d’Av ray or Barbizon. Suggestive, also, is his allusion in this letter 
 to the nymphs, that hide themselves desiring to be seen. Corot, though foremost among the men who 
 gave the final quietus to classical landscape, was really more classic than the classicists. More ordinary 
 minds, like Poussin’s, had been captivated by the forms of Italian landscape and the elegant pageantry 
 of classic architecture; while the poetic spirit of Corot had found affinity with the indwelling genius of the 
 scene, He could realize the Oreads, Dryads and Nereids sporting among the hills, groves and water- 
 
courses. They were the necessary accompaniment of the childlike glimpse of nature, the anthropomor- 
 phic view which is the child-man’s. Solitude is terrible; so also the intrusion of the actual. Like the an- 
 cients, he peopled nature with beings of his own creation: sweetly impersonal, responsive only to his’own 
 mood. 
 
 To Corot life was one unbroken harmony. ‘Rien ne trouble sa fin, c’est le soir d’un beau jour.” His 
 sister, with whom the old bachelor lived, died in the October of 1874. On February 23d of the following 
 year, when he had just completed his seventy-ninth year, he was heard to say “as he lay in bed, drawing in 
 the air with his fingers; “Mon Dieu, how beautiful that is—the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen!” 
 On his deathbed his friends brought him the medal struck to commemorate his jubilee, and he said: “It 
 makes me happy to know that one is so loved; I have had good parents and dear friends. I am thankful 
 to God.” With these words he passed away—the sweetest poet-painter and the “tenderest soul of the 
 nineteenth century.” : 
 
 CHARLES FRANCOIS DAUBIGNY 
 1817-1878 
 
 Charles Frangois Daubigny, the youngest of the men now known as the Bar- 
 bizon painters, was born in Paris in 1817. His father was a teacher of drawing, and 
 his uncle and aunt were miniature painters of enough importance to have their work 
 exhibited at the Salon. With strong inherited artistic tastes, pencils and paint natu- 
 rally became the playthings of his youth, and long before he had reached his majority 
 they were the means of his daily livelihood. He began his artistic work by ornament- 
 ing articles of household use. He afterwards learned the art of engraving and etching, 
 and became an illustrator of books. In painting he was a pupil of Paul Delaroche. 
 
 Defeated as a candidate for the Prix de Rome, not by competition, but because, 
 ignorant of the rules, he was absent on the day when the preparations began, he reso- 
 lutely determined to save every sou he could spare from his daily needs, in order that 
 he might, as soon as possible, pay his own expenses to Rome. ‘The story, as told 
 by M. Henriet, is in substance as follows: Daubigny at this period of his youth 
 shared his lodgings and his money with his friend Mignan, another art student. 
 Both boys determined that they would go to Italy, and hoarded their small savings for that purpose day 
 by day, not in a common cash-box, which they could open in a moment of weakness with a knife, but in 
 
a built-up hole in the wall of their room, which nobody could plunder without the aid of a crowbar; they 
 lived sparingly, kept no account of their deposits, but remained in a delightful uncertainty of the rate of 
 their accumulation till, at the end of a year, in fear and trembling they broke open the wall and let out a 
 tinkling rivulet of small coins, which amounted to fourteen hundred francs; with this wealth and with 
 gaiters and knapsacks they bravely set out together and walked to Rome. They spent four months in 
 Italy, and then walked home—Mignan to marry and Daubigny to resume his old employment. 
 
 In 1836 or °7, when about twenty years of age, Daubigny went to Holland. He, too, had heard about 
 Paul Potter’s “Young Bull” and Rembrandt’s “Night Watch,” and wanted to see them with his own eyes. 
 
 Daubigny more than any other man of the Barbizon School, was a painter of delightful, lovable 
 pictures. He had a singular appreciation, not only of what was lovely in itself, but what was pictorially 
 beautiful as well. Ugliness had no place in his domain of art, least of all as a theme for technical display. 
 
 His early impressions of the country clung to him through life. His biographer, M. Henriet, says: 
 “Tt is among the apple-orchards, in the pure air of the open country, that he passed his earlier years and 
 imbibed that love of the fields which became the passion of his life.” And so in 1857, when he exhibited 
 at the Salon of that year the picture which won for him the Cross of the Legion of Honor, it is interesting 
 to note that the subject he had chosen was “Springtime,” and represents a peasant girl riding through a 
 field of tender, upright grain, while on either side of her—the prominent features of the landscape—are 
 groups of young apple trees, whose branches are laden with blossoms. The picture was bought by the 
 Government, and is now in the Louvre. It is a charming work, executed with great delicacy and painstak- 
 ing care, but wanting somewhat in that vigor of handling and richness of color which he attained in his 
 later and riper works. 
 
 But although Daubigny loved the orchards, the vineyards, and the fields, it was the beauties of the 
 Oise and the Marne and the Seine which finally furnished him the subjects of so many lovely pictures dur- 
 ing the later and best period of his life. His preparations for sketching were original and complete. He 
 built a large boat which he called “le Bottin,” and it became at once his floating studio and his summer 
 home. And what a charming studio it was! Albert Wolff says: “The boat used by Daubigny was ar- 
 ranged for long voyages; the cooking was done on board; there was a good wine-cellar; you drank deep 
 and worked hard. The sketches accumulated, and when winter was come, Daubigny returned to Paris 
 provisioned with the booty of art and nature, the landscapes which, toward the close of his life, collectors 
 and dealers battled for.” 
 
 With this boat for his river home, how absolutely the usual annoyances which attend a painter’s work 
 passed away! No longer now the tramp of miles to greet the fragrant, misty morn; no more the blazing 
 heat of noon to interrupt his work; no splashing of a sudden shower to hurry him to shelter; but delight- 
 fully protected in his boat, with every appliance and needed comfort at his hand, he could paint at will at 
 morning, noon, or evening hour, until the gathering twilight closed the labors of the day. And so, with 
 his son Karl, and sometimes his daughter, for companions, he went up and down the rivers of France, 
 
mooring his house-boat to the bank or anchoring it in midstream, wherever a lovely spot invited him to 
 linger. He knew every bend in the river, every bush upon its banks, every slender tree lifting its foliage 
 toward the summer sky, every deep pool with their reflections mirrored in its depths; and these he painted 
 with such poetic fervor and such loving care that, beholding his picture, we forget the master, forget our 
 own selves, and see only that which entranced the artist—Nature, idyllic, serene and robed in beauty. 
 
 That Daubigny had his limitations is simply to say that he was mortal; but among modern landscape 
 painters, it is doubtful if there can be found a man whose pictures have delighted a more numerous, more 
 varied, more enthusiastic and more cultivated body of admirers than this painter of the rivers of France. 
 Careful in his choice of subject in the first place, he knew no limitations as to the hour of the day in which 
 to paint it. To him it was quite enough that the scene was beautiful. Indeed, this dominant quality of 
 beauty, united to truth of local color and stamped with his own personality, is one of the most recogniz- 
 able characteristics of his works. Who has suggested with greater charm the soft springiness of the green 
 sod to the tread of our feet? Who with greater realism the freshness of the air and the scent of the earth 
 after a shower? Who with greater loveliness the banks of the Seine, with its slender trees and overhang- 
 ing bushes reflected in the placid waters beneath? Who with greater solemnity the hush of the night, when 
 the pale moon mounts the sky, and sheds over hill and stream its veiled, mysterious light? Ah, all this 
 may not be great painting, but it goes straight to the heart. Of him Edmond About says: 
 
 “The art of this illustrious master consists in choosing well a bit of country and painting it as it is, 
 enclosing in its frame all the simple and naive poetry which it contains. No effects of studied light, no 
 artificial and complicated composition, nothing which allures the eyes, surprises the mind, and crushes 
 the littleness of man. No, it is the real, hospitable and familiar country, without display or disguise, in 
 which one finds himself so well off, and in which one is wrong not to live longer when he is there, to which 
 Daubigny transports me without jolting each time that I stop before one of his pictures.” 
 
 And thus the French author puts in words what we have all felt to be absolutely true about 
 Daubigny’s works. In them we find the most lovely scenes in nature presented with the frankness and 
 directness of a child, but with the grasp and touch of a master. Yes, M. About is right. We do love to 
 linger over Daubigny’s pictures. In addition to many other qualities, they possess this potent charm: they 
 are restful, peaceful, refreshing; and after the fretful annoyances of the day, which come to us all, their 
 influence is at once a song and a benediction. 
 
 It is quite probable that other men of the Barbizon School at times were greater artists than he; they 
 may haye possessed a livelier poetic fancy; they may have displayed a nobler creative genius and wrought 
 with a more intense dramatic power; they may have been better craftsmen and attained greater heights 
 in the mere technique of art; but none of them possessed Daubigny’s absorbing love of what was beauti- 
 ful in nature for its own sake, or the exquisite sensibility and frankness with which he painted those fa- 
 
 miliar scenes which have so long delighted the lovers of the beautiful in nature, and filled their hearts with 
 a sincere affection for the painter of ‘The Orchard,” “The River” and “The Borders of the Sea.” 
 
ALEXANDRE GABRIEL DECAMPS 
 1803-1860 
 
 It is a matter of record that the picture by which Decamps, the great Orientalist 
 of his day, made his.début in the Salon of 1827 was a figure of a Turk, evolyed from 
 his inner consciousness. The artist had not yet visited the East, and his picture 
 was simply an expression of the tendency of his thought and feeling. Decamps was 
 a Parisian, born in 1803. He was sent as a boy into the country by his father, and 
 allowed to run wild until it was time to send him to school, when he was brought 
 
 back to Paris. He had developed what he himself called “the taste for daubing,” 
 
 and was left to work out his own method of art without parental encouragement. 
 Stumbling blindly toward the light, learning from the pictures he saw in shop win- 
 dows and galleries what pictures were, he finally, at the age of twenty-four, produced 
 the Turk which attracted attention to him in the Salon. The subject and the method 
 of the picture proved attractive to the public, and the young painter was encouraged 
 
 to proceed. He had an ambition to paint history, and strove for the Prix de Rome in 
 
 vain. It was his lifelong regret that he could not become a great historical painter, 
 and he often bitterly complained of that neglected childhood in which he had learned such lessons of free- 
 dom and contempt for restraint that he could never afterward school himself to the arduous study necessary 
 for success in the lofty walk of art to which he aspired. The world was the gainer by what he considered 
 his loss. A brilliant intelligence, a fecund invention, and a facile hand enabled Decamps to earn his living 
 as a caricaturist while he was struggling for recognition as a painter. Some of his lithograph cartoons dis- 
 
 play a mordant and deadly satire equal to the written diatribes of Juvenal. Decamps’ restless spirit sent 
 him on many wanderings, and from a visit to Asia Minor he brought back the inspiration and material for 
 the Oriental subjects, bathed in sunlight and glowing with slumberous color, which gave him a distinctive 
 place among the masters of the day. In his greatest success his life was not happy. He had his studio 
 and hunting lodge in Fontainebleau, and he divided his life between painting and hunting to dissipate his 
 broodings on his disappointment in life. He had few friends, though with Millet and other artists of his 
 circle he was on amicable terms. Medals and honors only deepened his disgust at his inability to create 
 monumental masterpieces. Only his great mind preserved him from total misanthropy. One day in 1860 
 he rode into the forest with his favorite hounds to hunt. The baying of the dogs attracted the attention 
 of a forester, and he found one of the greatest artists of the world thrown from his horse and helpless from 
 
 an injury which proved mortal. 
 
FERDINAND VICTOR EUGENE DELACROIX 
 1799-18638 
 
 In the upheaval of the Revolution, French imagination, needing some basis 
 
 for its ideals, turned back to the Roman republic. But when the French Republic 
 had been swallowed up in Imperialism, and the latter had yielded to the bourgeois 
 mediocrity of Louis Philippe’s reign, the soul was dead in classicism, and it survived 
 only as a dogma of the schools. Meanwhile new forces had been let loose. Goethe 
 had sounded the romantic note in Germany, and Byron and Scott among the Eng- 
 lish. The younger generation in France had caught the ardor of it, and what Victor 
 Hugo was in literature, Géricault and Delacroix were in painting. For the abstract 
 type they substituted the individual; for ideal beauty, the interest of character; for 
 suavity and plastic calm, the glow and fury of passion. Passion—love and hatred, 
 remorse and despair—became the life and breath of the movement. Géricault’s 
 “The Raft of Medusa” had been its bugle note of rallying and defiance; and when 
 he died, at the early age of thirty-two, Delacroix, now twenty-three, stepped into his 
 
 place. In 1822 appeared his “‘Dante’s Bark,” at sight of which David exclaimed: 
 “D’ou vient-il? Je ne connais pas cette touche-la.”’ Indeed, “there were thoughts in it which had not 
 been conceived and expressed in the same manner since the time of Rubens.” For, besides ‘‘the dra- 
 
 > 
 
 matic expression and composition marked by action” which Delecluze, in characterizing Delacroix’s next 
 picture, “Massacre of Chios,” declared was a reef on which the good style of painting must inevitably be 
 wrecked, it involved a force and meaningness of color such as the great Venetians and Rubens employed. 
 Color was no longer merely tinting, sparingly and arbitrarily applied—it was the language in which the 
 idea was conveyed, a torrent of emotional expression. How complete was the gulf between this kind of 
 painting and the academical dogma that form is everything may be understood by the remark of Ingres, 
 as he was one day taking his pupils through the Louvre. Entering the Rubens Gallery, he said: ‘‘Saluez, 
 messieurs, mais ne regardez pas.” 
 
 And this was the same gallery that had been to Delacroix the mine from which he drew a wealth of 
 inspiration. ‘Throughout his life the influence of Rubens clave to him. Every morning before his work 
 began he drew an arm, a hand, or piece of drapery, after the manner of Rubens. “He had formed the 
 habit of taking Rubens when other people were drinking their coffee.” ‘These sketches, great works in 
 little frames, have, for the most part, it is said, found their way to this country. Yet there is a pathetic 
 difference between the master and his disciple: Rubens was a being of joyous strength, happy and healthy; 
 Delacroix a prey to disease, insulted on all sides, and consumed with an internal fire. In Rubens’ work 
 there is a magnificent repose; in that of Delacroix, a feverish stress of battle. It was only by force of will 
 
and by careful dieting that his frail body sufficed for the enormous work he accomplished—two thousand 
 pictures. Delicate from childhood, he suffered in later life from a complication of diseases, and, like Goethe, 
 could work only in a high temperature. He was short in stature, but had a leonine head with a mane of 
 hair, flashing eyes, and a prickly mustache—‘‘the fascinating ugliness of genius.” 
 
 In 1832 he visited Morocco, in company with an embassy sent by Louis Philippe to the Sultan Muley 
 Abdurrahman—the first of French artists to fall under the spell of the Orient. ‘There he saw and lived 
 amidst the splendor of color that hitherto had existed for him only on canyas or in his imagination. He 
 had found a new world, in which his dreams were realized. His coloring became more lucid and the dark 
 backgrounds in which he had delighted were replaced by a bright serenity and golden lustre. Under the 
 direct influence of the Orient he painted such pictures as the “‘Entry of the Crusaders into Constantinople,” 
 which has been described as resembling ‘‘an old delicately tinted carpet, full of powerful, tranquil har- 
 mony,” and “Algerian Women,” the color effect of which has been compared to the impression produced 
 by a glance into an open jewel casket. Of the men of the Orient he writes to a friend: “They possess 
 nothing save a blanket, in which they walk, sleep and are buried, and yet they look as dignified as Cicero 
 in his curule chair. How much truth, how much nobility in these figures! There is nothing more beau- 
 tiful in the antique.”’ And then he turned his attention to classic subjects, giving them, as in the “Medea,” 
 a modern reality of emotion. Biblical subjects, also, so far as they are imbued with dramatic and passion- 
 ate movement, he treated. In fact, his range was immense. As Silvestre says: “In the course of forty 
 years he sounded the entire gamut of human emotion, his grandiose and awe-inspiring brush passing from 
 saints to warriors, from warriors to lovers, from lovers to tigers, from tigers to flowers.” His critics called 
 him “the tattooed savage who paints with a drunken broom.” As for himself, he writes: “Every work 
 is merely a temporary narcotic, a distraction; and every distraction, as Pascal has said in other words, is 
 only a method which man has invented to conceal from himself the abyss of his sufferings and misery. In 
 sleepless nights, in illness and in certain moments of solitude, when the end of all things discloses itself in 
 utter nakedness, a man endowed with imagination must possess a certain amount of courage not to meet 
 the phantom half way, not to rush to embrace the skeleton.” In 1835, at the instance of his friend Thiers, 
 he was commissioned to decorate the interior of the Chamber of Deputies in the Palais Bourbon, and thus 
 commenced a series of mural paintings, the boldest and the most monumental of modern times. ‘They 
 include the “Triumph of Apollo,” on one of the ceilings in the Louvre; a theme from the “Divina Com- 
 media,” in the Library of the Luxembourg; and wall paintings, among them “The Expulsion of Helio- 
 dorus,” in the Church of Saint Sulpice. Shortly after the conception of these last he died; and, being 
 dead, began straightway to live in the popular imagination. While during his lifetime he seldom got more 
 than four hundred dollars for his largest paintings, the sale of the pictures he had left behind him netted 
 the sum of one million eight hundred thousand francs. 
 
 For the principles of art to which he clung, let himself speak: “This famous thing, the Beautiful,” 
 he once wrote, “‘must be—every one says so—the final aim of art. But if it be the only aim, what then 
 
are we to make of men like Rubens, Rembrandt, and, in general, all the artistic natures of the North, 
 who preferred other qualities belonging to their art? In any case, there is no recipe by means of which 
 one can attain to what is called the ideally beautiful. Style depends absolutely and solely upon the free 
 and original expression of each master’s peculiar qualities. Wherever a painter sets himself to follow a con- 
 ventional mode of expression, he will become affected and will lose his own peculiar impress; but where, 
 on the contrary, he frankly abandons himself to the impulse of his own originality, he will ever, whether his 
 name be Raphael, Michael Angelo, Rubens, or Rembrandt, be securely master of his soul and of his art.’ 
 
 NARCISSE VIRGILE DIAZ DE LA PENA 
 1807-1876 
 
 Diaz—of Spanish descent—was third member of the Fontainebleau group. A 
 Frenchman only by the accident of birth, he became one of the Fontainebleau men 
 by the accident of acquaintance. At Sévres, where as a boy he was decorating pot- 
 tery, he knew Jules Dupré, and it was probably through Dupré that he met Rous- 
 seau and virtually became his pupil. But before Diaz knew Fontainebleau or painted 
 its landscape he had served his time in Bohemian Paris, painting small figure pic- 
 tures under the influence of Correggio, Prud’hon and Delacroix. These fanciful 
 little pictures of nudes, and of groups in rich costume, the subjects for which he got 
 out of books and his own perfervid imagination, he executed with little labor and 
 got for them little money. It is said that he sold them for five francs apiece, but 
 the number of them was so large that even at that price he managed to live com- 
 fortably. 
 
 But these were the years of his groping in the dark. He was masterless, home- 
 less, quite adrift. When he joined the Fontainebleau band and came under the 
 sway of Rousseau’s serious personality, Diaz himself grew serious and took up landscape painting with an 
 earnest spirit. He never forgot his early days of decoration; his Arabian Nights’ fancies never entirely 
 left him. Even when he was painting his noblest landscapes, he was often giving them a romantic interest 
 by introducing small figures of bathers at a pool, figures of riders, huntsmen, woodsmen, gypsies. The 
 landscape he did directly from nature, in the forest or on its outskirts, but the figures were figments of his 
 
brain, probably put in as an after-thought for mystery and color effect. The landscape hardly needed 
 the added figures for mystery, for Diaz had a way of putting weirdness and romance in the light and air, 
 in the quiet pools, in the trees themselves. With all their fascinating charm there was something solemn 
 and impressive in his wood interiors. Still, it cannot be said that his work suffered by the introduction 
 of figures. They lent brightness, liveliness, accent to the scene, and above all they were the high-pitched 
 color notes of the composition. Diaz had a color sense of his own which none of the masters who influ- 
 enced him in art could eradicate. There was a sobriety about Rousseau even in his highest chromatic 
 flights; his color scheme was true, studied, exact in every respect. Diaz, on the contrary, was volatile, 
 enthusiastic, capricious, and his work at times gives one the impression of abandon and improvisation. 
 He knew the truth of nature, but he was no slave to it. Like Turner, he was for making a picture first 
 of all, and if certain notes or tones were not in the scene he put them in. And who shall gainsay the wis- 
 dom of his course in doing so? A picture is not necessarily valuable for the amount of truth it conveys. 
 Its first affair is to be a picture. 
 
 But the popular impression that Diaz was the unrestrained happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care painter 
 of the group is somewhat wide of the mark. That a painter has a fanciful spirit and easy execution does 
 not necessarily argue a careless hand or a superficial eye. Watteau was just as serious in his mood as 
 Michael Angelo; and Diaz, though he had not Dupré’s melancholy or Rousseau’s great thoughtfulness, 
 was very far from knocking off his Fontainebleau landscapes with a dash and a laugh. He studied long 
 and hard over his canvases, and the gayer-hued and more volatile they appeared the harder he had to study 
 over them. Of course he was uneven in his work (every painter is so more or less), but one seldom finds 
 him uninteresting. His drawing was not faultless compared with Rousseau’s; but this comparison—and 
 it is always made—is hard upon poor Diaz. Rousseau’s drawing of landscape has never been equalled, 
 and if there were no Rousseau we should find no fault with Diaz. Besides, drawing means different things 
 to different men. Diaz would not tolerate outline where he could use the color patch, and in that respect 
 he was a true follower of Delacroix. It is his color patch that people talk about as his “uncertain draw- 
 ing,” and they talk about it quite unconscious of the fact that Diaz meant it to be a patch, a tone, a value, 
 and not a rim or a line. They often talk, too, of his “distorted lights,” just as though he did not design 
 them so with full knowledge of the result they would produce. 
 
 If we choose to run on in this vein, the light, the color, the trees, the skies, everything by Diaz—or, 
 for that matter, by anyone else—could be written down as false to nature. But that is not recognizing 
 
 painting as the convention that it is. The first and final question is always: “Has the painter made a 
 
 picture?” And to that, in the case of Diaz, there can be but one answer. He made many of them, and 
 most excellent ones into the bargain. His figure pieces are his slighter works, and are not the ones that 
 gave him his fame. He lives by his Fontainebleau landscapes. He is the third man in the great triad, 
 and, though different in sentiment, mood and individuality from Rousseau or Dupré, he is not unworthy 
 to be named with them as one of the great landscape painters of the last century. 
 
Diaz was more successful in a worldly way than either of his companions. His pictures sold readily 
 and he received many honors. But he never forgot his less fortunate comrades. He bought their pic- 
 tures, loaned them money, kept their heads above water, while ever proclaiming their merit. This was 
 particularly true of Rousseau and Millet. He never let slip an opportunity for testifying to their excel- 
 lences. In 1851 he was made Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, but Rousseau was overlooked. At a 
 dinner given to the new officers, Diaz made a great commotion by rising on his wooden leg and loudly 
 proclaiming the health of “Théodore Rousseau, our master, who has been forgotten.” The incident not 
 
 only shows his loyalty to his friend, but his life-long belief as an artist in the greatness of Rousseau. 
 
 that each squeezed. 
 
 JULES DUPRE 
 1812-1889 
 
 It seems only yesterday that Jules Dupré died, and yet he and Rousseau were 
 the moving spirits who started the Fontainebleau School far back in the 1830’s. He 
 alone of the original group lived to see the work of the school appreciated—lived to 
 see Rousseau acclaimed a prince and Millet crowned. He was born in the same 
 year with Rousseau, met him early, and was his life-long friend and champion. 
 They started painting together, and it is not possible now to determine who deserved 
 the greater credit for the new movement. Suffice it to say that between them the 
 naturalistic landscape of modern French art was founded. 
 
 Doubtless these life-long friends, by the interchange of ideas and the com- 
 parison of methods, influenced each other somewhat. At any rate there seems not 
 a great deal of difference in their points of view, apart from the personal equation 
 which neither of them could or would relinquish. Dupré himself said that they 
 used to go into the forest and saturate themselves with truth, and when they returned 
 to the studio they squeezed the sponge. Yes; but it was a slightly different sponge 
 The individualities of the men were not the same. Dupré had a melancholy strain 
 
 about him, and all his life he was a somewhat lonely man. LHe was at his happiest when by himself with 
 
the storms of nature. He preferred nature in her sombre moods, and was forever picturing gathering 
 clouds, sunbursts, dark shadows, swaying trees, wind-whipped waters and the silence after storm. ‘This 
 love of the dark side of nature appears as a personal confession in almost all of his work. It was his in- 
 dividual bias which distinguished him from Rousseau, who was fond of the sun and its brilliant colors. 
 Yet beneath the rough aspects of nature Dupré saw with Rousseau the majestic strength, mass and har- 
 mony of the forest; saw the bulk and volume of the oaks, the great ledges of moss-covered rock, the sweep- 
 ing lines of hills, the storm light, the voyaging clouds, the vast aérial envelope. His mental grasp of the 
 scheme entire was not inferior to Rousseau’s, but perhaps he had not the latter’s patient energy and infi- 
 nite capacity for labor. He threw off work with greater ease and was satisfied with a slighter result. But 
 this only by comparison. As a matter of fact, he was a very strong painter of landscape and a superb 
 
 painter of the sea. 
 
 Dupré’s landscapes—the oaks of Fontainebleau under a deep blue sky with cumulus clouds, the out- 
 
 stretched plain of Barbizon, the grove with a white house and a pool of water—are quite as familiar as his 
 
 marines. ‘They are never lacking in a virile sense of body and bulk, and they are always pleasing in their 
 
 air, light and color; howbeit the melancholy and the sombre view is there. He came at a time when the 
 high register of impressionism was unknown, but his deep reds, russet browns, dark greens and cobalt 
 blues are still profound color harmonies. Art changes like all things human; but the good art always re- 
 mains good, the bad art always remains bad. And the spirit, the poetry, the charm that a painter puts in 
 his work, if it be honest, will never pall upon succeeding generations. The pathos of Botticelli, the naive 
 sincerity of Carpaccio, are just as pertinent-to this century as the charm of Corot or Daubigny and the 
 Michelangelesque strength of Rousseau. Just so with Dupré’s poetry of nature’s dark moods. Cloud 
 and shadow, wind and storm, were the very wings of his muse. He loved them deeply and painted them 
 with a lover’s passion. Throughout his long life he did not swerve from his early allegiance. He saw 
 others rise about him with different views, different interpretations of nature, different methods, but with 
 calm dignity he held his individual way. Good or bad, what work he sent forth he would have his own 
 and bear a personal seal. Such work is never likely to pall upon the taste. 
 
 Fortune favored Dupré with a more even disposition than his companion Rousseau. He got along 
 with the world better, was more successful financially, and had less bitterness in his life. He outlived all 
 the early tempests that gathered about the heads of the band, and saw the ideas they had struggled for at 
 last acknowledged. His quiet bearing under success was as admirable as his fortitude under early failure. 
 He was not easily turned aside or beaten down or over-exalted. The belief of his youth he carried with 
 him into old age, firmly convinced that some day it would triumph. It has triumphed, and Dupré with 
 Rousseau has been justified. : 
 
EUGENE FROMENTIN 
 1820-1876 
 
 It was accident which made Fromentin an artist. The son of a well-to-do 
 provincial lawyer, born in 1820 at La Rochelle, he went, at nineteen years of age, 
 to Paris to qualify himself to succeed his father. At twenty-three he received his 
 diploma, but a fit of illness, during which he solaced his enforced leisure by gratify- 
 ing his latent talent for drawing, turned him in the direction of art. He studied 
 under Rémond and Cabat, and his earlier works show little of the feeling of those 
 which rendered him illustrious. While he was making his first experiments as a 
 student, Prosper Marilhat was creating a profound impression by his Oriental land- 
 scapes, and Fromentin, who in 1840 had visited Algeria for pleasure, found him- 
 self attracted to those subjects in which the gifted pupil of Roqueplan excelled. After 
 his first exhibits in the Salon of 1847, Fromentin again visited Africa. In 1849 he 
 commenced to exhibit Algerine pictures, and they won him a second-class medal. 
 
 He improved on the model of Marilhat by making figures important accessories of 
 his landscapes, and was speedily recognized in France as the most sympathetic and 
 poetical painter of Arab life. The deficiencies of his early schooling in art prevented him from becoming 
 a strong draughtsman, but he amply atoned for this by his marvellous faculty of realizing character and 
 action. He was a brilliant and glowing colorist, and possessed a delicate appreciation of the elegances 
 of composition, while never losing sight of nature in artificiality of arrangement. His influence as the 
 founder of a school of Oriental art w: recognized by first-class medals in 1859 and 1868, and in the former 
 year he received the Legion of Honor, being made an Officer ten years later. He was as brilliant a writer 
 
 as a painter. His picturesque works on Arabian life are accepted as standards, and his volume on the old 
 masters of Holland and Belgium is an authority in criticism. He also wrote a romance, and many stories 
 and essays. One of the most cultivated and high-minded men of his time, he performed his double labors 
 of the brush and pen with a singularly happy reciprocity of feeling, and his death, in 1876, left in the front 
 rank of French art a vacancy which has never been filled. Followers and imitators he has had many, but 
 among them no successor to him has arisen. 
 
 No artist has better rendered the true Orient in its distinction of color than Eugéne Fromentin. He 
 was not satisfied with studying Africa in the products of his predecessors. He had seen it with eyes of his 
 own, and estimated it with his personal thoughts, as a poet with melting heart, an observer with delicate 
 fidelity. In this delightful artist the painter’s talent was enhanced by very decided literary aptitude, and 
 
 thus in his works he not only paints Africa, he narrates it. 
 
JEAN LOUIS ANDRE THEODORE GERICAULT 
 1791-1824 
 
 A French animal and historical painter, Géricault was born at Rouen, Sep- 
 tember 26, 1791. He was the son of an advocate in good circumstances, and was 
 sent to Paris to complete his education at the Lycée Impériale. While still at school, 
 the bent of his inclinations was plainly to be seen. His holidays were spent at the 
 circus, and in the streets there was no greater attraction to him than the horses in a 
 well-appointed equipage. In 1808 he became for a short time the pupil of Carle 
 Vernet. He then studied under Guérin, with whose academic traditions he had 
 but little sympathy. His art-training was really due to his study of the old masters 
 in the Louvre, and the works of Rubens exercised a very powerful influence on him. 
 His family was much opposed to his becoming a painter, and his ardent spirits, checked 
 in one direction, sought other pursuits. He became a member of the Jockey Club, 
 and plunged into all the dissipations of the “jeunesse dorée.” At length, in 1812, 
 he was enabled to have a studio of his own, and the firstfruits of his work in it was 
 
 the “Chasseur de la Garde,’’ now in the Louvre. On the Restoration, in 1814, he 
 served for three months in the Royal Musketeers, and for the next two years he did but little painting. In 
 1816 he set out for Italy, where he occupied himself in making copies from the old masters. Hitherto he 
 had devoted his attention chiefly to animal painting, but on his return to Paris he produced what is really 
 his only great historical work, “The Raft of the Medusa.” It was exhibited at the Salon of 1819, where 
 it evoked a great storm of criticism, and its appearance may be said to mark the commencement of the 
 struggle between the Classic and Romantic schools in France. Géricault shortly after visited England, 
 in company with his friend Charlet, and by the Exhibition of this work in London realized the sum of $4,000. 
 During his stay in England he practised the then new art of lithography with much ardor. Many of his 
 works in this medium represent English scenes, among which mention should be made of “The Coal Wagon.” 
 On his return to France his health began to give way, and his condition was aggravated by a fall from his 
 horse. He nevertheless produced at this time a great number of sketches and studies, and also made some 
 progress in sculpture. His death took place in Paris on January 18, 1824. 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET 
 
 1814-1875 
 
 While the artistic atmosphere was torn with the cries of partisans, Millet had 
 ears only for the ery of the soil. The peasant of Gruchy is the epic painter of the 
 nineteenth century’s newly discovered conception of the dignity of work. Nor does 
 he blink the inherent curse of it—the sweat and pain of labor; the distortion of body 
 and premature age; the strait conditions and unhonored death—but out of the com- 
 pleteness with which the life conforms to its environments he discovers its dignity. 
 Narrow in his sympathies, for he ignored the lives of other toilers not connected with 
 the soil, his concentration upon the chosen theme is so intense, sincere and simple 
 that his pictures are akin to the amplitude and typical completeness of Greek art 
 vialities are 
 
 and to the stupendous ethical significance of Michael Angelo’s. 
 disregarded; there is scarcely even any detail of secondary importance in his pic- 
 tures, everything being so completely merged in the one single motive. And the 
 
 latter is embodied in such terse and vigorous simplicity, with such pregnancy of 
 
 ‘ meaning and grand, serene harmoniousness, that in his best pictures one feels the 
 truth to have been stated once and for all—to be, in its way, a classic. 
 
 Millet was born in 1814, in the village of Gruchy, near Cherbourg, and from the age of fourteen to 
 that of eighteen worked on his father’s land. But he had always a taste for drawing, and at last his father 
 consulted a M. Mouchel, in Cherbourg, as to whether he had talent enough to gain his bread by painting. 
 Mouchel’s reply was favorable, and he and another painter of Cherbourg, named Langlois, commenced 
 to teach the young man, who was now twenty. The studies, however, were cut short two months later by 
 the death of Millet’s father, and it was only after an interruption of three years that a subsidy from the 
 community of Cherbourg, collected by Langlois, and the savings of his family permitted him to start for 
 
 Paris. Herculean in frame, uncouth in manner, ’homme des bois, as his fellow-students called him, the 
 young peasant entered the studio of Delaroche. But the pictures of the master made no appeal to him, 
 seeming to be “huge vignettes, theatrical effects without any real sentiment”; and Delaroche, after having 
 been first of all interested in his new pupil, lost patience with him. He left the studio within the year. Then 
 followed eleven years of penurious living and misplaced effort. He tried to paint in the style of Boucher 
 and Fragonard, which drew from Diaz the criticism: “Your women bathing come from the cowhouse.” 
 He turned out copies at twenty francs, and portraits at five, and painted signs for taverns and booths. He 
 had married and, his wife dying after three years, remarried. ‘Then, in 1848, he exhibited ‘The Win- 
 
 nower,” a characteristically peasant picture. It sold for five hundred francs. 
 
This was the turning-point of Millet’s career. His friend Jacque proposed that they both should 
 migrate to Barbizon. With their wives and five children they reached Ganne’s Inn, just as the dinner hour 
 had assembled twenty persons at the table—artists with their families. Diaz did the honors, and invited 
 them to smoke the pipe of peace which hung above the door in readiness for newcomers. As usual, a jury 
 was appointed, to judge from the ascending rings of smoke whether the new painters were to be reckoned 
 among the Classicists or Colorists. Jacque was declared to be a Colorist. Difference of opinion being 
 held concerning Millet, he exclaimed: “Eh bien, si vous étes embarrassés, placez-moi dans la mienne.”” 
 “It is a good retort,” cried Diaz. “The fellow looks powerful enough to found a school that will bury 
 us all.” 
 
 Millet was thirty-five when he settled in Barbizon and picked up again the broken thread of his 
 youth, resuming once more his contact with the soil and with the laborers in the fields. Henceforth he 
 gave himself up unreservedly to painting what he knew, regardless of criticism or contempt. At first he 
 boarded with a peasant, and lived with his family in a tiny room where wheat was stored. Later he rented 
 a little house at a hundred and sixty francs a year. In winter he sat in a work-room without a fire, in thick 
 straw shoes, and with an old horse-cloth about his shoulders. Under such conditions was ‘‘The Sower” 
 painted. Meanwhile he was often in dire straits. Rousseau and Diaz helped him with small sums. “I 
 have received the hundred franes,” he writes to Sensier, “and they came just at the right time; neither my 
 wife nor I had tasted food for four and twenty hours. It is a blessing that the little ones, at any rate, have 
 not been in want.” It was only from the middle of the fifties that he began to sell at the rate of from two 
 hundred and fifty to three hundred franes a picture. Even in 1859 his “Death and the Woodcutter” was 
 rejected at the Salon. Rousseau was the first to offer him a large sum, buying his **Woodcutter” for four 
 thousand francs, under the pretence that an American was the purchaser. Dupré helped him to dispose 
 of “The Gleaners” for two thousand francs. At length, in 1863, he was commissioned to paint four 
 decorative panels of the “Seasons” for the dining-room of the architect Feydau. They are his weakest 
 work, but established his reputation. He was able to buy a little house in Barbizon, and thenceforth had 
 no financial cares. At the Exposition of 1867 he received the Grand Prix, and in the Salon of 1869 was 
 a member of the Hanging Committee. He lived to see his “Woman with the Lamp,” for which he had 
 received a hundred and fifty franes, sold for thirty-eight thousand five hundred at Richards’ sale. ‘‘Allons, 
 ils commencent & comprendre que c’est de la peinture sérieuse.” 
 
 He went about Barbizon like a peasant, in an old red cloak, wooden shoes and a weather-beaten 
 straw hat. Rising at sunrise, he wandered over the fields and through the farmhouses, intimate with all 
 the people and interested in their daily doings. His study was an incessant exercise of the faculty of obser- 
 vation, to see and to retain the essential, the great lines in nature and the human body. This marvellous 
 quality is particularly apparent in his drawings, etchings, pastels and lithographs. They are not merely 
 studies, but pictures in themselves. He divests his figures of all that is merely accidental, and in his sim- 
 plification reaches by the smallest possible means the fullest expression of the salient truth; and the 
 
decisive lines which characterize a movement are so rhythmic and harmonious that he attains to much 
 altitude of style. 
 
 Even as a child he had received a good education from an uncle who was an ecclesiastic, and had 
 learned enough Latin to read the Georgics of Virgil in the original text. He knew them almost by heart, 
 and cited them continually in his letters. Shakespeare filled him with admiration, and Theocritus and 
 Burns were his favorite poets. He was a constant reader, and more cultivated than most painters; a 
 philosopher and a scholar. 
 
 In January, 1875, he was stricken with fever, and died at the age of sixty. His grave is near 
 Rousseau’s at Chailly, and the sculptor Chapu has wrought their two heads side by side in bronze on the 
 stone at Barbizon. 
 
 THEODORE ROUSSEAU 
 1812-1867 
 
 The tale of the Fontainebleau-Barbizon painters has been more than twice 
 told, and like all tales it grows with each new telling. Originally it was a simple 
 
 and a most natural story. There had been a long period of classic art, started by 
 David, which perpetuated nothing but the traditions of Greece and Rome. It was 
 all form, all line, all academic skill; the breath of passion, of individuality, of life 
 was not in it. In the 1820’s there came a revolt against this stereotyped product 
 of the Institute. The revolt took the form of Romanticism, and Delacroix was its 
 nominal prophet. 
 
 A new generation was growing up while this Classic-Romantic jangle was in 
 the air. These young men had heard the arguments pro and con in the studios, 
 and had seen the extravagances of both arts in the exhibitions. What could be 
 more natural than their recognition that both of them were extreme, and that the 
 
 soul of the world lay neither in the Institute nor in Delacroix’s atelier, but in nature ? 
 What could be more natural in the young landscape painters than the rejection of 
 both points of view and the flight to the forest of Fontainebleau for inspiration? We have been told that 
 their eyes were turned to nature by seeing the works of Constable, Bonington and Fielding in the Salon of 
 1824. It is possible; but at that time Rousseau and Dupré were each twelve years old, Daubigny was seven, 
 
Diaz was sixteen, Corot was in Rome. Moreover, there was no journeying to Fontainebleau until about 
 1833. Jules Breton has said they were influenced by the Dutch pictures in the Louvre, and there was 
 undoubtedly some study there. Out of Paris they took only a method, a way of doing things, whether 
 derived from English, Dutch or French sources, or all combined, is of no consequence now. It was from 
 the forest that they got the material and the spirit of their art. The light, the air, the skies, the foliage, 
 the forms of tree and rock and hill, gave them their sentimen and their omnipresent love of nature. It 
 was not studio nature that these men found. The world of sight is neither classic nor romantic; it is simply 
 natural. The forest taught them this. It was on the edge of the forest that they lived, studied and painted; 
 and it is there, near the great rocks and oaks he so dearly loyed to paint, that Rousseau now lies buried. 
 
 Rousseau was the Akela of the pack, the leader and the strongest painter of them all. Indeed, there 
 is no word that seems to describe Rousseau so well as “strength.” He was devoted to the fundamental, 
 the basic, the permanent. Toward the close of his life he did little more than draw, so intent was he upon 
 
 the underlying forms of things. His conception of the earth seemed to circle about its structure, its vast 
 ages of existence, its endurance, its unbroken solidity. Not the great sturdy oak fastening itself in the 
 fissures of the stratified rock alone, not the bulk and scope of hills and mountains alone; but the permanence 
 of the blue sky and the clouds, the binding strength of atmosphere, the power of falling sunlight—these 
 were the things he loved and studied. He was not blind to the minor beauties of the world, such as the 
 effects of light and color on foliage, water and skies. He was a man of infinite scope, but back of light 
 and color, back of surface effect, lay the fundamental and the universal—the firm basing of the earth. 
 
 A man possessed of such a mind and view, possessed of a skilful hand, and with Fontainebleau forest 
 
 for a model, could not but produce a strong art. For the first time in the history of French landscape the 
 mirror was held up to nature. But the reflection was not the exact counterpart of the original. No great 
 painter ever tries to show the facsimile, and Rousseau’s art was nature—plus an individuality. He hada 
 sentiment about form, light, color, air, that can be felt in every one of his pictures. He saw truly enough, 
 but he saw something more than the bare prosaic facts. Nature was a great poem to him, and all his life 
 he was endeavoring to interpret it. His study was enormous, his labor prodigious; and yet his completed 
 canvases are not so numerous as those of his fellow painters at Barbizon. Like Leonardo with his por- 
 trait of Mona Lisa, Rousseau was never satisfied with his work. He kept pictures for months, touching, 
 retouching, patting, caressing them with the brush, trying to better them in every way. And this was not 
 because he lacked in skill, but because he could never fully interpret the vision of truth he saw in the well. 
 
 Technically he had a very sure knowledge of form, and, though not always insisting upon detail, he 
 was always insisting upon accuracy. As a draughtsman he was excellent, as everyone knows who has seen 
 his drawings of tree forms. He drew everything first, that the skeleton might be correct; then he added 
 stratum upon stratum of colors, gradually building up, rounding and completing his effect until the desired 
 result was reached. And this without mechanism or dryness. It has been truly said that his land- 
 scapes are as full of sap as nature itself. He was just as accurate and truthful in his observation of light. 
 
It was something that to him was as omnipresent as the air—one of the great fundamentals that revealed 
 
 the splendor of the world. As a colorist he had great range—and great grasp. He ran over the whole 
 gamut, painting in bright keys as well as sombre ones, and always producing a unity—a massing and a 
 fusing of all the notes into one. His comprehension of wholeness and entirety in landscape was remark- 
 
 able. All his subject 
 
 and their name is legion—reveal these qualities. Wood interiors, marshes with 
 
 cattle, vast plains with groups of stalwart oaks bedded in rock, mountains, rivers, sunsets, were all seen 
 
 with a largeness of vision and as a part of the universal whole. His versatility in theme and motive was 
 
 a wonder to his friends and his admirers. A painter like Corot, who had but one sweet note, could only 
 
 ¢ 
 
 sp: “Rousseau, c’est un aigle. Quant a moi, je ne suis qu’une alouette qui pousse de petites chansons dans 
 
 19 
 
 mes nuages gris.” And Rousseau was an eagle. He was ever viewing the earth from a lofty height, seeing 
 and painting mountain, plain, forest and river—painting them each year of his life in a different style. 
 He had two manners of working, between which he alternated at different periods of his life. ‘The first 
 was detailed and minute in drawing; the second was broad, full and apparently quite free. His public 
 rather favored the first manner, though the amateurs were shocked that his landscapes were green instead 
 
 of studio-brown. The broader manner was only appreciated by a few artists and critic friends. In both 
 manners he was honest and straightforward, never shirking a difficulty nor trying by chic to hide a fault. 
 Seeking the truth of nature all his life, he put down his observations with candor and with the simplicity 
 
 that lends to strength. 
 
 It is useless to repeat the story of his life. It is common knowledge nowadays that he battled against 
 odds, endured neglect and disappointment, and died practically unappreciated. It is small credit to human 
 intelligence that pictures which were rejected at the Salon and declined by the amateurs now sell for enor- 
 mous prices or are treasured in the art museums of every land. No landscape painter before him ever 
 equalled him, no landscape painter since his time has excelled him; yet it took the race many years to find 
 that out. He went to the shades unsung. ) “Rousseau, c’est un aigle.” Honor to you, Pére Corot, for 
 
 uttering that truth so early! 
 
CONSTANT TROYON 
 1810-1865 
 
 Constant Troyon was born at Sévres in 1810. His father was connected with 
 the government manufactory of porcelain at that place, and under his instruction 
 the son began his artistic career as a decorator of chinaware. By a happy coinci- 
 dence for him, two unknown young men, named Narcisse Diaz and Jules Dupré, 
 were also employed at Sévres in the same kind of work. Later on all three formed 
 the acquaintance of Théodore Rousseau, and a bond of personal friendship and 
 artistic sympathy was established between them which was terminated only by death. 
 
 Unlike the early Dutch and Flemish painters, these young men belonged to 
 no prosperous gild, with its wholesome traditions and famous masters to aid them, 
 nor did they obtain much of permanent value from the schools of their day. But, 
 what was far better, they became in a large and vital sense their own instructors, they 
 pursued their own career with nature for their guide; and when they died, they left 
 behind them few heirs of royal blood to question the sovereignty of their fame. 
 
 To most of us at the present day Troyon is chiefly known as a great animal 
 painter, especially of cattle and sheep. But it must not be forgotten that long before he began to paint 
 animals he had won distinction as a landscape painter. His career in this field of art was marked by suc- 
 cess almost from the start. His first picture was exhibited at the Salon in 1832, when he was twenty-two 
 years of age; three years later he received his first honor—a Medal of the Third Class; in 1839 the Museum 
 at Amiens purchased his Salon picture; in 1840 he obtained a Medal of the Second Class; in 1846 a Meda 
 of the First Class, besides having a picture bought for the Museum at Lille; finally, in 1849, he received 
 his greatest public preferment—the Cross of the Legion of Honor. All these honor 
 
 , be it remembered, 
 were awarded him before he had publicly exhibited an important picture of animal life, and were bestowed 
 upon him for his excellence as a landscape painter alone. 
 
 The year 1848 was the turning point in Troyon’s career, for in that year he visited Holland, and 
 it is said found there his true field of painting. It certainly was not Paul Potter’s “Young Bull” which 
 determined him to become an animal painter, for he was not much impressed with that over-estimated 
 picture; on the contrary, with his originality. and temperament, he was far more likely to have been con- 
 vineed by the sight of the lar; 
 
 e, fine cattle feeding in herds or lying in groups upon the low, outstretchec 
 
 Holland meadows, their m 
 
 assive forms outlined against the gray northern sky. He had not been without 
 
 personal solicitation to combine landscape and animal painting. Indeed, long before this Holland visit, 
 his old friend, M. Louis Robert, an old employé of the manufactory at Sévres, had urged him to introduce 
 animals into his pictures. So also another friend, M. Ad. Charropin, had given him, time and again, the 
 
same advice. Writing on this subject to M. Ph. Burty, the former says: “Year after year I went with 
 Troyon to Barbizon. . . . On rainy days, when we were unable to sketch in the forest, we visited 
 the farms, where the watchers of cattle and the tenders of geese posed as our models; more often still to the 
 stables, where we painted the animals. Here Troyon executed the most charming things in the world; 
 and from 1846 to 1848 I constantly implored him to introduce them into his landscapes.” 
 
 Troyon’s exhibit in the Salon of 1849 did not disclose any important animal painting, as might have 
 
 been expected upon his return from Holland, but it did contain a landscape which clearly revealed the 
 
 influence of the great Rembrandt in the magical rendering of light and shade. It was the famous “ Wind- 
 mill,’ of which Théophile Gautier wrote: 
 
 “Tt is the early morning. The sun struggles dimly amid the enveloping mist; the wind rises: then 
 
 the huge old frame, with worm-eaten planks, beg 
 
 ns to creak with regular throbs, like the beatings of the 
 heart, as the great membranous wings stretch themselves in silhouette against the pale splendor of the 
 dawn.” It was this picture which marked the culmination of his success thus far in landscape art, and 
 made ‘Troyon Chevalier of the Legion of Honor. 
 
 If Troyon cared for academic rewards, he certainly had received his full share. As we have 
 
 n, 
 in the short space of seventeen years he had won every medal of the Salon save one, and to these distinc- 
 
 tions had been added, as we haye also seen, the Cross of the L 
 
 gion of Honor; and yet, notwithstanding 
 all this, and although he was forty years old, he had not publicly begun his real career. When in fact he 
 entered upon it, splendidly equipped as he was, there unfortunately remained to him before his death the 
 too brief space of only fifteen years in which to create the manifold wonders of his brush—only fifteen years 
 
 in which to live a new life in art and es 
 
 vblish his true place among the master painters of the world. 
 With what increased delight, therefore, he must have painted when he felt that he had found his true 
 vocation, and realized that he was about to reach a greater success than he had heretofore attained! ‘To 
 
 secure absolute mastery of his subject, he spent no less than eight consecutive summers at the country place 
 of a friend, making beautiful studies of running dogs, which he subsequently employed in his picture, ‘'The 
 
 > 
 
 Return from the Chase.’’ In like manner he made superb studies of sheep and cattle. A friend of his 
 
 relates how Troyon, after his return in 1855 from a sketching tour in Touraine, showed him what seemed 
 an almost endless collection of great, splendid studies of cattle, most of which were, indeed, finished pie- 
 tures; and when he expressed astonishment at their number and beauty, Troyon quietly remarked: “I 
 have made as many as eighteen in a month.” 
 
 Troyon excelled in painting a variety of animals, as dogs, sheep, and even barnyard fowls, but he 
 excelled most as a painter of cattle. Nor was it merely their outward forms that he portrayed. He had 
 a realizing sense of their character, their habits, their life, as the willing servants of man. To us, those 
 
 heavy-yoked oxen, with bent necks and measured tread, dragging the plough along the furrows, are living, 
 
 breathing creatures; and those great awkward cows lazily resting their heavy bodies on the ground, 
 and contentedly chewing their cud, are absolutely so alive that an expert could tell at a glance how much 
 
they weigh; and the spectator almost fears that a near approach may bring them slowly to their feet, and 
 that they may walk out of the canvas. In a word, “his cattle have the heavy step, the philosophical 
 
 indolence, the calm resignation, the vagueness of look, which are the characteristics of their race.” 
 
 In these last and best years of his life Troyon never neglected his landscapes, even when the domi- 
 nant motive of his picture was some expression or movement of animal life. He saw his landscape and 
 his cattle as a pictorial whole, just as we ourselves behold them in nature, and the prominence that he gave 
 to either depended upon his personal point of view. ‘The result was that his success was immediate and 
 complete, and his pictures made a delightful impression on every observer, whether artist, connoisseur 
 or child. 
 
CATALOGUE 
 
CHATEAU THIERRY 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
No. 1 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
 1796—1874 
 
 CHATEAU THIERRY 
 Height, 13 inches; length, 18 inches 
 
 On the right the walls of the chateau, along which extends a broad path bordered 
 by a row of leafless trees, dominate a steep hillside which slopes down on the left, 
 where the vista extends over the roofs of houses past a square church tower 
 with many windows to a mysterious distance, suggesting a broad wooded hillside. 
 The single figure of a peasant woman in a gray dress, with a red kerchief over 
 her head and a white sack thrown over her left shoulder, stands in the right fore- 
 ground leaning upon a stick, and is strongly accentuated by the sunlight, which 
 broadly illuminates the landscape, casting deep shadows upon the chateau walls, the 
 roofs of the houses, the church tower and along the gravelly path under the trees. 
 The sky is completely covered by a veil of soft luminous clouds. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Conor. 
 
 Collection Bocauet, 1869. 
 
 Collection Micuet-Livy, Paris, 1876. 
 
 L’Exposition des Cent Chefs-@euvres, Paris, 1892. No. 65. 
 
 Reproduced in Moreav-Niitaron’s work on Coron, 1905. 
 
 Purchased from Duranv-RvEL. 
 
PREMIERES FEUILLES: PRES DE MANTES 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
No. 2 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
 1796—1874 
 
 PREMIERES FEUILLES: PRES DE MANTES 
 Height, 13 inches; length, 18 inches 
 
 The slender trunks of scattered trees, some of them straight, others gnarled and 
 twisted, rise out of the grass in the foreground and extend out of the picture. The 
 branches are partly bare, partly covered with sparse foliage, and beneath the trees 
 at the right the figure of a peasant woman is seen searching among the underbrush. 
 Beyond the grove is a gently curving, much travelled road which extends to the 
 middle distance on the right, where a few houses are seen standing on the slope of 
 a hillside. The figures of a man and a woman make a prominent accent on the sun- 
 lit roadway. The summit of the distant hillside on the left is crowned by a large 
 clump of trees in spring foliage, which breaks the flowing lines of the hilltops 
 forming the horizon. The sky is covered with soft luminous clouds, the light 
 diminishing in intensity toward the zenith. 
 
 Signed at the lower right, Conor. 
 
 Collection Micuet-Livy, Paris, 1876. 
 
 Haposition Centenaire Corot, Paris, 1895. No, 110. 
 
 Reproduced in Moreav-N&taton’s work on Coron, 1905. 
 
 Purchased from Duranv-RveEt. 
 
THE RIVER 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
£0,600 
 
 4 
 
 Cnty 
 ULNA, Lb 
 
 / 
 
 No. 3 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
 1796—1874 
 
 THE RIVER 
 Height, 16 inches; length, 22% inches 
 
 In the foreground is a flat meadow, broken by small bushes and here and there a 
 blossoming plant, on the shores of a broad river which extends diagonally from 
 the left to the extreme distance, where flat-topped hills form the horizon line. Two 
 clumps of trees grow on the near shore of the river, the one on the right extend- 
 ing out of the picture; the second, to the left of the middle of the composition, 
 is composed of slender trees with thin foliage, underneath which is moored a skiff 
 with a single occupant. The broad surface of the river reflects a low hill on the 
 opposite shore, which is partly covered with trees, and at one point is almost bare 
 of verdure and crowned by a group of white buildings. The hillside, the buildings 
 and the tones of the luminous summer sky are reflected in the quiet surface of 
 the water. 
 
 Signed at the lower right, Conor. 
 Collection of the late A. Ki. Borie, Philadelphia. 
 
Gilbo & Co. 
 
NYMPHES JOUANT AVEC UN TIGRE 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
No. 4 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
 1796—1874 
 
 NYMPHES JOUANT AVEC UN TIGRE 
 Height, 32 inches; width, 26 inches 
 
 Amid the luxuriant verdure in a forest glade, where groves of tall slender trees 
 grow out of the steep slopes on either side, a company of nymphs are disporting 
 themselves to the music of a piper and the beating of a tambourine. One of the 
 nymphs is leading a leopard upon which is perched a small child, another one lies 
 prone upon the grass and a third rests in a sculpturesque attitude leaning upon a 
 jar from which issues a stream of water. On either bank, amid the trees, great 
 ledges of gray rock show among the tree trunks and the rank undergrowth, flowers 
 twinkle among the rich grass, and in the left foreground a clump of reeds grows 
 near the stream which flows from the earthen jar. The foreground is partly in 
 shadow and partly in broad sunlight, and beyond the group is a sunlit passage with 
 slender stems of tall trees in contrast against the light. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Corot. 
 
 Collection Maravis Fresstinet pE Betiancer, Paris. 
 
 Centenaire de Corot, Palais Galleire, 1895. 
 
 Purchased from Arvucr Toorn & Sons. 
 
MEDITATION 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
No. 5 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
 1796—1874 
 
 MEDITATION 
 Height, 24% inches; width, 162 inches 
 
 This is the halflength figure of a maiden sitting in an attitude of meditation, 
 resting her chin upon her right hand, with her left arm extended at her side. She 
 wears a gray and black bodice over a white short-sleeved chemise, and a red 
 overskirt gathered up across her knees, showing a gray petticoat beneath. Her 
 dark hair, which is brushed tidily back from her forehead, is confined to her 
 head by a narrow yellow kerchief. The figure is in strong effect of light from 
 the upper right and in contrast against a quiet sky and a simple landscape 
 beyond, suggesting willow trees on the right, with an expanse of. sunlit clouds 
 in the upper left and a broken hillside forming the horizon below. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Corox. 
 
 Purchased from Boussop, Varapon & Co., Paris. 
 
Gilbo & Co. 
 
LE 
 
 JEAN 
 
 MATIN 
 
 BAPTISTE 
 
 CAMILLE 
 
 AU BORD DU LAC 
 
 COROT 
 
No. 6 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 
 1796—1874 
 
 LE MATIN AU BORD DU LAC 
 Height, 32 inches; width, 26 inches 
 
 Through a narrow swale between two sloping banks, upon which grow tall, 
 slender trees, is seen a part of a broad lake, bounded on the far shore by a 
 range of high, wooded hills. On the left, seated on the grassy bank among the 
 flowers, is a shepherd in red cap playing on a pipe, and at some distance in 
 front of him a white goat stands, head erect, as if listening to the music. The 
 sunlight, diffused by a thin stratum of clouds which covers the sky, falls broadly 
 upon the landscape, accentuates here and there the trunks of the trees, the 
 flowering plants, the irregularities of the ground and the foliage, and with an 
 almost imperceptible warm haze modifies the tones of the verdure, diminishes 
 the intensity of the contrasts of light and shadows, and harmonizes the whole 
 composition. 
 
 Signed at the lower right, Conor. 
 
 * Album classique des Chefs-d’wuvres de Corot,” par L. Rocrr-Mirks, 1895. 
 
 Collection Annotn & Trivp, Paris. 
 
 Purchased from L. Crisr Detmonico, New York. 
 
THE GLADE: “THE GOSSIPS” 
 
 JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE 
 
 COROT 
 
No. 7 
 
 ay JEAN BAPTISTE CAMILLE COROT 
 LG OOA= — 
 
 ae) 1796—1874 
 
 VA if / 
 
 Oto Ly L se 
 
 THE GLADE: ‘‘ THE GOSSIPS” 
 
 Height, 2334 inches; width, 191 inches 
 
 Three peasant women standing in the foreground, their arms akimbo and their 
 heads together, suggest the title of this picture. They have met in a pleasant 
 meadow where flowering shrubs grow and tall trees cast a grateful shadow in the 
 warm sunlight. On the right, beyond the group, which is in strong relief of light 
 and shade, rises a great clump of various kinds of trees, their foliage flecked by 
 sunlight and their slender branches showing here and there among the leaves. On 
 the left a single birch with slender but crooked stem rises out of the picture, and 
 in the distance is an irregular hillside, sloping down to the seashore, where are seen 
 a red-roofed whitewashed building and a solitary rounded tree. Large masses of 
 cumuli fill the sky, which is in broad, full sunlight. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Conor. 
 
 Purchased from M, KNorpier & Co. 
 
THE FIRST SHADES OF NIGHT 
 
 CHARLES FRANCOIS DAUBIGNY 
 
No. 8 
 
 CHARLES FRANCOIS DAUBIGNY 
 
 1817—1878 
 
 THE FIRST SHADES OF NIGHT 
 Height, 104 inches; length, 1644, inches 
 
 A quiet pool of water, or shallow stream, irregular in shape, extends from the left 
 foreground to the middle distance under a rank of densely growing trees on the 
 right, and is bordered on the left by a low, broken shore-line, fringed with water 
 weeds and rushes. In the distance, seen between the large screen of foliage on the 
 right and smaller trees on the left, is a line of steep-roofed buildings, evidently a 
 street in a populous village. The hour is twilight, and the sun, some distance below 
 the horizon, sheds a modified golden glow over the simple sky, which is covered 
 with a mass of thin vapor, and touches with ruddy light a few small scuds drifting 
 across near the zenith. The mirrorlike surface of the water reflects the tones of the 
 sky, the forms of the trees and houses, and is broken only by an occasional ripple. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Davsieny, 1860. 
 Purchased from L, Crist Detmonico, New York. 
 
Gilbo & Co, 
 
THE HARBOR 
 
 CHARLES FRANCOIS DAUBIGNY 
 
No. 9 
 
 CHARLES FRANCOIS DAUBIGNY 
 
 1817—1878 
 
 THE HARBOR 
 Height, 1134 inches; length, 24 inches 
 
 Extending from the left foreground in a gentle sweep around to the distance is 
 the shore line of a harbor with boats drawn up on the beach, and the roofs, fa- 
 cades and towers of a large and busy town. On the left, forming a prominent object 
 in deep shadow against the sky is the timber work of a partly constructed shed 
 standing at the end of a wharf, with the masts and yards of a fishing vessel which is 
 moored nearby. A boat, with a number of occupants, is rowing away from the 
 shore in the middle distance, and on the right, in the immediate foreground, a 
 flock of white ducks watches the approaching craft. A mass of low, drifting clouds 
 covers the sky, showing only a few spots of blue near the upper part of the picture, 
 and the buildings of the town, the beach and various objects are warmly illumi- 
 nated by the sunlight which falls strongly upon the landscape from the left. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Daunieny, 66. 
 Collection of the late A. KB. Borm, Philadelphia. 
 
os 
 
FARM AT VILLERVILLE: MOONLIGHT 
 
 CHARLES FRANCOIS DAUBIGNY 
 
No. 10 
 
 CHARLES FRANCOIS DAUBIGNY 
 
 1817—1878 
 
 FARM AT VILLERVILLE: MOONLIGHT 
 Height, 38 inches; length, 57 inches 
 
 The motive for this picture was found in the rich farming country of Normandy, 
 on the seashore at Villerville, between Honfleur and Trouville. Across the fore- 
 ground extends a rich pasture broken by hillocks and clumps of luxuriantly grow- 
 ing verdure, and in the immediate foreground on the right is a small pool of water. 
 The pasture slopes gently upward to the middle distance under scattered trees, 
 which, with full foliage, extend in rounded masses against the sky, sloping in 
 diminishing perspective from the upper left to the distance; cows, scattered over 
 the pasture, are feeding on the rich grass, some of them in light and some of them 
 in the shadows. The moon, gleaming through a veil of summer mist which 
 spreads over the cloud-covered sky, forms the focus of the composition, Just above 
 the mass of trees in the middle of the picture. On the right, in the distance, the 
 pasture, with numerous irregularities of surface and one or two clumps of trees, 
 slopes gently down toward the sea, where the gleam of strong moonlight is 
 intensified by contrast with the deep-toned green. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Davuieny, 1875. 
 
 Collection of Mavame Marcianp, Rheims, 1897. 
 
 Purchased from Mussrs. Arruur Toorn &' Sons. 
 
| 
 
LES CONTREBANDIERS 
 
 ALEXANDRE GABRIEL DECAMPS 
 
No. 11 
 
 ALEXANDRE GABRIEL DECAMPS 
 
 1803—1860 
 
 LES CONTREBANDIERS 
 
 Height, 21 inches; midth, 18 inches 
 
 Seated at a rough wooden table in a simple interior is an Italian peasant dressed 
 in the rough garments characteristic of his class: a pointed high hat, striped with 
 two or three colors, a full white coarse shirt, short blue knee breeches and raw- 
 hide sandals. Standing near him, back to the spectator, is a companion, who 
 wears riding breeches and closely fitting black boots with spurs. He has deposited 
 his coat, hat and various other articles on a stool and on the floor nearby. A 
 large flask of wine stands on the table, and a small child, just tall enough to 
 lean upon the board, watches the two men. Over the group is a print of the 
 Madonna and Infant with an oil light underneath, and against the wall to 
 the left hang a gun and a water bottle, while on the right, standing on the shelf 
 of a hooded fireplace, is an earthenware jar. The interior is illuminated by the 
 reflections from a thin, vivid shaft of sunlight which strikes the whitewashed 
 wall just above the child’s head. 
 
 Signed at the lower middle, DucAMrs. 
 
 Collection Comre Ducuaren, Paris, 1886. 
 
 Collection For-Smrr. 
 
 Purchased from Duranv-RveEt, 
 
| 
 : 
 
LION ATTAQUE 
 
 FERDINAND VICTOR EUGENE DELACROIX 
 
No. 12 
 
 FERDINAND VICTOR EUGENE DELACROIX 
 
 1'799—1863 
 
 LION ATTAQUE 
 Height, 11 inches; length, 14 inches 
 
 A lion, crouching close to the ground and advancing with slow step, is the 
 prominent object in the picture. His partly opened mouth and slanting eyes 
 give his face an expression of feline rage, and his tail, partly curled under him, 
 suggests that he is on the defensive and not over-confident of victory. The 
 attitude and expression show how well the artist has observed the characteristics 
 of the lion, how convincingly and with what simple means he has been able to 
 illustrate the enormous strength and the ferocious courage of the beast, not 
 untainted, however, by craven timidity. The animal is stalking along a narrow, 
 flat, grass-grown plateau, beyond which are seen the lofty serrated peaks of an 
 irregular mountain range, partly in sunlight and partly in shadow, against a 
 simple, luminous, cloud-covered sky. The sunlight falls upon the animal from 
 
 the upper right, casting long shadows upon the herbage. 
 
 Signed at the lower right, Euc, DELAcRorx, 1851. 
 
 Collection Harrmann, Paris, 1881. 
 
 Collection M. G. Piénerre, Paris. 
 
 Grorce I. Senry Collection, New York, 1891. No. 51. 
 
 Engraved by Cxaries Courtry. 
 
 « Teuvre complet dLugene Delacroix,” by Avrrep Ropavt, Paris, 1885. No. 1185. 
 
 Purchased from M. KNorprer & Co. 
 
Gilbo & Co. 
 
TIGRE ET SERPENT 
 
 FERDINAND VICTOR EUGENE DELACROIX 
 
No. 18 
 
 FERDINAND VICTOR EUGENE DELACROIX 
 
 1799—1863 
 
 TIGRE ET SERPENT 
 Height, 13 inches; length, 164% inches 
 
 In the immediate foreground on the right, coiled around a small tree, is a serpent 
 with open jaws, about to defend itself from the attack of a large tiger which, 
 half crouching, half crawling, approaches, ready to spring. The tree, in full foliage, 
 extends out of the picture on the right, relieved against a lofty crag which termi- 
 nates abruptly on the left in a wall of precipitous rock rising out of a rough slope, 
 partly covered by masses of rounded trees. The cliffs are in shadow in contrast 
 against a cloud-covered sky, a small irregular area of which occupies the upper 
 left comer of the picture. The sunlight, falling strongly from the right, flecks 
 the silver scales of the serpent, accentuates the head, back and forelegs of the 
 tiger, and casts a broad luminous shadow on the rough ground. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Eve. Dr.acrorx, 1862. 
 
 Collection Manravuis pk L., Paris, 1865. 
 
 Collection Vax Cuxcx, Paris, 1866. 
 
 p Aaquina, Paris, 1868. 
 
 Collection du Comte 
 Collection Hermann, Paris, 1879. 
 
 Collection Txt. Leroy, Paris, 1882. 
 
 « Teeuvre complet d’Bugene Delacroix,” by Arrrev Roravt, Paris, 1885. No. 1445. 
 Collection of Mary J. Moran, New York, 1886. No. 188. 
 
 Barve Loan Evhibition of One Hundred Masterpieces, New York, 1890. No. 582. 
 
 Collection of Henry M. Jounsron, New York, 1893. No. 68. 
 
 Purchased from M. Knorpizr & Co. 1899. 
 
Gilbo & Co. 
 
ARABE MONTANT A CHEVAL 
 
 FERDINAND VICTOR EUGENE DELACROIX 
 
No. 14 
 
 FERDINAND VICTOR EUGENE DELACROIX 
 
 1799—1863 
 
 ARABE MONTANT 4A CHEVAL 
 Height, 22 inches; width, 181 inches 
 
 In the foreground an Arab, dressed in pointed blue turban and a tunic of the same 
 color, with an ample burnous falling from his shoulders and a scimitar hung to 
 his side by a red cord, stands at the off side of a prancing Arab steed, his right 
 foot in the stirrup, one hand clasping the cantle, the other the mane of the 
 horse, and is about to throw himself into the high saddle, which is draped with a 
 rich housing of red material trimmed with gold. Beyond the group two riders, 
 brandishing long guns, are galloping their horses up a steep slope, and far away in 
 the distance is a jagged range of mountains which form the horizon line. The 
 landscape is in strong sunlight effect from the right, and the foreground group isin 
 a vigorous effect of light and shade. 
 
 Signed at the lower right, Euc. Duiacrorx. 
 
 Collection “A,” Paris, 1858. 
 
 Collection Arosa, Paris, 1878. 
 
 * TPauvre complet UEugene Delacroix,” by Arrrep Rosautt, Paris, 1885. No. 1076. 
 
 Purchased from Bovussopv, VaLapon & Co. New York. 
 
— 
 
THE RELEASE OF THE PRINCESS OLGA 
 
 FERDINAND VICTOR EUGENE DELACROIX 
 
No. 15 
 
 FERDINAND VICTOR EUGENE DELACROIX 
 
 1799—1863 
 
 THE RELEASE OF THE PRINCESS OLGA 
 Height, 21 inches; length, 2514 inches 
 
 In the foreground the fair-haired Princess Olga, dishevelled, her upper garments 
 falling from her shoulders and a heavy chain attached to her left wrist, is in the 
 act of kneeling at the feet of the youthful knight, Amadis de Gaule, who tenderly 
 endeavors to raise the maiden to her feet, supporting her right arm on his gaunt- 
 leted hand. Extending across the picture in the background, in vigorous relief 
 against a glowing sky, are the massive walls of a fortified town. On the left is a 
 huge gateway through which the besiegers, having destroyed the heavy doors, are 
 rushing to the conflict, and on the right near a square tower an attacking party 
 is swarming over the wall. In the middle distance two combatants armed with 
 swords, each with upraised shield, are engaged in deadly conflict. Immediately 
 behind the central group lies extended the dead body of a man in full armor, 
 apparently the victim of the young knight’s sword. A yellow banner, with a black 
 heraldic emblem, floats from near the corner of the gate. In the immediate fore- 
 ground are scattered rich draperies, pieces of armor and weapons, with the bolts 
 of catapults and fragments of shattered walls. 
 
 The princess and her lover are in a strong effect of light, relieved against the 
 shadowy background. He wears a suit of gold armor, with a short-sleeved blue sur- 
 coat trimmed with ermine, and crowning his casque is a mass of white ostrich 
 feathers. A black mantle is draped around the waist and over the head of the prin- 
 
cess, falling to the ground in front, cont rasting strongly with the loose white 
 drapery around her bust and the loose salmon pink robe which is draped in ample 
 folds around her limbs. 
 
 This picture was purchased from the artist by Mr. Claudius Gérentet in January, 
 1860, and the following is a translation of a letter from Delacroix to Mr. Gérentet, 
 the original of which will be delivered to the purchaser of the picture at this sale: 
 Maa pmaae Sun: January 4th, 1860. 
 
 I thank you very much for your attention. T am myself a little unwell, and it would have been difficult 
 for me to call upon you. 
 
 Tam very happy that my picture pleases you; no news could be more agreeable to me. Do not varnish 
 it, even lightly, it is all I desire. Your devoted servant, 
 
 (Signed) E. Drxacrorx. 
 
 Here is the subject of the picture: 
 
 Amadis de Gaule takes by storm the castle of the traitor Galpen, and liberates the Princess who was 
 
 imprisoned there. 
 The picture remained in the possession of Mr. Gérentet until November, 1898. 
 Meanwhile various critical appreciations of the work of the great master had ap- 
 peared in the public press, and Mr. Robert Robaut had published his monumental 
 volume on the complete works of Eugéne Delacroix, in which the picture in ques- 
 tion was not mentioned. Mr. Robaut writes in relation to his omission to mention 
 this picture in his volume: 
 
 It is evident that, should I make a supplementary edition of my book, I would not fail to reserve a very 
 good place to this important work among the rare easel pictures of the master. 
 
 He also expresses his high opinion of the picture in the following terms: 
 
 Upon the whole, we do not know of anything richer or of more variety, in any of the ancient or modern 
 schools, and France can be proud, I repeat it, to have given birth to the learned and supple genius, Eugéne 
 Delacroix, the author of this masterpiece par excellence. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, uc. Deiacrorx, 1860. 
 Collection of M. Cuavprus Girenrer, St. Btienne (Loire), France, for whom Drtacrorx painted this work. 
 
 Purchased from M. Knorptrr & Co., Paris. 
 
No, 16 
 
 SE VIRGILE DIAZ DE LA PENA 
 
 1807—1876 
 
 NARCI 
 
 THE FOREST: FONTAINEBLEAU 
 Height, 1034 inches; length, 1384 inches 
 
 In a broad elade of a large forest sturdy old trees rise in close companionship on 
 either side of a very small pool. The trunks, roughened by the weather and bear- 
 ing scars of many broken branches, are strongly accentuated by the sunlight, 
 which also illuminates a broad passage of meadow bounded by a wooden fence 
 just beyond the pool, touches the trees in the middle distance and the great 
 masses of soft clouds in the sky. The dense foliage of the trees, with their 
 spreading branches, extends across the top of the picture and frames in a small 
 irregular area of the sky. Here and there gray boulders show among the under- 
 brush, and the coarse grass and the untrodden rankly growing vegetation suggest 
 that this is a neglected corner of a forest, presumably Fontainebleau, near the 
 village of Barbizon. 
 
 Signed at the lower right, N. Diaz. 
 
 Purchased from Duranv-Rvet, 
 
sesereree — - = = ee = 
 
WHISPERINGS OF LOVE 
 
 NARCISSE VIRGILE DIAZ DE LA PENA 
 
Noe 
 
 NARCISSE VIRGILE DIAZ DE LA PENA 
 
 1807—1876 
 
 WHISPERINGS OF LOVE 
 Height, 16 inches; width, 1114 inches 
 
 A comely fair-haired maiden in classic dress, consisting of an ample short-sleeved 
 tunic, low in the neck and girded high at the waist, with a pink mantle draped 
 over her hips and knees, falling in ample folds over her feet, stands beside a rocky 
 bank under a group of trees in sombre foliage. Her left hand raised to her bosom 
 and her head slightly lowered, she listens to the whisperings of a cupid who stands 
 at her shoulder, his chubby face close to her left ear. The figures of the maiden 
 and of the cupid are in a strong effect of light from the upper left and the group is 
 in vivid contrast against the deep-toned foliage beyond. ‘To the left of the maiden 
 and in the mysterious shadow beyond, two cupidons with mischievous expressions 
 on their smiling faces watch the group, and above them a luminous sky with a 
 full summer moon is seen between the branches of the trees. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, N. Draz, *55. 
 
 Collection Arnot & Trier, Paris. 
 Purchased from Duranv-Rvet, New York. 
 
 4 
 
Gilbo & Go. 
 
SUNLIGHT 
 
 JULES DUPRE 
 
No. 18 
 
 JULES DUPRE 
 
 1812—1889 
 
 SUNLIGHT 
 Height, 2514 inches; length, 36 inches 
 
 A deeply rutted road sweeps away from the foreground around to the left, to the 
 middle distance, where a peasant sits watching a small flock of sheep feeding at 
 the foot of a group of sturdy old trees in dense and full autumn foliage, with 
 here and there a dead branch indicating their age. Beyond the trees the broad 
 meadow is streaked with sunlight, and the vista extends past clumps of willows 
 growing on the banks of a narrow stream to a line of low wooded hills in deep 
 shadow against the gray clouds which almost completely cover the sky. The 
 warm sunlight of early autumn falls upon the landscape from the left, making 
 strong contrasts of form and color. The light in the sky is concentrated behind 
 and above the tree tops. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Jurrs Dupri. 
 
 Collection of the late A. BK. Bort, Philadelphia. 
 
TWILIGHT 
 
 JULES DUPRE 
 
EERE TN as 
 
 No. 19 
 
 JULES DUPRE 
 
 1812—1889 
 
 TWILIGHT 
 Height, 274 inches; length, 374 inches 
 
 A. placid irregular stream, extending nearly across the foreground, sweeps away 
 to the middle distance, where it disappears between the low banks of a broad 
 meadow. In the foreground on the right, under a clump of trees, a few cows 
 are wandering down to the shallow water to drink, and on the left, growing out 
 of the low bank, is a tall slender tree with crooked trunk, rising high above a 
 row of pollard willows near the water’s edge. The light of the sky is concen- 
 trated near the middle of the composition, just above the horizon, where the 
 strong rays of the setting sun accentuate with vigorous touches the edges of 
 storm clouds which are tossed and torn by the wind, and is repeated in a modi- 
 fied strength by reflections in the still water in the near foreground. The whole 
 landscape is in the gathering gloom of twilight. 
 
 Signed at the lower lejt, Jures Dupre. 
 
 Collection M. Enouarv Kums, Antwerp, 1898. 
 
 Purchased from M. Knorprer & Co. 
 
THE FALCONERS 
 
 EUGENE FROMENTIN 
 
No. 20 
 
 EUGENE FROMENTIN 
 
 1820—1876 
 
 THE FALCONERS 
 
 7 
 
 Lbudeew 
 
 Height, 1334 inches; width, 1014 inches 
 
 A. party of Moors are engaged in their favorite pastime of hunting birds with fal- 
 cons. Two of the party, mounted on spirited horses, are seen in the foreground. A 
 hooded faleon perches on the right shoulder of one of the Arabs, who is mounted 
 on a cream-colored charger, and the second sportsman, reining up his horse nearby, 
 awaits the approach of an attendant who carries on his right hand a second faleon 
 just recaptured after the hunt. The horsemen are dressed in rich costumes. One of 
 those in the foreground wears a high turban, the other a pointed hood like the 
 ‘apuchon of a burnous, with a‘broad-brimmed hat hung upon his back by a cord. 
 The group stands in an open glade under tall overhanging trees, and is in full sun- 
 light from the upper left. Beyond on the right, in the middle distance, is a second 
 group of horsemen engaged in similar sport. 
 
 Signed at the lower right, Kua. FRoMENTIN. 
 
 Collection of the late A. KH. Bortz, Philadelphia, 
 
Gilbo & Co. 
 
STARTING FOR THE RACE, AT ROME 
 
 JEAN LOUIS ANDRE THEODORE GERICAULT 
 
Ee a 
 
 JEAN LOUIS ANDRE THEODORE GERICAULT 
 
 1791—1824 
 
 STARTING FOR THE RACH, AT ROME 
 Height, 17% inches; length, 231% inches 
 
 Extending diagonally away from the right foreground to the left is a line of 
 excited horses with their attendants, restrained from dashing forward by a tightly 
 stretched rope. The animals are evidently about to race without riders, and, 
 excited at the well-remembered sport, are struggling to free themselves from the 
 clutches of their grooms, who have difficulty in mastering them. Behind the line of 
 horses other animals are led into the enclosure, and grenadiers, with their guns, 
 keep back a crowd which is endeavoring to enter between the curtains draping 
 the front of a large spectators’ stand, where a crowd of people in multi-colored cos- 
 tumes are seated to watch the race. In the distance beyond the grand stand the 
 corner of a simple stone edifice rises against a luminous sky, and in the extreme 
 left of the picture is a scaffolding upon which various figures are attempting to 
 climb. The foreground group and the spectators’ stand are in strong light from the 
 upper left, indicating that the sun is near the zenith. 
 
 Collection Cranzy, Brussels. 
 
 Collection FE. Srcrtran, Paris. 
 
 Purchased from Duranv-Rvet. 
 
Gilbo & Co. 
 
THE RETREAT FROM THE STORM 
 
 JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET 
 
JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET 
 
 1814—1875 
 
 THE RETREAT FROM THE STORM 
 Height, 18 inches; width, 15 inches 
 
 A peasant woman and her daughter, who have been inthe forest gathering faggots, 
 have been caught in the first fierce gusts of a wintry gale, and they fight their 
 way homeward against the increasing blast. ‘The mother supports the child, who is 
 nearly exhausted in the struggle, by clutching her right arm at the elbow. With 
 a sturdy stride the vigorous peasant woman bends her head to the gale, holding 
 the faggots in her blue apron, tightly clasping the burden to her breast. Her red 
 petticoat is swept across her knees, and a large white shawl enveloping her head 
 flutters far behind her in the wind. The light falls strongly upon the group from 
 the left, bringing into vigorous relief the flesh and the wind-tossed drapery against 
 a lowering sky and sombre landscape. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, J. F. Mu.ev. 
 
 Collection Szymour, Paris. 
 
 Collection M. Varner, Rheims. 
 
 Purchased from Messrs. WALuis & Son, London. 
 
THE SHEPHERDESS AND HER FLOCK 
 
 JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET 
 
A 500 c= 
 
 4 / 
 Cdr Mrordessy 
 
 No. 23 
 
 JEAN FRANCOIS MILLET 
 
 1814—1875 
 
 THE SHEPHERDESS AND HER FLOCK 
 Pastel 
 Height, 26 inches; length, 36 inches 
 
 A young French peasant girl, knitting in hand, pauses for a moment, in her slow 
 progress across a broad meadow at the head of a flock of sheep, to pick up a 
 dropped stitch. Her head is bowed over her work and, unconscious of her surround- 
 ings, she stands in a statuesque attitude, a rough gray cloak draping the upper 
 part of her body and falling down over a blue petticoat, a kerchief bound tightly 
 around her head, and with rough sabots on her feet. Beyond the scattered flock of 
 sheep, which is guarded by a single sheep-dog, a broad expanse of flat meadow ex- 
 tends away to the distant horizon, the simple line of which is broken on the left by 
 farm buildings and clumps of trees, above and to the right of which the full disk 
 of the sun shines through a thin stratum of vapor, the light radiating toward the 
 zenith and touching with a warm glow the gently drifting cloudlets. 
 
 Signed at the lower right, J. F, Mivuny. 
 
 Vente J. F. Mrtzer, Paris, 1875. 
 
 Collection of Mr. James Sraav-Fornes, London, 
 
 Purchased from Mr. Jutrus Orne. 
 
LANDSCAPE 
 
 THEODORE ROUSSEAU 
 
— 
 
 No. 24 : 
 
 THEODORE ROUSSEAU 
 
 1812—1867 
 
 LAND 
 
 ‘APE 
 Height, 584 inches; length, 8% inches 
 
 A muddy road extends away between two steep sandy banks from the foreground 
 to the middle distance, and disappears behind a slight elevation upon which grows 
 an irregular clump of trees, one of which, with rounded foliage, dominates the 
 others in mass and in height, the irregular rounded forms of its dense foliage con- 
 trasting sharply against the broad luminous sky and forming an important object 
 near the focus of the composition in effect and in line. The figures of a peasant 
 woman and a child are seen proceeding along the road near the point where it 
 takes a turn to the left, and beyond them, in strong sunlight, are a number of 
 farm buildings and a rank of rounded trees which form the horizon. Luminous 
 cumuli float lazily in the sky near the horizon, and in the upper part of the picture 
 a few spots of blue show above the clouds. 
 
 . 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Tar. Rousseau. 
 Collection of the late A. HE. Bort, Philadelphia. 
 
Gilbo & Go. 
 
PAYSAGE EN SOLOGNE 
 
 tls KO DORE ROUSSEAU 
 
64L00- 
 
 Looursoe b 
 
 THEODORE ROUSSEAU 
 
 1812—1867 
 
 PAYSAGE EN SOLOGNE 
 Height, 10% inches; length, 1314 inches 
 
 It is a glorious day in midsummer. The trees are in full foliage and the meadows 
 are covered with a lush growth of grass and flowers. A soft breath of air sweeps 
 across the landscape, slightly ruffling the surface of the water of an irregular pool 
 which, extending from the foreground to the middle distance, echoes the luminous 
 cloud forms floating high in the sky and softens the reflections of the overhanging 
 trees and the lines of a skiff which is drawn up near the sedgy bank. In the bow 
 of the skiff are two fishermen, and from the tiny bay in which the boat is moored 
 a sandy road winds away to the left through a small grove dominated by a large 
 tree which rises high above it against the sky, and then the road appears again in 
 the middle distance winding away across the meadows. Across the water is a low 
 bank covered by a variety of trees and underbrush, and near the foreground a single 
 boulder crops out of the thick grass. The foreground is in shadow. and the sun- 
 light falls broadly upon the middle distance, carrying the eye away across the flat 
 meadows, broken here and there by trees, past farm buildings in the distance to a 
 low horizon line. A stratum of lofty clouds nearly covers the blue of the sky, which 
 shows, however, near the lower part, particularly in a broad band just above the 
 horizon. Here and there gently drifting cumuli, touched by the sun, float along in 
 the gentle breeze, and the warm light upon them is concentrated chiefly behind 
 the tree tops on the right and left of the composition. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, Tu. Rousseau. 
 
 Purchased from Duranv-Rvet. 
 
SUNLIGHT 
 
 THEODORE ROUSSEAU 
 
THEODORE ROUSSEAU 
 
 1812—1867 
 
 SUNLIGHT 
 
 Height, 134 inches; length, 2142 inches 
 
 In the near foreground a small pond of irregular oval shape reflects the brilliant 
 
 light from the sky and forms a vigorous accent in its shadowy surroundings. 'Two 
 cows are drinking in the pool, and their keeper sits on the bank just beyond a 
 medium-sized tree which hangs over the pool of water below. Beyond the pond 
 is a broad expanse of pasture land, with two slender poplar trees growing near 
 the pool in the middle distance, and far away in the horizon is seen the church 
 spire of a large village with a low wooded hill beyond, and on the right and left 
 scattered clumps of trees. The sky is entirely filled with masses of drifting vapor, 
 strongly accentuated by the sunlight, which is concentrated near the middle of 
 the picture. Here and there tiny spots of blue show between the clouds. 
 Signed at the lower left, Tu. Rovusszav. 
 
 Collection of the late A. E. Borm, Philadelphia. 
 
TWILIGHT 
 
 THEODORE ROUSSEAU 
 
No. 27 
 
 THEODORE ROUSSEAU 
 
 1812—1867 
 
 TWILIGHT 
 Height, 16Y% inches; length, 25 inches 
 
 The sun has disappeared below the horizon, and the glow of the fast-vanishing 
 sunset light floods a mass of soft clouds in the lower part of the sky, accentu- 
 ates the forms of a large cumulus on the right and touches the edges of a broad 
 mass of vapor which extends across the top of the picture, throwing it into 
 an agreeable aerial perspective. The landscape is in complete shadow, full of’ 
 luminous reflections, and a group of tall slender trees, crowned with sparse 
 foliage, forms a prominent mass in a silhouette against the sky, dominating 
 a clump of smaller trees growing above ledges on the left, and marking the crest 
 of a gentle slope which extends off to the right, with here and there scattered 
 trees and bushes and, farther away, a forest, all in strong contrast against the 
 evening sky. In the near foreground, in a rough pasture with scattered bushes 
 and withered grass, is a small pond reflecting the modified glow of twilight from 
 the zenith, and a cow, accompanied by a peasant, stands knee deep in the water in 
 the act of drinking. A small clump of bushes grows near an outcropping ledge of 
 rock on the left of the pond. 
 
 Signed at the lower right, T=. Rousseau. 
 
 Collection Garnier, Paris. 
 
 Collection Van Praxt, Brussels. 
 
 Purchased from Deranv-Rvet. 
 
y 
 
 fi So 
 
 Gilba & Co. 
 
THE FARRIER | 
 
 CONSTANT TROYON 
 
Toop 
 Lvs, Lothurds Ad 
 
 No. 28 
 
 CONSTANT TROYON 
 
 1810—1865 
 
 THE FARRIER 
 Height, 14 inches; width, 10% inches 
 
 A peasant smith, with a young assistant, is engaged in examining the forefoot of a 
 shaggy white pony which stands in full sunlight near the entrance to a large rough 
 stone barn. The peasant is dressed in a pale blue blouse, dark blue trousers and 
 sabots, and stands with his back toward the spectator, raising the horse’s hoof upon 
 his knees, which are protected by a leather apron. Close at hand stands the youth, 
 wearing a red cap and red trousers, helping to hold the horse’s leg. Above the 
 group the facade of the barn, with stone and brickwork showing through the 
 broken plaster, rises out of the picture and is crossed by a grapevine growing 
 at the corner and extending from the eaves to the open door. On the left of the 
 group, beyond a deep shadow cast by the barn and a smaller building behind it, is 
 a bit of hedge, and farther away is a sunlit landscape with the figure of a peasant 
 woman approaching along a narrow path between cultivated fields. Two hens 
 search for their food near the hind legs of the horse, and in the left foreground 
 an earthen crock stands half buried in the ground. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, C. Troyon. 
 
 Collection Count Van Wissennerc, Paris, 1883, 
 
 Purchased from Arruvr 'Tooru & Sons. 
 
GOING TO MARKET 
 
 CONSTANT TROYON 
 
CONSTANT TROYON 
 1810—1865 
 
 ae 
 GOING TO MARKET 
 
 Lindau 
 
 Height, 21% inches; length, 25% inches 
 
 A peasant woman, perched on a donkey laden with two panniers filled with 
 vegetables, is followed by a white cow and a small flock of sheep, evidently on 
 the way to market. The cow, after the manner of its kind, scenting a luscious 
 cabbage in one of the panniers, walks close at the heels of the donkey, and the 
 woman, stick in hand, keeps her at a safe distance. In the foreground an active 
 sheep-dog, black, with spotted white face, front paws and breast, dashes across 
 the road, herding the flock of sheep together. The group is in strong sunlight 
 from the left, and the shadows indicate that the sun is fairly high in the heavens. 
 On the left, seen beyond the slope of a small rounded hill, is a glimpse of a broad 
 flat meadow ona small bight of the sea extending to a low line of trees which 
 forms the distant horizon. A mass of low drifting cumuli, vigorously illuminated 
 by the sun, floats lazily in the lower part of the sky, leaving a broad band of blue 
 above, modified by a thin veil of clouds. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, C. Troyon. 
 Collection Count »’Hrxnispat, Paris, 1893. 
 
 Purchased from 1. Crisr Detmontico. 
 
ox 
 
 Gilbo & Co 
 
LE RETOUR A LA FERME 
 
 CONSTANT TROYON 
 
No. 30 
 
 CONSTANT TROYON 
 
 1810—1865 
 
 LE RETOUR A LA FERME 
 Height, 53 inches; width, 38 inches 
 
 Strolling along a narrow well-worn path, apparently on their way to pasture, are 
 two cows, one pure white, the other deep brown, and two sheep, all in the warm 
 light of the summer sun, which has not yet reached the zenith. The white 
 cow leads the group and advances directly toward the spectator with her head 
 turned toward the right and alertly raised as if watching an approaching person. 
 Behind her, at some distance, follows her stolid companion, and the two sheep, 
 one of which is about to crop the scant herbage along the path, accompany the 
 cows on the crest of a low bank on the left, under a sturdy old pollard tree 
 which extends nearly to the top of the picture. Beyond the animals is a wide vista 
 over a pleasant pasture land, with a rank of rounded trees in the distance, and over 
 all is a soft summer sky filled with drifting ranks of cumuli, all in strong sunlight. 
 In the immediate foreground on the right an angular piece of outcropping ledge 
 forms a strong accent, casting a deep shadow on the rough ground, against which 
 are relieved the sunlit leaves of a small shrub or weed. 
 
 Signed at the lower left, C. Troyon. 
 
 Purchased from a private collector of St. Petersburg, Russia, 1894. 
 From the public sale of the private collection of the late Wir114m Scravs, 1896. 
 
 AMERICAN ART ASSOCIATION, 
 
 MANAGERS. 
 
 THOMAS E. KIRBY, 
 AUCTIONEER. 
 
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