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 PE A REE gS 
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JEAN LEON GEROME 
 
 1889 
 
(EROME 
 
 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. BY FANNY FIELD HERING. 
 FROM AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL NOTES AND LETTERS BY THE ARTIST HIMSELF, 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY AUGUSTUS ST. GAUDENS. INCLUDING A 
 PORTRAIT OF GEROME, NINETEEN FULL-PAGE PHOTOGRAVURES, AND 
 TWENTY-FIVE FULL-PAGE PHOTO-PROCESS REPRODUCTIONS OF HIS 
 PAINTINGS AND SCULPTURE, TOGETHER WITH FIFTY PENCII-DRAWINGS, 
 
 MADE ESPECIALLY FOR THIS BOOK BY GEROME, AND EX 
 
 (CUTED BY BOUS- 
 SOD, VALADON & CO., SUCCESSORS TO GOUPIL. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CASSELL. PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 ONE HUNDRED AND. FOUR AND ONE HUNDRED AND Six 
 FOURTH AVENUE NEW YORK 
 
his reserved, 
 
 THE MERSHO 
 AHWAY 
 
 MPANY PRESS, 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 HE pleasure of associating my name with that of Géréme led me to 
 accept impulsively the flattering proposal that I should contribute to 
 this work some expression of my feeling toward him. Now that I 
 think seriously of what I have undertaken, the first thing that occurs to me is 
 hat the author should be thanked for her earnestness and spirit in making 
 the production of this work possible and in inducing Géréme to give us now 
 his own history of a life so filled with artistic interest. 
 There is in his art, apart from its elevation and virility of style, that which 
 tanks him in my mind with the Greek artists. So much so, that I feel he would 
 have taken his place in the everyday life of Athens; I involuntarily imagine him 
 
 in all the joyous contrasts of the blue skies and superb architecture, sharing the 
 
 rilliancy and nervousness of Athenian life when the Parthenon was built. It 
 seems to me that this feeling represents the unexpressed thought of many of his 
 admirers. 
 
 Since an early winter of our Civil War, when, as a boy, I stopped evening 
 after evening at Goupil’s window on Broadway and adored Gérome’s Death of 
 
 Cesar, my admiration for him has never wavered, and to be called upon, after 
 
 nearly thirty years, to give expression to my feeling under these conditions, and 
 
 to add one more wreath to his laurels, is an enviable opportunity. 
 
 AUGUSTUS ST. GAUDENS. 
 
 iti 
 
PREECE: 
 
 AM asked to write a preface for a book which treats only of me and my 
 works, and to present it to the public. I feel peculiarly embarrassed, the 
 more so that I am ignorant of the art of writing; but as I wish, above all 
 things, to please the author, I yield. However, I question whether a preface 
 is really necessary ; ordinarily one does not read it, and I think a good work 
 can very well dispense with it. Thus, then, dear reader, if you will take my 
 advice, turn these first pages and go directly to the book. 
 This volume is written in English, and I am unacquainted with this lan- 
 
 guage,—consequently I can express no opinion about it,—but I have my fears that 
 
 the friendship which unites me to the writer has placed a bandage over her eyes, 
 and that the estimate herein found is too eulogistic and far above my poor merits. 
 
 [ wish only to give my general impressions about contemporaneous art, after 
 having cast a glance at preceding epochs. Everything is connected and bound 
 together in the arts as elsewhere, and one is always the son of somebody. 
 
 The Vanloos, Simon Vouet, Jouvenet, etc., had passed away; David had 
 come. He created a new school, that is to say, another manner of seeing and 
 feeling. This painter of great talent and of great will had considerable influence 
 upon the artists of his time. He wished to lead back art to the antique, long 
 since abandoned, but, unhappily, he drew his inspiration from the works of the 
 Greek decadence instead of going back to Phidias and his predecessors. The 
 Apollo Belvedere, and Diana, the Huntress, necessarily led him to the Rafe of the 
 Sabines, and Leonidas at Thermopyle, works which are cold, without character, 
 without movement, and without life. On the contrary, when he gave expression 
 
 to his individuality, he painted portraits of the first order, and a picture, 7%e 
 
 Coronation of Napoleon, which is a work of great beauty, and does honor to the 
 French School. 
 
 After him, M. Ingres, after a profound observation of antiquity, revived more 
 
 healthy and exalted ideas. He was the undisputed chief of that Classic School 
 which, during long years, contended with the Romantic School, whose most 
 illustrious representative was Eugéne Delacroix. This struggle took place not 
 only in the plastic arts, but also in literature, Victor Hugo being there the high- 
 priest. By the side of these two opposing forces another power made its way; 
 
 this band of artists and men of letters received the title of the School of Good 
 
vi PREFACE, 
 
 The 
 
 contest was hot and the harshest criticisms were not stinted on either side: 
 
 Sense. Paul Delaroche and Casimir Delavigne belonged to this party. 
 each violently attacking the other, which in turn did not spare the opposing 
 party. A blow for a blow, an eye for an eye, was the device of the com- 
 batants. This epoch was disturbed, but gave evidence of an extraordinary 
 vitality, and extremely powerful works in every genre were the result of 
 these epic conflicts. In these times, one believed; one possessed the sacred 
 fire. Art was a religion and artists had faith ; faith, that enormous power 
 
 that can move mountains. 
 
 This pleiad of men of merit shed a dazzling light, and this epoch need en 
 
 no other, for science, literature, music, all the arts had as representatives men of 
 
 eminent talent, who shone with incomparable brillian 
 
 It would perhaps be useful to review the long list of these different celebrities, 
 
 and the catalogue would be very curious and interesting. The nineteenth cen- 
 ury is and will remain one of the great epochs of the world ; it has made a giant 
 stride in advance, and for a period of fifty years the achievements easy to be 
 enumerated have been stupendous ; for it is in our day, to cite only the principal 
 discoveries, that photography, chloroform, electricity, the telephone, etc., have 
 been utilized and that we have employed steam to annihilate distance. Steam is 
 he connecting link between nations. We behold only the début of these things; 
 
 ut the way is open, it is fertile, and we ask ourselves where human genius will 
 
 pause and what our sons will see. This little digression concluded, let us return 
 
 to the plastic arts. 
 
 Toward the year 1848, the 
 power of expression which it has 
 and this no doubt was owing tot 
 
 austere and profound studies t 
 
 French School, taken as a whole, had not that 
 since acquired; in the main it was rather weak, 
 ne primary studies having been neglected; it is 
 
 hat make great painters and great sculptors ; 
 
 one lives all one’s life on this foundation, and if it is lacking one will only 
 
 be mediocre. Just as a good breeder feeds his colts with oats in order to 
 
 make of them strong, sturdy horses in the future, so young artists should be 
 nourished with the marrow of lions, and led to the purest springs to quench 
 their thirst. 
 
 From this somber mass, com 
 
 posed of artists who possessed only a secondary 
 merit, several brilliant personalities stood out in relief, luminous meteors, who 
 caused the other artists who revolved in their orbit to appear still more dull. 
 Since then the Ecole has perceptibly improved, has strengthened in its manner of 
 
 a more powerful, more homogeneous 
 
 seeing, feeling, and reproducing ; it forms 
 whole, a more imposing exsemb/e. Unfortunately, the number of painters, and 
 consequently of worthless ones, has increased beyond all measure; it is because 
 
 painting is now a matter of commerce; formerly the profession did not secure a 
 
PREFACE, vii 
 
 man his bare living—to-day it has become a paying thing ; it is only the sculptors, 
 nowadays, who die of hunger. But this is owing to complex causes and it is to 
 be feared that these reasons will always exist. 
 
 For some years the sentiment which governs art productions has been com- 
 pletely changing, and the works of men who in their time had many admirers, 
 are, for the moment, entirely unfashionable and despised. I think that this is 
 very unjust to these artists, formerly great, and that they are not treated with the 
 respect due to them, but it has been thus since naturalism was invented. 
 
 Now, there may be good in naturalism (and Iam of those who observe with 
 
 interest all these diverse manifestations, because, on the whole, movement is life); 
 nevertheless, I avow, it seems to me we area little too near the earth; and, for 
 example, one can see in an exhibition of two thousand pictures many canvases 
 
 well painted and of a truthful and striking appearance, but in this total you may 
 
 deem yourself fortunate if you run across two or three works which appeal to your 
 heart and your soul. They have abandoned themselves to realism, to common- 
 oylace and indiscriminating realism ; the letter has killed the spirit, and poetry has 
 fled to the heavens. 
 
 Formerly, French artists had undisputed precedence over foreigners, when 
 they executed pictures where research from the plastic side, and the portrayal of 
 
 simply comprehended and clearly, powerfully expressed, constituted the 
 
 basis of the work; now they are devoted to the picturesque, which is more 
 
 convenient and easy. The last Exposition demonstrated that in other countries 
 
 beside our own there are excellent artists in this style. 
 
 From the picturesque we have advanced to the strange, from the strange to 
 the bizarre, from the bizarre to the fantastic ; one would say that a gust of mad- 
 ness was sweeping over our heads ; where are we going to stop? 
 
 But these mannerisms will not long be able to usurp a place in the Ecole, 
 and I am not unduly anxious; for that which distinguishes us, the foundation of 
 
 the French character, is perspicacity and good sense. 
 
 A fics 
 
LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURES. 
 
 EAN Lion GirOmE, 1889, . 3 D é 3 é é = 3 : : TITLE 
 Tue Curistran Marryrs; or, THE Lasr Prayer, 1860 To 1883, : : E 8 
 Gotcorna ; “Ir 1s FinisHep,” 1868, . A ; : ‘i Fe ‘ 5 P F 24 
 
 GEpieus; Bonaparte BeEFoRE THE SPHINX, 1886, . : 2 z 5 P : 36 
 Tre Graprators (ScutprureE—Bronze), 1878, . 4 i , - E . 48 
 
 Tue Muezzin (Ar Nicur), 1882, . : ; : : ‘ : : 6 : 56 
 
 Tue Pyrruic Dancer, 1883, ; 7 2 : 3 A 2 e z ove 
 
 Qua 
 
 ns Quem Devoret, 1889, . é 3 : B e F c ° 5 88 
 Granp Baru ar Broussa, 1885, é j 6 3 & . ‘ : : - 104 
 SPRINGTIME (ARABIA), 1890, . , : : 2 2 5 5 : $ é 116 
 
 Tue Carpet Mercuant, 1887, . : 3 a F é 3 8 : i es 
 
 Tuer TERRACE OF THE SERAGLIO, 1886, . - 3 : ; 5 é : 3 136 
 Tue Roser, 1889, : : : : : é ‘ ; : : z a xe) 
 Tue Enpd oF THE SEANCE, 1887, . : 5 a : 5 ¢ . : 168 
 Love, THE CONQUEROR, 1889, 5 . : 3 : 5 5 ‘ : LS: 
 Tue Marazout, 1889, . Fs 4 " é é E F 6 6 ; : 200 
 BarusuEsa, 1889, : : : : 5 ° : é 3 0 ° » 22 
 Gate or BaB-EL-ZOUEL, 1886, 5 é 5 5 . 5 : : 224 
 Tue Ports Dream, 1886, . 6 ; " : c 5 : é : . 240 
 Tanacra, 1890, : : : : 5 ; a : ‘ : ; : : 264 
 
Eis OF 2HOTO-ETCHINGS. 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 Tue Duet AFTER THE Batt, 5 : : : i 5 E A 5 4 
 Ave Cassar, . 3 2 3 ; F 5 : : : . s . , 16 
 
 Puryne Brerore THE AREOPAGUS, a é ; * : : : 4 a eR: 
 
 Tue Two Aucur 
 
 HE ALMEE, 
 
 Tue PrisoneR ON THE NILE, ‘ 5 a : . 3 5 a a é 68 
 
 CLEOPATRA AND Cz 
 
 Tue D 
 
 PHE SLAVE-MARKET, : < ‘ f . 5 9 i : 5 . 108 
 
 Tue Granp Wuitre Eunucu, 2 : : é ? . é 5 i 120 
 
 For SALE, . 5 : i : 5 5 3 5 5 : : 6 3 ake 
 L’EMINENCE GRISE, : : : : : : 4 3 5 : 5 : 144 
 EX TIBICEN, B Z . F : 3 : : 4 : A : : a SG 
 
 A COLLABORATION, . : 3 é P 5 3 : 3 . 3 P 172 
 
 PoLLICE VERSO, . , : A ‘ 4 3 c ’ f : : ‘ 5 Beste) 
 Tue ReTuRN FROM THE CHASE, ef ‘ : A : i 5 5 > . 192 
 
 [HE ARAB AND HIS STEE 
 
 ANACREON (SCULPTURE), . j G 3 5 5 3 5 e : é : 216 
 
 Tue Circus Maximus, 
 
 Louis XIV. anp tHE Great Conpk, 
 
 236 
 
 Necro Kerper or Hounps, 3 2 : : 5 : A g 2 - 244 
 
 Tue Harem IN THE Kiosk, . : ; 5 : : 3 é é 3 5 252 
 
 Tue SERPENT-CHARMER, x a i F : : : 5 e : : . 260 
 
 Tue Tur Fo.ty, A : 5: 4 : 5 ; 5 : = 268 
 
 fue Two Kuves, : : : : 3 é E : 5 2 5 é eee 
 
 IN ADDITION, ARE Firry SKETCHES DRAWN BY GEROME ESPEC- 
 
 IALLY FOR THIS WORK, INTERSPERSED THROUGHOUT THE TEXT. 
 
LIFE AND WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 JEAN LEON GEROME 
 
 Whoever would fully understand the work of Géréme, unequaled, since the 
 days of Leonardo da Vinci, in its marvelous comprehensiveness, must know him 
 not only as painter, sculptor, poet, savant, and teacher—but as a man. When 
 that king of critics, Théophile Gautier, announced the début of the youth of 
 twenty-three in the memorable words, ‘‘ Let us mark with white this happy 
 year, for a painter is born to us! He is called Géréme. To-day I tell you his 
 name, and I predict that to-morrow he will be celebrated !”—even he, with his 
 acute perception and prophetic eye, could not have foreseen and measured the 
 
 heights to be attained by the boyish “chief of the néo-grecs,’’ or that, forty years 
 
 later, almost overburdened with decorations, titles, and laurels, lavished upon 
 him by all civilized nations, he would be acclaimed the most eminent represent- 
 ative of high art of this nineteenth century. 
 
 Nor does Gérome’s experience confirm the ancient adage, too often true, that 
 ‘‘a prophet is not without honor save in his own country.” For he has received 
 from the French nation the highest tributes at her command, by the hands of 
 king, emperor, and president of the Republic, successively interpreting the will 
 of an appreciative and grateful people. Men illustrious in poetry, science, and 
 belles-lettres proudly claim him as comrade and con/rére, he counts only friendly 
 rivals among his brother artists, and the most captious of professional critics are 
 
 hushed to an admiring silence before the symmetrical beauty and power of his 
 
 achievements, while for thirty years an ever-increasing throng of ardent stu- 
 dents, from all climes and countries,—notably our own,—have pressed around 
 him, eager to follow in the path which he has trod and in which he still leads 
 
 them, steadily striving after more perfect realization and expression of truth and 
 
 eauty. 
 
 A thorough study of the life and works of this art 
 
 who justly bears the 
 title of Master, in its fullest sense, leaves one penetrated with wonder, admiration, 
 
 and loving reverence. At an age when another would think of little save well- 
 
is) 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 earned repose and tranquil enjoyment of a world-wide fame, behold this veteran 
 of sixty-seven, with surpassing vigor and delicacy of conception and execution, 
 still giving to the world masterpieces, in both painting and sculpture, any one of 
 which would confer immortality on its creator. The most esteemed authorities 
 who can legitimately claim to form and direct public opinion have again and 
 
 éme’s art. 
 
 again borne witness to the remarkable breadth and dignity of Gé 
 From them we shall gain a fuller appreciation of his attainments, a deeper insight 
 into his aims. The Master's own words, too,—while betraying the unaffected 
 modesty characteristic of truly great natures,—will reveal to us a nobility of 
 conception, an energy of achievement, a loftiness of aspiration, and a passion for 
 the truth, as genuine as they are rare. Add to these transcendent qualities the 
 
 profundity of a scientist, the imagination of a poet, a perception trained by years 
 
 of travel and research, and a skill that triumphs over all difficulties of technique 
 fuse and blend the whole by the white heat of that gift of the gods, the un- 
 quenchable fire of genius, and we have Gérome, the artist, fitly described by an 
 eminent writer in the London 4A¢henwum as ‘‘the august leader of the French 
 school, in whose hands, more than in those of any one else, rest the noblest 
 traditions of a great and learned school.” 
 
 Before entering upon a careful consideration of Gérome’s vast achievements 
 in all their captivating detail, it is desirable to take a rapid survey of his work as 
 a whole, especially comparing the opinions of the most illustrious critics among 
 his own countrymen, whose broad and scholarly training inclines them to be 
 
 exacting to the verge of severity, and whose judgment is therefore of inestimable 
 
 value and weight to those who desire to study these fascinating creations in their 
 many-sided but harmonious entirety. 
 
 His productions naturally group themselves into several distinct classes, 
 which draw their inspiration from the Antigue, the Orient, Modern History, and 
 the realm of Fantasy—the latter finding its themes anywhere in the wide region 
 that lies between ancient mythology and our ultra civilization. 
 
 Among the pictures in the first group which display the highest artistic 
 qualities, combined with the science of the savant and the historian, we may 
 number the Combat de Cogs, Anacréon, A Greek Interior, Bacchus and Love, Age 
 of Augustus, Ave Cesar, Imperator / King Candaules, two presentations of the 
 Death of Cesar, Phryné before the Aréopagus, The Two Augurs, Socrates seeking 
 Alcibiades at the house of Aspasia, The Comedians, Cléopatra and Cesar, Pollice 
 Verso, The Circus Maximus, and The Last Prayer, otherwise known as 7he 
 Christian Martyrs. 
 
 We may not dwell here on the varied beauties of these masterpieces, in which 
 
 we find poetic ideality and historical accuracy, classic simplicity and wealth of 
 
 decoration, dramatic intensity and reli: resignation, humor, pathos, satire, 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 8 
 
 philosophy, action, repose, the joy of life, the majesty of death! And all 
 crystallized in a beauty of form that can only be modeled by the hand of the 
 greatest master of draughtsmanship in the world. 
 
 It seems almost inconceivable, yet there have been critics of limited per- 
 ceptions and faulty education who have ventured to reproach Gérome for the 
 archeological erudition displayed in many of his pictures! I fancy that most 
 of us will agree with Gautier, who pronounces it ‘‘one of the most interesting 
 
 provinces of painting, while always remaining within the conditions of art, 
 
 to resurrect a vanished civilization and evoke the image of things forever gone 
 from sight.” 
 
 It is to be regretted that there exists no reproduction of one of the most 
 
 important examples of Géréme’s power in this direction, namely: The Age of 
 Augustus, an imposing canvas nearly thirty feet square which adorns the walls 
 of the National Museum at Amiens. The condition of art in France, at the time 
 this picture was painted, has been well described by Alfred de Tanouarn, a 
 
 thoughtful observer and able writer. 
 
 “One is astonished [he sa 
 
 ys], and with just cause, that our faders of 
 
 history have remained so far below the level of our Aisforians. Historical 
 
 painting, 
 
 g, far from reflecting the splendors of written history, becomes more and 
 more obscure. How explain so sad an inconsistency ? 
 
 ‘In the first place, we must lay the blame for sucha state of things on the 
 slight education of the greater number of our artists. Their only care being to 
 become acquainted with the material secrets of their art, they forget to prepare 
 themselves with a stock of ideas. They are mill-stones which have no wheat to 
 grind, and which turn in a vacuum—a very fatiguing exercise for those who 
 
 perform it and for the spectator. Assuredly, to represent an animal, a tree, a 
 
 flower, there is need of correct judgment, a poetic spirit, and a skillful pencil; but 
 
 to attack historic genre, entirely different arms are necessary. Above all, beware 
 of thinking that it will suffice to have vague, incoherent, and badly digested ideas, 
 
 which you have received at the moment of commencing your canvas. He who 
 
 would take his first lesson in fencing an hour before presenting himself for the 
 encounter, would run no trifling risk! It pleases you to execute a scene in 
 Roman history ; will you hastily read some translation of a passage in Titus 
 Livius or Tacitus? You will thus only obtain a work without. character and 
 without depth. You should have lived long years in close intimacy with your 
 personages. One succeeds more e 
 
 C 
 
 sily with the portrait of a man whom one sees 
 
 every day; one can only represent, in their striking reality, the nations and heroes 
 
 with whom one has become familiar through study and reflection. Here science 
 is not the enemy of inspiration, since, on the contrary, inspiration cannot spring 
 forth where there is no science. In a word, if, in order to paint religious pictures, 
 one must ée/ieve—to be a historical painter, one must vow. And so much the 
 more to-day, since the progress of history has rendered us more exacting toward 
 
4 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 painters, and when we are inclined to demand much of them, they are able to 
 give us but little. 
 
 “Tf the artist pos ss sufficient instruction, another obstacle presents itself 
 
 to him. History, it is true, has in our day been treated in a superior manner ; but 
 
 there exists no moral bond, no common thought, among our historians. Each one 
 
 of them interprets events a little after his own fanc The painters of history do 
 
 not work differently. They scarcely follow anything but their individual caprice, 
 and often they stray away, without perceiving it themselves, from historic genre 
 
 and fall into pure fantasy. 
 
 “Finally, romance occupies a no less important place than history in the 
 present literature. It has lately touched upon questions that seem the most 
 foreign to it; it aspires to everything. It has been in turn religious, philosophical, 
 
 and social; lugubrious, fantastic, and humorous; maritime and rural, sentimen- 
 tal and satirical, aristocratic, bourgeois, popular. It has traveled through all 
 epochs of history and to all the corners of the earth. It has penetrated all the 
 mysteries of the heart and all the recesses of society. In a word, the romance 
 has become the favorite distraction of well-to-do people, and the intellectual 
 pasture of the lower classes. Now, it is the painting of genre which, in the 
 domain of art, corresponds to the romance in that of literature. It addresses 
 itself to the same tastes, to the same appetites. The painters of genre have 
 then multiplied among us in proportion to the novelists. They have increased 
 rapidly; they have invaded every domain, excusing themselves for thus lowering 
 the level of art by the necessity of pleasing the crowd. This excuse is not 
 valid, save for feebly endowed minds. 
 
 ““The artist who has the consciousness of his strength does not consult, with 
 servile anxiety, the inclinations of the multitude; he interrogates himself. He 
 should not /od/ow the public, but Zead it. It is for him to command, not to obey. 
 
 ““Gérome merits then, more than any one, serious consideration and thought- 
 ful attention, since he has endeavored to fertilize a field become sterile by dint 
 »f having been cultivated. 
 
 “Devout worshiper of Ja grande feinture, he is worthy to enter into the 
 temple and to serve the divinity. It is then with pleasure that we devote to him 
 
 this study, in which our aim is to consider him, above all, as a painter of history, 
 although he has shown his powers in almost every genre. 
 
 “The young artist acquired at Rome that taste for Latin antiquity which he 
 has alw 
 
 s preserved, since the most important pictures executed by him up to 
 
 the present moment (1860) are borrowed from the Romans. Far be it from me 
 to complain of this; I am not of those who say : 
 
 Who will deliver us from the Greeks and the Romans?’ In the first place, 
 
 the imagination will never free itself from the remembrance of these two nations 
 whose destinies have been so glorious. Besides, they offer to the painter. 
 
 , as 
 
 guides and supports, literary geniuses of the first order; and it is no despicable 
 
 advantage to be able to draw one’s inspirations and images from writers such as 
 Herodotus or Thucydides, Titus Livius or Tacitus. One must not however adopt 
 one nation to the exclusion of all others. The artist is a traveler, who should 
 
‘TIVE AHL WALAV 
 
 Tand aHL 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 7 
 
 roam through history as through a vast domain, and not choose any country 
 where he will elect to remain forever; he should go everywhere and live nowhere. 
 A journey through Egypt is the complement of every voyage having for its aim 
 a profound knowledge of antiquity. It is in Egypt that the civilization of the 
 pagan world commenced; but it vegetated there, slowly and silently ; it only 
 manifested itself in its expansive energy among the Greeks and the Romans; 
 Greece explains itself by Egypt, and Rome by Greece.” 
 
 This able dissertation was evoked by the exhibition, at the Salon of 1 
 of the Age of Augustus, in which the artist has grouped around the throne of the 
 deified emperor types of all nations and epochs, displaying in striking measure 
 
 the knowledge and skill which drew from the distinguished Charles Blanc, one 
 
 of the immortals of the French Academy, and former director of the Beaux- 
 Arts, the opinion that ‘‘Géréme, among other merits, has not his equal in the 
 
 art of particularizing races, and of transforming into powerful types the most 
 
 profoundly individual physiognomies.” He further characterizes this canvas as 
 
 “‘a vast and noble work.” 
 
 In the introduction to the ‘‘ History of the Works of Théophile Gautier,”—a 
 valuable and eloquent treatise by the Vicomte de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul,—we find 
 
 well-merited tribute : 
 
 the following 
 
 8 
 
 Let us acknowledge, without fear of exag- 
 
 geration, Théophile Gautier is, in our estimation, the most perfect French stylist 
 
 of his age and perhaps of all time. No one has known better than he how to s 
 
 precisely what he wished to say, and his pen reproduces the most intangible 
 
 nuance, the most fugitive impression, with an absolute perfection.” 
 
 In the absence, then, of any pictorial reproduction of the 4ge of Augustus, it is 
 doubly a matter for congratulation that Gautier was so impressed by the lofty 
 
 ambition and extraordinary learning shown in this composition, that he devoted 
 
 to it ten pages of an inimitable critique,—itself a picture glowing with color,— 
 
 which we give in full, regretting profoundly, in this case as in all other citations 
 
 in this volume, the loss of the more exquisite shades of phrasing inseparable from 
 every translation, however conscientious and sympathetic. 
 When we remember also that Géréme spent more than two years of arduous 
 
 labor on this canvas, and finished it before he was thirty-one years old, we may 
 
 easily comprehend the astonished admiration of these older minds before the 
 profound acquirements of a comparative youth. 
 It was of the section devoted to the Fine Arts at the Universal Exposition of 
 
 5, that Gautier wrote: 
 
 “Most of the masters at this great Exposition have done nothing save 
 to place again before eyes which had not forgotten them, the most perfect 
 canvases among their glorious works. One would say that, having arrived 
 
C-) 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JE. ROME. 
 
 at the middle of this century in which they were born, they wish, on this supreme 
 occasion, to force the world to recognize their title to nobility and their right to be 
 inscribed in the “wre d'or of painting; but very few of these magnificent pictures 
 
 are contemporary with the present era. M. Géréme, who is young, through 
 
 honorable modesty, has not thought fit to draw upon his recent masterly produc- 
 tions, which we should have seen again with pleasure: the Combat de Cogs, 
 L’Intérieur Grec, Bacchus et 
 TAmour, Le Temple de Pestum, 
 L'ldvlle, etc. Everything that he 
 exhibits appears for the first time. 
 
 He, like many others, might have 
 
 be 2, contented himself with an assured 
 a fA success in remaining within the 
 | A limits of a pure, fine, and graceful 
 
 { talent; but, seized with a nobler 
 
 ambition, he has risked an im- 
 mense composition on a gigantic 
 
 canvas. 
 “His Age of Augustus is a 
 ffort, which we trust will 
 
 valiant e 
 
 find more imitators; such noble 
 
 daring is too rare—youth, nowa- 
 } days, is too prudent; M. Gérome 
 i deserves this praise, that he is 
 
 Ss 
 
 eking, with all his might, 
 beauty, nobility, and style; in 
 fact, all the qualities of serious 
 art, and that he often attains 
 
 them. He has made a genuine 
 
 historical picture, in the lofty 
 
 sense in which this word was 
 formerly understood, and he merits the chief place in the new generation. 
 A page of Bossuet has inspired the artist with the idea of his composition. 
 We shall quote it, at the risk of giving to our prose the doubtful luster which 
 the neighborhood of pure gold imparts to copper: 
 
 “*The remnant of the republic perishes with Brutus and Cassius ; Antony and 
 Cesar, after having ruined Lepidus, turn one upon the other; the entire Roman 
 power is found upon the sea; Caesar gains the battle of Actium; the forces of 
 Egypt and the Orient, led by Antony, are scattered ; all his friends abandon him, 
 
 even his Cleopatra, for whom he sacrificed himself... . . Everything gives way 
 before the fortune of Cassar; Alexandria opens to him her gates, Egypt becomes 
 a Roman province; Cleopatra, who despairs of being able to retain it, kills 
 herself, after Antony ; Rome holds out her arms to Cesar, who, bearing the name 
 of Augustus and title of Emperor, reigns sole master of the entire empire; he 
 conquers, in the neighborhood of the Pyrenees, the Cantabrians and the rebellious 
 
THE CHRISTIAN WEAERTY Rs 
 OR 
 AMELID) JOVNSID Tei VARNA IRIN 
 
 1860 TO 1883 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 9 
 
 Asturians; Ethiopia sues for peace; the Parthians, terrified, send back to him 
 
 the standards taken from Crassus, together with all the Roman prisoners ; India 
 
 seeks his alliance; the power of his arms is felt by the Rheetians, whom their 
 mountains could not defend. Pannonia recognizes him, Germany fears him, and 
 the Weser submits to his laws. Victorious on land and sea, he closes the Temple 
 of Janus. The whole universe lives in peace under his rule, and Jesus Christ is 
 born into the world.’ 
 
 “The canvas of Géréme is not unworthy this sublime page and can serve 
 as an illustration for it. We shall try to describe, as well as words will permit, 
 the appearance of this vast composition, which embraces an entire century and 
 a whole world in a synthetic form. Against a sky of placid azure, untroubled by 
 a single cloud, is outlined the Temple of Janus, with its pediment surmounted 
 by the gwadriga—closed for the third time since the foundation of Rome; in the 
 background can be seen, in the haze of the distance, the ramparts and towers of 
 the Eternal City. The soft and luminous serenity of an apotheosis floods the 
 upper portion of the canvas, giving an idea of peace, repose, and happiness 
 
 Before the Temple, Augustus, deified, is seated upon a throne of gold, supported 
 by a pedestal of granite, on which this inscription is engraved in lapidary style 
 and lettering: ‘Cwsar Augustus, tmperator, victor Cantabrorum, Asturum, Par- 
 thorum, Rhetorum et Indorum, Germanie, Pannoniegue domitor, pacificator 
 orbis, pater patric.” 
 
 “Cesar Augustus has the nude torse of the great gods of Olympus ; a white 
 drapery covers his thighs and knees; the victors crown encircles his brow ; 
 a scepter is in his left hand, while with the right he leans on the shoulder of a 
 figure of Rome, personified by a beautiful helmeted woman, clad in a short red 
 chlamys, a shield on her arm, and holding reversed the point of a useless lance 
 twined with laurels, a symbol of peace acquired by victory. 
 
 ‘Near the emperor one perceives the statuette of Jupiter Capitolinus 
 and the eagle drawing near to the master with an air at once caressing and 
 respectful. 
 
 “The countenance of Augustus—calm, majestic, radiant—is of a noble 
 character; like the immortals who know eve 
 and his lips are closed in an immutable half-smile. A human Jupiter, he needs 
 but to knit his brows to win the world ; his body, whose smooth contours give no 
 
 rything, his eyes regard nothing, 
 
 prominence to the muscles, betrays a virile but thoroughly intellectual power, 
 which has nothing of the sturdiness of the athlete; the defects of nature have 
 disappeared ; the flesh has become marble, and the man, God. In the midst of 
 this immense composition, Augustus, immovable and pale, has the appearance 
 of a statue worshiped by a prostrate universe. The figure of Rome is no less 
 happy. She alone dares to lean against the throne in a pose of familiar and 
 
 superb grace. She is at home in this glory, and the splendors of the apotheos 
 illuminate without dazzling her. She regards Augustus as does a wife her 
 beloved husband; Rome and the emperor, do they not form, indeed, a divine 
 
 couple? Her figure, noble, pure, and firm, attests an eternal youth and justifies 
 the meaning of her mysterious name. 
 
10 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 “At the right angle of the pedestal stands young Tiberius in a white toga 
 and frason mantle. Beneath the juvenile charm of his features profound and 
 
 | sinister thoughts reveal themselves, and one divines a precocious satiety presaging 
 | the monstrous debauches of Capree. 
 “ Behind Tiberius are massed, in attitudes of respect and admiration, the men 
 
 of state, senators and consuls, among whom one recognizes Agrippa, the founder 
 
 vis 
 
 he world, whose premature death inspired the singer of the A®neid with such 
 
 of the Pantheon ; Meecenas, whose ancestors were kings; Marcellus, that hope of 
 | eloquent verses. 
 
 To this group corresponds that of the poets, the Zi#/erateurs, and the artists - 
 1e gentle and melancholy Virgil, pre 
 
 a 
 
 sing to his bosom—as if to indicate that 
 
 beautiful thoughts come from the heart—the chef-d’wuvre which he desired 
 
 n 
 
 10uld be burned after his death ; Horace, so lyrical, so witty, and so wise in his 
 feigned intoxication ; Propertius, Tibullus, Livius, Vitruvius- 
 
 a sculptor with his 
 hisel, an actor with his mask ; everything that makes up a great age, such as the 
 | age of Pericles or Augustus ; the age of Leon X. or of Louis XIV. 
 
 @ 
 
 “On the marble steps of the monumental staircase which leads from the 
 
 square in front of the temple to the second plane of the picture, is stretched out 
 | the body of Julius Ceasar, assassinated; Brutus and Cassius, the Orestes and 
 
 Pylades of this political murder, have already descended several steps, and are 
 | starting for Philippi, where the die is cast which seals the fate of the Republic. 
 Brutus still grasps his poniard, and seems troubled by the tender reproach ‘7 
 } quogue, mi fili/’ Cassius, his hand shading his eyes, seeks to pierce the veil of 
 the future. 
 
 “Cleopatra writhes on the body of Antony, charming even in her agony, and 
 | meriting, by the undulating curves of her beautiful figure, the title of the 
 “Serpent of the Ni 
 
 encircling her pure Greek head causes her to be instantly recognized beside the 
 
 >,’ given to her by Shakespeare. The Egyptian pshent 
 
 | herculean body of her lover. Each enemy forms a step of the throne of 
 
 Augustus. 
 | “At the foot of the staircase throngs a kneeling, prostrate crowd, which kisses 
 | the steps touched by the buskins of the emperor, throws flowers, and waves palms ; 
 from the furthermost ends of the then known world the nations hasten to ma ke 
 act of submission. Here are Indians from the banks of the Ganges, crouched 
 in poses of idols upon an elephant, a heavy massive animal with a ladder on his 
 
 flank by way of a stirrup. Their bronzed skin, their odd weapons, their mon- 
 | strous fetiches, mounted on the ends of long lance-staves, like standards, recall the 
 [| battles of Darius and Alexander. Vanquished by the Macedonians, they are now 
 
 | subdued by the Romans, as later on they will be by the English. 
 
 | ‘Behind the Indians comes a sére, representing the extreme Orient ; by his 
 HT shaved head, and fantastically flowered robe, it is not difficult to tecognize the 
 | ancestor of the Chinese ; he brings, in tribute, a coffer filled with silk tissues. A 
 
 Parthian restores the eagles taken from Crassus—Rome could never have been 
 | defeated! A woman from Central A 
 
 a, in almost savage costume, pushes before 
 
 her two children, infantile Roman citizens; a Greek, with casque, cuiras 
 
 s, and 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. II 
 
 énémides, acclaims the divine Augustus ; a Gaul, clad in the skin of a wild beast,— 
 whose open jaws form a crest above his head,—makes his way joyously toward 
 the throne. 
 
 ‘“We mention only the principal figures, for the crowd is great, and no gaps 
 are visible on the well-filled canvas. 
 
 “On the other side, to counterbalance the elephant and his burden of Indians, 
 advances a file of dromedaries, with Arabs perched up aloft, draped in their white 
 burnous and carrying, as weapons, bows and bucklers; Egyptians, with their 
 sphinx-like countenances ; Numidians, preserved till now from the yoke by the 
 nearness of the desert, but whom the power of Augustus has reached even in the 
 midst of their sandy wastes; an aged sovereign of some fantastic kingdom of 
 Transoxiana, or Chaldea, approaches sullenly, supported, as if on two living 
 crutches, by two demi-nude slaves—the one yellow, the other black. He wears 
 strange weapons : a scepter decorated with plumes, a robe of brocade, a crown with 
 golden points. And with his silvery beard flowing in great waves, and his air of 
 river-god or magian, half-idol, half-monarch, he seems some fabulous apparition 
 from unknown regions. Lictors and soldiers of irresistible muscularity drag 
 along by the hair captives of both sexes—personification of the rebellious prov- 
 
 inces obliged to submit to superior fore 
 “Apart from all this movement stands a personage with a reddish beard, 
 clothed in miserable rags, which make a blot on all this luxury ; he must bea Jew, 
 
 —perhaps the father of Ahasuerus. A purse of leather and an inkhorn hang at 
 
 his side; his only weapon is a walking-stick, and he regards vaguely this proces- 
 
 sion of natives 
 
 who despise him and whom he is to survive ! 
 et us return now to the center of the composition, forced as we are to 
 neglect a thousand ingenious and characteristic details ; but a picture is read at a 
 single glance—the lines are spelled out one by one. 
 
 ‘* Before an altar where the acolytes have just sacrificed a bull, over the gray 
 embers and charred bones of the holocaust and the withered leaves of crowns and 
 garlands, shines a luminous group, sheltered by the wings of an angel. The little 
 
 child has just been born ; he wails while Czesar triumphs, his only courtiers the 
 
 ox and the ass! 
 
 “he confused presentiments of Virgil are accomplished. As he has said in 
 
 his prophetic verses, a new order of ages is beginning : 
 
 “Ultima Cumei venit jam carminis ztas ; 
 Magnus ab integro szclorum nascitur ordo; 
 Jam redit, et Vir: 
 Jam nova progenies ccelo dimittitur alto. 
 
 70, redeunt Saturnia regna ; 
 
 “Tn order to emphasize more forcibly the contrast between the pagan and the 
 Christian world, between the world of matter and that of mind, the painter has 
 borrowed from the Gothic art his naive grace, his modestly restrained poses, his 
 infantine timidity, for his figures of the Holy Virgin, of St. Joseph, and the child 
 Jesus. He has introduced into his grand antique bas-relief an engraving on 
 wood of Albert Diirer. 
 
12 LIF N GEROME. 
 
 AND WORKS OF JEAN LE 
 
 “The upper zone of the painting where the apotheosis is taking place has 
 the serene immovability, the harmonious rhythm, the balance of line of a fronton 
 of white marble, sculptured in the facade of a temple ; the lower zone presents a 
 strange swarm and tumult of people and costumes, in which there is more liberty 
 of caprice. 
 
 “M. Gérome excels in ethnographic paintings, as he has proved by a frieze 
 for the vase commemorative of the Exposition ; no one seizes more perfectly than 
 he the distinctive characteristics of a race, or renders them with a surer touch. 
 Here he had to represent nations, the greater part of which had disappeared 
 without leaving any traces, or lived only on some medals or fragments of sculp- 
 ture ; and when archaical science failed him, he has had recourse to his ingenious 
 
 imagination, and invented savage Rhetians, Parthians, Hindoos, and Germans of 
 the most likely barbarity. This part of the picture assembles the most curious 
 
 details of arms, jewels, costumes, coiffures, and physiognomies; nothing is 
 
 ult of infinite 
 
 commonplace nor made at a venture. Everything is the 1 
 
 thought and research. 
 “In beholding this beautiful canvas, where Augustus, deified and radiant, is 
 
 isolated on a throne of gold at the top of a white staircase, whose first steps are 
 bathed by waves of barbarians,—having near him only a young warrior unarmed, 
 —the idea occurred to us that the god had too great a number of worshipers ; that 
 their hordes were moving forward, massing themselves, and becoming more and 
 ve and sav 
 
 more ageres ge, and that soon they would submerge this luminous 
 platform where, in the golden and blue atmosphere, smile Peace, Poetry, and Art. 
 
 “We do not know 
 
 gs 
 
 f M. Géréme had this idea, but it springs up naturally at 
 
 the sight of these tranquil groups, beneath which foams and surges the rising tide 
 of barbarity, checked only for a moment. Rome wil always be ‘the city,’ par 
 excellence, but St. Peter will replace Czesar, and the Roman Empire will disappear. 
 
 “The composition of the 4ge of Augustus is of high philosophical import ; 
 
 it satisfies the mind and arranges itself happily upon the canvas; the drawing 
 of the nude figures and the draperies displays style, knowledge, and strength ; 
 unfortunately the color is a little thin for so large a canvas, which needs to 
 
 be more empatée—better nourished, so to speak. The artist has wished to 
 remain sober and pure; and in an atelier, doubtless too small, he has probably 
 not sufficiently taken into consideration the demands of perspective in a 
 
 picture of these dimensions.” 
 
 After a minute and critical survey of this memorable Salon, Gautier again 
 returns to Gérome’s noble work and, with increased admiration, declares it to be 
 no ‘‘mediocre glory for a young artist thus to achieve a place among the acknow- 
 ledged masters, who are supported by a past filled by renowned creations”; and 
 
 adds, “‘The Age of Augustus will rank as one of the great canvases of the 
 
 Exposition.” 
 This superb eulogy from such a source deepens our regret that this master- 
 
 piece has never been photographed or otherwise reproduced for the benefit of art 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF /. 
 
 N LEON GEROME, te) 
 
 collections and students. In this, as in all Gérome’s pictures representing not 
 
 only absolute historical facts but the social conditions and customs of bygone 
 
 ages, as well as in the great mass of those taken from Oriental life, this artist 
 
 reveals his extraordinary pre-eminence as a fi 
 
 recognized the fact that an abso 
 
 rure painter. At an early age he 
 
 ute mastery of the contour and anatomy of the 
 
 human body is essential to the expression of the noblest forms of art. Working 
 
 in the atelier of Delaroche, where Greek 
 
 antiquity received the most profound 
 
 consideration, and almost exc 
 
 absorbed the attention of the students, 
 
 the young artist, with eye and mi 
 
 8 
 
 usively 
 
 nd ever 
 
 on the alert to discover and sup 
 
 his weak points, realized that 
 
 was the great fountain-head of 
 
 and beauty, and applied himse 
 
 rigorous conscientiousness to the more 
 
 difficult study of living models. 
 
 covered for himself the truth repeatedly 
 
 and forcibly emphasized by Phi 
 
 bert Hamerton,—one of the most gifted 
 
 and able among English art-critics,— 
 
 namely, that ‘‘the serious study 
 naked figure is the only possible 
 
 tion for great figure painting.” 
 
 plement 
 Nature 
 
 truth 
 f with 
 
 He dis- 
 
 ip Gil- 
 
 y of the 
 
 founda- 
 
 Indeed, one need only examine the 
 
 various schools of art, from those of Ancient Greece to the leading modern 
 
 academies, to find everywhere this fundamental law recognized and taught. 
 
 The greatest of German critics, t 
 
 he immortal Goethe, appreciated and continually 
 
 enforced it. His opinions on this point are admirably summed up in a striking 
 
 review of his ‘‘ Verschiedenes ii 
 
 Théophile Gautier, 2s. 
 
 “The esthetics of Goethe [ 
 regard to the plastic and glyptic 
 Stripped of all artifice of style, 
 
 he writes], the princip 
 arts, are condensed in 
 
 recognize that they are written 
 Olympus of German art; and it 
 
 imposed on all branches of art which has gained for hit 
 it is also, and above all, the ature of his principles and 
 “Goethe is essentially pagan ; 
 
 his literary works but in these 
 
 by this intellectual Ju 
 
 ber Kunst,” from the pen of the accomplished 
 
 es which he professed in 
 this species of appendix. 
 
 laid down as laws rather than counsels, we 
 
 piter enthroned upon the 
 
 is not only his omnipotence, the despotism he 
 
 detached and, so to s 
 
 he everywhere glorifies antiquity. 
 
 m this title of Olympian ; 
 his artistic tastes. 
 not only in 
 
 peak, scientific fragments 
 
14 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 which we are now considering ; we find here a mass of notes on Greek vases, 
 medals, and engraved stones; he follows up attentively all productions, all 
 creations, all memoirs having reference to antiquity. When the excavations were 
 begun on a large scale at Pompeii, he described in detail the paintings and objects 
 discovered there ; he was conversant with everything that was published, in @// 
 languages, on the subject of his predilection ; it was he who authenticated the 
 
 paintings of Polygnotus and Philostratus. It appears that this love of antiquity, 
 of pure art, was innate with Goethe, and radiated from his entire person- 
 ality. .... He placed art above everything ; he wished that it should be a star, 
 
 eo 
 
 to shed its light over all our actions, all our productions, like the beautiful Attic 
 sun gilding with its rays the inimitable marbles of the Acropolis, the lines and 
 contours of which it has not wearied of caressing for centuries. By the high 
 
 position he occupied at the court of Weimar, which the Grand Duke Charles 
 Augustus had made the intellectual capital of Germany, Goethe was in a position 
 to efficaciously patronize the arts and to lead them in the direction he desired. 
 While giving his counsels to artists, and principally to sculptors, to whom 
 antique art furnished more themes than to painters, he indicated at the same 
 time to sovereigns, and personages influential by their position or their fortune, 
 the means of favoring the development of art and the subjects which should be 
 
 chosen, as much in the interest of the art as for the advantage of those who 
 
 patronized them, and for the promotion of public taste. He would have liked to 
 
 see, for example, the vases, columns, temples, and obelisks, in promenades and 
 parks, replaced by statues and, principally, busts. ‘The most beautiful mon- 
 ument of man,’ says he, ‘is man. A beautiful bust is preferable to all the 
 
 architecture of our gardens, and it is the best monument one can raise in 
 remembrance of a great man, a relative, or a friend. One should not too 
 exclusively occupy sculptors with insipid allegories, or historic groups and 
 statues, where art is always restrained by exigencies of every nature. No one 
 should be astonished to see in some council-chamber, or any other official locality, 
 a group representing Venus and Adonis, or some subject drawn from Homer.’ 
 
 “But if Goethe is so passionate an admirer of antiquity, it must not be 
 concluded, therefore, that he admits only antigue subjects ; his lofty intelligence 
 would grasp too well the faultiness of this method, which has produced among us 
 the deplorable school of David; and this last example, perhaps, inspired him to 
 avoid the breakers on which too exclusive a doctrine would have dashed him. He 
 counsels one to simply study Nature. 
 
 ““On /éte days [he says] let the young artist go to watch the peasants 
 dance ; let him study well their movements and their poses; let him clothe the 
 young girl with the tunic of a nymph; let him lengthen the ears of his peasant and, 
 if needful, give him cloven feet; if he has grasped Nature well, and known how 
 to suitably modify her corporeal forms, while carefully preserving the movement, 
 no one will suspect the quarter whence he has taken his models and they will 
 
 swear that he has copied from the antique.’ 
 “Have we not here the entire explanation of ¢e antigue, and does not the 
 
 ation not 
 
 secret of this inimitable perfection lie in exact and scrupulous obser 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 15 
 of what is ugly, but of the beautiful in Vazwre? Is it not also the province of art 
 to gather together beauties scattered here and there, and combine them in a 
 harmonious whole, an ideal model, whose movements can be infinitely varied, but 
 whose forms should be always reproduced, thus avoiding the indelicate and the 
 grotesque. Harmony is what makes the power of the antique, and Goethe recom- 
 mends it everywhere and unceasingly. 
 
 ““«There exist in Nature [he says] many things which separately are beauti- 
 ful. But geniws consists in finding the point of contact by which they can be 
 attached to each other, and a masterpiece thus be produced. There is not a shrub 
 nor a tree to which one cannot adda value by means of a rock, a pool of water, or 
 a horizon skillfully arranged. It is the same in regard to the human form and all 
 animated beings !’ 
 
 “When Goethe recommends the study of Nature, it is not of szanimaze nature 
 that he speaks; it is not of landscape, on which he dilates but little ; still less 
 of still life, which he does not so much as mention. Nature, for him, is man. 
 Man, according to him, includes everything ; and the knowledge of man, far from 
 being a limited physiology, comprehends the study of all the arts and all the 
 sciences. 
 
 ‘““«Man [he says] is the most elevated, the unique object of the plastic arts ; to 
 inth of his construction, 
 
 understand him, and in order not to go astray in the lab 
 
 a universal acquaintance with organic nature is indispensable. The study of 
 
 inorganic bodies, as well as of physical and chemical phenomena, is not less 
 necessary to the artist, who should know their theoretical principles. The human 
 form cannot be understood by the simple inspection of its outward surface ; the 
 interior must be uncovered and fathomed, the connections and correspondences 
 observed and the differences estimated ; those mysterious portions of the being 
 which are the base and foundation must be compared and understood. All this 
 must be done if we wish to get a clear idea of this wonderful object which moves 
 
 before our eyes in the waves of the vital element.’ ’ 
 
 We find the same ideas in a masterly essay by Charles Blanc, who writes 
 
 as follows: 
 
 “After having admired the universe, man comes to contemplate himself. 
 He recognizes that the human form is the one which corresponds to the 
 mind—that, regulated by proportion and symmetry, free by movement, superior 
 through beauty, the human form, of all living forms, is the only one capable 
 of fully expressing thought.” 
 
 Géréme, as we have said, apprehended this truth at the very beginning of his 
 career. On his return to the atelier, with perceptions broadened and sharpened 
 
 by a year of indefatigable study at Rome, where he had sketched indiscrimi- 
 
 nately landscape, architecture, animals, 
 
 and figures—he felt more keenly than 
 
 ever his pressing need of practice in drawing and painting from the nude. He 
 
 set himself to make a life-size study, and 
 
 the result was the Combat de Cogs. To 
 
16 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 him it was only a study and, in his already severely critical estimation, an 
 
 unsatisfactory one. But the trained eye of Delaroche instantly perceived its 
 
 nality, and elegance of style, by which an every- 
 
 amazing qualities of verity, ori 
 day incident in that epoch of Greek life was elevated into the domain of classic 
 
 art. At his express command, and despite the trembling protest of the young 
 
 alon of 1847. It was accepted and, though 
 
 neophyte, the canvas was sent to the 
 
 placed twenty meters above the line, where hung Couture’s imposing Decadence 
 
 of the Romans, and Delacroix’s famous Shipwreck, the simple s¢udy carried off a 
 medal, was bought by the French Government, and assigned a place among the 
 Immortals in the Gallery of the Luxembourg. It was this first picture which 
 attracted the attention of Gautier, who warmly praised its ‘‘ delicacy and exquisite 
 distinction,” and pronounced it ‘‘a composition no Master would disown.” 
 
 Our attention has several times been drawn to another criticism of this same 
 
 picture. It reads as follows: 
 
 “The subject was thus early in his history characteristic of Gérome, who 
 
 has shown a decided preference for incidents in themselves horrible or morally 
 
 repulsive.” 
 
 This extraordinary accusation,—the shocking injustice of which is evident 
 to any student of Géréme’s works,—is found in a volume entitled ‘‘ Modern 
 Painters and their Paintings,” by Sarah Tytler. We should accord it only the 
 silent contempt it merits, were it not that the book is designed, as we see empha- 
 sized in the preface, ‘‘for the use of schools and learners in art. To say the 
 least, it is discouraging to take up, in this enlightened age, a treatise with this 
 aim, and realize that so marked a narrowness of apprehension exists in a mind 
 that presumes to guide and teach others. We prefer to believe it the result of 
 ignorance of the subject treated, rather than rank it with a like judgment of that 
 inimitable philosopher and moralist, Balzac, who, even after posterity had begun 
 to estimate, at their real value, his stupendous merits, still found detractors to 
 cast upon him what Gautier trenchantly denominates as “that hackneyed 
 reproach of immorality, last insult of powerless and jealous mediocrity, as also 
 of pure stupidity.” 
 
 Hamerton also, keenly realizing the hurtful influence of illiberal criticism, 
 deplores the ignorance, which in reality is the chief cause of the “difficulty with 
 
 which people, not familiar with the naked figure, come to sever the ideas of 
 
 nudity and immorality”; and adds: “If writers who are destitute of pictorial 
 perceptions, yet have a command of language, become for some reason warmly 
 
 interested in a discussion about artists, they are able to do considerable harm, 
 
 because they combine the ignorance and willfulness of infancy with the com- 
 
 bative skill of trained intellectual method.” 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 19 
 
 We heartily agree with Mr. Hamerton, and are content to offset the opinions 
 of this class of self-styled critics, as superficial and incompetent as they are detri- 
 mental to the progress of true art, by the judgment of so learned and world 
 
 renowned an authority as Alexandre Dumas, who writes of Gérome : 
 
 ‘A serious talent, and of an elevated order; an artist who looks at his art 
 nobly and who devotes to it his existence 
 breathes fr 
 
 sighed, ‘ Alz 
 
 every instant, every thought; one 
 
 Zy again before such works as his; above all, when, like us, one has 
 
 ;! the standard of art is being lowered |’ 
 Or to quote the words of that other distinguished immortal, the eloquent and 
 gifted director of the Comédie Francaise, Jules Claretie : 
 
 ““Géréme can, with good right, treat these antique subjects and vivify them 
 with his art, so sober, so chaste, so pure.” 
 And again : 
 
 ‘His art is like his person, like his intelligence ; everything which bears his 
 signature, be it bronze or canvas, sketch or marble, is true, vigorous and dis- 
 tinguished, like himself. In a word, Gérome is a thoroughbred.” 
 
 And it is with peculiar satisfaction that we hail the advent of an American 
 
 writer like Mrs. C. H. Stranahan, who, in her ‘History of French Painting” 
 
 (published by Scribner in 1888), has made the most valuable contribution in the 
 English language to the art literature of our day. “It is a volume that might 
 well be used asa text-book in all art academies, and that certainly should have a 
 prominent place in every public and private library. Although one may differ 
 with some of the author’s conclusions, the work reveals broad and thoughtful 
 study, combined with a fine capacity for criticism, and a literary style remarkable 
 for grace, lucidity, and vigor. We take pleasure in quoting freely from Mrs. 
 Stranahan’s admirable book. 
 
 In opening her study of Géréme, she says : 
 
 “The artistic qualities of Gérome have been the subject of much discussion. 
 His rare endowments are a study of great interest. He is an Orientalist of so 
 intime a treatment that that alone would suffice to render him eminent; he has 
 executed great historic works, that singly might make his fame universal ; he is 
 so learned a painter of the antique, that a close study of this department of his 
 work produces a sense of amazed wonder in view of the underlying knowledge 
 necessary to afford his significant touch of motifs, by which he introduces us into 
 family circles and enables us to chat of everyday affairs with the heroes of 
 
 one and another period; he has applied to incident the classic treatment, and 
 originated a new style, the refined and graceful éo-grec ; he has, even at the time 
 when he was one of the closest of Nature’s students, made harmony of line so 
 
AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 prominent a part of his work, that in the difficulty of assigning him to any one 
 
 cl 
 
 s of painting, it has been suggested by Strahan that he be termed ‘a sculptor 
 of canvas’; he has attacked and conquered some of the most difficult problems of 
 art execution—such as uniting the most finished treatment with great rapidity 
 of movement (as in The Runners of the Pasha, ‘the catching of a motion” as 
 it were, by instantaneous photography); the greatest success of fore-shortening 
 5 ecution of Marshal 
 
 (as in the flat level of Czesar’s dead body and that in the 
 Ney), and difficulties of design are flung broadcast in his works.” 
 
 Referring to some of the scenes in which Géréme simply relates, without 
 comment, a historical fact, such as the exposing of the heads of the rebel beys 
 
 before the Mosque of El Assaneyn, or where he depicts an everyday scene in 
 
 the slave-market, leaving it to tell its own pathetic tale, Mrs. Stranahan speaks 
 of the truthful por- 
 trayal of the ‘‘ indif- 
 ference of familiar 
 
 custom,” adding : 
 
 1 “Many critics 
 | feel that some ex- 
 
 oression of the re- 
 volting impression 
 made by these 
 aeads, would, but 
 
 for the coldness of 
 
 eae ‘ : ae the artist himself, 
 have crept into this 
 
 victure. But besides 
 
 yeing subordinately 
 a correct representation of the national characteristics, is not the effect sought, 
 the emotion of horror, which also has its reverse side, sympathy, greatly 
 enhanced by the picture's supplying no comment on itself, which would, 
 indeed, be wholly superfluous! This reticent flash of an instant of facts, left 
 to tell all there is to say, is peculiarly Gérome’s. This and Zhe Slave Mart, 
 with others of this artist's works that are severely criticised by sensitive 
 judges as of a harsh coldness, become, in their full suggestion, of a nature to 
 produce deep feeling, a thrilling sensation of anger or pity for the wrong 
 depicted. This power is inherent in the wide gamut across which the antitheses 
 represented in them sweep—in the contrast to the absence of all feeling, of 
 such extreme provocatives to feeling. The effect, where, as with Gérome, 
 
 the scene is given with no strain of fact, but by simply the revelations of 
 an instant, is thrilling. It is the significant point of these subjects, the one on 
 which, we may conjecture, their selection hinged, and evinces a keen appreciation 
 by the artist of the means of exciting emotion. It is also illustrated most 
 powerfully in that selected moment of the Duel after the Masquerade, when 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 21 
 
 Death, grim and relentless, not as a mask easily thrown off, comes among the 
 masqueraders at their invitation, and the victor, in the character of a chief of the 
 Iroquois, and his second, forgetting that he is Harlequin, turn indifferently away, 
 leaving the pallid victim, with his mask of Pierrot dashed aside, to die in the 
 arms of his second, dressed as the Duke of Guise. The horror here is again 
 doubled by the antithesis. Through and through it, in all the contours, in the 
 attitudes, even in the back of the receding victor, is apparent the significance, 
 which Géréme’s patient study of nature can so well express. In all his works 
 may be traced this clear, direct, epigrammatic presentation. Truly his pictures 
 
 are but ‘reports’ of scenes, acts, incidents; but in his hands they completely 
 escape becoming a purely literary art. He simplifies them into the presentation 
 of the essential and significant verities, and unconcernedly leaves them to impress 
 as they may. But well may he be confident of the effect, for with his penetrating 
 
 feeling, which is a something too susceptibly perceptive to be denominated mere 
 
 ocular vision, and his wide sweep of the gamut of significant expression, he 
 
 always touches the exact keys. 
 
 Returning again to ‘‘la belle France,” we find in Za Galerie Contemporaine 
 
 a masterly review from the pen of Emile Bergerat, known to all the world as 
 
 “Caliban,” the witty philosopher of the Paris Figaro, and still more highly 
 esteemed as poet, dramatist, and art critic, worthily wearing in the latter capacity 
 the mantle bequeathed to him by his intimate friend and kinsman, ‘‘le grand 
 Théo,” as Gautier was familiarly called. 
 
 After brief reference to the wealth of knowledge and imagination displayed in 
 
 the pictures which he places under the head of ‘‘ Fantaisies,” Bergerat continues : 
 
 “Scenes from Oriental life form the most considerable portion of Géréme’s 
 
 works ; the numerous voyages of the artist furnish him with an inexhaustible 
 quantity of picturesque themes, which find their fountain-head in his great powers 
 of observation. But the paintings devoted to the restoration of the antique 
 are those which, taken all in all, are dearest to the master; it is through them 
 he awaits his meed of fame, to them that he has confided the survival of his 
 name. His expectation will not be deceived on this point. Under this head can 
 be found canvases that exhale beauty like a page of Tacitus or Juvenal. 
 
 “J wish in the beginning to emphasize this truth: that which gives Gérome 
 
 his superiority over most of his rivals, and establishes his very distinct personality, 
 is his incontestable erudition as a man and an artist. He has innate tact and 
 taste; but he nourishes them with fruit from the tree of science. It may appear 
 stale and behind the times thus to boast of qualities of a literary order in a painter, 
 and to praise him for being well informed regarding the subjects he treats; but 
 ever since I began to look at and study pictures, it has not yet been demonstrated 
 to me that a profound knowledge of the subjects portrayed is hurtful to their 
 execution. Truth merits research among the graphic documents and literary 
 
 monuments of history as well as among living and contemporaneous models, and 
 
NV LEON GEROME. 
 
 bo 
 n 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JE 
 
 the farther we advance in the path of progress, the more will art be tinged by 
 science, and the more will it adorn itself with the colors of knowledge.” 
 
 We leave for a moment these paintings, which revive so skillfully the con- 
 ditions of life in the time of Pericles and the Cesars, and turn to those which 
 
 are drawn from actual observation during Gérome’s many voyages—especially 
 
 in Egypt, Arabia, Palestine, Turkey, Russia, Italy, Algeria, Morocco, and Spain. 
 When we find that by actual count we have nearly two hundred canvases which 
 may be denominated ‘‘ Pictures of Travel,” we come face to face with the impos- 
 sibility of giving any adequate részmé of the artist’s bewildering achievements in 
 this direction. His numerous and well-filled portfolios of sketches—which till 
 now have been for the most part ‘‘sealed books,” save to a few intimate friends— 
 reveal the source of these truthful and vivid reproductions of life in these pictur- 
 
 esque and fascinating countries. We congratulate ourselves again that a morning 
 
 spent by Gautier in Géréme’s studio, over these very portfolios, inspired this 
 
 gifted writer to embody his impressions in a delightful article, entitled, ‘‘Géréme ; 
 Pictures, Studies, and Sketches of Travel,” from which we quote the following 
 pages, that will in a measure reveal to us the broad and solid foundation on which 
 
 this Master-Artist has reared his Temple Beautiful. 
 
 “The countries where Islam reigns are entirely virgin, in point of view of 
 art. The fear of idolatry caused the promulgator of the Koran to proscribe the 
 ect, Mahomet imitated Mose: 
 
 representation of the human figure. In this r 
 although the Bible speaks of the heads of the cherubim at the corners of the Ark 
 of the Lord, and of the oxen upholding the sea of brass, the exception only con- 
 the idea of the unity of God could easily have been forgotten by 
 
 firms the rule ; 
 uncivilized nations, scarcely freed from polytheism and the worship of fetiches, 
 ry 
 
 always prone to confound the image with the idea it symbolized; this nece 
 
 law perhaps suppressed sculpture and painting,—in a word, all the plastic arts,— 
 and the genius of the Orient was obliged to fall back on architecture, ornamenta- 
 
 x 
 tion, arabesques, and an ingenious mé/ange of colors; the living world was closed 
 to man, and dogma—a dogma moreover, rigorously followed—deprived him of 
 Nature. While the Occident, under the beneficent influence of Catholicism,—(we 
 say Catholicism and not Christianity, for Luther and Calvin are as detrimental to 
 artas Mahomet),—was expanding in marvelous creations, and counting its painters 
 and sculptors by hundreds, the Orient was combining and arranging mathematical 
 lines, in a thousand ways, for the decoration of its alhambras, scarcely daring to 
 introduce flowers into the labyrinth of broken lines and long legends of cufic 
 letters which form the background of Arabic ornamentation. They had archi- 
 tects, algebraists, physicians, musicians, and poets, but no aréis/s, in the sense in 
 which we use this word to-day. 
 
 “ However, the Orient produces, in its land beloved of the sun, the most 
 ation, 
 
 beautiful races, the purest types; and the human clay, less altered by civili 
 seems here to retain the still visible imprint of a divine hand. 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 23 
 
 “Tt has preserved, at least partly, the drapery, a noble garment which plays 
 around the form without concealing it; it has the privilege of elegant and severe 
 attitudes, which our scanty clothes render impossible. Since several centuries, all 
 this wealth is lost; and more—under jealous veils, and behind the gratings of 
 harems, are fading away, mysterious beauties, leaving neither trace nor souvenir; 
 roses, whose perfume can only be conjectured, since they have blossomed only for 
 the master ; heads as exquisite as any Raphael could have designed ; bodies as 
 perfect as any Phidias could have modeled! Singular anomaly ! 
 
 “One cannot hope that the countries dominated by Islamism will renounce 
 their peculiar civilization to embrace the ideas set forth by our own ; but what is 
 forbidden to the faithful may be permitted to the unbeliever. 
 
 “Until now, art, wholly absorbed by the Greek ideal, has not troubled itself 
 about this immense world, peopled by unknown races, by unused types, and which 
 could refresh, by new subjects, its exhausted inspiration. 
 
 “The Occident, in the time of the crusades, only brought back from Africa 
 and Syria ideas in regard to architecture and ornamentation; if the Saracen 
 influence is visible in the art of the Middle Ages, and if the mosques have lent 
 
 their minarets and even their crosses to Gothic chapels, one does not perceive 
 that the statuary and painting of these epochs have been modified by acquaintance 
 with, and study of, these Oriental types. The representations of Moors and 
 Saracens in bas-reliefs and miniatures are works of pure imagination. Later, 
 Jean Bellin made a journey to Constantinople and reproduced, with the dry 
 and patient fidelity which characterizes him, figures, costumes, and monuments, 
 whose s¢rangeness, doubtless, struck him more forcibly than did their beauty, 
 and which had no effect on art. 
 
 “The Orient, from its picturesque side, was discovered, or rather invented, 
 by Victor Hugo, toward the year 1828; the Occidental-Oriental Divan of Goethe 
 had not yet been translated; and even had it been, the French people would not 
 have understood its mysterious poetry; but the ‘Orientales’ (of Hugo) produced 
 a dazzling effect: this blue heaven trave 
 
 od by white storks, this glittering sun, 
 thes 
 
 streams of gold and precious stones, these pachas leaning on tigers, these 
 
 resplendent sultanas with their shining blond tresses, languidly raising their 
 eyelashes stained with k’hol; these palms powdered by the wind of the desert, 
 
 these cities with their metallic domes and minarets of ivory stretching up into the 
 azure, these files of camels swaying their long ostrich-like necks against a ruddy 
 horizon, all this poetry, as dazzling as the light, as intoxicating as hasheesh, 
 caused a vertigo of admiration—above all, among the painters. Soon Decamps 
 headed the Turkish patrol through the streets of Smyrna, Marilhat started for 
 Egypt, and Eugéne Delacroix came back from Morocco; later, other artists joined 
 the caravan where Félicien David beat the drum. However, we must say that, 
 in spite of many masterpieces, the Orient was rather reproduced with its strange 
 landscape, its singular architectural forms, its brilliant carnival of costumes and 
 its varied wealth of color, than studied as to the sculptural beauty of its 
 types. Marilhat, more of a landscape than a historical painter, has peopled his 
 
 admirable canvases with purely episodic figures ; Decamps has often only seen in 
 
24 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 his Turks, his Zeibecks, and his Arnauts, a brilliant or somber spot to be brought 
 into relief against the chalky masonry of a white wall, although he proved by his 
 Supplice des Crochets, and his Bazar de Smyrne, that he was able to reproduce 
 Oriental types in all their purity. Delacroix expressed, with rare power, the 
 African character, but sought rather for color and movement than for lineament 
 in Nature. Théodore Chasseriau, who seemed endowed with a mysterious in- 
 stinct in painting exotic races, saw only French Africa, and, better than any one 
 else had done, he depicted the narrow, oval face ; the languishing, parted lips; the 
 melancholy black eyes, shadowed by long, painted lashes; the delicate nose with 
 sensitive nostrils, the round arms and dainty hands, the statuesque limbs and 
 feet, the voluptuous attitude, and all the rhythm of the bodies swaying beneath 
 
 strange, floating draperies. 
 
 “His Jewish Women of Constantine astonished one like a dream: he would 
 doubtless have penetrated farther into the land of the sun, if Death had 
 not suddenly covered him with its shadow, for he cherished the longing 
 and desire to see these beautiful countries, as if they had been an absent 
 
 Fatherland. 
 “Gérome has made the pilgrimage dreamed of by Théodore Chasseriau. He 
 has seen Cairo, that capital of the East, that city of caliphs, where Saracen art 
 shone with such vivid brilliancy while the West was still plunged in uncouth 
 barbarity. He has roamed through the winding streets bordered by houses with 
 
 overhanging stories and latticed moucharabys, shaded by striped awnings or rush 
 mats, with here and there a slender palm opening its leafy fan against the blue 
 
 of heaven, or the minaret of some mosque stretching up, encircled by its brace- 
 ets of balconies. He has followed this crowd, composed of all the types of the 
 Orient, from the Arab of noble race and the stern Wahabite, to the negro with 
 his bestial features ; from the Arnaut, with the nose and eye of the eagle, to the 
 
 ylacid fellah, with the face of an Egyptian sphinx ; this crowd which separates 
 under the lash of the cowrbach before the horse of the Bey, accompanied by his 
 
 sais,—and which draws back against the wall so as not to touch the wife of the 
 
 cadi, passing like a phantom in her domino of taffetas, with her face covered by 
 
 a mask of black horse-hair, and chiding the negress who carries a child ina red 
 tarbouch and jacket embroidered with gold. 
 “The young artist, accompanied by several friends, has ascended the Nile in 
 
 one of those cangues, whose commodious and picturesque installation makes the 
 journey through Egypt a veritable pleasure-trip. Photography, carried to-day 
 to the perfection we all know, exempts artists from copying monuments and pub- 
 lic buildings by its absolutely faithful proofs, to which a happy choice of a point 
 of view and moment of reproduction add a great value of effect. Therefore it 
 was not to this point that Gérome directed his efforts; his masterly studies as a 
 
 painter of history, his talent as a draughtsman,—refined, elegant, exact, and yet 
 full of style,—a particular perception, which we can well call ethnographic, and 
 
 which will become more and more necessary to the artist in this age of universal 
 
 and rapid locomotion, when every tribe on this planet will be visited, in whatever 
 distant archipelago it may conceal itself—all this qualified him, better than any 
 
GOLGOTHA 
 
 TTi1S aeeNgeie HD 
 
 1868 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 other, to represent this simple detail which modern explorers of the Orient have 
 neglected, till now, for landscape, public structures, and mere color—I mean, man / 
 
 ““Gérome has kindly permitted us to examine the contents of his portfolios, 
 and to study, one by one, these pencil sketches, taken on the wing; rapid notes 
 gathered from real life, without preparation, without arrangement, without 
 system—with genuine abandon and a charming familiarity. What pleasure to 
 surprise talent thus ex déshabillé/ to be initiated into the impression of the artist 
 moment of Nature’s inspiration; into his thought, translated, or 
 
 Sila Umar 
 
 tather c allized, by several characters 
 
 in shorthand! We love dearly these 
 
 ibblings,— wor which later are 
 
 made into phrases in the pictures 
 finished at leisure. 
 
 “Besides, the slightest of 
 Géréme’s sketches are drawn 
 with a touch so firm, so pure, 
 so precise, and so finished 
 in their carelessness, that 
 one wonders what caz 
 be added by further 
 labor ! 
 
 “The artist trav- 
 eler has made numer- 
 ous pencil portrait- 
 studies of different 
 
 characteristic types ; 
 there are  fellahs, coe 
 Copts, Arabs, negroes ; F ff 
 of mixed blood from a 
 Sennaar and from os 
 
 Kordofan,—so exactly 
 
 observed that they could be used in the anthropological treatises of M. Serres,— 
 drawn in so masterly a manner that they will make a success of any picture 
 in which they find a place. 
 
 “The fellahs and the Copts have not changed since the time of Moses: such 
 as you see them on the frescoes of the palaces or tombs of Amenoteph, of Toutmes, 
 and of Sesourtasen—such are they to-day. We find always the large, flat face, 
 with the rounded cheek-bones, which seems to have retained, like the Sphinx, the 
 mark of the blow of Cambyses ; the strange eyes, with the outer angle raised and 
 accented by a touch of antimony; the s 
 profile; a mouth like an enormous cage, while on the sensual folds of the 
 
 ightly flat nose, making a defective 
 
 lips rests a mingled grimace and smile, which imparts an indefinable expression 
 
 unknown in Europe. The chachias and burnous which envelop these strange 
 physiognomies, cause them to resemble mummies partly unswathed, and with 
 
 the face uncovered. 
 
26 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 “The Arabs are distinguished by the nose, an eye like a bird of prey, the more 
 Caucasian structure of the head, and the openness of the facial angle ; the negroes, 
 in their gaze of animal placidity or childish heedlessness, scarcely betray an 
 intelligence as opaque as their skin is dark; their flat nostrils and thick mouths 
 can inhale with impunity the flaming blast of the desert, even when laden with 
 the imperceptible dust raised by the shamsinn. 
 
 “Several women, persuaded by a bacchich, timidly lift their veils and display 
 a sleepy, mournful beauty, of the phantom-like order peculiar to the women of 
 he East. 
 
 ee 
 
 “The camel—that strange animal who seems, with the elephant, the rhi- 
 
 noceros, the hippopotamus, the giraffe, and the ostrich, to have survived the 
 great forty-day deluge, and to have remained upon the earth as a specimen of 
 the monstrous zo6logical furniture of the primitive world—has been studied by 
 
 our traveler from all sides ; its behavior, its fore-shortening, its attitudes when on 
 
 the march or in repose, kneeling, ruminating, dreaming, licking its chops, show- 
 ing its teeth, stretching out on the ground its enormous neck, or fanning, with 
 its long lids, an eye as soft as that of a woman, the only beauty of this antedi- 
 luvian deformity. The artist has reproduced with extraordinary care the humps 
 and callous hide, the awkward dislocations and warpings, so to speak, of this 
 fantastic animal, as well as the unexpected silhouettes traced by this irregular 
 bundle of bones on the white sand or the blue sky. In these sketches one 
 ‘an distinguish perfectly between the heavy pack-camel and the slender mahari, 
 which is to the former what the English thoroughbred is to a common dr 
 horse. 
 
 ‘We should never finish were we to describe the infinite number of details 
 gathered together on these loose sheets. Great undulations of ground, clusters of 
 date trees, masses of doum palms, sagghvehs whose wheel raises and tells the little 
 rosary of pots; cafés, okkels, camping-grounds, corners of pyramids ; the broken 
 profile of the Sphinx, vz 
 
 s of antique contours, doors of mosques—everything 
 that the chance of travel offers that is new and interesting to an eye that 
 knows how to see, a hand that knows how to reproduce. 
 
 “Among the sketches in colors, we notice three which are to be finished 
 for the coming Exposition [of 1857]. 
 
 “The first represents the two colossi of Medinet-Abou, rising from the midst 
 of the plain at the foot of a mountain which they fair y dwarf. Never has ancient 
 tgypt, with its frenzy of genius for the creation of enormities, cast a more 
 tremendous defiance in the face of Time; should the shoulders of this planet 
 quiver in an earthquake, she might succeed, perhaps, oy dint of repeated shakings, 
 in cracking the granite epidermis of the giants she upholds, but she could 
 never overturn them. The last cataclysm of the world will find them in the same 
 
 spot, corroded, exhausted, wrinkled, disfigured, but a ways immovably seated in 
 that everlasting and impassible pose—the open hands resting upon the stony 
 knees—the rugged heads, sculptured by thunderbolts, turned toward the infinite. 
 
 “ Behind these colossi, or rather these mountains in human form, a sterile 
 ridge—powdered and baked for 6000 years under a burning sun—throws 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 to 
 N 
 
 cascades of light from its rugged steeps over its blue crevasses; the heaven 
 stretches out its cloth of indigo, covered with a film of warm, sandy mist. At the 
 foot of the stony monsters,—one of which is the famous Memnon, whom the 
 ancients heard chanting the approach of Aurora, and who was rendered forever 
 voiceless by a reparation ordered by the Emperor Hadrian,—in the immense 
 shadow which they cast, a caravan has halted, seeking shelter from the intense 
 heat; a man, perched upon a camel, does not reach as high as the toes of these 
 
 prodigious statues. 
 
 “The effect of this picture is most thrilling; the Orient is not here daubed 
 with mine de Saturne tints, in which it is too often painted; it has the subdued 
 light, the ardent pallor, the tones of iron at a white heat found in the real 
 countries of the sun. 
 
 “The second canvas shows a company of recruits marching in the desert. An 
 Arnaut, with his gun passed behind his neck like a stick, advances at the head 
 of this procession of unhappy creatures, who, with manacled wrists, coupled and 
 chained together like convicts, exhibit the most frightful despair: their feet kiclk 
 up the fine dust as they stumble along, their brains boiling and seething under a 
 devouring, implacable sun. 
 
 “On the shifting sand, white as pulverized sandstone, the spongy feet of the 
 camels have left large impressions; the wind has traced, as if on the water, 
 capricious designs, effaced and renewed without ceasing; it is almost as sad as 
 the Russian Soldiers —amusing themselves at word of command !—so much 
 admired at the Universal Exposition. 
 
 “The third, and perhaps the most beautiful sketch of all, represents Arnauts 
 yer in a room whose walls have for their sole ornament a collection of guns ; 
 ral persons are standing, with their feet close together and the palms of 
 their hands turned up in an attitude of worship; on the border of a narrow 
 carpet, an old man with a white beard, standing a little to the front, recites the 
 suras of the Koran, to which his companions listen with religious rapture. In the 
 foreground is a row of babouches, shoes or savates, a peculiarly Oriental detail 
 which the artist has had the boldness not to omit, and which does not in the least 
 
 disturb the gravity of the composition. A rising smile dies away at the sight of 
 these types, so pure, so noble, so characteristic ; of these attitudes, so beautiful in 
 their simplicity ; of this assembly, which does so well what it does!” 
 
 A fitting continuation of these masterly pages is furnished by a fascinating 
 essay on ‘‘Gérome and his Work,” from the pen of Frederic Masson, one of the 
 most graceful and vivid writers of modern times. He gives us an alluring 
 glimpse of the ideal life during Géréme’s first sojourn in the land of the sun, 
 which we shall amplify when we describe in detail the artist’s adventures during 
 
 this trip and subsequent ones through Upper Egypt, Arabia, and Syria. 
 
 “What the pen cannot describe [says Masson] is the loving sweetness of 
 these piercing eyes, the look of resolution and virility which is the predominating 
 
28 LIF COME. 
 
 2 AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON G 
 
 characteristic of this physiognomy; the will to undertake and press onward 
 expressed by the whole personality. He would willingly have been one of those 
 indefatigable explorers, who, endlessly journeying, risk their lives to see some- 
 thing new; one of those who, to contemplate unknown stars, go to where the 
 earth gives way under their feet. To seek, to attempt, to undertake, this is what 
 is necessary to their existence—not fo dream / Their intellects, exact and keen, 
 
 demand facts, not phrases. A search for the truth is Gérome’s uninterrupted 
 
 occupation. It is this conscientiousness in research which binds together all his 
 work. It is the same when he reorganizes the sports of ancient Rome: when 
 
 1e represents the dramas of, modern history; when he depicts the life of the 
 Orient, and, finally, when, in the midst of these landscapes he knows so well, he 
 ylaces some national figure, such as Bonaparte, whose strange physiognomy and 
 frame, almost ascetic in their meagerness, he delights to render, at the moment 
 when ‘his imperial star arises in the East !’ 
 
 “To rest himself after immense efforts, Géroéme started for Egypt. It was 
 the first of those voyages which have exercised so keen an influence on the 
 vainter, and which, leading him by the picturesque toward the modern, have 
 enabled him to reproduce, in so inimitable a manner, the scenes and characters 
 of that Orient which is being each day more and more encroached upon by 
 
 European customs and manners. 
 ‘ Gérome seems born for these distant voyages to which one must bring vigor 
 of body and decision of mind. Always up, always alert and indefatigable, he 
 
 commands the caravan with an authority which no one contes The first to 
 
 rise in the morning, he superintends the departure ; then, erect in his saddle, he 
 
 keeps going through the long hours, smoking, hunting, tracing with rapid stroke 
 
 in his sketch-book a movement or a silhouette. Sc reely arrived at camp, 
 behold him commencing a study—neither rain nor wind having the power to 
 move him from his camp-stool. Then, the palette carefully wiped and the brushes 
 thoroughly cleaned, what a delightful companion at the table under the tent! 
 What animation, what good-humored appreciation of the nonsense of the 
 younger ones ; what frank gayety and willing remembrance of former jesting. 
 And through this Gallic humor, which has its flavor of the soil,—this wit peculiar 
 to the coméé where he was born,—how one perceives the man of high intellectual 
 culture, who has read much, and who knows how to read! Who, for his intimate 
 
 friend and soul’s companion, has chosen that other joyous spirit, the immortal 
 author of ‘‘La Cigué” and the ‘‘ Effrontés”—Emile Augier ! 
 
 “It was no play to visit Egypt in 1856. It is true that one did not then meet 
 there those hordes of tourists who spoil the landscape and d isfigure the monu- 
 ments! Ancient Egypt was still itself after the convention of Alexandria: 
 
 several old soldiers of the empire alone represented the European element. 
 Reform had not yet got the better of old manners nor of ancient customs. Thé 
 fellah, in the rigidity of his attitudes, pr 
 
 basalt. The Nile, where steamboats were unknown, was enlivened by whole 
 
 ved the hieratic aspect of statues of 
 
 nations of birds so tame that they were scarcely disturbed by the slow 
 passage of the light boats (cangues), The river full of fish, the banks stocked 
 
@ ANANHA 
 
 <a 
 > 
 
 2% 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 31 
 
 with game, perpetually changing scenery, brightened by the vivid coloring of the 
 
 inhabitants,—over all a deli 
 an equal love painting, hun 
 
 cious blue sky,—and four gay companions, loving with 
 ting, and fishing—what a joyous existence! And how 
 
 easy to picture Géréme living thus for four months, going by easy stages from 
 Damietta to Phila. Then coming back to Cairo and installing himself in a 
 
 palace, cordially placed at the disposition of the travelers by that glorious 
 
 Soliman Pacha whose incredible romance has lately been de 
 
 ing volume. There were 
 
 ibed in a charm- 
 
 four months more of study and labor, from which 
 
 resulted those pictures that, in the work of Gérome, best reproduce the vivid 
 
 impressions of the things he has seen.” 
 
 gs 
 
 Another great critic anc 
 
 traveler, one of the most eminent of French Orient- 
 
 alists, the distinguished Maxime Du Camp, writes of these Oriental silhouettes : 
 
 “Just as Meissonier is able to portray an entire epoch in one figure, so M. 
 
 Gérome is expert in particu 
 miniature, for his painting, 
 yecomes more exact and € 
 
 arizing a certain race in a single person, especially in 
 which is almost too delicate for a large composition, 
 
 aborate in proportion as his canvas is limited. He, 
 
 1imself, an intrepid traveler, of a keen, vigorous temperament ; an impression- 
 able character ; a penetrating intellect ; circumspect, delicate, and quick to seize 
 
 oints on the wing—has the air of a Ja/ikare, and one is quite surprised that he 
 
 does not wear the Greek cap and /wstanel/e. No one has gone farther than he in 
 his observation of the appearance, the manners, and customs of the Egyptians of 
 Cairo, the Jews of Palestine, the Russians of the Crimea, and the modern Greeks. 
 
 le has studied them with a rare acuteness and conscientiousness, and while 
 
 examining into the smallest details, he has not failed to grasp the essential 
 
 features of the Oriental races. 
 
 “One can perhaps object that M. Gérome’s touch is a little dry, and his color- 
 
 ing often too sharp; but when Time shall have laid its powerful Aafine on his 
 canvases, they will be harmonized into soft and deep tones. And what is more, 
 
 they will have the very appreciable advantage of not losing in growing old, for 
 they are finished in the highest possible degree.” 
 
 We may here pause to consider a point which has been much harped on by a 
 certain class of critics, who, for the most part, are theoretically and practically 
 ignorant of the A B C of the art they attempt to criticise, and distinguish 
 themselves only by a blind adhesion to certain doctrines promulgated by a certain 
 would-be school of art. These oracles affect to deny Géréme the title of great 
 
 artist, on the score that he is not what they understand as a ‘‘ colorist.” 
 
 We are not desirous of entering into a controversy on this point. ‘‘ Chacun @ 
 son gowt,” says the old proverb, and, as Géréme very quietly remarked in his early 
 youth, ‘‘ the public will be the judge.” 
 
 Real art-lovers have sufficiently shown their appreciation by securing his 
 
 masterpieces often while still mere sketches on the easel, and disputing eagerly 
 
Is} 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 the possession of those which have several times changed hands at public sale. 
 Time, that supreme judge, has proven the intrinsic and ever-increasing value of 
 his art, based on true and noble methods. We cannot refrain, however, from 
 quoting one or two authorities, whose lucid and trenchant opinions on this vexed 
 question of ‘‘ What constitutes a grea? artist?” are well worth our attention. Says 
 
 Bergerat, in the able treatise before cited : 
 
 “Tf the name of painter, and the reputation of being a good painter, is to be 
 appropriated only by workers in color, and if a pumpkin well represented ought, 
 in public estimation, to equal in value the School of Athens, of Raphael, we 
 
 must renounce serious consideration of 
 this manifestation of human genius, and 
 
 criticism inevitably becomes sterile and 
 objectless. To be sure, naturalism is a 
 fine achievement of modern intelligence, 
 and I am one of the first to glorify the 
 good resulting therefrom; but it is not, 
 and never will be, in art, anything save 
 the adjective power of talent, of which the 
 Sundamental power is the idea. 
 
 “Now, the word ‘idea’ comprises also 
 its culture, and the 
 culture of the idea 
 is science, or what is 
 otherwise known as 
 acquirements. I be- 
 lieve no more in the 
 ignorance of genius 
 than I do in the 
 
 2s and 
 
 iconscience of beauty. The gift is nothing if it ends only in promis 
 hopes, for Nature rebels against inaction of forces, and the most fertile 
 ground grows fallow and sterile, even in the full sunlight, if it is not plowed 
 up and sown. If any one declines to admit that the operation of the intelli- 
 gence by which a man succeeds in conceiving and realizing a grand ethnographic 
 scene,—such, for example, as the Pollice Ve 
 order to that which impels M. Vollon to choose a motif from still life, one 
 
 2—is of a superior intellectual 
 
 might as well declare that a bee-hive, the construction of which is admirable, 
 is as admirable as St. Peter's at Rome. As well give instinct the precedence 
 over intelligence ; as well proclaim the public inutility of those conservatories 
 of the beautiful called libraries and museums. 
 
 “Further, those who are endowed with a sensibility of the retina, as 
 exceptional as it is unconscious, act most thoughtlessly in endeavoring to 
 confine the art of painting to the reproduction of the phy 
 
 cal phenomena of 
 lights and colors. Their presumptuous theories have produced impressionism 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 33 
 
 and fachism (or blotching). Must we then conclude that man, nude or clothed 
 in brilliant stuffs, is, in reality, only a dab of color, whose form confounds itself 
 with the atmosphere? What becomes then of the expressive power of painting ? 
 To what sense does its eloquence appeal, and in what terms does this language, 
 stripped of its alphabet and its style, speak to the human intelligence? Géréme 
 must have asked himself all this, when the critics have adjudged him guilty of a 
 crime in not being specially born what they are pleased to style a colori. He 
 must have thought that the art he practiced must be the lowest of all the arts, if 
 one is not to include the qualities of observation, picturesque design, and compo- 
 
 sition in making a picture. Here, indeed, lies his natural superiority: not a 
 painter of the present age can compose a picture as well as he—the greatest 
 
 among them not excepted. Géréme has the sentiment of unity and order ; with 
 him the scene is always complete and completely treated ; each item is placed 
 on its own plane of interest and co-operates proportionately to the general effect 
 of the scene to which it contributes. 
 
 “A great and rare quality, with which poets are generally more liberally 
 endowed than painters, and which, under the name of god¢ (an expression inade- 
 quately rendered in English by the word /as#e), remains the dominant quality of 
 
 the Latin race. Education does not suffice to give it, whatever one may think, and 
 do not see wherein it is so common and inferior to the gift of color! We must 
 take care not to go astray, nor to lead the public astray; a bit of good painting is 
 not necessarily a picture; one has not made a poem because one has written a 
 fragment. Those who rebel the most against the teaching of the co/e are 
 yerhaps not capable of treating intelligently a single one of the subjects submitted 
 to its artists in the competitive examination. Now, it seems to me that to be 
 incapable of a thing proves one to be inferior to those who are capable of it. 
 -erhaps there exists a /achiste who has conceived in the depths of his soul a com- 
 position superior to the Podlice Verso, but this fachiste has not yet revealed himself. 
 ‘Tis a hard task to make a picture, as it is a difficult affair to make a book ! 
 This is only too true. Géréme has signed a vast number of canvases which 
 merit the name of pictwre—a title formerly imposing, and which was not lavished, 
 
 as it is to-day, on the merest daubs of venturesome colorists !” 
 
 The correctness of Bergerat’s analysis and judgment must be acknowledged 
 by all thoughtful students and practical artists. The same ideas are ably set forth 
 in a volume devoted to ‘‘Art and Artists” by the well-known painter and critic, 
 Charles Timbal. In a charming preface to this series of essays, written by the 
 Vicomte Henri Delaborde, perpetual secretary of the Academy of Fine Arts at 
 Paris, we find Timbal described as a ‘“‘ painter familiarized with all the secrets 
 of practical art, and a connoisseur in the best sense of the term.” 
 
 In his study on Géréme, Timbal says : 
 
 “Tt is the custom to place each artist in a camp where he will be, according to 
 his valor or to chance, the standard-bearer or a simple soldier. Some, whether 
 
34 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 they desire or resist, will belong to a group of colorists—others will be ranged 
 among the draughtsmen. To speak truly, Géréme cannot be confined to either 
 of these classifications; without being one of those who, by temperament and 
 without effort, multiply the vibrations, varieties, and harmonies of tones, he sees 
 
 things as they are, and shows himself a colorist in his own manner; and his brush, 
 
 in rendering a modified reflection of the exterior brilliancy of things, does not in 
 the least alter the rigorous reality. Let one examine without prejudice any one of 
 ais small canvases: those where he makes the waves to shimmer in the twilight, 
 or this other, flooded by the midday sun,—a street in Cairo in the shadow of its 
 righ walls, or the circus, sheltered by the purple velarium,—the torso of Cléopatra 
 or the Almée, and the gladiator in the arena, wiping off his bloody sweat ; the 
 srofessional man, remembering his own studies, will readily recognize the truth 
 of these reproductions, and also the teachings of nature and of light. 
 “Although Gérome has to-day attained the moment of life in which the artist 
 seems to have nothing to demand of the gods save to preserve intact the gifts he 
 aas received from them, he has not passed the age of progress. .... Those 
 who have examined, with clear perceptions, the later works he has produced, 
 1ave observed without difficulty the broadening of his manner—the firmness 
 of his touch from the first, and the new richness of his Ad/e. The artist marches 
 y, but in the measure of his fersonal taste. The 
 
 abreast of the taste of to-dz 
 inventor needed not to show himself more ingenious; the painter has become 
 
 more of a painter! .... How many masterpieces, applauded yesterday for their 
 powerful effects, their novelty, and the richness of their contrasts, have to-day 
 become gloomy canvases, from which all the beauty has disappeared owing to 
 the inexperience of the artists. The pictures of Géréme, painted with a discreet 
 and prudent hand, have little to fear from the effects of time, and they will 
 probably present themselves to the judgment of the future in all the freshness 
 of their original creation, when of rival works there will remain but a blackened 
 
 image, exhausted and compromising.” 
 
 But Gérome is as little disturbed by the clamor of the hostile camps of which 
 Timbal speaks, as he is unspoiled by the admiration of zealous followers. We 
 
 ion a letter from his intimate friend, the late lamented Emile 
 
 have in our poss 
 Augier, to his other beloved companion, Alfred Arago, the mere mention of 
 whose names calls up recollections of talents which are the pride and joy not only 
 of the zztime and choice circle of which they were the center, and to which Arago 
 is still fortunately spared, but of the glorious company of illustrious artists and 
 littérateurs who congregate in that modern center of art life—Paris. 
 
 In this letter, sparkling with wit and caustic observation, we find the follow- 
 
 ing graphic note on Géréme, and his relation to la critique: 
 
 “A special characteristic of Géréme [says Augier] is his profound indiffer- 
 ence to the railings of the journals. He pursues a very good system to avoid 
 being irritated by them—he does not read them! And if he sees a friend wax 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 3 
 
 on 
 
 furious under harsh criticism, he tranquillizes him by that celebrated mo? of an 
 amiable actress: ‘It gives them so much pleasure and it costs me so little!’” 
 
 We must not conclude, however, that the artist considers himself beyond 
 criticism ; on the contrary, no one has more frankly or freely desired the opinions 
 of his fellow-workers, few of whom have approximated the unsparing severity 
 we find in his self-criticism, among the autobiographical notes which we shall 
 transcribe in full. Of the honest and impartial judgment displayed in these 
 
 simple yet eloquent records of his life, Bergerat writes : 
 
 “Do you know many artists endowed not only with enough mind and 
 character, but sufficient talent to write of themselves lines such as these? For 
 my part I know nothing more noble than this model confession, which has 
 deeply moved me and inspired me with undying respect for the Master.” 
 
 This spirit of strict self-criticism, amounting almost to austerity, was a 
 marked trait, even in early youth, as evinced by an episode of his first year in 
 Rome. He was painting, in the Forum, that superb landscape which stretches 
 away from the Capitol, beyond the ruins of the Coliseum, across the Campagna 
 to the foot of the distant mountains. The study was finished in an incredibly 
 
 short space of time, and in a manner that evoked unanimous praise from his 
 
 master and fellow-students. But Géréme, distrusting so easy a triumph, and 
 
 saying to himself, ‘“‘What has been done so quickly cannot be worth much!” 
 
 deliberately scraped the day’s labor from the canvas and repainted the scene 
 with greater care. 
 
 This little anecdote reveals the quality of the artist, who, while professiona 
 critics are occupied with their discussions as to the respective merits of the 
 various methods of seeing and reflecting nature, steadily pursues his way towarc 
 
 his ideal ; his mind wholly concentrated upon his work,—his motto, like that of 
 
 Apelles, being Vuwlla dies sine linea, 
 
 gl -he labors on tranquilly, conscientiously, anc 
 confidently, yearly adding to a lengthy list of masterpieces, which betray new 
 depths and beauties of conception and execution, and impart additional luster to 
 an already imperishable fame. 
 
 As long ago as 1860, De Tanouarn wrote : 
 
 “What Géréme has achieved up to the present moment is but the Areface of 
 a beautiful book. We await the volume, but if, contrary to all expectation, it 
 does not come, the preface itself will count as a book!” 
 
 What would he think could he reunite and contemplate the achievements of 
 more than forty years of ardent, unceasing toil! How choose among the gems in 
 this dazzling riviére of jewels collected from the most precious mines of the Old 
 
 World! Let us yield ourselves to the sway of this potent magician, who trans- 
 
36 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LLON GEROME. 
 
 ports us by a wave of his powerful hand from idyllic Greece to the brilliant courts 
 of France; from the crowded Coliseum of Ancient Rome to the solitude and 
 desolation of the Arabian desert, and back to the glowing tulip gardens of 
 Holland ; from sunny Spain, where every day is holiday, and a skillful foréador 
 is acclaimed by a joyous populace ‘‘ King of the feast,” to the melancholy banks 
 of the Danube, where, under the crushing despotism of Russia, even ‘‘ recreation 
 in camp” is rigidly enforced, and the sting of the knout compels the song that is 
 often strangled by a sob; from the thronged and picturesque streets of Cairo to 
 
 the isolated fastnesses of the Convent of Sinai, with a glimpse of the awful 
 
 tragedy of the Hill of Calvary ! 
 He invites us to walk with Dante on the banks of the Arno, or watch Rem- 
 brandt bending over his etching plate ; to listen with cynical Voltaire to the royal 
 
 flute-player of Sans Souci, or enjoy the discomfiture of cardinal and courtier at 
 
 to follow 
 
 the breakfast table, where the playwright is the equal of the king; 
 
 Bramant and young Raphael into the Sistine Chapel, whither they have stolen to 
 
 see the immortal frescoes in the absence of the master, or to join Diogenes in his 
 
 search for an honest man ! 
 
 Now he guides us into the wilderness, and shows us the encampment of the 
 
 french Legions in the desert. The cloudless blue of the sky, scintillating with 
 
 heat, is softened toward the horizon by smoky vapors, through which mountains 
 
 are faintly outlined. Over the sandy plains masses of troops march and counter- 
 
 march, so far away that clash of saber and blare of trumpet do not disturb the 
 
 profound silence that envelops, as with a mantle, the majestic figure which 
 
 sion. 
 
 dominates the scene. Preserving, in spite of mutilation, a marvelous expres 
 
 of grandeur and repose, the Sphinx rears its massive head, and regards, with a 
 calmness born of absolute knowledge, the vain struggles of a pygmy world. The 
 esser Sphinx, on horseback, himself an incarnation of will and force, mutely 
 demands of the Oracle the secret of his future. In vain. The steady gaze 
 
 passes over even fis head ; on—on—doubtless beholding the snowy steppes of 
 
 Russia, reddened with blood and the light of conflagration ; the wounded eagle, 
 
 trailing his broken wings over the field of Waterloo ; a lonely rock, at whose base 
 
 he sea makes incessant moan! There is no warning, no sign! Kismet! 
 Again, the wilderness the master loves so well. How like and yet how 
 
 unlike! Here is the low-lying coast of Africa, with drifts of finest sand blown 
 
 xy the breath of the £hamsinn into fantastic mounds, from which peep a few 
 scorched and scanty tufts of herbage and the ragged edges of brown, barren rocks. 
 
 Motionless, as if hewn from the rock on which he sits, a tawny-maned monarch 
 
 of the 
 
 esert, with proud, unflinching gaze, steadily regards the dazzling splendor 
 of the setting sun, which is sinking slowly to the horizon, its flaming tints mir- 
 
 tored in the glassy surface of the Mediterranean. What weird and potent charm 
 
GDIPUS 
 
 THE SPHINX 
 
 = 
 v) 
 
 BONAPARTH BEFORE 
 
 1886 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 37 
 
 is here! What stillness, solitude, vastness! And in the majestic figure of the 
 royal beast what condensed life and power! We are forcibly reminded of a brief 
 but graphic description of the artist himself, from an article by M. de Belina, 
 which appeared lately in a Paris Art publication. 
 
 “A superb head with mane tossed back, a lion who paints other lions, and 
 one scarcely knows which has the prouder glance, the painter or his model!” 
 
 What true lover of art does not wish to know more of the artist than can be 
 
 divined even from creations so eloquent as these? Who would not eagerly seize 
 
 the opportunity to stand face to face with so rare a personality and grasp the hand 
 whose touch is more potent than that of Midas? Thanks to a generosity only to 
 be met with in truly great natures, the humblest student is always sure of a 
 courteous welcome to the master’s ateliers. A genuine love for art is the ‘‘ Open ! 
 Sesame,” before which the heavy oaken doors that bar the entrance to the forde- 
 cochére of his spacious hotel on the Boulevard de Clichy swing back, revealing a 
 cool, flagged court, with a background of green ivy, which clambers luxuriantly 
 over the high wall at the bottom of the yard. Several fine hunting-dogs lie in the 
 kennels, and spirited horses neigh and stamp in the adjacent stables, for Gérome is 
 a passionate lover of animals, an accomplished horseman and ardent sportsman, 
 who fears neither wind nor weather. “Beau cavalier, chasseur adroit,’ says 
 
 Claretie of him. 
 
38 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 Glass doors, hung with soft Persian stuffs, lead into the antechamber on the 
 rez-de-chaussée, which is guarded by a bronze horse and cavalier, one of the early 
 works of Frémiet, the great sculptor. 
 
 The sunlight filters through a stained-glass window and falls with kaleido- 
 scopic effect on Minon, a large Persian cat, who has often served as model to her 
 master, and who, rousing from her siesta on a long, enameled casket, which con- 
 tains a costly narghiléh, lazily opens one eye and blinks an amiable Bonjour. 
 Rare curios from foreign lands are scattered here, as throughout the whole man- 
 sion, with lavish hand, but the attention is instantly caught and fixed by an 
 exquisite figure in the whitest of Carrara marble. It is his wonderful Omphale, 
 which, in the Salon of 1887, was the center of attraction in the garden of the 
 
 Palais de I’ Industrie. 
 
 ion—she leans, 
 
 Pure, pensive, passionate—the perfection of form and expr 
 
 in the attitude of the Farnese Hercules, upon the club of that vanquished hero, 
 
 who has succumbed to the power of the tiny God of Love almost hidden under the 
 folds of the famous lion-skin. On the lips of the beautiful Queen of Lydia rests 
 an expression of mingled triumph and longing, as if she were not quite sure of 
 her power to retain her captive lover. 
 
 Near the windows that front on the Boulevard are Gérome’s two superb grey- 
 
 hounds, modeled in red clay by himself, in affectionate remembrance of his faith- 
 ful companions now gone to the ‘‘ happy hunting-grounds.” They also frequently 
 posed, and are to be found in several well-known pictures, among others, in 7he 
 Sentinels of the Camp and The Return from the Chase. 
 Hamerton says: ‘‘I would rather have a leash of hounds by Gérome than by 
 any other painter I know.” 
 A massive cobra, with red, shining scales, coils itself into the newel-post 
 
 of the heavy balustrade which guards the marble staircase. A Salve in blue 
 
 faience is sunk in the carved woodwork, and the walls of polished marble 
 are covered with priceless Japanese bronzes, masks, and plaques, up to the 
 fourth story, which is reserved by Géréme for his studios and private 
 apartments. 
 
 Every footfall is deadened by the thick Turkish carpet, and the soft cooing of 
 a dove, that is nestling in the vines which shelter the half-open window on the top 
 landing, seems only to accentuate the stillness in the large atelier, the door of 
 
 which usually stands ajar. 
 
 Following hard on the whir of the electric bell comes a cheery “ Entrez 
 a voice which, once heard, is never forgotten. The master stands before an easel, 
 looking inquiringly toward the door; but palette and brushes are instantly laid 
 aside as he recognizes old friends and advances with both hands cordially 
 
 extended. The salutation is brief, but the intonation dispels at once all fear of 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 39 
 
 intrusion, and courteously waved to a seat on the wide divan, ample opportunity 
 is afforded to study fe grand peintre at home. 
 
 An oval face, crowned with a profusion of fine, snowy hair, brushed well back 
 and up from the noble forehead ; heavy, black eyebrows, overshadowing deep-set 
 brown eyes, whose glance, sometimes clear and piercing, searches the soul, or half 
 
 veiled by long lashes—warm, dreamy, mysterious—seems to behold things of 
 
 beauty far beyond all common powers of vision. An aquiline nose, with nostrils 
 slightly curved and dilated, giving him a strikingly valiant air. A sweeping mus- 
 
 tache, now just touched with gra 
 
 y, partly conceals the melancholy droop of thin 
 
 yet ruddy lips, whose almost feminine sensitiven relieved by the firmness of 
 the chin and the superb, antique contour of throat and neck, at once strong and 
 delicate. This admirable head well surmounts an erect military figure, whose 
 every movement, however, betrays a grace doubtless inherent in this tempérament 
 du Midi, the mother of Gérome having been a thoroughly Spanish type. For 
 although the province which proudly claims the master as its own has been part 
 
 and parcel of France since the time of Louis Quatforze, it was originally settled by 
 
 the Spaniards and remained for a long time under their dominion. 
 
 As we chat, a charming model, artistically draped in Oriental robes, comes 
 from the inner atelier where she has been posing, and comfortably bestows herself 
 in a great armchair, one snowy foot, half thrust into a dabouche of red morocco, 
 swinging carelessly to and fro. Unmindful of our undisguised admiration, she 
 
 falls to examining her taper finger nails, now and then glancing shyly at the 
 
 clock, as if wishing us away. Finally, weary of following the conversation, she 
 drops into a light slumber, smiling as she dreams, and disclosing a double row of 
 pearly teeth. 
 
 Walking up and down his spacious ateliers, where he has assembled the 
 richest and rarest accessories of his mé¢ier, the master discourses of his art with an 
 
 eloquence and ardor which reveal the source of the magic power he exercises 
 
 over all who come in contact with him. We listen, at once charmed and 
 tantalized, for it is well-nigh as impossible to remember this impromptu lecture,— 
 this marvel of criticism, comparison, and instruction,—as it would be to reproduce 
 the energetic, sparkling, vivid manner of delivery. 
 
 “ You permit me to smoke?” 
 
 Answering our hasty gesture of ass 
 
 ent with a smile, he proceeds to fill his pipe, 
 and, lighting a match, resumes his walk and his talk, till his fingers are burned. 
 With a good-humored “ Peste/’’ he lights another, which goes the way of the 
 
 preceding one, this time absolutely unheeded, so profoundly is the orator lost in 
 
 his argument. We wait for a pause—and then, softly, so as not to disturb his 
 train of thought : 
 
 “But you do not smoke, Monsieur / 
 
40 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 “Ah, no! that is true! It isa habit! I have always smoked more matches 
 than fobacco /”’ 
 
 The pipe still unlighted, he takes up his discourse in a different vein, keenly 
 satirical but always good-natured, in which one detects not only the man of the 
 world but the philosopher and sage. An acute sense of humor produces often the 
 most contagious gayety, but there is always a strong undercurrent of melan- 
 choly, profound, even somber; intensified in later years by the loss of many 
 of his dearest friends, among others Emile Augier, and the painters Gustave 
 Boulanger and Alexandre Protais, to whom he was deeply attached. A most 
 indefatigable worker, and sought after in society as few men of his epoch have 
 been, Gérdéme still always finds time for his friends, especially such as are sick 
 and suffering. Protais often spoke of his devotion as something unequaled, and 
 surprising in a man who had innumerable claims on his attention and who has 
 sometimes been mistakenly judged to be cold, reserved, and exclusive. In truth, 
 
 for months before the death of Protais, Géréme, though himself weakened by 
 
 severe illness, made a daily visit in all kinds of weather, before nine o'clock in the 
 
 morning, to the quiet apartment where the great military painter was closely 
 
 confined by an incurable and distressing malady of the heart—cheering the 
 invalid by his sympathy, and diverting him by his ever ready and genial wit. 
 During several of these brief morning calls he succeeded in sketching the 
 patient sufferer, and has thus preserved to the world a striking likeness of the 
 great artist, whose character was ideal in its nobility, integrity, and unflinching 
 self-sacrifice. Of his death, which occurred in February, 1890, Géréme wrote : 
 
 “Tt has affected me more deeply than I dare avow even to myself.” 
 
 As is his wont, he seeks solace from this and other irremediable sorrows in 
 unceasing application to his work, putting into it all the force of the emotions 
 that are driven back upon themselves by an irresistible destiny. 
 
 That time has not needed to alter, but only added new depth and intensity to 
 his noble nature, may be seen from the following pencil-sketch taken in the year 
 1860 : 
 
 “Tt suffices [says de Tanouarn] merely to glance at the portrait of Gérome, 
 such as he is represented to-day, to form a sufficiently exact idea of the character 
 of this artist. It is an energetic and vigorous nature, endowed with a marvelous 
 will-power and an indefatigable activity. Géré6me is improvisation and action 
 incarnate. He conceives and executes quickly ; he writes and walks quickly 
 eats quickly, and his comrades in the atelier declare that he sleeps quickly! Here 
 
 5 ne 
 
 is no wastefulness, no lounging, no indulgence nor compromise with idleness. 
 He leads abreast several works at a time, without mingling or confounding 
 anything, like the young Morphy, who plays eight games of chess at a time 
 without making an error. To rest himself, Gérome only changes occupation, 
 passing from one work to the other. 
 
AUGURS. 
 
 THE TWO 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. + 
 
 Ge 
 
 “He is not in the habit, however, of ignoring those laws of etiquette or 
 ooliteness, from the observance of which the most exacting society very willingly 
 exempts artists and poets; he never forgets to return a visit nor to reply to a 
 etter, but his painting loses nothing in consequence. He has traveled much, and 
 it has not prevented him from producing much. In a word, it would seem that for 
 1im the hours multiply and lengthen themselves, while for others they vanish, 
 while they are occupied in reflecting how they will employ them/ . 
 
 ‘His atelier is situated in Notre Dame des Champs, in a sort of aristocratic 
 live where other painters have lodged themselves. Everything reveals the 
 spirit of order and regularity of the master. One observes a noble and severe 
 simplicity ; some bits of armor, some curiosities brought back from his travels, 
 nut few pictures—yet no ornament foreign to art. It is here that Gérome works, 
 while chatting with his visitors, having his model posed at a great distance, for he 
 is extraordinarily far-sighted. His conversation is animated, inspiring, spirituelle, 
 and gay. He banters good-naturedly without ever wounding. As he is very 
 
 earned, he touches with ease all topics and seems a § anger to none; he 
 captivates the attention without difficulty and retains it without an effort. 
 “ By the superiority of his mind and the penetrating firmness of his character, 
 
 Gérome exercises a great influence over the persons who live near to him, He 
 
 becomes naturally a cenéer, around which less powerful individualities group 
 themselves. He will be, sooner or later, the head of a school, if in the present 
 state of art such a thing is still possible. 
 
 “In his college days he was the organizer and the soul of all the sports. 
 While with Paul Delaroche, when all the pupils agreed to work together in the 
 evenings Gérome’s little chamber was always chosen as the place of reunion. In 
 1848, when the pupils of the Ecole des Beaux-Arts had to elect a captain of the 
 staff, their choice fell on Géréme, who acquitted himself of the duties confided to 
 him in true military fashion ; for he delights, and is very skillful, in all bodily 
 exercises 
 
 above all in hunting. He never fails to pay a yearly visit to his 
 father, and to devote himself to his favorite sport with the activity and enjoy- 
 ment characteristic of him. . . . . Géréme’s reception of any one, although at 
 first a trifle reserved, is of an exquisite kindness 
 
 ; his manners are admirably 
 distinguished, and he would be a model of a perfect gentleman for Englishmen. 
 His wit is sometimes a little sharp, but his comrades boast of his kindness and 
 generosity, and his readiness for every service he can possibly render, whether 
 obeying the instincts of his heart or following the inspirations of a superior mind, 
 which would deem itself wanting in self-respect in not acting on every occasion 
 with absolute nobility. 
 
 “Such is the man whose character we have sketched. He is worthy, as one 
 can see, of the artist; there does not exist here one of those distr 
 
 ing contrasts 
 which are the joy and triumph of vulgar and vicious mediocrity.” 
 
 This of the man of thirty-six! Twenty-four years later, Claretie writes : 
 
 “Gérome is sixty years old! One can scarcely believe that he has passed 
 forty! He still retains his intrepid look of an Arnaut. Physically and morally 
 
44 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 he is upright and inflexible—a fascinating type of an artist, chivalric and reso- 
 lute... . . Géré6me remains at sixty what he was at thirty-six; as young, as 
 vigorous, as active, as responsive, vivid, and sympathetic. A charming conver- 
 
 sationalist, gay, pensive also underneath his exquisite humor, respectful of his 
 
 art, frank and loyal, adored by his pupils, a professor who teaches the young the 
 
 rare and oft-neglected virtues—simplicity, study, and unre- 
 mitting labor. In a word, a noble example of a master-painter 
 [jh of the nineteenth century—the soul of an artist with the 
 
 constitution of a soldier; a heart of gold in a body of iron!” 
 
 The same precious testimony borne by Masson, whom 
 
 we have before cited. He says: 
 
 ““Gérome’s work, already immense, and which his robust 
 health will permit him to augment for a long time,—very 
 diverse in its expression,—is ove, in its sincerity, its continual 
 
 research, its passion for the truth. This preoccupation 
 is evident in all his representations of antique life, as 
 \ well as in the subjects drawn from the Orient. One of 
 j the few defenders to-day of high art, he has exercised 
 / over modern painting a grand influence. An entire 
 ' school has sprung from his exquisite and spiritual 
 
 nictures ; an entirely distinct one, without avowing it, 
 from his greater compositions. Gérome has had in 
 our time imitators without number, but he has had a 
 
 still greater number of pupils, of every shade of opinion 
 
 and artistic tendency, in whom he has inculcated his 
 passion for nature and for truth. 
 i” “At the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, by the liberality of 
 
 his mind, the rectitude of his judgment, and the open- 
 ness and breadth of his comprehension, he has rapidly 
 become the best beloved, the most ardently followed, of all the masters. None 
 
 knows how to estimate 
 
 better than he, with his infinite goodness and delica 
 
 a work, to discover its qualities; in short, to evolve an artist. None performs 
 his duties with more of equity and conscientiousness ; none has fewer prejudices 
 or decisions made beforehand; none is better capable of doing justice to 
 his adversaries. The master quality of Géréme is, everywhere and always, 
 
 sincerity.”’ 
 
 We can well believe that the loving patience and infinite tact exercised by 
 
 this honored teacher and head of the greatest School of Art of modern times, is 
 deepened by his ever-present remembrance of the time when he, also, was a 
 student, struggling with the poverty, ill-health, and disappointment which are 
 often the portion of those who consecrate themselves to the service of that most 
 
 exacting, but most glorious mistress—4r¢/ 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN L NV GEROME, 4. 
 
 On 
 
 Hence it is with peculiar interest that we turn back to the beginning of this 
 remarkable career and trace, step by step, the steady advance of the ‘‘infant 
 prodigy of Vesoul.” 
 
 Jules Claretie, whose knowledge of men and things is as profound as his 
 writing of them is incomparable, justly observes : 
 
 “That which interests us above all, in the life of illustrious men, is their 
 origin, their début, the first blossoming of their talent. When an artist has 
 covered himself with glory, one writes his biography with the mere titles of his 
 works.” 
 
 We are fortunate, therefore, in being able to receive our impressions of 
 Gérome's earliest artistic life from himself. We shall, in translating his notes, 
 endeavor to retain, to as great a degree as possible, the picturesque simplicity 
 
 of this brief but precious autobiography, of which Gérome writes : 
 
 “Isend you the notes which I promised you, but fear you will not find them 
 interesting. My life has been, above all, a life of work, of incessant labor—con- 
 sequently monotonous for the public! I have had but little to do with the 
 affairs of my time, except in regard to all that pertains to the Fine Arts. It is 
 rather a collection of dates, jotted down years ago, than biographical information 
 that [send you. Has it any value?” 
 
 In this simple, unaffected, candid record, where years of patient study and 
 toil, physical privation and suffering, disappointment, defeat, and final triumph 
 are disposed of in a single line, we find the same indomitable spirit of persever- 
 ance to which the master owes his present high position, the ardent aspiration 
 which still impels him onward and upward, the courage, conscientiousness, 
 
 integrity, and modesty which pervade his entire life and work. Mark, too, the 
 
 sprightly humor with which he recalls his natal day, the 11th of May, 1824: 
 
 “To prevent seven cities from disputing in the future the honor of my birth- 
 place, I certify that I first saw the light of day in Vesoul, a little, old Spanish city. 
 No miracle took place on the day of my birth, which is quite surprising! The 
 lightning did not even flash in a clear sky! The century was then twenty-four 
 years old. Rome and Sparta had been discarded like tattered and bloodstained 
 
 garments, and the French people reposed, like a bird, on the elder branch, which, 
 six years later, was to break under it. The Son of Saint Louis was already 
 
 meditating those famous ordonnances, which were to have so legitimate a 
 success. 
 
 “T was born of parents without fortune, living by their labor. My father was 
 a goldsmith. He gave me the regular collegiate education—much Latin and 
 considerable Greek, but no modern languages, which I have always regretted, 
 
 for the little Italian I acquired later has been of enormous service to me in my 
 travels. At the age of sixteen I was Bachelor of Letters. I had had some 
 
40 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 Success in the drawing-class, and my father, who went to Paris every year on 
 business, brought me, as a reward, a box of oil-colors and a picture by Decamps, 
 which I copied fairly well; to the great satisfaction, at least, of the persons 
 
 who surrounded me, who, let us confe were entirely ignorant of artistic 
 
 matters |” 
 
 Gérome has alluded to the downfall of Charles X., whose reactionary policy 
 eventually provoked the revolution of July, an¢ finally culminated in his 
 dethronement. His brief reign was conspicuous not only for political agitation, 
 but for the open revolt in art circles of the romanticists against the iron tradi- 
 tions of the then dominant classicists. A protracted and bitter struggle between 
 the old and new methods resulted in the evolution of the classic-romantic school, 
 of which one of the most noted leaders was Hippolyte (Paul) Delaroche, destined 
 to become the teacher and intimate friend of the young Géréme, who, at the 
 
 age of ten years, was already making portraits of his comrades and neighbors, 
 
 whose naive and unqualified admiration fortunate y did not awaken his vanity 
 
 nor render him less attentive to the instruction of his first professor of drawing 
 
 —a pupil of David and an artist of considerable talent. 
 “By a happy fortune,” says Gérome, in his notes, ‘a childhood friend of 
 Monsieur Paul Delaroche had just settled in my native city. He induced my 
 
 father to send me to Paris, where I finally arrived with a letter of introduction to 
 
 my future teacher (Delaroche). Like a sensible and prudent man, my father 
 
 ations 
 
 allowed me to begin my studies in painting, thinking that if his ex 
 
 were not realized, I was still young enough to embrace another profession. 
 “The trade of a goldsmith,” remarks the painter Timbal, ‘‘is, even in the 
 provinces, closely allied to art. Thence, no doubt, a more willing indulgence of 
 
 the venturesome inclinations of the budding artist—an indulgence not without 
 
 merit; for, at this time, painters sold their pictures with difficulty, if they 
 
 succeeded in selling them at all, and a vocation for art not unreasonably alarmed 
 
 prudent parents. Let us avow to the praise of the father of Gérome, that he was 
 
 the first to give pledges to the unknown. In presenting a box of colors to the 
 head scholar in the drawing-class at the College of Vesoul, he was setting fire to 
 
 powder !” 
 
 “T entered then the atelier of Delaroche,” continues Gérome, ‘‘where I 
 remained during three years. Rather mediocre studies—shattered health, 
 nervous system greatly irritated ; but, in spite of all, I made efforts and worked 
 my best. My student companions, whom I scarcely ever left, were Daméry, 
 Picou, and Gobert—later on, Hamon also. The first promised well—gained the 
 Prix de Rome while very young, and sent back two very remarkable nude figures ; 
 but he was attacked by a mortal illness that swept him away in the prime of life. 
 
 The second, with an admirable intellectual and physical organization, a Raphael- 
 
LIFE D WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 47 
 
 esque temperament, and a truly extraordinary facility of invention and execution, 
 drowned himself, so to speak, in a bath of alcohol; he is now but the shadow 
 of his former self. The two others have fulfilled the promise of their youth.” 
 
 Commenting on this period, Timbal says : 
 
 “The atelier of Paul Delaroche at that time held the first place among the 
 schools of instruction. The state patronized none. The master, in all the éclat 
 of his renown, exercised over his pupils an authority which admitted of no dis- 
 cussion. But Gérome had already seriously reflected, and he accepted the yoke 
 without hesitation. Moreover, more than one affinity, and, despite difference in 
 age, a certain similarity of character, quickly established a sympathy between 
 him and his master. Delaroche treated with marked attention this young man 
 with the intelligent, resolute face, this indefatigable and soon skilled worker. 
 There was some merit in distinguishing one’s self in this great battalion— 
 among which shone Daméry, Picou, Jalabert, and Hamon, whose reputation 
 already extended beyond the four walls of the atelier. 
 
 “In a brief time Géréme became a sort of chief among his comrades, who 
 recognized his unique qualities, and submitted to his influence ; he lived for three 
 
 years in this circle. But, alas! the atelier is not always the peaceful sanctuary of 
 study. Tranquillity becomes sometimes antipathetic to the age of imagination, in 
 which quality these sixty young people were not lacking. All did not employ it 
 in the same manner. They would work for several hours and all went well, but 
 then came moments of repose, dangerous moments, during which their repressed 
 
 virits broke through all restraint. Then certain traditions are hard to efface ; 
 
 n 
 
 that of hazing (des charges) was still greatly honored, and it furnished occasions 
 for many practical jokes. The inventors found an extreme pleasure in this form 
 
 of amusement, more so than the st 
 
 angers passing through the Rue Mazarin or 
 the Quai Conti, with whom they were continually in conflict. Rumors of these 
 disturbances finally reached the ear of the master, who was intensely displeased. 
 
 zl 
 
 1e offenders seemed repentant, promised to do better, and recommenced their 
 pranks the next day. Let those who are without sin throw the first stone at 
 
 these unruly ones. Unhappily, a sad accident changed into a tragedy the com- 
 
 edy which had so long fatigued Delaroche, who, indignant at the death of a 
 new pupil (who perhaps fell a victim to the severe annoyances attending his 
 admission), closed his atelier and summarily dismissed innocent and guilty 
 
 without distinction. During this time Gérome was at Vesoul.” 
 The hapless student here referred to was the subject of a practical joke some- 
 what more elaborate than those usually conceived by the thoughtless but not ill- 
 
 natured band of mischief-lovers in the atelier. For some pretended offense, he 
 received a mock challenge, which he accepted in good faith, the meeting taking 
 place with all the solemnity that should accompany an affair of life and death ; 
 
 but he subsequently discovered, while lying ill of a fever that had threatened him 
 
 for some time, that he had been duped, the pistols having been charged only with 
 
48 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 yowder! In his weak state, he magnified what had been intended only as a harm- 
 ess Alaisanterie into a deliberate and deadly insult, and fell into a violent rage, 
 seriously aggravating his illness, the fatal termination of which was mourned by 
 none more deeply than by his comrades, who had only expected to enjoy a hearty 
 augh together with the victim of their unlucky jesting. 
 
 Gérome, as we have said, was at this time fortunately on a visit to his 
 
 parents at Vesoul. He writes: 
 
 “Tt was in the third year of my studies that, on returning from a vacation, 
 learned of the closing of the atelier and, at the same time, the news 
 that M. Delaroche had placed us—Picou and myself—in the atelier of M. 
 Drélling ; two blows (deux tiles) at a time! I went immediately to find 
 my dear master and told him that, satisfied with his instruction, I should 
 
 not dream of seeking elsewhere; that I lived well enough at Paris on my 
 ittle annuity and consequently could exist at Rome, whither I desired to 
 
 follow him!” 
 
 The truth is that Gér6me had less than a dollar a day to defray a// his 
 
 expenses—rent, food, fire, clothes, use of atelier, colo canvas, models, ete. 
 
 He often recurs to these days of privation: ‘‘The happiest of my life. J/a foi / 
 
 was rich. There were others that had nothing—absolutely nothing! And I 
 
 have seen days when, if we could scrape together forty sous to dine five of us, we 
 
 thought ourselves fortunate.” Some of his friends who knew him intimately, at 
 
 this “happy” time, have testified that his purse was always at the disposal of 
 
 those who had “nothing,” 
 
 g; 
 
 and that the ‘shattered health” of which he speaks 
 was due in great measure to privations, self-imposed, that he might be able to 
 assist his less fortunate comrades. 
 
 He continues in his recollections : 
 
 “At the age of eighteen, therefore, I was in Italy. I did not deceive myself 
 in regard to my éfudes d’atelier, which were in truth very weak. I knew 
 nothing, and therefore had everything tolearn. It was already something to be 
 well posted as regarded myself—‘/v@8z ceavrdv’—(know thyself)—a good thing! 
 I did not lose courage ; my weak health improved under the influence of the good 
 climate and life in the open air, and I set to work with ardor; I made studies in 
 architecture, landscape, figures, and animals; in a word, I[ felt that I was waking 
 up by contact with Nature. This year we 
 
 s one of the happiest and best 
 employed of my life, for at this time I was assuredly making real progress. 
 I watched myself closely in my work, and one day, having made a study rather 
 
 although it was well done, so much 
 
 easily, I scraped it entirely from the canv 
 
 did I fear to slip on the smooth plane of facility. Then already I was, and have 
 remained, very severe toward myself. 1 am my most merciless critic, because I 
 do not delude myself in regard to my work. As to the self-styled critics, their 
 approbation and their raillery have always found me indifferent, for I have 
 
LADIATORS 
 
 HG 
 
 EEE 
 
 (SCULPTURE—BRONZE) 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 49 
 
 always had the most profound contempt for these vermin, who prey upon the 
 bodies of artists. .... One day Nestor Roqueplan, who was the equal of 
 his confréres, told me that one thing was evident—/ did not show sufficient 
 deference to the critics/ I replied to him, ‘I have talent or I have it oz. 
 
 If the first is true, you critics may find fault with and demolish my pictures 
 as much as you please; they will defend themselves, and the public will be 
 the judge. In the second case, unmerited praises will not render my works 
 
 better, and no one will be entrapped by these lying snares. Moreover,’ I 
 added, ‘whatever may be my lot, in the present or in the future, I have 
 firmly resolved never to fay the clague/’ This conversation created a coldness 
 
 between us.” 
 
 In a characteristically humorous preface to the essay from which we have 
 already quoted, Bergerat rallies the master good-naturedly on his frankly 
 
 expressed aversion to critics em masse. 
 
 “Never believe any one who tells you that Géréme loves art-critics | writes 
 
 y]|, for he simply execrates them! A writer on art is for him the 
 dried fruit, far excellence, of art or of literature, whichever you please. I confess 
 here that in our first interview he did not mince matters in giving me his opinion 
 on this point, from whence I conclude he is not very proud of the race! It is, 
 nevertheless, rather singular that the artist should owe his precocious celebrity to 
 one of my confréres. It is true the latter possessed, in addition to his critical 
 
 capacities, an undisputed genius as a poet and novelist, and that he was called 
 
50 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 Théophile Gautier. My relationship to him is certainly the sole cause why I was 
 not received with a volley of stones by the painter of the Combat de Cogs/ And 
 truth compels me even to declare, that, exception once made in my favor, I found 
 myself in the presence of the most charming, sfiritwe/, and learned man that I 
 have ever had the good fortune to meet among the large family of painters. 1 
 imparted to him the object of my visit, which was to biographize him alive in La 
 Galerie Contemporaine—no more nor less than if it concerned an artist for whom 
 I professed a very sincere admiration, and whom I considered one of the glories 
 of contemporaneous art! He burst into a laugh and went over to his secretary, 
 from a particular drawer in which he took an exceptionally good cigar and 
 offered it to me. ‘I give them only to my friends!’ he remarked, and it 
 was thenceforth understood that he would not treat me as a critic/ His 
 
 two greyhounds, which till then had held themselves aloof, perhaps only 
 awaiting a sign from their master to reduce me to a state of pulp, now drew 
 near, joyously wagging their tails, and one of them curled himself up to 
 sleep at my feet. 
 
 “Bless me, yes! there are critics and critics, just as there are /fagots of all 
 qualities. It is clear that an artist of Gérdme's ability, for instance, has a right 
 to consider as both presumptuous and incompetent the bachelor of letters who, 
 without acquired knowledge or previous study, takes it into his head to determine 
 the merits of an art of the very elements of which he is ignorant. It is also 
 evident that the same Géréme might justly feel offended at being called a Miéris, 
 junior, by Burger, ¢f Burger passed for a recognized authority in art matters; for 
 
 the comparison is unjust to the later master, and betrays both prejudice and 
 partiality in the judge. But, on the whole, if the painter has Théophile Thoré 
 against him, he has Théophile Gautier for him, and to be able to offset the taste 
 of the former by that of the latter, should, it seems to me, afford ample consola- 
 tion. Besides, with all due deference to the master, if the cr/tic did not exist, the 
 ts. 
 sonal harm writers on art are able to inflict is more than compensated for by the 
 
 artists would be obliged to invent him solely in their own inter 
 
 he per- 
 
 service they render to the cause of general instruction. And then, as Figaro 
 would say in regard to the infallibility of a critic, how many painters are there 
 who are qualified to exerc the profession? If we serve only to soften the 
 brotherly judgments of the artists among themselves, and to act as ‘‘mattress” 
 between the different schools, we should still play a useful réle. This is what I 
 
 was thinking about while watching the blue spirals of smoke from Gérome’s 
 cigar disperse themselves in the atelier. 
 
 “When I write the folio of which I dream, on the w¢ility of art-critics, it is 
 understood that I shall dedicate it to Géréme! and among the overwhelming 
 proofs which I shall give of this utility—amounting, indeed, to indispensability— 
 is that of having been able, thanks to the institution, to publish this biographical 
 study of the master !” 
 
 We, who have enjoyed and profited so greatly by Bergerat’s admirable 
 
 writings, are only too ready to admit that at least criticism such as Ais is 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 on 
 
 “indispensable,” and to recommend his essays, with their profound learning 
 underlying all the sparkle of fanciful wit, as a model for da critigue, as a 
 profession. 
 
 We left Gérome in Rome, where he remained one year, working with 
 
 tremendous energy under the eye of his watchful and sympathetic friend and 
 
 master, storing his mind with varied knowledge and developing surprising 
 
 facility, especially in drawing. He would doubtless have been content to pursue 
 these delightful studies in so charming an en/ouwrage, but the parental ambition 
 was scarcely satisfied by the assurance of his general progress, however real. 
 
 The Prix de Rome oftered by the French Government was, 
 
 at this time, hotly 
 contested, and naturally attracted the attention of the prudent father, who 
 
 repeatedly urged his son to enter his name as a competitor for this much coveted 
 
 prize, which guaranteed to the winner five years’ instruction at the Villa Medici, 
 g J 
 
 the entire expense of which was borne by the state. 
 
 In order to comply with the conditions of the competition, it was necessary to 
 be an actual student in some atelier of repute in Paris, and Géréme, obediently 
 yielding to his father’s desire, quitted Delaroche and returned to place himself 
 under the instruction of Gleyre. We have heard it stated that he found the 
 comparison unfavorable to his new master, but, with his usual delicacy, he has 
 refrained from expressing himself on this point. The fact remains, however, 
 that he stayed only three months in his new atelier, and then joyfully rejoined 
 
 Delaroche, who had returned to Paris, working with him on a celebrated picture 
 
 now in the museum at Versailles. Géréme refers in his notes very briefly to this 
 
 period : 
 
 ‘On my return from Italy I entered the atelier of M. Gleyre. Three months 
 of study—nude figures. 1 then worked for nearly a year at the first draught of 
 a picture which occupied my master (Delaroche) at that time. I refer to the 
 Charlemagne Crossing the Alps. Then, as my father still desired it, | attempted 
 the concours for the Prix de Rome. The sketch was well received, the painted 
 
 figure 1 It was with 
 
 ected. Decidedly I needed to draw and model the nude. 
 
 this intention of s¢wdy that I painted my first picture, /ewnes Grecs Faisant Battre 
 des Cogs. 1 dreaded the Salon, and feared rejection, and it was owing solely to the 
 
 advice of the Patron that this canvas was sent there. Although badly placed, the 
 picture had a very great success, unquestionably an exaggerated success, which 
 
 astonished no one so much as the author!” 
 
 Commending Gérome’s resolution to perfect himself in drawing from the 
 nude, De Tanouarn remarks : 
 
 “Tn this he acted very wisely, and furnished an example which young 
 painters would do well to imitate. The majority of them hasten to execute 
 pictures before becoming sufficiently versed in drawing. Now drawing is the 
 
iS 
 
 N LEON GLROME. 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEA 
 
 soul of all the plastic arts. Without it, other qualities, however brilliant they 
 may seem, are only a deception, the effect of which will inevitably fade away 
 
 before long.” 
 Of the young artist's successful début, Timbal writes as follows: 
 
 “The Salon of 1847 ought to have left some traces in the memory of those 
 whom age condemns to remember it, but how many remain to-day who can recall 
 
 it? Grande wvi spatium/ Since then many illustrious ones have descended into 
 
 the tomb or into oblivion, . . . . At that time, one man reigned supreme in the 
 
 department of criticism. His incomparably skillful pen was a scepter, a dreaded 
 scepter—whose caresses were longed for and whose blows solicited ; neglect alone 
 
 was feared. Happily, Théophile Gautier was good, and he exercised his power 
 with benignity. . . . . Like an astronomer, he was devoted to his search for stars; 
 under which the 
 
 his joy was never so great as when, in the mass of canvase 
 chefs-d cuz 
 in discovering some nameless one, some victim unjustly hoisted by the 
 
 e of the masters in the Louvre were yearly hidden, he succeeded 
 
 The more obscure the corner, the 
 
 administration to the height of the friez 
 
 more openly did the protection of the patron assert itself, and the more ardent 
 
 was the revolt against the ignorance or the ill will of the judg 
 
 He then refers to Gautier’s description of Géréme’s first picture, which brought 
 
 him at one bound into public notice, adding : ‘‘ The great critic was not deceived 
 either in the value of the work or the merit of the artist. The chief of the néo- 
 grecs, ignorant of the onerous title with which he was so soon to be decorated, 
 
 effort his wonderful naiveté and his already consummate 
 
 revealed in his fir 
 skill of execution.” 
 De Tanouarn also delightedly praises this first effort, saying: ‘‘ In this sphere 
 
 (the néo-grec) he showed himself graceful without affectation, simple without 
 
 barrenne 
 
 s, and learned without pedantry.” 
 We cannot do better than to transcribe in full Gautier’s criticism, which 
 
 aroused so universal an attention. 
 
 “Let us congratulate ourselves that the jury, apparently through inattention, 
 
 has admitted a charming picture, full of delicacy and originality, by a young man 
 of whom we hear for the first time, and who, if we are not mistaken, has just made 
 his début ; we allude to Les Jeunes Grecs Faisant Battre des Cogs, by M. Gérome. 
 This subject, apparently trivial, has, under his fine and delicate handling of 
 crayon and brush, taken on a rare elegance and exquisite distinction ; it is not, 
 as one might think from the theme chosen by the artist, a canvas of small dimen- 
 
 sions, as is usual in similar fancies. The figures are life-size, and treated in an 
 
 entirely historical manner. Great talent and resources have been necessary to 
 raise so episodic a scene to the rank of a noble composition, which no master 
 would disown. Beside the pedestal of an exhausted fountain, where a marble 
 
 sphinx shows its disfigured profile, surrounded by the luxuriant vegetation of a 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 un 
 on 
 
 warm country, arbutus, myrtles, and oleanders, whose metallic leaves stand out 
 against the 
 
 ire of a placid sea, separated from the azure of the heavens by 
 the crest of a promontory—two young people, a youth and maiden, are engaging 
 in combat the courageous birds of Mars. 
 
 “The young girl leans upon the cage which contains the warlike fowls, in a 
 pose full of grace and elegance. Her beautiful, tapering hands are crossed and 
 charmingly disposed ; one of her arms lightly presses the budding breast, and the 
 bust has that serpentine curve so sought for by the ancients ; the foreshortened 
 limbs are skillfully drawn ; the head—crowned in exquisite taste by a coronet of 
 blond hair, whose fine tones contrast softly with the skin—has a childish deli- 
 cacy, a virginal sweetness ; with lowered eyes and mouth parting in a smile of 
 triumph—for her cock appears to have the advantage—the maiden regards 
 the struggle carelessly, sure that her wager is won. 
 
 “Nothing can be more beautiful than this figure, whose only covering is a 
 fold of white and yellow drapery, held in place on the sloping contours by a 
 slight purple cord; this grouping of tints, very soft and very harmonious, ad- 
 mirably sets off the warm whiteness of the young Greek’s body. 
 
 “The youth—whose locks are adorned with a hastily twined wreath of leaves 
 plucked from the neighboring bushes—is kneeling and bending toward his cock, 
 whose courage he endeavors to stimulate. His features, although reminding one 
 perhaps a little too much of ‘the model,’ are drawn with remarkable skill; we 
 of the combat. 
 
 can see that he is utterly absorbed in watching the ph 
 
 ‘“As to the fowls, they are real prodigies of drawing, animation, and color ; 
 
 neither Sneyders, nor Veenincx, nor Oudry, nor Desportes, nor Rousseau, nor any 
 
 other artists who paint animals, have attained, after twenty years of labor, the 
 
 perfection M. Géréme exhibits at the start. Black and lustrous, with greenish 
 reflections, the neck bent, its triple collar of feathers bristling up, the eye full of 
 fury, the crest bleeding, the beak open, the claws drawn back to the breast—one 
 of the cocks, ao longer touching the earth, darts forward, presenting to its 
 adversary two stars of threatening claws and formidable spurs—a marvel of pose, 
 drawing, and color. 
 
 “Not less worthy of admiration is the cock of the coppery, reddish-tinted 
 plumage, which, drawing back close to the ground, lifts its head craftily and 
 extends his beak like a sword, upon which his too fiery opponent may run him- 
 self as on a spit! What is remarkable above all in these fowls is that, besides 
 the most absolute truthfulness, they show a singular elegance and nobility. 
 They are the epic Olympian birds, such as Phidias would have sculptured at 
 the feet of the god Ares, the savage offspring of Here. 
 
 ‘Children and birds have made of M. Géréme’s picture one of the most 
 charming canvases in the exhibition. What a delicious frieze-panel for the 
 
 banquet hall of a king or a Rothschild 
 
 We know already that this picture, which merits every word of eulogy that 
 has been bestowed on it, met with the noblest fate painter or critic could have 
 desired—namely, purchase by the state and a place on the line in the principal 
 
56 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 gallery of the Palais du Luxembourg. Later, Edmond About wrote, ‘‘Greece is 
 the country of simplicity. M. Géréme was ‘Greek’ from the beginning, because 
 he was simple.” And in the midst of all this laudatory criticism of the young 
 débutant, it is interesting, as Bergerat suggests, ‘‘to know, to-day, what Géréme, 
 Membre de l'Institut, and several times the recipient of the Medal of Honor, 
 thinks of this first picture of Géréme, pupil of Delaroche, and refused in the 
 competition for the Prix de Rome/’’ We have only to turn to the notes where 
 he has so candidly recorded his recollections of these early efforts, and we shall 
 
 see. He writes: 
 
 “At this period—I speak from a general point of view—there was a complete 
 absence of simplicity. Effect (Ze chic) was in great favor, when accompanied by 
 skill, which was not infrequent. And my picture had the slight merit of being 
 painted by an honest young fellow, who, knowing nothing, had found nothing 
 better to do than to lay hold on Nature, and follow her step by step, without 
 strength perhaps, without grandeur, and certainly with timidity, but with 
 sincerity. Praise was unanimous, which was not always the case in the future. 
 My success encouraged without puffing me up. They gave me a third-class 
 medal. My foot was in the stirrup! I then attempted a more complex compo- 
 sition, in which I had less success. I mean my second picture, Anacreon Dancing 
 with Bacchus and Cupid, which was exhibited the following year, 1848. A dry, 
 cut-up picture, the style and invention of which, however, were not bad. If | 
 had had then the experience I have since acquired, this work might have been 
 a good thing—it remains mediocre. (In the Museum at Toulouse.) I had at the 
 same time sent a Virgin and Child, after the manner of Raphael—insipid and 
 of poor execution. Complete fiasco with these two pictures—it was deserved |” 
 
 This paragraph attests, without a shadow of question, the genuine imparti- 
 ality of Géroéme’s self-criticism. Having fallen short of his high ideal, he 
 disdains to mention a fact that, to say the least, would have brought consolation 
 
 to almost any one else save this exacting spirit, namely, that his pictures won a 
 
 second-class medal,—an advance upon the first year,—and that the government 
 
 purchased the Anacreon for one of its best collections is only briefly stated in a 
 
 parenthesis! It is true that the astonishing success of his début was not repeated, 
 
 but there is a homely old saying that might apply here—‘' lightning rarely strikes 
 twice in the same place.” Still we search in vain for so unsparing and severe a 
 judgment as this merciless critic inflicts upon himself. Timbal writes: ‘The 
 
 admirers of yesterday were a little anxious; they should have quickly reassured 
 themselves ; it is not given to every one to commit these faults of exaggeration 
 and arrangement through hatred of the commonplace, and not alone by its 
 strangeness did the Anacreon stand out in relief from its neighboring canvases. 
 
 Doubtless the body and limbs of the flute-player were too rigidly modeled ; 
 
MUEZZIN 
 
 NIGHT) 
 
 TEs 
 
 (AT 
 
 1882 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 nr 
 NI 
 
 doubtless the poet, with his immense lyre, formed a somewhat strange silhouette 
 upon the sky, and the little god Bacchus staggered more through the fault of the 
 portraitist than from the effects of intemperance. But what a charm, reminding 
 one of Luini, in the figure of Amowr, and in the least details! what ingenious 
 research and what originality of execution! The eye wanders delightedly over 
 
 this antique landscape, never seen in the engravings of Poussin, but taken from 
 
 real Nature’s great garden—with its somber rocks spotted with lichens, its green 
 
 sward swept by the chill wind from the sea, and its trees, with their delicate 
 
 branches and fine foliage colored a pale gold by the vanishing sun, trembling in 
 the breeze.” And speaking of the religious picture, Gautier says: ‘‘Géréme, 
 although a pagan of Pompeii, also fully understands Christian art. His St John 
 Embracing the Child Jesus on the Knees of the Virgin might have been signed 
 by Overbeck, only Overbeck would not have displayed this profound science 
 
 of drawing and this exquisite taste hidden under the Gothic pasticcio. Gérome 
 
 goes toward Calvary by way of Athens!” 
 Despite Géréme’s feeling that he had failed to achieve a success, the enthu- 
 siasm aroused by his last efforts was undeniable, and his little band of followers, 
 henceforth known as the xéo-grec school, increased in numbers and rallied around 
 him with all the ardor of youth and fervor of artistic zeal. 
 “But the days following victory,” remarks Timbal sagely, ‘‘are often full of 
 
 dangers; not only do enemies watch for possible faults on the part of the 
 
 conqueror, but friends even sometimes become more exacting. Gérome was 
 
 going to experience for some time the instabilities of success, although he seemed 
 only to have to march on in the route he had traced out for himself, and in which 
 others already were following him. The eyes of the public were fixed in expecta- 
 tion on the tiny garden in the Rue de Fleurus, where, in the shade of lilacs anc 
 rose trees, the little colony had pitched its tents and set up its household gods 
 near him they had chosen as their chief.” 
 
 “They constituted,” says Mrs. Stranahan, ‘‘a kind of apostleship around 
 
 Gérome of artists of the most delicate conceits, and formed in art a sort of 
 little Athens, in which Théophile Gautier made himself fondly at home. It was 
 a realm, the air of which would not perhaps be sustaining or even perceptible to 
 the respiratory organs of Courbet. Their practice was the opposite of his ; it was 
 to put the common, trivial incident into a graceful rendering, often with a 
 charming poetic sentiment, and by harmonizing contours and evolving grace of 
 line, to give to the nude the classic treatment. They had a predilection for the 
 nude. Their treatment differs from the academic classic, in taking the common 
 incident, the familiar and emotional side of Greek or Roman life—in fact, in 
 
 painting the genre of the antique, or, a more pleasing if less substantial depart- 
 
 ment of their practice, the genre of fancy—as in the works of Hamon and 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 Aubert. They also treated subjects of modern life, but it was by foetizing them 
 into the classic, rather than by agegrandizing them into it, as had been the 
 
 practice of the Davidians. The influence of this school is in some de 
 
 perceptible in most of the later French artists.” 
 
 t was in a simple little wooden cottage that these happy poet-artists 
 
 gathered around their beloved leader, who, as Hamon wrote, ‘‘inspired one with 
 
 a love of work, but work done laughing and singing!” 
 
 3ut there came, as we have heard from Géréme’s own lips, day 
 discouragement and trial, and, in truth, of real suffering and pinching want. 
 The revolution of 1848,—in which he figured prominently as captain on the staff 
 I 
 
 of the National Guard,—although comparatively pacific, seriously affected the 
 
 already precarious existence of the struggling band, some of whom were 
 
 practically without resources. There was no demand nor market for paintings, 
 and Géréme’s generosity soon brought him to the common condition, ‘‘ empty 
 
 pockets.” Many were the curious shifts they made during the next year to keep 
 
 1e ‘‘wolf from the door”; such as painting tiny religious cards representing the 
 
 ‘Way of the Cross,’ and drawing lots to see who should place themselves on the 
 
 steps of the different churches, in the hope of gaining the price of a meal by 
 
 selling these incentives to devotion to the faithful, as they passed in and out of 
 
 the sanctuary. But in spite of empty stomachs and chilled fingers, which were 
 often warmed only over a blaze made of a stray newspaper captured as a wintry 
 
 wind blew it along the boulevard, the work went on, and the “laughing and 
 
 singing” did not diminish, though an attentive ear might have detected an 
 undertone of pathos and patient resignation. Gérdme, as usual, does not dwell 
 on these days of hardship, stoically endured; pride and consideration for his 
 
 parents prevented him from confessing his needy condition till a dangerous 
 
 attack of typhoid fever almost put an end to his career. His dear mother 
 hastened to Paris, and, after weeks of devoted nursing, carried him away to 
 Italy, where they remained for three months, visiting Genoa, Milan, and Venice 
 
 before returning. 
 
 Gér6me again takes up his recollections. ‘‘After this I exhibited almost 
 every year, but I had lost ground, and several works placed before the public 
 left it cold and indifferent. One of them, under the title of Gynécée, aroused con- 
 siderable attention, but more on account of the subject (sad! sad!) than of the 
 manner in which it was treated.” 
 
 Although, as Bergerat says, ‘‘it somewhat shocked the bourgeois and philis- 
 tine foll, who seemed to demand that the artist should regard these beautiful 
 forms and graceful postures from their severely moralistic point of view,” it can- 
 not be denied that the subject is portrayed with the soberness characteristic of 
 
 this painter, who reproduces the actual life of ancient Greece not only in his 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 59 
 
 themes, but in his modes 
 
 y of pose and delicacy of treatment. Aside from the 
 
 masterly modeling of the different figures, which are standing or languidly 
 
 & 
 
 reclining on couches covered with tiger-skins, what delightful grouping of details 
 we find here! Vines clambering upward toward the sun over polished marble 
 pillars ; a solemn old stork standing on one leg and gravely regarding some black 
 
 and white ducks who paddle to and fro in a pool of clear water; vases, lamps, 
 
 and amphore of exquisite shape ; delicate frescoes and tiling; graceful draper 
 luscious fruits heaped temptingly in a flat bowl with curved handles, and burning 
 
 incense mingling its intoxicating perfume with the faint odor of the flowers that 
 
 have dropped from the hand of the sleeping beauty, who lies upon a superb lion- 
 skin which is thrown on the tessellated floor ! 
 
 Of this canvas, which also bears the title /tériewr Grec, Gautier declares, *‘ It 
 is the only picture which can be placed beside the Sfra/onice of Ingres. Itisa 
 chef-d'euvre of style, grace, and originality.” 
 
 No reproduction exists of two additional paintings exhibited this same year 
 (1850)—Souvenir d’talie and Bacchus et ! Amour Fores ; but the latter—of which 
 Réné Ménard writes, ‘‘Every one will remember what a sensation was produced 
 by this charming picture”—was singled out by the government and bought for 
 
 the Museum at Bordeaux. 
 
 The years 1851-1852 were busily employed executing a state commission, con- 
 
 cerning which the artist writes as follows : 
 
 “Tt was toward this period that I finished a Chapel (St. Sévérin), which 
 doubtless has some merit, but which betrays the youth and inexperience of the 
 artist. On one side the Communion of St. Jéréme, on the other Belzunce Making 
 a Vow to the Sacred Heart during the plague at Marseilles. One or two characters 
 in the first picture are well done, among others the St. Jérome; the general 
 character is quite exalted, and the treatment does not lack boldness; but every- 
 where there is dryness and even hardness. This is a defect which I have 
 always sought to correct in myself, and if I have succeeded in diminishing it, I 
 have not yet been able to rid myself of it entirely. In the other picture, several 
 characters are well conceived, among others the young woman showing her dead 
 child to Belzunce. The scene is well composed, the subject clearly expressed— 
 
 that is all I can say of it!” 
 
 Who among competent professional critics will fail to appreciate the sterling 
 worth of criticism like this, or the rare strength of character that renders it 
 possible ? 
 
 Masson characterizes these mural decorations as ‘“‘two noble compositions 
 of an elevated character and a true inspiration. If certain portions seem a little 
 dry, nothing is ordinary. In fact, this is a distinguishing feature in the work of 
 
 Gérome—that it never falls into, nor touches ever so slightly, the commonplace.” 
 
60 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 M. de Tanouarn also describes the same work as ‘‘an admirable composition, 
 endowed with all the qualities which religious painting can have in our day.” 
 In point of mural decorations, Géréme was afterward called upon to adorn the 
 Bibliotheque des Arts-et-Métiers 
 
 , Which was the ancient refectory of Sa¢nt-Martin- 
 
 des-Champs, and several years later for some 
 
 / = ps = panels in the Pompeian Palace of Prince 
 { — <== Napoleon, of which we shall make further 
 I 
 
 mention. 
 
 The Salon of 1852 also held a picturesque 
 landscape entitled Vue de Pestum. The broth- 
 ers Goncourt devoted quite a space in one of 
 their admirable critigues to this charming bit 
 of Nature, where “the whole scene exhaled a 
 delicious freshness.” They especially admired 
 “the heavy heads, the woolly tufts, the solidity 
 of the joints, and the varied movement of the 
 buffaloes, hastening, rushing down to the water 
 
 to quench their thirst.” 
 
 Gérome’s notes now briefly record the 
 exposition at the Salon of 1853 of a frieze 
 destined to be reproduced on a ‘‘vase, com- 
 memorative of the Universal Exposition at 
 London, ordered by the Minister of State from 
 
 the government manufactory at Sévres.” The 
 
 figures on this superb vase, which was pre- 
 
 sented by the French Government to Queen 
 
 Victoria, were life-size, and gave the artist a rare opportunity to exhibit his 
 
 versatile powers. Says Masson : 
 
 ‘Never perhaps more than here has the painter given proof of his inventive 
 genius, in the grouping of personages, in the research for symbols of each nation, 
 in the pursuit of characteristic types of the human races. The composition is 
 ingenious and simple. With a subject that too easily lends itself to the common- 
 place, the author has drawn a lofty poem of Unive 
 
 rsal Industry, for which each 
 nation furnishes a strophe. Antique costumes, learnedly studied, freshened by 
 
 ingenious details, ennoble the modern accessories. It is a kind of ethnographic 
 
 résumé, which it is interesting to compare with the tapestries of the eighteenth 
 century which represent the Four Quarters of the Globe.” 
 
 Gérome has also executed life-si figures of different nations for a model 
 
 lighthouse, in an equally masterly manner. He also sent to the same Salon a 
 
 Study of a Dog and /dylle, a fantasy in his much-loved classic style—a youth and 
 
14ND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 61 
 
 maiden leaning against a fountain where a graceful fawn comes confidingly to 
 
 drink. It is a most poetic conception, expressive of pure, artless love and the 
 
 happy ¢souciance of ‘‘ Life in Arcadia.” 
 
 We now come to the first of those journeys which had so decided an influence 
 
 over the subsequent work of the artist, and of which he briefly speaks as follows : 
 “Tn 1854 I started for Moscow with my friend Got. On the way we changed our 
 
 minds, turned back, and took the route to Constantinople by way of the Danube 
 
 and the Black Sea, a voyage of tourists, not worker 
 
 He could scarcely have chosen his compagnon de voyage better. M. Got, the 
 celebrated actor of the Comédie-Frangaise, was a man not only skilled in his own 
 profession but of remarkable learning and a genial wit. Unfortunately war broke 
 out and prevented our travelers from gaining the interior. Obliged to retrace 
 their steps, they took passage on a huge flatboat, which drifted lazily down the 
 Danube, touching here and there to discharge or increase its cargo. Of this 
 
 journey Timbal writes : 
 
 “One day,as the boat stopped for this purpose, Géréme and his friend went 
 on shore for a stroll; chance led them near a group dimly outlined through the 
 morning mists. It was a band of musicians belonging to the Russian army, who 
 
 were singing a battle-march. Géréme approached, leisurely regarded them, took 
 his sketches and his notes, and the Cossacks did not concern themselves about 
 him. More prudence is exercised on other frontiers,and any other unfriendly 
 nation would perhaps have made a hostage of the audacious painter, or, more 
 probably, a spy and a victim. This is how it happened that, starting for the 
 Ukraine to sketch the descendants of the vassals of ancient Rome, Gérome met 
 there the actors in a little page of contemporaneous history, whose modest figures 
 were destined almost to eclipse those of Virgil and of Brutus, but who opened up 
 
 to him who knew how to see and to portray them a new vein of success; it is far 
 from being exhausted, and it is by this carefully renewed and cultivated power of 
 recognizing the picturesque element, and the striking physiognomy of foreign 
 
 races, that the painter still achieves to-day one of his most incontestable 
 triumphs.” 
 
 This was only one of the many sketches with which our artist filled his port- 
 folios before taking the steamer at Constantinople to return by way of Malta to 
 aris, where he attacked with renewed ardor the great historical picture which, 
 as we have seen, excited the profound admiration not only of the more serious 
 artists, but of the most distinguished poets, historians, and littérateurs of that 
 period. But it was “‘caviare to the general,” and the disappointment of the artist 
 at seeing his pictures of genre preferred to his greater work is easily understood. 
 He writes : ‘‘This same year I had received an order for a large picture—7%e Age 
 
 of Augustus, Birth of Christ. This canv. 
 
 as, which cost me two years of work 
 
 and enormous efforts (it measured ten meters in length by seven in height), only 
 
62 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 obtained a succés d’estime, which was perhaps unjust. However, I must admit at 
 once that the picture had one glaring defect—it lacked invention and originality, 
 recalling by the disposition of the figures, and unhappily by this point only, the 
 
 Ipotheosis of Homer, by Ingres. This grave fault once acknowledged, it is just to 
 
 admit that in this vast composition there are figures well conceived,—mofi/s of 
 groups happily combined (such as Brutus and Cassius, Cleopatra and Antony),— 
 
 arrangements of costumes and draperies in good style; in short, a quantity of 
 
 fancies, crowned in some instances with success, with which perhaps the public 
 
 should have accredited me ; it has not done so.” 
 
 Here again we see Géréme, with his severely critical eye, detecting and 
 
 magnifying his weak points, utterly underestimating the impr on made by 
 
 this remarkable picture, which, adds Gautier to his exhaustive crétigue, already 
 quoted, ‘‘will be forever remembered as one of the beauties of the Exposition.” 
 “At the same time,” continues Géréme, ‘‘appeared a small picture repre- 
 
 senting The Band of a Russian Regiment. 1 had, it seemed, found /a@ note 
 
 on which I had 
 
 sensible, for it was much more remarked than my large work 
 
 a greater right to count. This year I received the decoration of the Legion 
 
 of Honor.” 
 
 And another medal, he might have added, but that his mention of laurels 
 
 received is rare and always brief, since they never have impressed him as deeply 
 as his failures to attain to his highest ideals. It was no consolation to him to 
 see visitors to the Salon jostling each other in an effort to gain a place in the 
 crowd that always stood before his other pictures, notably the Recreation in 
 Camp. 
 
 In a private letter to a friend at this time, Gérome writes: ‘‘I send you the 
 picture of the Russians, which I took to M. de Nieuwerkerke a few days ago. 
 He has allowed me to hope that he will make every effort to have it hung on the 
 sacred walls/ Asitis not large, try to place it well for me, if it is still allowed 
 to come in. I do not know what title to give it. I think it would be best to 
 simply call it Russian Recreation in Camp—Souvenir of Moldavia, 1854. It really 
 1as no need of a title, for it is sufficiently plain, and, even if it is placed, it cannot 
 appear in the catalogue.” 
 The artist need not have feared for the fate of this little gem, which was 
 
 gladly accepted by the administration, many weeks after the opening of the 
 
 exposition, achieving an instant and universal success. Gautier writes of it as 
 
 follows : 
 
 “Let us speak now of a picture which does not appear on the catalogue 
 
 because it was not finished till long after the opening of the Exposition. As it 
 
 is difficult to find, we are sure of rendering service to amateurs by informing 
 them that it is placed in the first gallery, among the exhibits from Portugal. It 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GERO! 63 
 
 is a study from nature made during a journey in Moldavia in 1854, when the 
 artist had the good fortune to be in close proximity to a Russian camp ; actuality, 
 as one will quickly notice, is not wanting in this scene. 
 
 “Some Russian soldiers, dressed in cafofes of gray drugget, resembling the 
 frock of a monk or a hospital great-coat, and wearing blue helmets bordered 
 with red, are ranged in a circle; they have been ordered to amuse themselves and 
 they are conscientiously obeying the command; one of them has advanced to 
 the center of the circle and is executing a kind of awkward Muscovite cachucha, 
 accompanying himself on two triangles garnished with strings on which quiver 
 little copper coins which he rattles together; the orchestra is composed of a violin, 
 a drum, and a fife; those who have no instruments sing, or, inserting two fingers 
 into their mouths, produce a shrill whistling ; some of them, between the strophes 
 of this rondo, take a whiff from their short pipes. Nothing is more curious than 
 these Kalmuck and Tartar types, with their flat noses, projecting cheek-bones, 
 and shaved heads, their Albino-like mustaches, and little eyes under eyelids 
 sloping toward the temples; the countenances of these poor devils are resigned, 
 nostalgic, and very gentle in spite of their ugliness; the young fifer is almost 
 good-looking, and on the field of battle he would blow into his little reed pipe 
 with the same stolidity as did the fifer so much admired by Frederick the 
 Great. 
 
 “At a little distance an under-officer mounts guard, holding in his arm, bent 
 behind his back, a whip, to stimulate the mirth! Farther off a second circle is 
 
 absorbed in the same diversion. Tents of white canvas, a gray hill where seven 
 
 or eight windmills are turning their fans, looking like huge wheels, a hazy sky 
 on which a sharp line is traced by a flock of cranes, the flat banks of the Danube, 
 where a melancholy sentinel is gazing into the turbid current—all this forms a 
 
 most original background for this strange circle. It is impossible to describe the 
 
 profound sadness of this scene, placed in these somber surroundings, dimly 
 
 lighted, and as if veiled with ennui. The execution has a precision and finish 
 that does not exclude breadth, the secret of which M. Gérome possesses. One 
 learns more of Russia in looking at this little canvas for a quarter of an hour 
 than by reading twenty descriptive volumes; painting, with its mute language, 
 
 g, 
 
 often says more than the wordiest writers.” 
 
 Without exception, the critics lavished praise on this unique and exquisitely 
 
 painted scene, where, as Edmond About says, ‘‘each fold of drapery might have 
 
 been signed by Meissonier.” 
 
 In addition to these two canvases, each so extraordinary in its own sphere, 
 Gérome exhibited three bits of genre: 4 /Vock-tender, An Italian Lad Playing 
 on a Samponia, and the pendant, 4x /talian Girl Playing on a Mandoline, which 
 Gautier pronounced ‘‘very finished and very precious, strikingly displaying the 
 delicate perfection of the artist’s skill.” 
 
 “At the end of this Exposition,” writes Bergerat, ‘‘a little saddened by the 
 
 injustice of the public toward his important effort in Ze grand art, Gérome started 
 
64 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 for Egypt. Was he not predestined to paint the Orient, this man whose first 
 child’s attempt had been to copy a picture by Decamps?” And Timbal adds, 
 “He went to seek the promised land, the country of those poets, choristers of the 
 sun, who were called Marilhat and Decamps. Did he not show some temerity 
 in choosing their route? What was the newcomer going to do? Copy his pre- 
 decessors or contradict them? Géréme did not embarrass himself in advance 
 with troublesome questionings. What he was going to see he would relate in his 
 
 own way. Comparisons weighed but little on him. A single desire possessed 
 
 him—to copy faithfully the scenes the Orient was about to place before his eyes. 
 In finding again on the shores of the Nile the souvenir of that second vocation of 
 which he had caught a glimpse one day on the banks of the Danube, he fixed a 
 certain horizon and determined upon a precise goal which for some time had 
 seemed to flee before him.” 
 
 In truth, in Géréme’s recollections there sounds at this moment a joyous note 
 of relief, hope, and eager expectation: a view-halloo of the unequaled success 
 
 that was to crown his efforts in this line : 
 
 “Departure for Egypt. My short stay in Constantinople had whetted my 
 appetite, and the Orient was the most frequent of my dreams. Probably some 
 Bohemian slipped in among my ancestors, for I have always had a nomadic dis- 
 position and a well-developed bump of locomotion. I started with friends, being 
 one of five—all of us with little money but abundant spirits! However, living at 
 that time was very cheap in Egypt. The country had not yet been invaded by 
 the Europeans, and one could live ther 
 
 at a very moderate expense. We rented 
 a sailboat and stayed for four months on the Nile, hunting, painting, and fishing, 
 from Damietta to Phila. .... We returned to Cairo, where we passed four 
 months more in a house in old Cairo, which Suleiman Pasha rented to us. In 
 our quality of Frenchmen he showed us the most cordial hospitality. Happy 
 time of youth, thoughtlessness, and hope! The sky was blue!.... Many 
 pictures, more or less successful, more or less to the taste of the public, were 
 executed as a result of this sojourn by the banks of the Father of Waters.” 
 
 With these few lines, the artist lightly disposes of that unprecedented col- 
 ection of paintings which he sent to the Salon of 1857, and which at once estab- 
 
 ished his claim to the title of foremost Orientalist of the age—a claim since 
 confirmed beyond all question. The amount of work he accomplished within 
 a few months is almost incredible, and its variety and quality astonished alike 
 connoisseurs and the general public. 
 
 Timbal writes: ‘‘It is ancient Egypt, whose sand each year devours its 
 
 precious remains, and also Egypt struggling a new birth, where the painter 
 seems to show us the steady fatality which keeps an accursed race under the 
 
 double yoke of slavery and suffering. He gives to these revelations of a country 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 65 
 
 already well-known, a new physiognomy, and to his pictures the indisputable 
 authority of a document of which history will one day invoke the testimony. 
 And art can demand nothing more from these scenes, so proudly faithful in their 
 simplicity of effect and execution, which repose eyes weary of conventionalities 
 become éana/es, and which are none the less skillful because they do not pretend 
 to add light to the sun, nor to lend brilliancy to the rags of the fed/ah.”’ 
 
 Let us follow Gautier as he passes from one to the other of these 
 wonderful canvases, reproducing with facile pencil, for those who cannot 
 see the originals, their unique beauty, ai pathos, and power, of 
 which he has already given us 
 some foreshadowing in his re- 
 
 view of the atelier sketches. 
 
 “One is apt to picture 
 to one’s self tropical 
 countries as glowing 
 
 and flaming with é 
 
 heat; this is true some- 
 
 times but not always. The intense light pouring , down in white 
 floods changes the color of sky, earth, and ~“ buildings. The 
 sand, on fire, assumes under a leaden sun the cold appearance of snow- 
 
 drifts; while the impalpable dust raised on the horizon forms a kind of mist 
 which chills and extinguishes the warm tones of color. Therefore the absolute 
 truthfulness of the Agyptian Recruits Crossing the Desert is more astonishing 
 than convincing to the general eye. One thinks, in spite of one’s self, of 
 the deserts of the opera, with their skies streaked with indigo and mine de 
 Saturne, and their inevitable clump of palm trees. Here, there is nothing 
 of the kind; sand as white as powdered freestone, blown into rippling waves 
 by the wind, betraying the passage of caravans by large footprints, or rising 
 in opaque whirlwinds; a sky veiled by a dusty fog and burning with the 
 rays of a sun blazing at a white heat; before, behind, to the right and 
 to the left, above and below, an absolute barrenness—dull, pallid, dry, over- 
 whelmed and overwhelming ; 
 
 Bo 
 
 the only breath that stirs, the suffocating shamsinn. The Egyptian recruits 
 
 the only drops that fall being drops of sweat 
 
 traverse this charming site in charge of several Arnauts. One can wel 
 conceive that, in order to force them to start, it was necessary to cudge 
 them soundly, and fasten them, two by two, like galley-slaves, in their wooden 
 stocks. At the head of this melancholy cortége strides an Arnaut, his gun thrown 
 
 across his shoulders and under his arms, lik 
 of Atta-Troll, hold between their paw 
 
 the wands the bears, confréres 
 
 he marches with a calm, insolent, anc 
 
 cruel air, in his beautiful costume whitened with dust. The sufferings of the 
 miserable wretches who follow him with heavy step, hindered by their shackles, 
 do not move him in the slightest degree. He has for human life the quiet, 
 
 fatalistic disdain of the Orient. Several soldiers guard the column which faces 
 
66 LIFE AND WORKS OF /. IN GEROME. 
 
 the spectator. The first row is composed of fellahs, Copts, and negroes, clad in 
 blue shirts, in brown mach’lahs or white burnous, more or less tattered ; some 
 are barefooted, others drag along in fragments of savafes. A gloomy despair 
 can be read in their stupefied countenances, and they march with the som- 
 nolent pace of overdriven beasts of burden whom the lash has ceased to sting ; 
 the fetters on their wrists prevent them from even wiping their foreheads. 
 The second file, already less distinct, appears in the gaps between the’ heads, 
 and the rest of the column stretches out like a flock of shadows through an 
 ever-thickening cloud of dust. M. Bida has treated the same subject in a 
 drawing which will not fail to impress European travelers. But he has chosen 
 
 the moment of departure, where the scenes of farewell have furnished pathetic 
 effects. In the picture by M. Gérome, the victims, caught as in a vise between 
 
 the impassibility of nature and the imps 
 
 sibility of despotism, have not even 
 tears left to shed.” 
 
 With a sigh and a shudder, we move on beside the great critic and pause 
 
 before the Memnon and Sesostris. 
 
 “Two mountains sculptured in the form of man—which neither time, nor 
 tremblings of the earth, nor conquerors much more terrible, have been able to 
 move from their base! They are there, their colossal hands crushing their knees, 
 shapeless, monstrous, flat-nosed, returning slowly to rock, standing out against 
 the arid background of the Lybian range which lies barren beneath a scorching 
 sun—rosy in the light, blue in the shadow. emmnon has lost his voice, and, since 
 the Roman Emperor essayed his restoration, no longer salutes Aurora. The 
 inscriptions on the pedestal seem to-c 
 
 y untrue, but the phenomenon of his melodi- 
 ous vibration is established by history in the most incontrovertible manner. At 
 the foot of these gigantic statues, a group of men and camels may serve as a scale 
 
 of comparison ; they scarcely attain the height of the base-plate. To relieve this 
 
 landscape of limestone and granite, M. Géréme has placed in the foreground 
 
 several clumps of green herbs, which the summer will soon change into tawny tufts 
 
 resembling a lion’s mane. Some camels are squatting on the grass unsaddled, 
 chewing, or stretching their necks over the turf. In the center of the picture, a 
 large camel, with one fore-leg bent in a shackle, seems to resist the efforts of his 
 driver to make him kneel beside a more peaceful comrade. The stubborn animal 
 raises its head, shows its gums, and is doubtless making the kind of grunting 
 
 noise which is the mode of complaint peculiar to the camel. The accessories, the 
 
 saddles, cushions, carpets, sticks, and bits of stuffs are treated with a consci- 
 
 entious precision that reveals the use of each object. In the background, an 
 
 Arab, mounted on a mahari, is scudding away at a great pace; nothing can be 
 
 more odd than this ambling gait and these long legs agitating themselves in 
 
 space, like those of an immense field-spider. M. Gérome, during his travels in 
 Egypt, has made a special study of the queer profiles presented in repose and in 
 
 action by the strange animal to whom the Arabs have given the name of ‘ship of 
 
 the desert’; he is thoroughly master of it and can reproduce all its attitudes. 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 67 
 
 “The Plain of Thebes is the reverse side of the picture we have just de- 
 scribed. The foreground consists of fragments of enormous columns, in scattered 
 locks, on one of which is carved the image of a god; it is the débris of a ruined 
 yalace, probably that of Amenophis; beyond the ruins stretches a plain subject to 
 inundations, crossed by a road along which a caravan of dromedaries is passing, 
 followed by a little donkey carrying its rider on the croup after the Arabic 
 fashion. The two colossi, with great difficulty diminished by the distance, 
 reappear, seen from the back, their royal tresses gathered and knotted behind 
 their heads like a guewe a la prussienne. Farther on, the eye discovers blackish 
 ands, besprinkled with trees and palms, and to the right hillocks, or rather 
 mounds formed of ruins, fragments of which stick up through the ground. In 
 the background a chain of distant mountains, rosy and purple; over them a sky 
 misty with heat, which seems to lie far above and behind the shimmering, 
 uminous atmosphere, and on which a flock of wandering storks make micro- 
 scopic points. 
 
 “We describe in detail, as if we were on the very spot, these strange land- 
 
 Scapes, so new to Parisian ideas that any one but a traveler would be tempted to 
 
 believe them false—precisely because the repr 
 
 sentation is so absolutely true. 
 But what can we do? The environs of Thebes do not resemble the outskirts of 
 Paris! We must make up our minds to be content with this bar 
 
 enness— 
 grand, solemn, and mournful. On the frame the sacred wréeus spreads its wings, 
 and the hieroglyphic characters, most familiar to travelers, succeed in giving to 
 the whole an absolutely Egyptian appearance.” 
 
 Beside these more important pictures hung a simple everyday scene, the 
 accuracy of which all travelers in the desert lands of the East will attest. The 
 critic of the London Atheneum especially recommended to English artists close 
 study 
 
 describes in his graphic way this picture of Camels Drinking Srom the 
 
 of the “superb execution and firm, deliberate drawing.” Gautier also 
 
 Fountain of the Crocodile, which takes its name from the sculptured figure 
 over the basin: 
 
 Before a stone trough fed by the clay pots of a sassaghieh, a group of camels, 
 
 one of which carries his driver, extend their ostrich-like necks and plunge their 
 hairy lips into the water, drinking for the thirst to come. They are of all kinds 
 and colors, and M. Géréme has been able to indulge himself to his heart’s content. 
 It would be difficult to render more perfectly the hairy skin, the physiognomy, and 
 the character of this animal. Only the desire to reproduce everything has 
 ration of minutize; certain portions are rather 
 
 perhaps led the artist to elabo 
 sculptured than painted, and the covering of the muscles is in some parts meager. 
 But how greatly we prefer this 
 Doum palms, with their fans of pointed leaves, the side of a wall, and a bit of sky 
 fill the background in a characteristic manner. This picture 
 offers nothing dramatic, but which represents a scene of patriarchal life with a 
 truth on which the most suspicious can rely—pleases and interests us greatly. 
 
 everity to the slovenly vagueness of many artists. 
 
 whose subject 
 
68 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 We are not of those who desire that art should have a purpose outside of itself; 
 but, without being utilitarian the least in the world, we think that painting is of 
 use, when, remaining within the conditions of beauty, it acquaints us with the 
 types, customs, aspects, and usages of distant countries; and that is why we laud 
 M. Géréme for having quitted for the moment mythology and history, to take us 
 with him on his travels.” 
 
 But Géréme is not of those who quickly and easily forsake ‘‘the old 
 love for the new,” and he adds to his collection a dainty bit of real life 
 more familiar to the average traveler, from the land that claimed his early 
 artistic affections. 
 
 “At the corner of a street in Rome, some f/ifferari are standing before a 
 Madonna, sheltered in a little chapel erected on a fragment of an antique column 
 
 with a Corinthian capital ; from a crossbeam of iron fastened to the wall hangs 
 lamp about the height of the sacred image. According to the Italian custom the 
 piferari are serenading the Holy Virgin and the Divine Child. One of them, 
 
 a 
 
 -s under his arm 
 
 the youngest, is playing on a species of fife; the other press 
 the leather bag of the cornemuse, inflated with wind, and devotes himself to his 
 
 untutored fingering of the long pipes. One knows, even at Paris, the picturesque 
 
 atters of these strolling musicians, so beloved of artists, and who, for the most 
 
 part, come from the Abruzzes. Their sharp and nasal chanting is not without 
 charm, above all when heard from a little distance. This time M. Gérome has 
 chosen microscopic proportions and his picture could be placed on the golden 
 plate of Meissonier. It is a tiny chef d’euvre of finish, delicacy, and precision. 
 Place upon a perfect photographic proof a vivid, clear, charming color, and add 
 
 the sty/e,—which is the very soul of the artist and which no instrument can 
 
 give,—and you will have the Piferari of M. Géréme, a miniature which pos- 
 
 sesi xrandeur.” 
 
 Leaving these strange, exotic scenes of the distant East, and this typical 
 Southern group, we find ourselves on the edge of a silent crowd whose faces, 
 expressing varied emotions, are eagerly turned toward another canvas bearing the 
 same signature. Says De Tanouarn: ‘‘The artist has resolved in this work a 
 delicate problem—he has pleased the ‘crowd’ without degrading art; he has 
 approached them like those grands seignewrs who make themselves accessible 
 without losing any of the dignity of their rank.” He was speaking of the world- 
 renowned Duel after the Masquerade, the original of which is in the magnificent 
 collection of the Duc dAumale at Chantilly, and a replica in the wonderful gal- 
 leries of one of our most cultivated and liberal American connoisseurs, Mr. W. T. 
 Walters of Baltimore. It will be interesting to note how this picture affected two 
 
 nations so different in their ‘‘ point of view” as the French and English. To this 
 
 end we quote two quite lengthy reviews; the first by Gautier, the second from 
 
 the London Atheneum of January, 18 
 
ATIN AHI NO WANOSING AHL 
 
) AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 71 
 
 “One is always sure [says Gautier] of finding a large crowd stationed before 
 the Duel by M. Géréme. It is the popular success of the Salon; and, as the 
 picture is not large, one must always await one’s turn to see it, This vogue, let 
 us hasten to say, is not due to any method that art would disapprove. Nourished 
 by the severest studies, and endowed naturally with an exceptionally pure taste, 
 the young master would scorn a triumph gained at such a price. The singularity 
 of the subject attracts the public, the merit of the execution retains the con- 
 
 noisseur. It would be almost trite to say that the forms and costumes of modern 
 life lend but little to painting. Artists appear more convinced than any one else 
 of this truth, and they willingly borrow from ancient times the subjects of their 
 compositions. It is only in the last extremity, as in the portrait, for instance, 
 that they resign themselves to the actual fashions; and even then they alter 
 them as much as possible by the introduction of mantles, durnous, shawls, scarfs, 
 and other accessories having some special character. Even in genre they stop at 
 the last century, where one seeks the picturesque in the Pyrenees, in Brittany, in 
 Aragon, in Algeria. The number of canvases that could serve as documents in 
 future ages, as to our interiors, our furniture, our costumes, our types, our mode 
 
 of life, is excessively limited ; and, unhappily, almost always of mediocre execu- 
 tion. It seems that the art of to-day is affected by farsightedness, and can only 
 discern objects belonging to remote and bygone ages; it sees nothing around 
 about itself. Aside from several portraits and official pictures, few of the 
 canvases mark the present period. We must, therefore, thank M. Gérome, the 
 painter of Grecian elegance, the Pompeian archzeologist, the expert in exotic or 
 primitive types, for having taken a bare subject from our customs; he risks 
 much in handling a reality of which every one is, or thinks he isa judge, in sub- 
 jecting new matter, new physiognomies, and new attire to the requirements of 
 art. What would have happened had he depicted a duel fought in black coats? 
 
 “The idea of the Duel after the Masquerade is ingenious, thrilling, dramatic ; 
 it impresses at the same time the mind and the eye, by the antithesis of the action 
 and the actors—terrible action, grotesque actors, a duel of pierrots and harlequins 
 elevated to a tragic height, without avoiding a single comic detail, Some young 
 people, doubtless overheated with wine, have begun a dispute on the steps of the 
 opera, or in some cabinet in the Maison d’Or, on account of a push with an 
 
 elbow, a too cutting sarcasm, a slight fit of salousy, or for any other trifling 
 
 reason. One of those busybodies who are always ready to show courage with 
 
 the blood of others, has brought swords, and the whole company, without taking 
 time for a change of costume, has gone out in two iages to the Bois de Bou- 
 upon the morning mist, 
 
 through which skeletons of slender trees are dimly seen. The snow covers the 
 
 logne; the gray dawn scarce opens its heavy ej 
 
 earth with a white winding-sheet, stretched out during the night as if to receive 
 the dead. Cold, solitude, and silence have kept watch around about, that not hing 
 
 should disturb the combatants ; and indeed, they have succeeded only too well in 
 their unlucky affair. Footmarks in the snow show the place of the struggle ; one 
 of the antagonists, the pierrot, has been wounded and could say with Mercutio, 
 
 making a funereal pun, ‘Ask for me to-morrow and you shall find me a grave 
 
0 
 
 LIFE AND LEON GEROME. 
 
 N 
 
 WORKS OF JEAN 
 
 man!’ The blood spreads its red stain over the cassock with the big buttons; the 
 limbs, from which the life is departing, and over which the will no longer asserts 
 its power, lie inert on the snow, and, under the loose garments, seem already 
 stretched out inashroud. Were it not for the friend, disguised as a valet of the 
 s him, he would fall prostrate. The pallor of 
 
 1e paint which has been partly wiped from the face of poor 
 
 Comédie-Francaise, wh 
 
 oO supp. 
 
 death shows through t 
 Pierrot ; the dull eye already stares into vacancy, and on the drawn lips his 
 expiring sigh leaves a rosy foam. 
 “The sleeve of the right arm, turned up above the elbow for the combat, 
 flesh and weak muscles of the young debauchee, who still 
 
 holds beneath his contracted fingers the sword that has 
 
 exposes the quivering 
 
 so poorly defended its 
 sd in the costume of a Chinese mandarin, red and 
 
 master. Another person, dre 
 
 green, oddly beflowered in fantastic design, throws himself upon his knees and 
 A little in 
 
 omino is lifting his hands with a gesture 
 
 examines with terrible anxiety the bloodstained breast of the victim. 
 
 the rear of this group, a man in a black « 
 
 of despair, as if to tear his hair at the de 
 
 “ Another 
 
 plorable result of a silly quarrel. 
 
 group, at quite a distance from the first, is composed of the 
 
 murderer and his second, who are hurrying away 
 
 a harlequin and a Mohican. 
 
 Harlequin, to prepare for the fight, had thrown on the snow his black mask and 
 his paletot; his sword, stained with blood, lies on the ground, and these sig- 
 
 ificant accessories skillfully connect the two parts of the composition ; the har- 
 
 lequin seems to be feverishly telling the savage, whose arm he clutches, that his 
 
 yponent did not parry, that he absolutely ran himself through with the sword, 
 the inevitable fatality ; the other bends 
 
 s if to reply, ‘What is to be done about it?’ 
 
 nd other explanations, too late to avoid 
 
 In the background the carriage of 
 
 he wounded man assumes in the fog the melancholy look of a hearse, with its 
 inky silhouette, and the drivers, who are whispering together, seem like under- 
 takers. 
 
 “Surely this is oc 
 strange philosophical d 
 the wooden saber of H 
 
 wine into bloodstains, to surround the death agony with a circle of mas 
 
 demand of Harlequin, 
 
 d and sinister, of a wild and romantic fancy and a 
 aring! To mix up the Carnival and Death, to change 
 
 arlequin into a real sword; to transform the spots of 
 
 to 
 All 
 
 ‘What hast thou done with thy brother Pierrot? 
 
 this would make the n intrepid hesitate. M. Géréme has performed this 
 
 difficult, not to say impossible task with an icy severity, a pitiless sang-froid, 
 
 are 
 g5 
 
 an irony superior to fate. He has forgotten nothing; neither the ruddy hole 
 
 melted in the snow by a drop of warm blood, nor the spangles which 
 on the lozenge-trimmed coat of the murderer, nor the bear’s-claw collar of the 
 Indian, nor the formless and datiered mask, nor the paint on the face of the 
 
 dying man dissolved by the cold death-sweat. 
 
 sparkle 
 
 “ All this is rendered with a clean, firm, delicate, assured touch which keeps 
 always within a perfect contour, and a color that is sober, neutral, wiztry,so to 
 speak, created by the livid, shuddering pallor in the midst of which the clear, 
 
 vivid tones of the costumes produce a sinister discordance. The face of Pierrot, 
 
 who is sobered by the approach of Death, and from the dizzy whirl of the 
 
IFY RREIO DAN CH 
 
 THE 
 
 1883 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 73 
 
 masked ball passes to the silence of the tomb, is a creation of powerful origin- 
 ality; no grimace, no melodrama, no straining after effect. There is something 
 in it as dry, exact, and strong asa page of Mérimée. The impression produced is 
 the more profound in that the narrator appears indifferent. M. Gérome, like a 
 careful artist, does not leave to the fancy of the gilder the form and ornamenta- 
 tion of his frames. He has himself designed, for the top of this one, two masks, 
 tragic and comic, separated by a fool’s bauble. Does not Folly dance between 
 Joy and Sorrow, causing one to be born of the other?” 
 
 One might think this master-page of description hard to equal, yet the critic 
 
 of the Atheneum admirably holds his own. He says: 
 
 “The Duel after the Masquerade, of M. Gérome, appeared at the fag end of 
 the last French Exhibition, but too late to receive the universal admiration due to 
 its great merits, and too late to obtain from us more than a line of notice. The 
 scene is the Bois de Boulogne—time daybreak ; the sky lurid with a dull, yellow, 
 curdling fog. The duel has just taken place. The one who is pricked to the 
 heart is a pierrot—one of those Scaramouch clowns that the Italians introduced 
 into France in the days of Bellerose and Gros Gentlareme. His face is a three-act 
 
 tragedy reduced to one look: a gray glaze is over the eye ; the passionate, sensual 
 mouth is just dropping with a horrible, agonizing grimace that conveys to you 
 the very gasp and sickness of the first sensation of a vital wound. The face is 
 drawn with the pain; and from under the white fool’s-cap the death-sweat 
 trickles through the white fool’s paint still on the vicious cheeks, just as rain- 
 drops do through the silvery mist on a winter window-pane. His legs are thrust 
 out stiff and straight in the broad, loose fool’s dress, and one hand still holds the 
 thin, sharp sword and another clutches at life. Pierrot, poor, mad, stabbed 
 Pierrot, is held in the half careless arms of a Duc de Guise, in the full white 
 truffles, short black coat, and slanted close cap of that Bartholomean age. Sorry 
 or careless, you hardly know which, for his dark face is bent with a sullen 
 
 anxiety over the sped man. A Doge of Venice, in a great flaunting robe of 
 flowered green satin, with another over it of scarlet, edged with deep stiff gold 
 lace, bends over Pierrot, groping, with horror in his face, for the actual orifice of 
 the wound, from which black small hole ooze, fast and pulsing, dark drops that 
 race down the fool’s white dress, over the round cotton tufts that ornament it, 
 and all down the stiffening limbs into a red pool on the trodden snow. Behind 
 him is a more conventional face—a brother or father in a passion of grief, his 
 hands up to beat his temples or tear his hair, to think that here a change is 
 
 coming that no love, or prayer, or enduring, can stop. His long, black, lace- 
 trimmed domino trails out behind against the Doge’s crimson. The gray cloak 
 of the dying Pierrot and his staring, impudent mask lie beside him on the snow; 
 
 and there, to the right of the picture, are the victors, miserable, though they have 
 won the game. The red Indian who fought has his back to us, and is hurrying 
 away, conscience-stricken, and already repentant, to his coach—that black thing 
 that looms through the fog. His second—perhaps his Asmodeus, his prompter, 
 
74 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 his evil genius—a harlequin, a mottle of dull green and red, the spangle and tinsel 
 all gone when last night's lamps went out with a repentant stench at the wicked- 
 ness they had seen—has him hurriedly by the arm. They are no longer mere 
 friends, they are both criminals. He tries to cheer him with an ill-assumed 
 boldness. ‘The thing is,’ he says, ‘an everyday thing,’ and so is murder! 
 nothing ! accident! But the murderer is already bowed and aged with sorrow. 
 He has only the selfish satisfaction of having himself escaped. Oh, that it had 
 peen his arm, he thinks ; or that I had dis 
 
 umed him! but that grinding thrust ! 
 There is the sword—dropped as it was drawn from the cloven heart ! 
 
 The harlequin has a great-coat thrust on by one sleeve like a hussar jacket, 
 
 just as, hot and fired with brandy, they tumbled into the coach and drove straight 
 for the lonely wood outside the Boulevards. How we long that that bent man in 
 
 the long, skin cloak and fur hood, with the tasseled moccasins, and hair tied up in 
 a knot, with gaudy red and yellow macaw feathers stuck through, would turn, 
 that we might see and profit by his anguish! Well may the frozen tree 
 
 shake 
 their long, black, spectral fingers over the scene—the horrible sequel of a night 
 
 of vice. 
 
 ‘And there are two coaches seen through the fog, with the skeleton-looking 
 horses, fit only to draw an orphan’s hearse to a cheap funeral, with their carrion 
 heads drooping with the night’s toil and roll. One coachman is holding up his 
 hand in horror at the scene; he wonders if any one will pay his fare, or if he 
 will be arrested. He does not like carrying home the dead fool. The other 
 waits and listens, ungesticulating. There, too, the two long paths of stamped 
 footprints in the snow; the one right, the other left. They drive round to 
 avoid the gendarmes, who don’t like to see two cabs driving together at odd 
 hours to the duelists’ wood. 
 
 “And this is the end of it. Those two trodden plats of snow, a dead body, 
 and a guilty heart, all to come from that war of music and of voices, that deluge 
 of shouts and laughter and screams, that whirl of feet-stamps, that jostle and 
 
 hell-pool of vicious, leering faces and wanton eyes, that fog and eddy of colors 
 
 and sound, of hot patchouli, of rose, of frangipanni, of muslin and ribbons, of 
 
 fools, goblins, peasant girls, witches, and monks—and all for what? 
 “There is an epitome of a hundred passionate novels in this painting, 
 
 which is worthy of M. Delaroche’s best pupil. There is room in it for all 
 
 shades of painting, from the speckle of Teniers to the willowy sweep of Rubens. 
 impetuosity and M. Géréme’s care. A finer moral 
 
 lesson than this of M. Géréme’s has not been taught since Hogarth’s time.” 
 
 There is room for Vernet’s 
 
 Claretie, in some reminiscences of a visit to Chantilly many years later, 
 
 when he again saw the original, writes : 
 
 “This picture, which has lost nothing of its picturesque coloring or dramatic 
 qualities, soon popularized the name of Gérome, till then acclaimed by connois- 
 seurs. It was a success without precedent. The 20,000 francs for which the 
 little cwadro was sold, seemed then to have the value of 200,000 of to-day. 
 
NI 
 a 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 This distressing scene in this dreary winter landscape, this masquerade ending 
 in butchery, this ball at the opera looking into the morgue, caused a vivid 
 impression, the poignancy of which was heightened by the finished execution.” 
 
 One might easily believe that nothing could be altered or added to heighten 
 the effect of this master composition ; but an artist like Gérome always sees room 
 for improvement, and eagerly seizes any opportunity that may offer for a finishing 
 touch. Ina letter to the dealer charged with the sale of the replica from which 
 
 the engraving was made, he writes : 
 
 “T learn with the greatest pleasure that you have sold the reproduction of the 
 Duel that I have done for you, and I am all the more pleased since I hear it has 
 been bought by a distinguished amateur ; one is always glad to know one’s off- 
 spring is well located. The alterations I have made from the original picture 
 have singularly improved this composition, especially in its general aspect ; some 
 sacrifices made in the background have left to the premier plan, that is to say, 
 
 to the important figures, all their effect, and I regret not to have thought of it at 
 first, when I executed the original. This improvement has been most valuable, 
 
 and you would have been struck with it had you been able to see one with the 
 
 other. I have modified also the head of the savage; it was not well understood 
 
 at first who was the adver. 
 
 ary ; now it is plain to every one and confusion is 
 
 no longer possible. In short, I think I have improved as much as possible on 
 my first work, and I am happy that it has fallen into the hands of Mr. Walters 
 of Baltimore, since I am told he can appreciate things seriously conceived and 
 
 seriously executed.” 
 
 One canvas in this unequaled exhibit still remains undescribed, ‘‘a picture,” 
 
 says De Tanouarn, ‘“‘remarkable for absolutely Oriental coloring, its grave and 
 devotional sentiment, and its physiognomies, slightly savage, yet altogether 
 touching.” And Gautier writes : 
 
 “However great the merit of the Duel, we prefer the Prayer in the House of 
 an Arnaut Chief, which attracts less of acrowd. There is in this picture a spirit 
 of tranquillity, contemplation, and conviction that is truly admirable. The scene 
 has for a stage a chamber of thoroughly Oriental nudity: a low divan running 
 around walls roughly whitewashed, a ceiling showing all the beams, and on the 
 side a door draped with a portiére. The floor is partly covered by a mat of plaited 
 rushes, which is re-covered by a Turkish or Persian carpet. On the walls hang 
 guns, rifles, and muskets of various forms ; a panoply of battle-axes and yataghans 
 is combined with a tall palm; from the ceiling descends a chandelier made of 
 glasses, filled with oil, like those one sees in the mosques. A small round table 
 in cedar-wood and mother-of-pearl, in charming taste, supports a three-branched 
 brass candlestick holding large wax candles. In the foreground is a line of 
 babouches, slippers, shoes, and savates, curious specimens of Mussulman shoemak- 
 ing—for the votaries of Mahomet bare their feet for all the occasions on which 
 Christians uncover their heads. 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 x 
 
 “An old man, of vigorous and venerable appearance, his hands lifted in a 
 sacramental posture, recites the szras of the Koran with an air of profound faith, 
 turned toward the East—toward that Mecca where are found the tomb of 
 homet, the black stone, and the well of Zem-Zem. Behind him, like pious soldiers 
 obeying the commands of their chief, stand eight persons in a row, their feet 
 
 touching the carpet ; they are rough fellows, with picturesque and savage counte- 
 nances, softened for the moment by a religious sentiment. A lively faith shines 
 in these uncultivated, swarthy, and ferocious faces. Each 
 
 head presents a particular type, with all the verity of a 
 portrait. Always remaining within the limits of the 
 
 severest art, M. Gérome has made an ethnographic 
 
 study as exact as that of M. Valerio in the provinces 
 of the Danube. M. Serres, the 
 anthropologist, could take notes 
 from these specimens of almost 
 
 unknown races with all con- 
 fidence. By this scrupulous fidelity, of which he has already given proof in the 
 Recreation of the Russian Soldiers,so much admired at the Universal Exposition, 
 M. Géréme satisfies one of the most imperious instincts of the time; the desire 
 
 which nations have to become acquainted with each other, otherwise than by 
 means of portraits taken from the imagination. He possesses all that is necessary 
 to fulfill this important mission : an eye which sees quickly and correctly, a hand 
 that executes learnedly and surely,—writing down each detail with the impertur- 
 bable clearness of the daguerreotype,—and, above all, a perception which we may 
 call exotic,—for want of a more precise term,—which enables him to discover at 
 once the characteristics by which one race differs from another. 
 
 “We have had an opportunity of meeting in Constantinople with most of 
 the types represented by M. Géréme, and we recognize them perfectly. Here is 
 really the Arnaut and the Armatole, with their tall, bony frames, their shaven 
 temples, and their long mustaches; the Bulgarian—already almost a Russian— 
 with his reddish beard and lion-like head of hair, and the Syrian wearing his 
 
 chachyeh—all are here, even this lovely blond child, with the silky hair falling 
 from underneath the /arbouch,as beautiful as a woman and serious as a man, who 
 makes one think of the Greek Amour,and the Orientales of Victor Hugo. A little 
 
 behind this row,a slave joins in the prayer, made, for a moment, by his religion, 
 the equal of his masters. All these personages are dressed in varied and pictur- 
 esque costumes. The /wstanelle, spread like a bell, touches the do/iman with its 
 straight folds; the elbow of the braided jacket jostles the flowing sleeve, the fez 
 and the turban alternate ; the pommels of sandjars and pistols bristle in the belts 
 of embroidered morocco or peep out from the folds of a scarf. All this is ren- 
 
 dered with the delicate firmness which is peculiarly characteristic of the artist. 
 The almost uniform attitudes are relieved from monotony by slight differences, 
 which do not strike one at first. Among these believers some hands are raised 
 like those of the chief; others are pendent or resting on the hips; others have 
 the thumbs passed through the sword-belt, a posture common to the Orientals ; 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. Wil 
 
 but all listen to the sacred words with a devotion and faith that should put 
 to shame many Catholics. 
 
 “Before this picture, the most perfect as yet produced by the young master, 
 the critic, who never willingly waives his rights, seeks a dwt or an only (like the 
 restrictive personage in the Hawx Bons-hommes) to qualify the merited praise. 
 In order, then, not to ‘miss our calling’ let us reproach M. Géréme with too 
 subdued a coloring, arising from a sacrifice to the general harmony, and 
 nothing remains to be said. He has been the first to study the Orient as a 
 painter of history; he has sought for style where others, whom we never- 
 theless admire, have only looked for color. Let us accept then, separately, the 
 drawing of M. Géroéme and the color of Decamps. He who could unite them 
 to an equal degree would be more than human. If Michael Angelo said, 
 ‘What a pity they do not know how to draw at Venice!’ Titian could right- 
 fully reply to him, ‘What a pity they do not know how to paint at Rome!’” 
 
 We should not be surprised to find some lengthy record in the artist’s souve- 
 nirs of this matchless exposition, which exhausted the repertoires of laudatory 
 phrases in the vocabulary of /a critique. But he writes simply, ‘‘ Another of my 
 pictures, on which I did not place any great expectations, was painted at this 
 time (1857), The Duel after the Masquerade, a composition a little after the 
 English taste, the subject of which laid hold of the public. Pretty good execu- 
 tion ; several bits well treated (belongs to the collection of the Duc d’Aumale).” 
 And of the others not a word! A proceeding most characteristic of this artist, 
 
 who never loses a minute in conjecturing the effect of his productions or in 
 
 savoring the applause which might have turned the head of a less indefatigable, 
 less absorbed worker. Long before the crowds in front of these masterpieces 
 had begun to diminish he was again at work. And again we have to thank 
 
 M. Gautier for a faithful chronicle of his labor. 
 
 “The young painter, whose activity is untiring, has just finished (May, 
 1858), for the salon of the Pompeian residence of Prince Napoleon in the Avenue 
 Montaigne, three panels, representing Homer accompanied by his two immortal 
 daughters, the [liad and the Odyssey. In the central panel the god-like beggar, 
 raising his blind eyes to heaven as if to invoke Mnemosyne, is chanting one of 
 his sublime rhapsodies; the young child who acts as his guide stands between 
 the knees of the poet and holds out a wooden bowl, soliciting the charity of the 
 passers-by. On the two other panels, on a background of antique red, are 
 depicted the two epics—that of the warrior and that of the wanderer. The 
 young artist has succeeded in creating something new, even after the superb 
 
 TS, 
 
 figures on the ceiling by M. Ingres.” 
 
 This beautiful palace has been arranged by the government as a museum, 
 
 and is well worth the attention of the passing tourist as well as of the art-con- 
 
 noisseur and student. 
 
Ni 
 eo 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 In a review of an exhibition of modern pictures for the benefit of the 
 
 “Society for the Relief of Painters, Sculptors, and Architects,” we find a notice 
 
 of a charming picture which was also finished this year : 
 
 “ The Collection (La Quéte) represents a choir-boy, or rather a young 
 seminarist, seated against a wainscoting, and holding an alms-purse upon his 
 knees; the face is gentle, sad, sickly—already fatigued by study, prayer, and 
 mortification ; the weak chest is concealed by the black cassock, and the hands 
 clasp each other mechanically as if in an exercise of devotion. One would answer 
 for the vocation of this budding young Levite. His eyes, cast down, look at 
 nothing, and neither the sound of a piece of gold in his purse nor the rustle of a 
 
 S. 
 
 silken robe will cause him to raise his glance; he is entirely absorbed in God. 
 The artist has succeeded in putting into this little painting an austere sobriety, 
 a sort of Jansenism of color. No brilliant tones, no bright lights, no straining 
 for effect ; nothing but the dim twilight of the sanctuary over a pale, immovable 
 figure, already dead to this world, though still young, and awaiting in silence, 
 for the poor children of Jesus Christ, the rich man’s gold and the widow's mite. 
 We are happy to note also an etching of the young master, a souvenir of his 
 
 travels in Egypt. It is a negress, with eyes half closed as if dazzled by the sun, 
 
 thick lips, and cheeks as polished as those of a statue in basalt. All this is 
 
 indicated in a few swift and sure strokes of the needle which tell much more 
 
 than all the patient labor of the engraver’s tools. It is a sketch on copper which 
 is worth an original drawing. The biting of the acid has changed nothing.” 
 
 Well may the critic marvel at the “untiring zeal” of the young artist, for 
 this same year marked a successful incursion into a new field of activity, 
 which excited even the surprise of his earliest friend and patron. In L’Artiste 
 
 of the 16th of May, 1858, we find the following article; 
 
 “A few weeks ago we declared that contemporaneous artists, confining them- 
 selves too closely to pictures and statues, did not sufficiently consider the realities 
 of this century. If anything characterizes our epoch, it is certainly the railway 
 carriage. One could not find a more significant design to put on the coat-of- 
 Well! M. Gérome, the author of the Combat de 
 the 
 
 arms of the nineteenth centut 
 Cogs, L’Intérieur Grec, Bacchus et l Amour, and of L’Afpothéose d' Auguste, 
 painter of so antique, so pure, and so rare a feeling,—is decorating a railway 
 carriage! We are happy that our assertion has received so prompt a denial. 
 “This car has been offered by the Company of Roman Railways to our very 
 Holy Father the Pope, and nothing has been neglected that would render it 
 is divided into three compartments: an 
 
 worthy of the Sovereign Pontiff. It is 
 oratory, a salon, and a sleeping-chamber. Four angels in gold and silver, the 
 medallions of the twelve apostles, and panels of bronze adorn the exterior. The 
 salon is decorated with paintings by M. Géréme, arranged as follows : 
 
 “ Facing the throne, and seated upon a marble bench rounded in a hemicycle, 
 her feet resting on steps strewn with palms of the martyrs, Religion seems to 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 79 
 
 regard the Pope—her representative on earth, She has as emblem, the chalice, 
 surmounted by the radiant Host. Above her hovers the inspiring Holy Spirit. 
 On either side stand the two pillars of the Church: St. Peter with the keys, 
 St. Paul with the sword. The background is a light, blue sky, the top of which 
 forms the vaulted ceiling which joins the 
 
 of the two side compositions. One 
 
 of these paintings represents the Pope surrounded by cardinals and bishops and 
 from the top of a pier blessing the approaching steamboat, which connects with 
 a trail of fire the French and Roman railways; the Church is invoking 
 heavenly protection upon the genius of man. The other shows us the Holy 
 Father making the s 
 impatiently blowing o 
 of mythology. 
 
 red gesture over a locomotive ready to take flight, and 
 
 jets of steam from its nostrils of brass, like the monsters 
 
 “We have expressly described, in their official barrenness, these three 
 subjects—of which the latter two would seem unfruitful and prosaic to the 
 majority of artists. M. Géréme has, however, succeeded admirably with them. 
 The first would only have to be enlarged to worthily form a hemicycle for a 
 chapel; the other two show that the style lies in the talent of the painter and 
 not in the theme he treats. 
 
 “The benediction of the boat has a solemnity without exaggeration, a 
 majestic disposition of lines, an elevated character, which is often wanting in the 
 most elaborate of historical pictures. The cardinals in their purple and ermine, 
 the bishops with their white miters and da/maties of brocade, the Swiss Guards in 
 
 their mediaeval costumes, respectfully surround the Pope in happy groupings 
 which are rich without confusion. The heads, some of which are portraits, have 
 a varied and individual stamp, and the smallness of proportions takes away none 
 
 of the grandeur of character. The Pope faces the sea, which washes against the 
 foot of the pier, and which is indicated by a coil of chain and masts of ships 
 stretching up in a corner of the panel. 
 
 By a happy contrivance, which insures riety, the blessing of the loco- 
 motive is taken in profile. The Holy Pontiff has advanced to the edge of the 
 
 platform ; his immediate attendants hold over his head great fans of white 
 
 umes, and behind him the sacred procession displays itself in fine priestly 
 attitudes, of which the chiefs among the Roman clergy seem alone to po 
 
 the secret, and which add so much to the impression produced by religious 
 
 omp. What noble heads of prelates and monks, and what dignity among 
 
 details ! 
 
 “All this is executed in the firm, distinguished manner which belongs only 
 to M. Gérome, and clothed in soft, harmonious tints, more genuine in our opinion 
 than the loud tones which the multitude denominate ‘fine coloring.’ 
 
 “A Holy Vi 
 lost sheep on his shoulders, painted half-length in medallions of embossed gilding 
 in néo-byzantine style, complete the decoration of the interior. Outside, on the 
 frieze of the carriage, are the heads of the twelve apostles, painted by M. Gérome 
 
 these Catholic patricians, even to the smalles 
 
 gin with the child Jesus, and the Good Shepherd bearing the 
 
 on disks of gold. It would be difficult to decorate more tastefully and more fitly a 
 > offered to the Pope. 
 
 carriag 
 
80 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 ibes 
 
 “The Pope—a railway carriage! Strange junction of words which descr 
 in itself our age : the ancient and modern spirit—unchangeable tradition blessing 
 
 indefinite progr We could fill a column with this theme, but we prefer to use 
 
 it in betraying the secrets of the young painter's atelier. 
 
 “While looking at these decorative panels, we peeped out of the corner of 
 our eye at some canvases in more or less advanced stages of progress, and which 
 we are sure will produce, when finished, a great impression at the next Exposi- 
 tion. M. Géréme is not only correct and skillful with pencil and brush, but he 
 is also a man of the most fine and fertile mind. He does not content himself, 
 as so many others do, with the commonplace across which he stumbles; he 
 
 loves variety in his subjects and he knows how to treat ordinary scenes in a 
 wholly unexpected manner.” 
 
 In view of the extraordinary achievements of this year, it is with a sense 
 of amazement that we consider his exhibit at the Salon of 1859. He seems to 
 have been drawn with irresistible force back to the contemplation of life in 
 ancient Greece and Rome, which for a time had been superseded by his study 
 of Oriental types and customs; and an eager multitude, spellbound before 
 this new and thrilling manifestation of his genius and learning, bore witness 
 to the ever-augmenting power of this first and foremost of historical painters. 
 Small wonder that these masterpieces should inspire Gautier to one of his 
 finest efforts in the department of analytic description. In the Moniteur 
 
 Universel, he writes : 
 
 “The young master who made so brilliant a début ten years ago with the 
 Combat de Cogs,—a charming picture, which could have been taken for an antique 
 colored bas-relief,—has a searching and penetrative disposition ; he is always in 
 quest of uncommon themes. Rarity pleases him ; novelty seduces him ; he loves 
 adventures in art and he provokes them at his own risk and peril. It is not he 
 who will repeat with slight variations a motif that has been well received, as 
 
 many painters do who are quick of execution and slow in invention, and who 
 reproduce imperturbably the same picture all their lives long. Without having 
 written a single line, that we know of at least, M. Géréme has a literary tendency 
 which betrays itself in the choice of his subjects,in erudition of detail, and 
 archaical exactitude. It is not we, indeed, who will find fault with him for this. 
 This kind of transposition renews the youth of Art, and infuses a little new blood 
 into its veins. M.Géréme possesses also the ethnographic perception so necessary 
 to the modern painter to-day, when so many races, which yesterday were un- 
 known, spring up to the light and enter into the ever-widening circle of human 
 types to be analyzed. He has proved it by his Recreation of the Russian Soldiers, 
 his Arnauts at Prayer, and his Egyptian Recruits. The Cock Fight, the Greek 
 Interior, and the Age of Augustus have shown us how familiar he is with ancient 
 times and with what accuracy he can make them live again; he can even be 
 contemporaneous and produce tragic effects with a common carnival brawl. To 
 
CLEOPATRA AND C4SAR. 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 8 
 
 wo 
 
 elevate Harlequin and Pierrot to the height of serious art, and show the pallor of 
 death beneath the powder of the disguise—this was not an easy task. That he 
 has succeeded has been amply proven. This year M. Géréme has only traveled 
 in time! he exhibits three antique pictures: Cesar; Ave Cesar, Imperator / 
 moriturt te salutant,and King Candaules. 
 
 “ Cesar, the largest of these three canvases, and the only one of historical 
 
 proportions, engrosses the eye, as far as it can be perceived, by its sinister, solitary, 
 and mysterious appearance, even before the subject has been distinguished. Ina 
 deserted hall, whose perspective shows only the pedestals of columns and the feet 
 of statues, through the shadows of evening which are falling, one descries at first 
 an armchair overturned upon the steps of a dais; then, under a mass of white 
 draperies, disordered and bloodstained, a dead body, whose brow is crowned with 
 leaves of beaten gold; this was Cesar! Their task accomplished, the murderers 
 have departed, the senators have fled, and in the general stupor no one thinks to 
 take up the body. The master of the world lies on the ground, on the spot where 
 he fell, abandoned, alone in the deepening shadows, while without, the city, aghast 
 at the frightful news, is agitated and tumultuous. 
 
 “ This manner of conceiving the subject denotes a reflective and philosophic 
 spirit. The tumult of murder would have enticed a less thoughtful painter, and 
 doubtless the effect would have been less. Besides, M. Géréme has studied this 
 composition from several points of view, and has chosen the most sober, the most 
 
 severe, and the most tragic. We remember to have seen on an easel in his atelier 
 a smaller canvas, where the death of Caesar was treated in a more anecdotal 
 manner, so to speak. We hope that M. Géréme will finish this picture of which 
 the Cesar, now on exhibition, is only a fragment, enlarged, idealized, and trans- 
 figured to heroic size. The poem should not take the place of the memory. On 
 
 the large canvas, the impression ; on the smaller, the actual truth.’ 
 
 This striking picture, a life-size study for which occupies a prominent place 
 in the Corcoran Gallery at Washington, furnished a theme for many able pens. 
 Masson, referring to a subsequent statement that ‘‘Gérome had many times 
 
 clearly shown in various celebrated pictures the philosophic power of his mind,” 
 
 says, ‘‘ The first of these in date was the Cwsar exposed at the Salon of 1859. We 
 remember it well: Cesar, alone, dead, lying at the feet of the bronze statue in 
 the deserted Hall of the Senate before the overturned throne.” Some amiable 
 jesters, some of those who try in painting to be facetious, have called this picture 
 
 ‘‘Washerwoman’s Day.” We leave the reply to Charles Baudelaire, who was 
 
 very far from being one of Géréme’s admirers. 
 
 “Julius Cesar! What splendor, as of the setting sun, the name of this man 
 sheds upon the imagination! If ever a man on this earth resembled the Deity it 
 was Cesar. Mighty and fascinating; brave, learned, and generous! All force, 
 all glory, all charm! He whose greatness surpassed his victories, and who grew 
 in grandeur even in death! He whose breast, pierced by the dagger, gave forth 
 
84 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 only a cry of paternal love, and who found the wound of the steel less cruel than 
 
 the wound of ingratitude. Certainly this time the imagination of M. Géréme has 
 
 been swept away ; it reached an admirable height when it conceived its Cesar, 
 
 alone, prostrate before his overturned throne,—the body of this Roman, who was 
 pontiff, warrior, orator, historian, and master of the world,—///ing this immense 
 and deserted hall. This manner of treating the subject has been criticised! It 
 cannot be too highly praised. ‘The effect is truly grand. This terrible résumé 
 suffices. We are all sufficiently well acquainted with Roman history to picture 
 to ourselves all that is sows-entendu—the disorder which preceded and the 
 tumult which followed. We divine Rome behind these walls, and we hear the 
 cries of this stupid and freed people, alike ungrateful to victim and assassin, 
 
 ‘Let us make Brutus, Ceesar !’ 
 
 Masson remarks, ‘‘ This page consoles us for many absurdities in the way of 
 criticism.” We find also in one of De Tanouarn’s thoughtful essays the following 
 
 just reflections : 
 
 “Let us beware of imagining that it is impossible to render a general idea, 
 or the physiognomy of an epoch or a nation, by a single action drawn from 
 history. On the contrary, art gains much, and the idea does not lose thereby. 
 I need no other proof than that which Gérome himself furnishes. His Cwsar is 
 assuredly not a complicated subject ; it is simplicity reduced to its utmost limits, 
 since there is on the canvas but a single personage, or rather only a body! but 
 the body is that of Cesar! The emptiness of the scene makes one think of the 
 void which the disappearance of such a man is going to create in the world—a 
 void which will only be filled by frightful wars and bloody proscriptions. This 
 work is without doubt the best that Gérome has yet composed. Possessed by 
 a happy idea, he has expressed all the interest and emotion it could possibly 
 
 contain.” 
 
 An impressive contrast to the quietude of this scene is found in that which 
 bears the ominously significant title, “ Wail, Cesar, Emperor / those about to die 
 
 salute thee! 
 
 “This is the picture s Gautier] before which the crowd stops most 
 
 willingly. To see it, it is almost necessary to fall in line as we did last year 
 
 before the Duef. O honest and intelligent crowd! whom we have so often 
 abused when we have surprised thee in the act of using as a mirror the varnish 
 of some abominable painting! we gladly award thee the praise thou meritest in 
 standing thus before a real work of art! 
 
 “M. Gérome has rebuilt the Roman circus with the unexceptionable science 
 of the architect, the antiquarian, and the historian; never has a restoration 
 succeeded better. It seems as if the artist had lived in the times of the Czesars 
 and assisted in person at these bloody games; and, after the representation, had 
 sketched the principal episodes on his canvas. Where has he found all these 
 
LIFE AND WORKS O. 
 
 lost details, these characteristic parti 
 and neglected by history? for such 
 
 “Here and there—a little in the poets and writers, 
 
 medallions, paintings on vases and all t 
 
 F JEAN LEON GEROME. 85 
 
 culars, faded from the memory of man 
 things cannot be invented. 
 a great deal in bas-reliefs, 
 
 he oxidized relics of antiquity, the excava- 
 
 tion of which has revealed the secrets of the past. A prodigious patience was 
 
 needful to gather together those scattered elements; and a great art to group 
 
 them, to blend them, and make 
 them live. 
 
 “At the right of the picture 
 rises the /oge of Cesar, adorned 
 by slender columns with red flut- 
 ings, gilded on the projecting 
 angles, surmounted by winged 
 figures of victory, and twined 
 
 with golden foliage—from which 
 
 are suspended shields bearing 
 heads of the Medusa. On the 
 plinth is engraved the name of 
 Vitellius, but even without the 
 inscription he would be quickly 
 recognized, bending his arm like 
 the handle of a pot-bellied vase, 
 to lean his fat hand upon his 
 knee, a cascade of triple chins 
 falling upon his great chest and 
 displaying the amplitude of his 
 
 obese majesty. Near him, the 
 Empress, haughty and absent- 
 minded; behind him, the court- 
 iers—the favorites standing in 
 attitudes of respectful familiarity. 
 
 Beside the imperial /oge are the vestals in their snowy draperies, ready to 
 
 raise or reverse the thumb which deci 
 
 the benches, divided by staircases leac 
 
 a multitude in varied and vivid colors 
 flebs in their gray tunics. Overhead, 
 
 des for life or death. Farther on, upon 
 ing to the doors of the circular corridors, 
 swarms up to the region occupied by the 
 1eld by cords attached to staffs and rings 
 
 of bronze, and decorated with elephants, tigers, and lions, is the immense 
 
 velarium A 
 
 forgotten. Red panels color the barri 
 color—the blood will not show! In 
 
 gned to protect the spectators from the sun. No detail is 
 
 er that surrounds the arena; it is a good 
 the background is a door in the form of 
 
 a triumphal arch, crowned by a chariot drawn by four horses abreast. By 
 this door the dead animals and murdered men are dragged away, for the 
 
 endings of this fierce Roman drama 
 
 have but little variety! 
 
 ‘‘Beneath the imperial /oge the ¢ 
 customary salute; they are preceded 
 
 adiators, ready for the contest, make the 
 by their impresario, a kind of pompous 
 
86 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 comedian, of cruel, cunning mien, coquettishly wrapped in his mantle and leaning 
 like a dandy on a slender stick. The gladiators wear strange casques, some with 
 eyes shielded, others with the visor half lowered, and others entirely masked, 
 according to the specialty of the combatants. Their legs are protected by cne- 
 mides ; a wide belt of buffalo-leather ornamented with a row of copper coins is 
 worn like a cuirass, leaving exposed their sturdy ches 
 
 Their thighs are half- 
 covered by a short tunic, girt up so as not to emba their movements; a 
 ight shield defends the left arm; the right arm is protected by laced thongs, 
 armlets, gauntlets, or iron mittens reaching to the fingers. On their shoulders 
 
 folded the net of the retiarius, and they brandish aloft the trident with its 
 
 seen points. Some of them have not yet lowered their visors, and one can 
 
 their short faces, with the heavy jaws and prominent chin, stamped with 
 sullen resignation and brutish courage; by their theatrical attitude, one divines 
 that they are proud to perform before the eyes of so distinguished a public. 
 t must be, indeed, disagreeable for a gladiator to waste the elegancies of 
 his death-agony on empty benches, or on people who are no judges! 
 
 “Tn the opposite corner lie two dead gladiators. One of them, tangled in the 
 meshes of the net, has not been able to escape the prongs of the fatal trident ; 
 the other has a deep wound in his breast. He must have been loudly applauded, 
 for he has fallen in the classic pose so well known to sculptors. In the back- 
 ground an under-servant takes handfuls of sand from a basket, suspended from 
 his belt, to soak up the pools of blood in which the feet of the combatants might 
 
 slip; a slave, in a striped tunic, throws his hook at a body and exerts his whole 
 strength to draw it toward him. Others, preceded by two players disguised as 
 Mercury and Pluto, drag their victims toward the charnel-house ; derisive funeral 
 honors paid to the human form! A ray of sunlight, placid mockery of indifferent 
 Nature, falls precisely upon the bloody funeral procession. All this ceremonial is 
 to be seen at the bull-fights in Spain; but the mules, with their tinkling bells and 
 multi-colored pompons, have only to drag away the bulls or disemboweled horses. 
 
 Man escapes the peril by his bravery and skill.” 
 De Tanouarn gives also an admirable critique of this che/d’euvre, and adds : 
 
 “Vitellius is well chosen as a personification of that monstrous Roman 
 
 civilization, wholly exterior and wholly material. The lust of antiquity puffs and 
 sweats under this shapeless mass of fat, this gross exterior, swollen like a leather 
 bottle which threatens to burst. It is thus that historical painting should be 
 approached ; it is thus that an artist, without abandoning any of the nece 
 
 ry 
 plastic qualities or omitting the dramatic and picturesque elements of an action, 
 elevates himself to the dignity of a moralist and a philosopher. It is incontest- 
 able that Géréme is an ingenious painter, learned and profound. He is a skillful 
 and patient searcher after ideas; he is not content that his canvas should be 
 clothed with agreeable images—he exacts that it should ¢hin&/ Never does he 
 seize his brushes without a full consciousness of what he wishes to do; if he 
 hesitates, it is only as to a choice of the means which will best render what his 
 intelligence has conceived.” 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LLON GEROME 87 
 
 Beside this exciting spectacle hung a canvas representing a page of Greek 
 history which had already furnished Gautier with material for an exquisite 
 
 romance, He Says: 
 
 “Had we not an ideal which guarantees us against all self-love, we might 
 be proud of our little antique novelette, ‘King Candaules,’ which has inspired 
 Pradier to make a statue and Géroéme to paint a picture. Marble and canvas have 
 
 ortrayed our Nyssia in a manner far superior to the text. The chisel and the 
 
 brush are worth more than the pen, especially in such hands and when there is a 
 
 question of beauty. Our readers are doubtless all acquainted with this bit of 
 history, related in the first place by Herodotus. It offers to both sculpture and 
 
 yainting a subject full of resources. M. Géréme has recomposed, with that 
 
 instinct for antiquity which so rarely deceives him, the interior of the Gre 
 
 20- 
 Asiatic palace inhabited by the King of Sardia, concerning which the arche- 
 
 ologist has had only vague data. Candaules is lying on a bed of sculptured ivory, 
 ornamented with bas-reliefs and shields of gold; upon the walls are drawn the 
 mysterious symbols of Oriental religions; the feet of his statues still remain 
 
 unsculptured, in the block of stone from Egypt or 4=gina; strips of wood are 
 interwoven to form the door behind which Gyges conceals himself ; the delicate 
 feet of Nyssia rest upon the skin of the Nemean lion, heritage of Hercules; the 
 
 artist has left nothing to be desired save to see the profile of this woman whose 
 
 beauty was so great that her own husband betrayed its sacred perfection. The 
 form, from which the drapery is just slipping, is exquisite in its divine Mar- 
 
 morean pallor.” 
 
 The moment chosen by the painter is that when Nyssia is disrobing and 
 
 making a sign to Gyges to rush forward and kill her traitor husband. This 
 scene, where offended womanly dignity takes its just revenge upon treacherous 
 sensuality, is treated with the chaste nobility of pose and expression to be found 
 in all this artist’s paintings from the nude, which excite only admiration for the 
 
 pure artistic beauty of contour and plastic grace. Yet it is almost a relief to turn 
 
 from these themes, that gripe the heart and stir the emotions, to the tranquillity of 
 the Arnauts Playing Chess. The thoughtful countenances bent over the board 
 
 are drawn with the perfect skill that has so often been commented on, and which 
 
 renders these types with all the truthfulness of Nature’s modeling. The imper- 
 turbability of the Oriental character is well illustrated by the attitudes of the 
 players, who betray no emotion over the game. Gain or lose? What can it mat- 
 
 ter? ‘‘ What will be, will be,” and they disquiet themselves no more as to the out- 
 
 come of the passionless contest than they do over the smoke that rises steadily 
 from the chibouk and vanishes in the air. Life, with its struggles and aspira- 
 tions, its joys and agonies, what is it all save a faint /amée—now here, now gone ! 
 There is but one end, resistless, inevitable! The boast of the king is strangled in 
 
 his throat as the poniard is driven home with deadly thrust; the iron-muscled, 
 
88 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON G ROME. 
 
 iron-hearted gladiators succumb not only to Roman cruelty and power, but to the 
 Conqueror of all flesh, and, gasping, cry to him also ‘‘ Morituri te salutant” ; e’en 
 Cesar falls—and who can tell where he now lies, or trace the ‘‘noble dust of Alex- 
 ander"? It is doubly interesting to know what the artist himself thought of 
 these creations, that compelled alike the serious and the frivolous to stop and 
 
 admire. We return to his notes, where we find allusion 
 
 only to the two most important in this exhibit. He writes : 
 
 “Tn 1859 I exposed the Gladiators before Caesar (Mori- 
 turi), which I consider, with another canvas of the same 
 nature (Pollice Verso), as my two best works. The first was 
 looked at sufficiently, but I do not think it achieved much 
 ss. While painting it I had not at my disposition all 
 
 succe 
 
 the documents that I since have gathered together to work 
 up the second. It fails from certain archeological points 
 of view, and in this respect the fault is a grave one; for, 
 in truth, the gladiators were exceptional beings, who resem- 
 bled in no wise the soldiers of that period ; wearing odd 
 helmets and enormous arms, offensive and defensive, of a 
 very peculiar character and form. In such a case, verity of 
 detail is important, for it adds to the physiognomy and 
 gives to the people a barbarous and savage cachez, at once 
 strange and striking. I have said before that this painting 
 was not a very great success, and yet the composition was 
 
 new, the dramatic side well represented, and the whole 
 
 effect well enough realized—the restitution of the circus 
 
 with its ve/wm was thought out with much care. I will say 
 but little of the second. It appeared much later, when I had assembled all 
 possible information that could contribute to its exactness. I think it better 
 than the first in many respects; it has more of the accent of truth, and renders 
 more clearly the brutal side of these Romans, by whom human life was counted 
 as nothing. At the same time [1859] I sent out from my atelier the Death of 
 Cesar, which some amiable critics have called ‘Washerwoman’s Day!’ I myself 
 
 am no enemy of quiet gayety 
 this 
 
 , and I recognize and appreciate the comicality of 
 
 joke ; but, all modesty aside, this composition merits more serious attention ; 
 the presentation of the subject is dramatic and original. It is a small canvas, 
 
 which could have been executed on a larger scale without losing its character ; 
 which I cannot say of many of my works.” 
 
 Commenting on this very passage, Bergerat says : 
 g 3 g g a 
 
 “One should read and re-read this confidential page, written so freely and so 
 
 easily, for it is a model of impartial, learned, and honest criticism. It contains in 
 
 a few words Géréme 
 
 entire ‘esthetics.’ Once again, I say, every one is not 
 capable of thus passing judgment on himself! Erudition plays a great role in the 
 
QUARENS QUEM DEVORET 
 
 1889 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 89 
 
 work of the master, and all that he says of the exactness of his casques and armor 
 for his gladiators applies, equally, to all the paintings he has signed, especially 
 during later years. I find the modern naturalism, so peculiar to all the great 
 minds of our time, in this insatiable passion for archaic ¢rwth which distin- 
 guishes the productions of this painter. But I had always believed that in 
 Gérome the ethnographic gift took the place of scientific acquirement, and that 
 Nature had done everything for him. It remains proved henceforth that not 
 
 only ha 
 scholar who keeps posted in all the discoveries of critical history. What distin- 
 
 he the instinctive sense for the antique, but that he possesses it as a 
 
 guishes him from the scientist, and constitutes in him the @rfis/, is that he 
 
 subordinates the document to the idea, and not the idea to the document. From 
 
 this point of view, the painting called Pollice Verso is not only his chef- 
 
 @euvre, but a chef-d’euvre. The scrupulous exactitude of the slightest de- 
 tails contributes so greatly to the effect of the imagined scene that it is 
 adorned with the certain definiteness which renders a thing absolutely seen so 
 impossible to forget, so unchangeable, created for all time. It is the ideal of 
 in Art. 
 “It was about this time [adds Bergerat| that Géroéme presented himself 
 
 sucec 
 
 seriously as a candidate before the Academy, his name having previously figured 
 on the list as a mere formality.” 
 
 A certain M. Hesse, of whom we never hear, was the candidate of the 
 Institute as opposed to the progressive party, which was led by the Comte de 
 Nieuwerkerke, at that time Superintendent of the Beaux-Arts. Hesse gained 
 the election by one vote, but Gérome was more than compensated for this 
 postponement of the reward due his conspicuous merit, by his appointment as 
 Professor in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts—a position he still holds through pure 
 love of teaching, as the salary is merely nominal and the time spent with his 
 beloved pupils means to him a financial loss of many thousands of francs. 
 
 He allowed two subsequent elections to pass unheeded. A third vacancy 
 
 occurring, he consented to stand again and was elected—but, as Claretie observes, 
 
 ions are unknown 
 
 ‘without concessions on his part.” And he adds: ‘‘Conces 
 to Gér6me! From head to foot he is upright and resolute.” 
 The year 1860 was one of intense application and preparation for the Salon 
 
 of 1861, and during this year we find chronicled the appearance of only two 
 
 pictures, 42 /talian Shepherd and the Donkey-boy of Cairo. In the first one we 
 
 have a picturesque reminiscence of a sunny day on the Campagna. A passing 
 flock of sheep follows close at the heels of its guardian, who enlivens the way 
 with a rifornello on his bagpipes, while his faithful dog, from a corner of his eye, 
 
 keeps watch over the dusty animals, which are painted with a fidelity that even 
 
 a Verboeckhoven might envy. ‘Tis a well-worn theme, but Géréme’s treatment 
 
 redeems it from the commonplace, and almost invests it with the charm of 
 
 originality. 
 
go LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 In the solemn, priest-like youth, with classic draperies, who posed for the 
 Donkey-boy during Géréme’s first visit to Egypt, we have a perfect type of this 
 indispensable accessory of Oriental life. When not lazily awaiting their patrons, 
 brigades of these gamins de Caire may be seen charging through the streets, 
 yelling vociferously and belaboring the patient bowrrigwots at every step. We 
 find an amusing description of these donkey-boys in an account of the first sortie 
 a@ Vdne through the streets of Cairo, which a merry band under command of 
 ““Colonel” Gér6me made in 1868. As an old soldier on this field of battle, the 
 master laughingly regards the half-terrified amazement of the raw recruits, 
 among whom is Paul Lenoir, his favorite pupil and inseparable companion during 
 
 a long sojourn in the wilderne It is he who is to embalm their mutual impres- 
 
 sions in a volume which delightfully describes this eventful journey through 
 Egypt to Sinai and Arabia Petreea, and which is dedicated to the master in the 
 
 following graceful lines : 
 
 “Dear Ma 
 whose greatest charm and value lay in the fact that it was made in your 
 company and under your kind direction. Egypt is your property; for if 
 
 Permit me to offer you these few notes of a journey 
 
 science and archeology have been able to reconstruct it by its hieroglyphs, you 
 alone have translated its admirable light and brilliant animation, which they 
 could not understand. Recalling the days we passed together in the desert, I 
 venture to ask again the indulgence you then accorded the youngest of your 
 
 caravan. ; 
 “Your respectful pupil, 
 “Paut Lenor.” 
 
 Behold this joyous student then,—in Cairo, for the first time,—clutching his 
 teins and digging his heels into his little donkey, in a desperate attempt to 
 
 preserve his equilibrium. 
 
 “Chmalak! Yeminak! Reglak! We are rushed into a human whirlpool 
 
 from which rises an indescribable tumult, increased by the howls and cries 
 of these gamins, who, by well-directed blows, urge on our asses till we attain a 
 rate of speed positively astonishing and, in view of the crowded condition of 
 the streets, not a little disconcerting. Cavaliers, carriages, men, women, 
 children, dogs, and long files of dromedaries attached to each other, are massed 
 in seemingly inextricable confusion. 
 “Chmalak! Reglak! Twenty times in our frenzied course a moving cathe- 
 dral of a camel bears down upon our demoralized band, taking up the middle 
 of the street! Twenty times our marvelous donkeys succeed in avoiding a 
 collision, which would have been as disastrous for these little beasts as for us. 
 Truly these animals have the instinct of circulation !” 
 
 And not only the animals, but their dusky drivers, who dodge in and out 
 
 under the feet of the horses and camels, never losing an opportunity to bestow 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. gr 
 
 a sounding thwack on their respective asses as they rush wildly on, dis- 
 playing, it must be confessed, considerable ‘‘method in their madness”; for 
 they bring up their patrons at one of the gates leading out of the city, without 
 broken bones, but past all power of speech, to the intense amusement of their 
 “Colonel,” who, arrived the first, tranquilly smokes as he awaits the various 
 detachments of his disorganized command! But we must leave for a time 
 this gay company, of whose adventures we shall later be a daily witness, and 
 
 return to the Salon of 1861, where six varied and powerful canvases gave impos- 
 
 ing evidence of the fertility of conception and unremitting labor of the master. 
 
 Timbal comments on this period in his career as follows: 
 
 “Certain works indicate a culminating point in talent which the artist 
 scarcely ever surpasses; the Duel of Pierrot seemed such a one. It rapidly 
 became popular ; reproduced by the painter himself, and many times by engrav- 
 ing and photography, it is remembered by every one. But thi 
 has its danger, and it is often well to look it in the face, to weigh it, and not 
 permit one’s self to be overpowered by it. How many people, without ill-will, 
 recall it at each new effort, as if it had become impossible for the artist hence- 
 forth to surpass himself! Géréme knew how to cope with praise! Besides, he 
 remembered other compositions of his, less looked at, less piquant in invention, 
 but which serious critics, and he himself, ranked above the Due/, Indeed, with- 
 out pretending to diminish in the slightest degree, by comparison, the value of 
 this moving picture, we venture to place beside it the simple idyl of 7he Straw- 
 cutting, which seems an illustration contemporary with Herodotus, or a leaf 
 taken from a chapter of the Bible. This juxtaposition proves in Gérome com- 
 prehension of Nature, and the flexibility of an imagination which has been 
 accused of sterility. He roams thus at will in every path, halting not more 
 willingly before a bloody drama than before a field of wheat gilded by the sun; 
 indifferent, if you please, by force of eclecticism, and bewildering the psychology 
 of those who love to confine within certain limits the sensibility of the soul, 
 which, it seems to me, should rather receive all shocks and, if possible, render 
 
 pecies of success 
 
 back all harmonies.” 
 
 This exquisite pastoral poem of the Hache-faille, which so impressed Timbal, 
 
 appeared at the Salon of 1861. Gautier writes of it : 
 
 “We greatly love the Straw-cutting in Egypt. Its almost priestly seriousness 
 harmonizes well with the talent of the painter. An Egyptian, grave and tranquil 
 as the melancholy Osiris, guides around, over a circle of sheaves, a car built like 
 a throne, drawn by two buffaloes and rolling on metal wheels ; behind him, like 
 an aoéris behind a Pharaoh, is a youth, also in profile. One would pronounce it 
 
 a drawing from a necropolis in Thebes; and nevertheless it is a faithful sketch 
 of a living reality. A dazzling sun,—throwing its rays over the yellow disk of 
 sheaves, which reminds us of the golden circle of Osymandias—silvers the 
 
92 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 heavens and tints the horizon with rose. What grandeur and what solemnity in 
 this simple labor of agriculture! The drawing is as firm as an incision in 
 
 granite—the coloring as rich as the illumination of a sacred papyrus.” 
 
 As further proof of the versatile genius of this great artist, there hung beside 
 
 this Oriental idyl a picture of Rembrandt Etching in his Atelier, which Timbal 
 
 pronounces one of his best works, ‘“‘One of those which with justice should 
 silence those critics who are unable to recast their foregone conclusions, and 
 who, without taking into account the artist's claims, or even his progress, con- 
 tinue to reproach him for being an archeologist wandering from his sphere.” 
 
 The Rembrandt was a gem of purest quality, and all the connoisseurs of the 
 time were in a ferment of admiration over this unexpected revelation of tone- 
 
 power. Gautier charmingly describes the scene: 
 
 “The light, falling from a high window and filtering through one of those 
 frames covered with white paper, which engravers use to soften the glare of the 
 copper, creeps over the table, touches the bottles filled with water or acid, 
 diffuses itself through the chamber, and dies away in obscure corners in warm, 
 mysterious half-shadows. Rembrandt, clad in black and bending over the table, 
 reflects the light on a plate in order to ascertain the depth of the incision. Noth- 
 ing more. But here is genuine matter for a painter's brush ; light concentrated 
 on one point and diminishing by imperceptible degrees, starting with white and 
 ending with bitumen. This is equal in value to any literary or spirituelle fancy, 
 and Rembrandt himself has scarcely portrayed any other, in his pictures or his 
 
 etchings. The plate which he is in process of biting probably depicts a scene of 
 this genre. The Rembrandt is a marvel of delicacy, transparency, and effect. 
 
 Never has M. Gér6me shown himself more of a color This Pompeian, this 
 
 painter @ “encaustigue, this illuminator of Greek vases, has achieved at the first 
 
 essay the absolute perfection of the Dutch mas 
 
 ic 
 
 Still another note in this far-reaching but harmonious chord, that, transposed 
 
 into different keys, vibrates with new power and richne Now it passes into 
 
 the minor, and reveals to us the pale, inspired features of a great representative 
 of another phase of Art. 
 
 “The portrait of Rachel [says Gautier | is at the same time a portrait and a 
 
 personification. Tragedy has blended itself with the tragedienne, the Muse with 
 the actress ; draped in red and orange, she stands erect under a severe Doric 
 portico. Somber passions, fatalities, and tragic furies contract her pale counte- 
 nance. Yes, it is Rachel 
 
 sinister, savage, and violent.” 
 De Tanouarn also writes : 
 
 “This portrait has not only the merit of great individual resemblance, it is 
 the austere and noble image of Tragedy itself. And truly, Rachel was tragedy 
 
 incarnate, passing through living realities of the epoch like a pale and majestic 
 phantom.” 
 
‘MVSHO JO HLVAC AHL 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 95 
 
 This impressive canvas hangs in the historic collection of the Théatre 
 Frangais, and never fails to arrest the eye by its weird and melancholy grandeur. 
 
 And now come three scenes from the antique, the first of which, under the 
 title Two Augurs cannot Regard each Other without Laughing, suggests with 
 consummate skill the ease with which poor credulous human nature has been 
 imposed on from time immemorial. Behind the scenes, these two accomplished 
 hypocrites indulge to the full their contemptuous merriment, while the awe- 
 stricken populace without, silently pondering the utterances of the Oracle, obedi- 
 ently submits reason and will to these clever impostors, who, with only a change 
 of garb and ritual, still number their followers by the thousands in our so-called 
 enlightened age! 
 
 “The Two Augurs,’”’ says Scott, in his ‘‘Gems of French Art,” * entitles 
 Gérome to the highest place as satirist as well as painter.” 
 The most brilliant epoch in Greek history furnishes the artist with a theme 
 
 for his next canvas—Socrates Comes to Seek Alcibiades in the House of Aspasia. 
 
 “Such [says Gautier] is the title of the second Greek picture of M. Géroéme. 
 Alcibiades lounging on a couch beside Aspasia does not appear greatly inclined to 
 follow his master, which can easily be conceived; philosophy is not worth as 
 
 much as love—above all when Aspasia is the inspiration. A young slave, an 
 of 
 Xantippe, and on the threshold of the door an old woman smiles sardonically. 
 
 artful, roguish beauty in transparent drapery, tries to keep back the spouse 
 
 In the foreground a magnificent hound stretches himself out—the same dog 
 whose tail Alcibiades cut to furnish matter for Athenian gossips. No specialist 
 in animals could achieve its like. Placed as he is, he gains perhaps too much 
 importance, but the dog of Alcibiades is himself a personage and not an 
 
 accessory. The background represents an af/réum decorated with that antique 
 elegance so well understood by the artist. It is a restoration, in every sense of 
 
 the word, of an exquisite rarity, and evincing a knowledge that in no wise 
 
 detracts from the effect. The figures stand out boldly against the architecture, 
 
 luminous and gay with many colors, in which one can find no fault save perhaps 
 that of too much richness. The Athenians reserved all their luxurious decoration 
 for their public buildings, and their dwellings were very small ; but Aspasia, the 
 renowned adviser and later the wife of Pericles, could well indulge in these 
 splendors.” 
 
 In the Phryne before the Areopagus, an equally celebrated and more dramatic 
 historical episode is illustrated with inimitable power. Some critics of this period, 
 jealous of the tide of admiration which surged in one direction, leaving their 
 favorites with scanty appreciation, sought for some means to diminish the general 
 enthusiasm, and could find nothing better than to assume an air of outraged 
 modesty and loudly protest against these paintings as being at variance with the 
 
 teachings of the Christian religion! Their attitude of offended virtue was so 
 
96 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 visibly feigned and even ridiculous, and their position so altogether untenable, 
 
 that they were soon silenced by the verdict of the best critics, which verdict Time 
 
 has confirmed. Bergerat justly rebukes them for their prudery. He says: 
 
 “Painter and admirer of Antique Greece, it would have seemed to Gérome, to 
 
 ries of Alcibiades sentiments 
 
 say the least, audacious to ascribe to the contempor 
 which Christ did not preach to the world till a century after the death of Aspasia. 
 He was not responsible for the fact that Athenian society admitted the courtesan 
 as one of its fundamental elements and regarded her existence as one of their 
 most serious principles of conservation. If we are interested in Socrates we can- 
 not ignore Aspasia, and if we celebrate the justice of the Areopagus, we cannot 
 forget that it acquitted Phryne on the simple revelation of her beauty—a national 
 beauty, the remembrance and softening influences of which have survived for 
 
 ages. 
 
 The painter has well chosen the moment when Hyperides puts the crowning 
 
 touch to his eloquent defense, and gains his cause by revealing to these worship- 
 ers of the religion of pure beauty the matchless charms of the Athenian flute- 
 
 layer, whose perfect form was reproduced by Apelles in his Venus Anadyomene 
 
 and by Praxiteles in the famous golden statue of the Temple of Delphos. The 
 
 charge of impiety and irreverence toward the gods, punishable by death, could 
 never have been sustained in the face of the incomparable loveliness which, to 
 
 SSor. 
 
 hese superstitious heathens, was almost a proof of the divinity of its poss 
 
 The instinctive gesture of the astonished Phryne, the varied emotions of the 
 
 equally astonished tribunal, the triumphant glance of the successful orator, the 
 
 floating drapery—every detail is rendered with a skill that leaves one at a loss 
 
 for words that shall bring fitting tribute. The dramatic intensity of this scene is 
 
 given with all the artist's characteristic power, which raises him so far above 
 
 contemporary artists. Criticism has long since ceased to cavil at the subject, and 
 the Phryne of Gérome takes rank with the finest creations of antiquity and 
 
 surpass 
 
 es them in dramatic grouping and emotional delineation. 
 
 In an interesting and original volume entitled Sententie Artis, by Harry 
 
 Quilter, M. A., a well-known English critic, we find the following comparison : 
 
 nation to Mr. ——. Why? Because I 
 
 “TI feel inclined to deny true imagi 
 should do so to any man who imagined the body and forgot the soul; who gave 
 me the face of antique life, but not the heart. It is not probable that if any of 
 
 ar, we should think 
 of palace marbles first and the living emperor afterward. To use a theatrical 
 
 us had audience with Agrippa, or witnessed the death of Cz 
 
 image, the actors in this artist’s paintings do not ‘take the stage.’ Compare his 
 work in this respect with that of Géréme. In most of this painter's works, if we 
 
 examine them carefully, it will be found that most of the effect depends upon 
 the painting of suddenly arrested action. In nearly every picture there is a 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 97 
 
 pause of action. We hold our breath, as it were, to see what is coming next. 
 We can only point this out; like many another incident of art it cannot be 
 proved to those who do not feel it.” 
 
 The Fine Arts Quarterly Review, of London, referring to the Phryne says: 
 “Tt is needless to insist on the consummate art-power which in such compositions 
 attacks difficulties that lesser artists would simply evade. A hand for drawing, 
 an eye for both ideal beauty and indi- 
 vidual character, together with thorough 
 technical knowledge, are proved in this 
 work.” And Claretie writes: ‘‘In the 
 smallest picture, in the least of his draw- 
 ings, Géréme shows the hand of the 
 master. Certain studies taken from 
 Nature for his Phryne would form an 
 incomparable frieze for the cabinet of an 
 amateur, as finished as any antique.” 
 
 It was after the Salon of 1861 that our : 
 artist, wearied by his immense efforts, 
 
 and haunted, waking and sleeping, by 
 
 visions from the enchanted ‘‘land of the 
 sun,” yielded to his passion for travel 
 
 and organized a party which, under his 
 
 intrepid leadership, penetrated far into 
 
 the then little known regions of the ‘Beret 
 
 Syrian Desert. His notes furnish us with 
 
 a condensed but graphic account of this journey, revealing anew his keen 
 powers of observation and reflection in regard to both physical and mental 
 
 phenomena. He writes: 
 
 “About this time I undertook another journey to the Orient—to Judea, 
 Egypt, and Syria. We were seventeen days crossing the Desert of S 
 
 the first time that I had ventured into the desert. Our 
 
 a. It was 
 aravan was well organ- 
 
 ized, though not very large. We had supplied ourselves carefully with every- 
 
 thing necessary to our material stence, above all with Nile water, a precaution 
 
 all the more important since we took with us four horses, and we were obliged 
 to load the water these animals were to consume, on the backs of the camels ; 
 twenty-four liters a day, multiplied by seventeen, madd 408 liters. Happily 
 at El-Arich, the last Egyptian station, there was a well where travelers could 
 renew their supply. In very long crossings, it is impossible to take horses ; 
 besides, camels are admirably convenient, since one is not obliged to occupy one’s 
 self so seriously with their food and drink. Once arrived at the encampment, 
 
N LEON GEROME. 
 
 98 LIKE AND WORKS OF JEz 
 
 they are loosed, and they instantly set off in search of both. They always find a 
 certain fleshy plant, with narrow leaves, the interior of which contains a certain 
 humidity, and which serve at the same time as food and drink. They can there- 
 fore make several long marches without being watered, but they drink deep when 
 they find opportunity. Their spongy feet are admirably constructed for the 
 ielding soil. They spread them over the sand and are thus enabled to sustain 
 
 ta 
 
 ht, while the horses and the asses sometimes sink in up to their 
 
 heir heavy wei 
 knees. The camel is truly a ship in this desert sea. 
 “Nothing could be more agreeable, more poetic, than our encampments in 
 
 this solitude, with its added charm of novelty and the unknown. Although 
 
 fatigued by long marches in the full blaze of the sun, | began my work with 
 
 ardor as soon as the halting-place was reached ; but alas! how many things | 
 was forced to leave behind, only a bare memory of which I could take away—I 
 
 who prefer three touches of color on a canvas to the most vivid of memories ! 
 
 But one must always press forward and let one’s regrets ride en croupe / 
 “In spite of the charm of this desert life, 1am bound to say that at the end 
 of a certain number of days, when one catches the first glimpse of cultivated 
 
 nlains, when one meets again one’s fellow-men, one has a very sweet sensation ; 
 and the sight of a green prairie—really green—rejoices one amazingly. Approach- 
 ing in the direction of Gaza, we passed suddenly from utter barrenness to a fertile 
 country ; there were pomegranates in blossom, orange, lemon, and palm trees ; 
 but no gates! Samson had not 
 
 we found again life and labor in all its phases 
 returned ! 
 
 “Several leagues from Jerusalem we pitched our tent, for it was already late, 
 and we wished to start very early the next day. By daybreak we were en route, 
 but were suddenly assailed by the most terrible storm I have ever in my life 
 endured. At a turning in the road (our road was the bed of a torrent !) a gust 
 of wind almost overturned my horse and me, and one of my comrades, who, 
 fatigued by riding, was trying to get on better afoot, was forced from time to time 
 to take off his riding-boots and empty them, for the water, running in at his 
 collar, literally filled them. 
 
 “On our arrival, the tempest was still raging and it was impossible 
 
 to pitch the tents on account of the violence of the wind. For want of more 
 suitable refuge, we hastened in to Saint-Sépulcre, in a horrible state, wet to the 
 skin and chilled with the cold. But we forgot everything before the strange- 
 
 ness of the spectacle which met our ey It was Good Friday, and all 
 was in a state of preparation for the Easter Festival. Pilgrims from all four 
 
 corners of the earth were there gathered, nay, jammed together; some sing- 
 
 ing in procession, others silent in prayer; others still, having constructed 
 rude lodgings with planks, between the columns, were swarming there with 
 
 their wives and children ; for a certain curious tradition guarantees a peculiar 
 
 blessing from God upon children conceived in these holy surroundings. We 
 
 elbowed Armenians, Greeks, Copts, Rus 
 
 all Christian sects who came there, not only to adore and supplicate the 
 Most High, but also, and above all, to declare that they evxecrated each 
 
 ans, Roman Catholics—in a word, 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 99 
 
 other / For in truth it is seldom that these feasts pass by without blood being 
 
 shed upon the flagstones of the Temple, and two or three corpses being scattered 
 on the ground! And then the Turkish regiment that mounts guard, fully 
 armed, cr 
 
 s bayonets and clears out the place! In order to avoid this scan- 
 dal, each of the faithful of late years is searched at the door and relieved of 
 his knife and any other offensive weapon, so that now these devotees of the 
 Christian religion are forced to fall back on insults, hustlings, and knockdown 
 blows with the fist! I was nearly strangled in one of these affrays, which I 
 found only moderately attractive; for | was not of the number (which really was 
 not small) who, old and decrepit, make long journeys in order to die at Jeru- 
 salem and be interred on the banks of the Kedron. Those who have religious 
 
 sentiments, and wish to preserve them unsullied, will do well not to visit the Holy 
 Sepulcher at this time. 
 
 “The character of the country is desolate—stones everywhere, scanty vege- 
 tation, olive trees of rickety shapes twisted by the tempest; but it is not a 
 commonplace country. When one has once seen it, one can never forget it. 
 
 The city has also its own p 
 Easter season, gloomy and si 
 six days is sufficient to make 
 (suburbs) of Jerusalem ; every 
 banks of the Jordan, above a 
 
 the spots much frequented by 
 onack, stopping at Baalbec, wit 
 
 imposing grandeur, but whose 
 
 so formidable that one wonc 
 
 possessed, to be able to bring 
 
 1ysiognomy: swarming and very agitated at the 
 ent at any other time. An excursion of five or 
 the tour of Judea, which is really the danlieue 
 where mournfulness and barrenness, even on the 
 1 on the shores of the Dead Sea, a pool lying in 
 
 ow ground, in a heavy, burning atmosphere. We passed Lake Tiberias, one of 
 
 Jesus; and made long stretches, now on horse- 
 ain the inclosure or rather the ruins of the city, of 
 style denotes an epoch of decadence. The most 
 
 curious point there is a very ancient wall, each stone of which has proportions 
 
 ers what machinery the Titans of that period 
 these huge blocks from the quarry. 
 
 “Arrival at Damascus after a two days’ march. It was the crown and end of 
 
 our journey, as Cairo had be 
 remarkable cities of the Orient 
 the impure breath of Europe. 
 
 en the beginning. Damascus! Cairo! the most 
 ; those which have remained longest untainted by 
 I speak of the ‘long ago,’ for since then Cairo has 
 
 been disfigured, and this Khedive, who has laid his sacrilegious hand on these 
 
 relics, will have a terrible account to render to Allah! 
 
 “T worked but little at D. 
 
 amascus, for I was very fatigued by the journey. 
 
 In midsummer the heat was tropical, and so much the more insupportable, in that 
 the city is surrounded by mountains covered with immense trees, which stop the 
 circulation of the air, and one suffers much during the warm season in spite of 
 
 the numerous brooks that furrow the ground in every direction. I was present at 
 
 a very curious Jewish feast given by a rich banker, where a large number of 
 
 young women were smoking their zr; 
 
 hiléhs in astonishingly décolleté costumes, 
 
 seated on rich divans in immense halls of very elegant architecture. 
 
 ‘Before closing these notes I want to tell you of a touching episode which I 
 
 witnessed at Jerusalem. Our cook met one of his friends, also a cook, in the ser- 
 
 vice of some travelers who were encamped close beside us. This friend, who was 
 
100 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 still young, had quitted his home in Bagdad two years before, leaving his old 
 mother there alone. At the end of this time, the poor woman could no longer 
 overcome the longing to see her child. She set off without money, without 
 resources, on foot, attaching herself to the different caravans she met, living on 
 charity. And thus she made numerous and painful journey 
 But where shall she look, for she is absolutely ignorant of his whereabouts. Is 
 he in Egypt or Syria or Greece; in Turkey or in Arabia? In Europe, 
 Asia, or Africa? She knows not; but, sustained by love, she walks on !— 
 
 seeking her son. 
 
 and still she walks on. 
 Allah had pity on her and 
 permitted her to meet her 
 well-beloved son at Jeru- 
 salem.” 
 
 On these same notes, 
 hastily jotted down by the 
 artist as ‘‘ reminders,” Ber- 
 
 gerat comments as follows 
 
 D 
 
 “Their autobiographical 
 interest is thrown into the 
 
 shade, so to speak, by their 
 
 ora physiological value, and for 
 
 him who knows how to 
 
 read and judge a man by 
 
 his style, no portrait could 
 
 more 
 
 xactly reveal the 
 personality of Géréme than these few pages of pen sketches. Incisive clearness 
 of vision contends here with the taste dominant in the character ; and these are 
 the two master qualities of the painter. As he writes, he paints; the phi osophy 
 of art is the same. Remark how his eye is caught instantly by the decisive 
 
 note of objects or scenes, that he subordinates surrounding details, and that his 
 
 thorough education as a painter aids him to select at a glance the desired effect 
 out of many.” The return voyage was saddened by the death of one of their 
 little band, Duhais, who was sorrowfully interred at Trieste. This long journey 
 of eight months was followed in January, 1862, by the marriage of Géréme to the 
 beautiful daughter of Monsieur Goupil, the well-known head of the most impor- 
 tant art-publishing house in the world. After the wedding-journey of two 
 months in Italy, they returned to the charming hotel which Gérome had con- 
 structed on the Rue de Bruxelles, which now forms a part of their present 
 residence on the Boulevard de Clichy. In his artistic and commodious home the 
 
 master often recalls with a smile the little servant’s chamber under the roof in 
 
 the Rue St. Martin, which he occupied as a poor student when he first came 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 101 
 
 to Paris. He changed afterward to an old house in the Rue de l’Ancienne 
 Comédie,—the former site of the Théatre Francais,—where he obtained a more 
 comfortable room directly opposite the old Café Procop, so much frequented by 
 Voltaire. He was finally able to take a tiny, obscure atelier, but still an atelier of 
 his own, in the Rue de Sévres, where he painted the famous Combat de Cogs. 
 The artist who occupied this memorable studio afterward, meeting Géréme one 
 day, assailed him with a flood of questions as to how he had been ‘‘able to exist 
 in that black, gloomy, frightful hole!” The master, genuinely surprised, replied, 
 “T did not have time to notice all that! It was gay enough for me, for I 
 remember we laughed and sang a great deal!” From this dark little studio he 
 
 went to the Rue de Fleurus, where several of his comrades came to live with him, 
 
 among them Hamon, Picou, and Schoenwerk the sculptor. From there to the 
 Rue Duguay-Trouin, then surrounded by open fields, and where his drawing-room 
 was the street! for there he received all his visitors when it was too dark to work 
 and he could not afford lights. It was about this time that he was playfully 
 accused of living “like a Sybarite’—a good-natured sarcasm which has been 
 
 taken aw grand sériewx by several critics! The father of the painter Toulmouche, 
 
 one of his best friends, finally constructed an atelier for him in the Rue Notre 
 Dame des Champs, which he occupied until his marriage, and where he painted 
 many of his great pictures. Ménard gives us a graphic description of life in this 
 
 gay atelier, an invitation to which was eagerly sought for. 
 
 “M. Gérome’s studio has always been frequented by a great number of artists 
 and men of letters. When he was living in his doi/e-d-thé (the name given by 
 
 painters to a sort of Japanese house in which was his studio), he was the center of 
 
 a large group of young men who surrounded him with gayety. In the evenings 
 there were improvised fétes in which wit and humor made up for the absence of 
 ceremony, The studio was further enlivened by an enormous monkey, whose 
 only fault was a determination to paint like all those about him; this, however, 
 was serious, as he was not always satisfied with painting upon his own pictures, 
 
 but sometimes daubed over the works of other artists! Then there was a burst 
 of indignation, but the saucy monkey contrived always to get forgiven on account 
 of his thousand tricks and farces, and to get the laugh on his own side. There 
 were several studios for painters in the same house, which, moreover, was near 
 the Luxembourg, a quarter where artists congregate in great numbers. As 
 groups of painters are always formed by a sympathy in tendencies, the friends of 
 M. Gérome were generally little inclined toward realistic innovations. There had 
 been some noise made about some large pictures by M. Gustave Courbet, which, 
 
 not without merit, somewhat resembled caricatures, and certain theorists exalted 
 
 very loudly the manner of the painter. Naturally, a different opinion prevailed 
 amongst M. Géréme’s fr 
 
 ends, and this led to the representation of a parody ‘de 
 circonstance,’ acted in the studio, and in which a certain ‘ Réaliste’ exposes his 
 doctrine in these words : 
 
102 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME 
 
 ‘“Paire vrai,—ce nest rien pour étre réaliste ; 
 
 Cest faire /aid qu'il faut! or, Monsieur, sil vous plait, 
 Tout ce que je dessine est horriblement laid ! 
 
 Ma peinture est affreuse, et pour qu'elle soit vraie, 
 J’en arrache le beau, comme on fait de l’ivraie! 
 
 Jaime les teints terreux, et les nez de carton, 
 Les fillettes avec de la barbe au menton, 
 
 Les trognes de tarasque et de coque-cigrues, 
 Les durillons, les cors aux pieds, et les verrues ! 
 Voila le vrai /” 
 
 “This criticism of realistic doctrines might be somewhat sharp, but it was an 
 answer to the sarcasms continually thrown from the opposite camp upon the 
 artists who drew most of their subjects from antiquity.” 
 
 Ménard’s mention of the monkey, which was Géréme’s property and_ his 
 especial pet, reminds us of a comical story that we have from the artist's own lips. 
 
 Jacques was an unusually bright specimen and his master was indefatigable in 
 
 training him, especially in regard to his manners ‘‘at table,” where he was often 
 the gravest of the little company. He could not be cured, however, of certain 
 marauding tendencies, and soon Géréme was obliged to pay damages in the 
 neighborhood for uprooted flowers, broken windows, and like mischief. A collar 
 and chain thenceforth kept M. Jacques indoors and in order. One day, having 
 
 succeeded in breaking his fetters, he made his way slyly through the open sky- 
 
 light into the street. His absence was not remarked, till his empty chair at the 
 
 & 
 
 noonday déeuwner called attention to the fact that he was doubtless ev rouwfe for 
 further costly adventures. Hastily clapping on a hat, Gérome rushed out in 
 pursuit, inquiring of every one he met, news of his fugitive property. He traced 
 him as far as one of the Grands Boulevards, and there, on turning a corner, 
 he discovered a crowd gathered in front of the immense glass window of a 
 fashionable restaurant. Naturally gravitating in that direction, his astonished 
 ly 
 
 seated at a table where a (/éfe-a-téte breakfast was in progress, regardless of the 
 
 eyes beheld M. Jacques, with napkin decorously tucked into his collar, grav 
 
 io 
 
 energetic protests of the gentleman, or the dismayed shrinking of his fair 
 companion—and resenting by a furious chattering any attempt on the part of the 
 convulsed garcons to remove him from his comfortable seat! Repressing his 
 merriment by a strong effort, Géroéme entered the ca/é, and courteously apol- 
 ogizing for the intrusion of his ‘‘familiar,” captured the uninvited guest, who 
 meekly submitted to be borne away amid the cheers and bravos of the amused 
 
 spectators ! 
 
 In spite of the hilarity that enlivened this period of his life, the artist’s habits 
 
 of steady application were too well confirmed to be affected to the detriment of 
 
ee 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JE 
 
 N LLON GEROME, 103 
 
 his work, and in his more luxurious quarters in the Boulevard de Clichy he 
 did not alter his rigid rule of early rising and almost uninterrupted labor till 
 sundown. 
 
 Connoisseurs, and, indeed, the general public, had learned to look eagerly for 
 Gérome'’s exhibit at the Salon, confident of finding the wherewithal to satisfy eye 
 and heart—the senses and the imagination. The Salon of 1863 was no exception 
 to the rule. Varnishing Day beheld a delighted throng almost equally divided 
 before four canvases, passing from one to the other with ever-increasing 
 admiration for the infinite versatility and flawless execution more and more 
 apparent at each exhibition. Perhaps the longest pause was made before the 
 Prisoner on the Nile, one of his best known Oriental souvenirs. The London 
 
 Atheneum characterizes it as ‘a marvelous work, one of the most poetical we 
 
 me 
 
 know of and a noble example of execution,” and another writer in the 
 
 review adds, ‘‘ The picture in question is so brilliant and solid that its illusion is 
 
 almost complete, and that result is obtained without the sacrifice of any noble 
 
 qualities to mere imitation.” 
 
 Maxime Du Camp says 
 
 “The scene takes place in Upper Egypt, on the Nile, not far from the village 
 of Luxor, with the imposing silhouette of the Palace of Amenophis stretching 
 along the horizon. In several strokes of the brush M. Géroéme has shown 
 perfectly, to those capable of understanding, the state of Egypt, where a dreamy, 
 gentle, submissive race is tortured daily by its ancient conquerors, more uncivil- 
 ized, more vicious, and less intelligent than the vanquished.” 
 
 Charles Blane gives a more detailed description of it : 
 
 “The Prisoner is a little masterpiece. Bound, and lying crosswise in an 
 
 Egyptian bark, the captive is borne on the Nile to his final destiny—which 
 doubtless is decapitation by the saber. U 
 
 ed forward by two oarsmen, one of 
 whom is a strong-armed Nubian, the craft flies like an arrow over the placid 
 
 Waters in the twilight. 
 over his vengeance, and 
 
 The master, girdled with poniards and pistols, broods 
 ooks steadily before him with half-closed eyes, a glance 
 
 of cruel joy flashing from beneath the long lashes that veil them. It reminds 
 
 me of Richelieu dragging Cinq-Mar 
 
 off to the gallows in a boat on the Rhone. 
 
 Meanwhile, a youth with languishing glance and equivocal mien, an effemin- 
 
 ate stripling of low degree, sings, while thrumming his mandolin, as if chanting 
 
 by order a death-song in 
 
 mockery of the prisoner's sufferings. The heavens are 
 
 cloudless ; nature calm and happy ; the Pharaonic temples embellish the distant 
 
 banks of the stream and 
 
 eternal silhouettes. Yes, this picture is a masterpiece. 
 
 changed in it—absolute 
 
 Philip Gilbert Hamerton bears eloquent witness, in the Fine Arts Quarterly 
 
 Keview of London, to the manifold power of the master. He says 
 
 trace on the still, clear evening sky their solemn and 
 
 othing should be 
 y nothing ; ne varietur.”’ 
 
104 LIFE AND WORKS OF J. LEON GEROME. 
 
 “Here is a Frenchman who seems to have all the good of English Pre- 
 Raphaelism with none of its extravagance. He is as minute as Holman Hunt 
 himself, omitting absolutely nothing that can be told in paint; yet his detail, 
 however marvelously studied, is always kept perfectly subordinate to the main 
 > with an 
 
 purpose. His picture of the Prisoner represents a boat on the Ni 
 unlucky prisoner in it bound hand and foot. The rowers are a wonderful study, 
 their muscular shoulders and 
 arms wrought out to the utmost, 
 even down to the swelling sinews 
 of the wrist, whose strong cords 
 conduct the power of the arms 
 and chest down to the hands 
 
 that grasp the oar. There is so 
 
 much masterly drawing in every 
 bit of this work, such perfect care, 
 such loyalty to fact, that you 
 
 cannot find one thoughtless touch 
 in it. The distant shore of the 
 Nile is a lesson for a landscape 
 
 painter; the polished ripple in 
 the calm water, and the long 
 drawn reflections are full of 
 delicate truth; the sky right in 
 color and painted, it seems, at 
 y of this 
 
 once. A curious proper 
 picture, and which goes far to 
 prove its consummate truth, is 
 
 that the spectator has no idea at 
 first that it is minute work, for 
 
 the details, being modest and in 
 their right places, do not continu- 
 
 s are too much in the 
 
 ally cry aloud ‘See what a multitude we are!’ as detai 
 habit of doing in England. After gazing at the picture for five minutes we 
 begin to discover that it is full of minute facts, which we had not seen; and 
 
 if we go to the picture every day for a week, we shall always find something 
 new in it.” 
 
 Timbal takes up the theme as follows: 
 
 “Tt has been said that Géréme contents himself with seizing on the wing 
 a picturesque scene; that he transfers it to the canvas without commentary, 
 without seeking to add any other attraction than that of a vigorously faithful 
 transcription. However, it would seem that the author of the Duel of Pierrot 
 
 can overleap, when he pleases, the limits within which he often voluntarily con- 
 
 fines himself, and even when he remains a simple painter of manners and 
 customs, he succeeds still in being something more. One evening, walking on 
 
GRAND BATHS AT BROWS 
 
 1885 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 105 
 
 the banks of the Nile in the twilight, he was looking at a boat drifting down the 
 tiver over the silvery, trembling wavelets. Seated in the prow, an Arnaut was 
 singing to the stars, accompanying himself on the gwz/a. Was not the theme 
 sufficient? The painter, however, with the interior eye of his imagination, 
 
 beheld there an actor who would double the interest ; on the rower’s bench he 
 
 extended a poor slave, his hands and feet closely confined by fetters. Blow, 
 balmy breeze ! thou passest over meadows the prisoner never more shall tread ; 
 
 shine, O light of heaven! on these eyes soon to close forever; and thou, exe- 
 
 cutioner, insult thy victim by voice and gesture! Here are contrasts which 
 
 more than one painter could render with equally skillful brush, but the heart of 
 a poet alone will discover them, and without having to owe a debt of gratitude to 
 the chance which has furnished them !” 
 
 The assertion of Maxime Du Camp, that, to be successful, Géréme ‘‘ must 
 have seen with his own eyes,” that ‘‘ he imagines very badly but remembers very 
 well,” is silently but effectually refuted by dozens of poetical conceptions, among 
 them this picture of the Prisoner, which was re-exposed in 1867. Gérome makes 
 characteristic mention of it in his notes: ‘‘The Prisoner (now in the Museum 
 at Nantes) had a universal success, being admired by both connoisseurs and 
 idiots!” 
 
 In The Comedians, the artist has revived for us a scene from the earliest 
 periods of dramatic art—the trying on of masks representing every possible 
 phase of emotion, the use of which preceded the cultivation of facial expression 
 on the part of the players themselves. Two actors are critically regarding the 
 effect of a most lugubrious mask which one of their con/fréres is holding before 
 his placid countenance. The shelves of this curious antique green-room are 
 heaped with these different canvas visages, on which all the passions of the soul 
 
 seem to be petrified. Truly Géréme can make not only his public but his actors 
 
 literally laugh and weep at will! The drawing, coloring, pose, and grouping 
 of details, which never detract from the breadth of style, are carried to a degree 
 of perfection only attainable by a master mind and hand. Of the Turkish 
 Butcher at Jerusalem, a marvel of color and finish, which was also re-exhibited 
 in 1867, Gautier writes : 
 
 “Here is a youth with charming, melancholy, dreamy mien, leaning idly 
 against the wall of his stall, where the different meats are suspended from hooks. 
 In a circle, at his feet, lie the heads of his victims, sheep and goats, who seem to 
 regard him mournfully from the depths of their glassy eyes. The butcher is a 
 genuine fatalist—he pays no attention to these mute reproaches ; he kills with- 
 out cruelty, just as he would do anything else, and would no doubt as calmly cut 
 the throat of a man as of a sheep. Surrounded by these poor dead animals, he 
 abandons himself to a £ief, in which he beholds the visions of the Thousand and 
 One Nights. Nothing could transport one more vividly to the Orient than this 
 little picture, which could be covered by one’s hand.” 
 
106 LIF. N GEROME, 
 
 E AND WORKS OF JEAN L. 
 
 Molitre Breakfasting with Louis XIV., the closing picture of this quartette, 
 as skillful in treatment as it is varied in incident, gives us one of those scenes 
 that reveal Géréme’s peculiar power of seizing and expressing the finest sances 
 of emotion. The ironical doxhomie of the king as he administers this stinging 
 rebuke to the snobbish prejudices of his favorites; their surprise and wrath, 
 poorly concealed by the majority under an obsequious deference, and openly 
 
 displayed by the outraged pillar of the Church ; the mingled dignity, embarr. 
 
 ment, and enjoyment of the guest, who can so thoroughly appreciate the 
 humor of the situation,—piquant enough to have been taken from one 
 of his own inimitable comedies,—all is rendered with matchless ability. 
 
 Hamerton writes: 
 
 “The picture of Moliére at the court of Louis XIV. is an astonishing piece of 
 work ; so thoughtful, graceful, and refined in conception, so exquisitely perfect in 
 
 execution. The incident is that famous one when the king gave a lesson to his 
 
 proud courtiers by inviting Moliére to eat at his own table, since they considered 
 
 him unfit for theirs. Perhaps Louis was the more honored of the two when they 
 sat thus together! but the courtiers did not think so. In their view, the king had 
 lost all sense of dignity when he let that playwright eat with him. Every face 
 is full of expression, the king’s beaming with malicious enjoyment at the sen- 
 sation he has just created ; Moliére, already seated, is bending modestly forward, 
 with his two-pronged fork in his hand, to attack the viands in obedience to the 
 royal will. The pale bishop in the corner, with the violet vestments, is especially 
 indignant, his face white with anger and full of scorn; but the king is not ina 
 humor to be frightened by anybody’s cross looks just now. As to the execution, 
 it is enough to say that everything is honestly drawn, down to the embroidery on 
 the stockings, with firmness and accuracy, yet no undue emphasis. 
 
 Every detail 
 is treated patiently and respectfully. There is another picture of precisely the 
 same incident by a clever painter, M. Leman. His interpretation is lively and 
 skillful, but a careful comparison of the two pictures only makes Géréme’s great 
 quality more conspicuous. That quality is best expressed by the French word 
 distinction. It is more than refinement; it is consummate grace joined to 
 
 ge. 
 
 perfect knowled 
 
 Gérome’s notes barely record the appearance of these four pictures, which 
 created so much enthusiasm, and also mention without comment the exhibition 
 at the Salon of 1864 of a portrait of a friend, M. A. T., and Z’Admée, an Oriental 
 scene, at that epoch more striking from its novelty, but since become familiar to 
 the world who thronged to the late Universal Exposition of 1880, and watched 
 with amazement the strange contortions of the Khedive’s ballet de 1’ Opéra, who 
 came to Paris to capture the plaudits and the gold of the assembled nations. 
 Every one who has seen this singular exotic dance can bear witness to the 
 
 absolute verity of the painter's canvas. Gautier writes : 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 107 
 
 “There is always a crowd before the 4/mée of M. Gérome, a curious picture 
 
 which is like a corner of the Orient in a frame. In one of those smoky hovels, 
 where one takes coffee, squatted on rush mats, an 4/mée is dancing before some 
 Albanians with their strange costumes and fierce mien. Dwellers in the Orient 
 have very peculiar ideas in regard to dancing; the sight of a well-turned limb 
 and ankle, or gauzy skirts raised by a dexterous movement of the foot—all this 
 would seem to them the height of extravagance and immodesty; but provided 
 that the gold-spangled slipper never leaves the ground, they permit the most 
 voluptuous undulations and poses of the body, sensuous movements of the arms, 
 and waving of silken scarfs, languishing glances, and the head rolling from one 
 shoulder to the other as if intoxicated with love. This Terpsichore, with her 
 eyelashes stained by &’hol/, and her nails reddened by henna, has nothing in 
 common, as one perceives, with the Terpsichore of the opera. The Admée of M. 
 
 Gérome is executing one of these dances. Her vest of yellow satin incloses her 
 form like an antique ces¢ws, her trousers of a pale rose-mauve taffetas, wide and 
 pleated like a skirt, envelop her from waist to ankle. She advances by imper- 
 
 ceptible displacements of the feet, undulating the serpentine lines of her body, 
 
 her head lying on her shoulder like a turning dervish in an ecstasy, and keeping 
 time by a nervous jingle of her crofa/es to the chant which the musicians, seated 
 in the shadow, are droning out to the accompaniment of the rebeb, the tarbouka, 
 sh’s flute. The Albanians, with their belts bristling with a perfect 
 
 and a der 
 arsenal of pistols, fandjars, and vataghans, and wearing on their heads caffiéhs, 
 
 whose cords and tassels half conceal their countenances, look at her fixedly, as 
 
 impassible as kites watching a dove, while a negro, smiling from ear to ear, 
 abandons himself to his delight and applauds the dancer while marking time for 
 her. In the background we perceive the sawadji, occupied with his stove; at the 
 left, through the open door, we have a glimpse of Cairo, the blue of the sky 
 gleaming oddly through the fine carving of the moucharabys. 
 
 “We know to what a point the ethnographic sense is developed in M. 
 Géréme. No artist seizes as well as he the typical accent of races, the local 
 character of costumes, the exotic variety of accessories. With respect to all these 
 
 points he exhibits an intimate and penetrating accuracy, of which one could have 
 
 no doubt, even were one unacquainted with the countries represented by the 
 
 artist-traveler. The d/mée is of an astonishing truthfulness in point of type, 
 pose, and attire. Her bracelets, her strings of sequins, her gold-embossed girdle, 
 display the coquettish savagery of Arabic adornment. The toilet is complete ; 
 nothing is wanting, not even the carmine on the nails, the black line under the 
 , and the little blue tattooing on the chin. Even in this genre picture, one 
 divines the painter of history by the science of the drawing, the purity of style, 
 and the masterly taste which presides over the slightest details.” 
 
 The Salon of 1865 was rich in the elaboration of several other sketches taken 
 on the last journey through Egypt and Syria, notably the Praver in the Desert, 
 
 which Bergerat justly ranks among ‘‘the purest and loveliest gems in his superb 
 
 Oriental casket.” No description can possibly convey more than a shadow of the 
 
108 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 beauty of this scene. Up from the east comes a seemingly interminable caravan, 
 reluctantly quitting the coolness of mountain passes to face the glare of the open 
 desert and the level but still powerful rays of the setting sun. Here is no 
 muezzin to warn the faithful that the hour for prayer has come! yet the warlike 
 eader, ever mindful of his oft-repeated duty, has thrown himself from his horse, 
 who turns quietly to nibble at a tuft of grass, while his master, lacking the 
 requisite carpet, unfastens his mantle and spreads it upon the burning sand. 
 Then removing his sandals, and turning toward the city of Mahomet, he bends 
 
 ais head and with humble reverence calls upon the name of Allah and his 
 >. 
 
 rophet. His lance, carelessly thrust into the ground, points like a minaret to 
 
 pe 
 
 he misty blue heavens and serves as guide to the horsemen who are urging 
 
 es 
 
 heir weary steeds over the plain toward the hill in the foreground, while the 
 patient camels move slowly and heavily forward over the endless reaches of 
 
 white sand which extend to the foot of the dimly outlined range of mountains in 
 
 he background. In spite of the color and movement, here is the same intense 
 
 oO 
 
 tillness, the overwhelming loneliness, the same penetrating sense of distance 
 and space, of poetry and mystery, which takes possession of every one who 
 
 udies Gérome 
 
 n 
 
 pictures of the desert. Add to this a religious feeling 
 
 ct 
 
 1oroughly appreciated and reflected by the painter, and we have one of his 
 most expressive compositions in this gewre. We almost feel that we are travel- 
 ing with him through this Syrian wilderness, which he faintly outlined for us 
 in the notes we have quoted. 
 
 In the Muezzin—at Night, which the Atheneum praises for its ‘‘tone, 
 
 softnes 
 
 , solidity, and admirable expression,” there is the same strong, genuine 
 religious feeling. Here too are loneliness and space; but it is the loneliness of 
 the night, which intensifies all emotion, veils all defects, and reveals beauties 
 hidden by the midday glare; and space, through which the reverent soul can 
 upreach past unknown worlds and touch the Infinite. The unquestioning faith 
 of the Moslem, as well as the picturesque contour of his postures while at 
 
 worship, deeply impressed our artist and became a favorite theme. In Praver 
 
 on the House-top, he gives us another phase almost as beautiful as those we 
 
 have described. Gautier says: 
 
 “In this Prayer M. Géréme has not needed to exert much effort to make a 
 delicious picture. It is evening; the gold of the sunset meeting the twilight 
 
 azure, produces one of those greenish blues, like the blue of the turquoise, of a 
 delicate and rare tone. The moon faintly outlines its silver crescent, and the 
 minarets, tapering like masts of ivory, send out from their high balconies the call 
 
 of the muezzin, ‘El salam alek, aleikoum el salam!’ A vague, soft light falls 
 
 upon the terraces of the whitewashed houses, where the believers, standing 
 
 £; 
 
 kneeling, or with their foreheads bowed upon their carpet, recite their prayers 
 
THE SLAVE-MARKET, 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. iG 
 
 in the solemn 
 
 and chant the glory of Allah,—the eternal, solitary, and only one, 
 attitudes of Oriental devotion which the artist excels in rendering. The 
 impres 
 
 ion made by this little canvas is profoundly religious. After the work, 
 the heat, and the dissipation of the day, the evening descends, bringing to souls 
 and to Nature, calm, freshness, and serenity. Islam, filled with faith, confides 
 itself to God for the coming night.” 
 
 In the Arnaut, Smoking, we have a picturesque specimen of an Albanian 
 
 taking his ease on a wide divan as he lazily pulls away at his narghiléh, having 
 kicked off his savates, and drawn up his feet under his snow-white /wsfanelle. 
 The light filters through the lattice-work of the moucharabiéh and touches 
 up the long mustachios and swarthy breast, the jeweled handle of the kandjar 
 
 thrust into his sash, and the multicolored embroidery of the cushion on which 
 
 he rests his elbow. It is a picture full of rich and harmonious tones, 
 
 Side by side with these glimpses of far-away and unique races seen in their 
 
 native surroundings, we find another of these strange Eastern types transplanted 
 into the very center of modern civilization, and presenting one of the strongest 
 pos 
 
 a painter's brush. The Imperial choice fell upon Géréme to render this 
 
 ible contrasts, as to costume and manner, that history ever furnished for 
 
 extraordinary scene, and, little as it was to his liking, he has achieved a success 
 where almost any other artist would have been obliged to chronicle a failure. 
 Gautier describes this canvas as follows : 
 
 “The Reception of the Siamese Ambassadors at the Palace of Fontainebleau, 
 of M. Gérome, keenly piques the curiosity of the visitors to the Salon, and one 
 is forced to wait one’s turn to see it. Indeed, it is a strange spectacle, these 
 ambassadors crawling on all fours over the carpet toward the throne. M. 
 Gérome was qualified above all others to depict this singular scene; he has a 
 
 profound knowledge of exotic races, and a marvelous grasp of their peculiarities 
 and dispositions. Picturesque ethnography is of very recent date, and is one of 
 the modern conquests of art. 
 
 “When the old masters had foreign subjects to paint, they contented 
 themselves with types of pure fantasy, and local color did not trouble them in the 
 slightest degree. These deceptions are no longer admissible in our time of 
 exact information and easy travel. Nothing can be more fantastic than this 
 procession of swarthy creatures, robed in costumes glittering with gold and 
 embroideries, which advances on hands and knees, in postures impossible to 
 European articulations, toward the Emperor and Empress, whose kind gravity is 
 maintained despite the oddity of the spectacle. On the steps of the throne are 
 deposited imperial parasols, stuffs interwoven with gold, delicate foreign jewelry, 
 and all the fanciful luxury of the extreme Orient. One cannot sufficiently 
 appreciate the exquisite care and exactne 
 
 with which the artist has rendered 
 
 the figures, costumes, and jewels of the strange embassy. In front is a youth 
 with shaven head, complexion of gold, and eyes like black diamonds, who is 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON G 
 
 creeping along so gracefully, and lifts his head with so 
 pleasure to look at him. 
 has disguised himself like a grotesque bit of Chinese 
 “Beside the carpet which is being traversed by the 
 these batrachian attitudes are the great personages of th 
 the Chdteau—standing erect, calm, grave, disguising a 
 each face being perfectly recognizab 
 At the ot 
 corner near the edge of the canvas, the artist, a necess 
 
 official seriousness 
 
 to the Empress are grouped near the throne. 
 
 COME. 
 
 droll an air, that it is a 
 
 One would say it was a Cupid, who, through caprice, 
 
 oorcelain. 
 
 Siamese notabilities in 
 e court, the familiars of 
 half-smile under their 
 e. The maids of honor 
 
 her end of the hall, ina 
 
 ry witness of the scene, 
 The frescoes of Prima- 
 ticcio, discreetly subdued to give more value to the leading motives, are visible 
 in the half-shadow of the background, which t 
 
 has represented himself as standing next to Meissonier. 
 
 hey people with their vague sil- 
 It would be difficult to treat this quaint subject more skillfully than 
 M. Gérome has done. If the glittering and gilc 
 with their Asiatic richness, make the familiar European attire appear insignifi- 
 cant, the blame must not be laid on the artist’s palette. The a of 
 
 houettes. 
 
 ed costumes of the ambassadors, 
 
 oruptnes 
 
 contrast was inevitable. 
 
 As Gautier remarks, all of these officials that surround Napoleon III. and 
 
 the Empr Eugénie iar with the 
 
 are easily to be recognized by any one fami 
 
 entourage of the court at this epoch; but the difficulty under which Géréme 
 
 labored in painting these portraits can scarcely be conceived by the uninitiated. 
 
 It is partly illustrated by the following anecdote, related by Timbal, for the 
 
 absolute verity of which we have heard the master vouch more than once. 
 
 “One day, one of the personages to whom was assigned the honor of fig- 
 
 of the Ambassadors, arrived very much later than the hour 
 “Impossible to have you pose to-day,’ said the artist, 
 carelessness and the loss of time; 
 
 uring in the picture 
 indicated by the painter. 
 a trifle vexed at this 
 
 ‘I am expecting the 
 Duke of P——; he will be here at three o'clock, and it is now ten minutes of 
 three.’ ‘Oh, well!’ replied the delinquent, with nonchalance, ‘you have ten 
 
 After that, 
 
 minutes ! work quickly, for I shall not be able to come again!’ 
 accuse portraits of lying or the painters of want of fidelity or skill 
 The same steady, quiet work went on during this year and the next, pro- 
 ducing for the Salon of 1866 three canvases, the most important of which, 
 Cleopatra and Cesar, has achieved a world-wide renown. A paragraph from 
 *Cleo- 
 
 oat and arrived by night before the Palace of 
 
 Plutarch’s Life of Cesar furnishes the key to this marvelous picture : 
 patra embarked in a little b 
 As she could n 
 
 Alexandria. ot enter without being recognized, she wrapped 
 
 odorus bound with a thong, and which he caused 
 This 
 
 herself in a carpet which Apol 
 to be conveyed into the presence of Czesar by the very door of the palace. 
 tuse of Cleopatra, it is said, was the first bait by which Cesar was taken.’ 
 
 The exquisite form of Cleopatra, rising from the folds of the heavy rug 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. Ug 
 
 like Venus from the billows of the sea, is brought into strong relief against the 
 swarthy skin of the slave who has borne in on his sturdy shoulders this living 
 freight of fragrant beauty. An appealing glance from the mournful eyes of 
 Egypt’s vanquished Queen meets the astonished gaze of Caesar, as he lifts his 
 head from the manuscript he is perusing—and all is said! The picture is 
 fraught with suggestion, fascinating the eye that loves to linger over beautiful 
 contours, and, still more, one that can read between these eloquent lines. This 
 canvas was also exhibited in 1871 at the Royal 
 Academy in London, of which Géréme was 
 made an Honorary Member. 
 
 We have already alluded to the Door of 
 the Mosque El-Assaneyn, where Salek-Kachef 
 exposed the heads of the rebel beys he had 
 put to death, which appeared also 
 in 1866. Gérome here indulged his 
 love of fun by giving to several of 
 these heads the features of some 
 well-known Parisians who had not 
 made themselves particularly agree- 
 able to him! A prominent critic 
 teproached him for his frivolity, y 
 
 but the joke was hugely enjoyed 
 
 by the public and especially by his comrades, who thoroughly appreciated this 
 good-humored and artistic revenge. This canvas was also re-exposed in 1867. 
 There are more than four hundred of these mosques at Cairo, this one of 
 Hassan, or El-Assaneyn, or El-Hacanin, as it is indifferently called, being the 
 largest and most elaborate. Lenoir, who visited it for the first time with 
 
 Géréme, refers to it as follows: 
 
 “The mosque is, far excellence, the rendezvous of prayer; according to its 
 importance it corresponds to our cathedrals or to the simple country church. 
 The minaret is its steeple, from whence the muezzin summons all the faithful 
 to prayer by the languorous chanting of several verses from the Koran. ‘The 
 always elegant cupola of these edifices corresponds to the site of the tomb of the 
 caliph, sultan, or rich personage who has constructed the building. Varying a 
 little in their interior arrangement, they are nearly all constructed in the same 
 manner: a large, square court with its peristyle, in the center of which is the pool 
 for ablutions ; in the sanctuary, called the mihrab,—a sort of richly ornamented 
 recess whose Gothic niche is invariably turned toward Mecca,—stands the menber 
 or preacher’s chair, which is often a real chefd’euvre of sculpture and decoration. 
 The Mosque of the Mameluke Sultan Hassan dominates the entire city of Cairo ; 
 
 by its colossal proportions and absolutely pure Arabic style, it is undoubtedly the 
 
114 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 most beautiful mosque in the whole Orient; neither St. Sophia, nor all the 
 massive edifices of Constantinople, can be compared to it. It is situated in front 
 of the citadel on the Place Roumeliéh. A door, the height of the building, leads 
 into it from a lateral street which runs into the Place. Marbles of every shade, 
 connected by arches, and ornaments of bronze set off the elegance of this 
 principal entrance. Thousands of stalactites, forming niches, stretch up half the 
 
 entire height and gracefully melt away where crossbeams of carved wood sustain 
 a wondrous collection of lamps of glass and ostrich eggs, richly colored. 
 “We go up several steps and then descend several others, finding ourselves 
 
 on the same level in a long gallery adorned with stone benches on either side. 
 It is the antechamber of the mosque; at the extremity of the imposing hall are 
 stationed cawas and guards. This mysterious and terrible prelude only renders 
 more striking the marvelous spectacle which confronts one immediately; an 
 
 immense court, in the form of a Greek cross, is occupied in the center by a most 
 
 picturesque Saracen structure. Sustained by columns of porphyry, and sur- 
 
 mounted by a brilliantly decorated cupola, this little octagon pavilion serves only 
 
 to shelter the pool for ablutions. Opposite the entrance a colossal arch forms a 
 single vault, a smaller repetition of which is indicated on the other side of the 
 court; it is the sanctuary, erected one step higher than the rest of the edifice. 
 At the ends of long chains, thousands of lamps seem to descend from heaven and 
 
 present from afar the appearance of a shower, or a trellis suspended in space. At 
 the bottom, and always turned toward Mecca, is the mhraé, richly ornamented 
 with precious mosaics, paintings, and arabesques. 
 
 “The preacher's chair is equally a masterpiece of sculpture. Green, red, and 
 yellow flags brought back from Mecca, form trophies of brilliant colors on each 
 side. Innumerable votive offerings are covered with a medley of objects and 
 inscriptions. On each side, large square platforms, less high than the menéer, 
 serve as stalls for the ulémas and young dervishes, for whom these places are 
 
 exclusively reserved. Finally, mattings and rich carpets cover the remainder of 
 the marble pavement and preserve the feet of the faithful from contact with its 
 glacial surface. The colors which preponderate in the general ornamentation 
 of mosques are green and red, agreeably alternated in arabesques and many 
 other designs. The religious inscriptions are generally painted in blue or golden 
 characters, on immense boards, with a green background. When mew, this 
 
 superb mosque could certainly not have possessed the mysterious poetry it has 
 to-day ; and, without being a lover of uncleanliness, I believe that time alone can 
 blend so marvelously these colors which originally must have been very glaring. 
 
 “At the right of the mzhrad, a little low door, concealed by a black curtain 
 
 embroidered with gold, gives access to the immense chamber which corresponds 
 
 to the exterior cupola. It is here where the tomb of the Sultan Hassan is placed ; 
 a grating of forged iron and a second barrier of painted wood isolate this square 
 stone from the rest of the hall, which is in a most complete state of nudity and 
 
 decay. Looking up into the air, one is terrified by the height of the vault. 
 Enormous stalactites garnish the angles to the point where the Gothic form of 
 the dome commences to accentuate itself, giving to this cupola the aspect of an 
 
LTk 
 
 AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 115 
 
 immense hive, where the owls have installed a clamorous colony. Every day a 
 part of these wooden decorations and massive sculptures detaches itself and 
 falls with a crash. Far from trying to prevent this danger, the Arabs consider 
 it a favor to be struck by one of these celestial tiles, which will send them 
 straight to Paradise. The sheikh, who rather doubted our religious fanaticism 
 and our eagerness to see the Prophet, invited us not to prolong our visit to this 
 locality, exposed as we were to the caprice of these sacred showers. 
 
 “The dominating impression in a visit to the mosques is the exclusively 
 religious and almost poetic character of these buildings. They are not our 
 smart Parisian cathedrals nor our imitation Greek temples—real ¢heaters of 
 devotion at the hours of service. Seeing all these Arabs, silent and grave, 
 prostrate themselves before the wall of the mArab, 1 could not help thinking of 
 my dear parish of the Madeleine, where the one o'clock mass resembles so nearly 
 a premiere at a theater, that some people actually give up the races at Long- 
 champs to attend it! At Cairo, there is fanaticism, if you please, but true 
 religious faith, and its manifestations here have none of the elegant and frivolous 
 
 piety of our Catholic mosques. The beadle and the pew-openers have no pres- 
 tige in the Orient, and equality before God is there scrupulously observed; the 
 dirtiest donkey driver invokes Allah on the same carpet as the most tichly 
 
 caparisoned sheikh. To laugh, to blow one’s nose, or to sneeze would entail the 
 most serious consequences upon the offender, and Heaven knows if we deprive 
 ourselves at home of these diversions! I assisted several times at the reading 
 of the Koran, but I never saw any one asleep. St. Paul himself could not have 
 achieved a greater success !” 
 
 The Mue. 
 
 shows the sheikh standing on one of the balconies of the minaret and sending 
 
 zin, Which hung beside the picture of this beautiful mosque, 
 
 out his call to prayer over the city. 
 
 The Exposition Salon of 1867, besides affording a second glimpse of the 
 pictures we have before described, contained four new canvases in which ‘the 
 artist again displayed the surprising range and depth of his powers. The most 
 prominent was the Death of Cesar, the first sketch of which, seen by Gautier in 
 the painter’s atelier, is described as follows: 
 
 “Nothing can be more singular and striking than the Death of Cesar, as 
 yet only a sketch, but where already the entire intention of the painter can be 
 read. It is antiquity conceived after the manner of Shakespeare. The scene 
 must have taken place thus! The body of Cesar—a real body, rolled in a 
 bloody mantle—lies at the foot of the statue of the great Pompey, the pedestal 
 being stained in his effort to hold himself up by it. 
 
 “Appalled by the murder, and fearing to be compromised, the senators have 
 taken flight, with the exception of one obese old man who has gone to sleep in 
 his cwrwle chair; grown heavy and dull through excessive indulgence in good 
 cheer, he has heard nothing through his profound slumber and has no idea of 
 what has taken place. Imagine the scene! In the foreground, at the left of 
 
116 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 the spectator, in the corner of the canvas, lies the body of the fallen Cesar ; at 
 the right, several rows of empty chairs, some of them overturned in the pre- 
 cipitation of flight. In the background, through the open door, the backs of the 
 fleeing senators, who jostle each other in their haste; a little nearer the front, the 
 group of conspirators waving their swords and withdrawing, now that their task 
 of murder is achieved. Brutus, passing before the statue of Rome, which forms 
 the pendant to that of Pompey, half turns and 
 casts a melancholy glance behind him; he 
 feels already that he has committed a useless 
 crime, and the ‘Tu quoque, Brute,’ pierces 
 his soul. Liberty was dead before he killed 
 
 Cesar! Truly this is a bold and romantic 
 manner of treating this most classic of sub- 
 jects. Never did a scene in history appear 
 more rea/. If photography had existed in 
 Ceesar’s day, one could believe that the picture 
 was painted from a proof taken on the spot, 
 at the very moment of the catastrophe.” 
 “The Death of Cesar {says Mrs. Strana- 
 han in her admirable ‘‘ History of French 
 
 Painting” | is perhaps Gérome’s grandest, as it 
 is certainly his severest work. The adequate 
 and impre 
 
 ive conception of the subject, 
 the learned presentation of it, and the skill 
 of technique in depicting it unite to form its 
 
 n 
 one (1859) the body lies alone ; in the other 
 (1867), more dramatic, the senators, one alone retaining his seat, are hurrying 
 
 completeness. He gives it in two pictures : 
 
 away as by an irresistible impulsion. But the nearly empty senate chamber 
 is full of historic suggestion as it is also of artistic success.” 
 
 A careful study of this great work leaves one so thrilled by its dramatic 
 
 side, its potent memories, and subtle suggestions that we wonder with what 
 eyes M. Charles Blane has regarded it, when he remarks that in this picture 
 “the passions to be expressed are stifled under archzeological science !” Truly, 
 
 he historical acces 
 
 ries are carefully and accurately grouped, but the interest 
 unconsciously and utterly centers itself in the emotions of the principal actors 
 in this tragic scene, and in the analysis of the feelings of these quaking con- 
 
 Ss 
 
 irators, hastening from the presence of this great soul, who in death still retains 
 
 nis power to awe, and before whose lifeless body the most daring tremble and 
 ee. We well remember Gérome’s satisfaction when informed that the greatest 
 
 fl 
 Shakespearian actor of our epoch—Edwin Booth—has reproduced his wonderful 
 
 picture in the stage setting of the third act of /wlius Cesar, in which he gives an 
 
 ideal impersonation of Brutus. No greater testimony to the perfect distribution 
 
SPRINGTIME 
 
 (ARABIA) 
 
 1890 
 
LIF 
 
 AND WORKS OF JE: 
 
 V LEON GEROME. iat 
 
 of dramatic, artistic, and historic values on this canvas could be desired than 
 that furnished by this fact. 
 
 Beside this chefd’euvre hangs another whose pathetic beauty sinks deep into 
 the soul and rouses a feeling of indignant sympathy that blurs the eyes which 
 
 look, and turn to look again and again. 
 
 “Gérome's Slave-Market |says Maxime Du Camp] is a fact literally repro- 
 duced, When the de//abs return from their long and painful journeys on the 
 Upper Nile, they install their human merchandise in those great ofe/s which 
 extend in Cairo along the ruined mosque of the Caliph Hakem; people go there 
 to purchase a slave as they do here to the market house to buy a turbot. Seated 
 on mats in the shadow of the galleries, with their nudity scantily concealed bya 
 few gre. 
 hair in the thousand little plaits that form their coiffure. The higher-priced 
 
 asy tatters, the negresses await their purchasers, dozing, or braiding their 
 
 women, those from the plateau of Gondar and from the country of Choa, are shut 
 pf 
 Abyssinian, whom M. Géréme has taken as the principal personage of his 
 composition. She is nude, and the del/ab who has charge of her has the head 
 of a regular brigand, accustomed to all manner of violence and abduction: the 
 
 conception of an immortal soul has never troubled the mind of such a bandit ! 
 
 up in separate rooms, awe It is one of these women, an 
 
 reet eyes. 
 
 The poor girl stands submissive, humble, resigned, with a fatalistic passivity 
 very skillfully portrayed by the artist. A man surveys her and looks at her 
 teeth as one inspects those of a horse,—and appraises the merchandise with the 
 distrustful glance peculiar to the Arab. Two or three persons in beautiful 
 costumes complete the principal group. In the inclosed background one 
 perceives other slaves scattered here and there.” 
 
 When we are finally able to tear ourselves away from this wonderful and 
 touching scene, a masterpiece of sentiment, drawing, and color, we find another 
 
 bit of Oriental life awaiting us in the Viewx Marchand d’ Habits. 
 
 “The Clothes Merchant [says M. Du Camp] is one of those old men, numbers 
 of whom exist in Cairo, who retain old customs, refusing absolutely to wear the 
 tunic or the ferbouch,—remaining faithful to the ancient turban of white mous- 
 seline and to the wide robe with its ample folds,—seeming themselves to be 
 an itinerant curiosity, strolling through the streets and crying their bric-a-brac. 
 When they meet a European, they halt, and with an engaging smile they offer 
 a hachette, or an old poniard, saying, ‘Antica, Mameluke, bono, bono!’ This one 
 of M. Géréme, carrying on his arm some lovely old rose-colored garments, offers 
 a saber to an Arnaut, who is very near allowing himself to be persuaded ; a group 
 has gathered near the merchant and each one is giving his opinion. In the 
 background is a shop near which a reddish-colored dog is crouching in the pose 
 of the god Anubis, and one catches sight of two women enveloped in white 
 mantles who are entering their house. 
 
| 118 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 Gérome has seized en rowfe, with great felicity, the different types of the 
 i} Orient. The Arab, the Skipetar, the Turk, the Barabras, the Syrian, can be 
 
 1 recognized at the first glance, and in the ethnographic expression of his person- 
 iit} ages he is always correct (at least unless he attempts some jest, as he did last 
 year with the heads heaped up in front of the Mosgue of El-Hacanin).” 
 
 i) One more Eastern’ scene completes the list, Zhe Chess-plavers, a small 
 canvas which forms part of the famous collection inherited by the late Sir 
 1 Richard Wallace from his father, Lord Hertford. 
 
 | The autumn of 1867 beheld Géréme again en route for the Orient, this time 
 
 for a journey of greater length and range than any he yet had undertaken. We 
 
 have already referred to it in quoting from the volume written by his ‘‘ Fidus 
 Hi Achates,” the witty and lovable Paul Lenoir, who was to be the chronicler of 
 
 Hl this grand tour. 
 
 “Embarked upon the steamboat at Marseilles, all was excitement with the 
 younger members of the party when the mists slowly lifted from the horizon 
 and the coast of Africa revealed itself like a long golden straw floating in the 
 distance. Their imagination getting ahead of the vessel, they vied with each 
 other in being the first to discover the most imperceptible objects. Do you see 
 this? Do vow see that? They are palms!—No! they are camel 
 for they were only windmills!” 
 
 s !—No, again— 
 
 Arriving finally at Alexandria, Adha-Anna, who had been Gérome’s cook 
 on his first trip to Egypt, took charge of all the baggage and left the travelers 
 
 free to roam through the narrow streets where, says Lenoir: 
 
 “Everything seems to roll like pebbles in a torrent; your toes are trodden 
 on through principle, and you are hustled and jostled through religious con- 
 viction ; the dromedaries, asses, and horses appropriate the best part of the paved 
 road and the foot-walks ; the rest of the street is generously abandoned to foot- 
 passengers, to the women who, wrapped in their long blue draperies, either carry 
 enormous burdens or drag along with a garland of children hanging in clusters 
 among their rags and tatters. 
 
 “Alexandria is the inevitable antechamber of Cairo, as, ina badly planned 
 apartment, one is forced to pass through the kitchen in order to reach the 
 drawing-room! Endless avenues of tamarisks and lemon trees shade the banks 
 of the Grand Canal of Mahmoudiéh, and the blues, reds, and yellows of luxurious 
 
 villas offer a charming contrast to the thousand tints of the exotic vegetation, 
 from the pearl-gray of the aloe to the emerald-green of the banana. The slender 
 masts of the long dahabichs s 
 
 sem to touch the sky as they glide along towed by 
 an odd mélange of animals ; now a camel and an ass are harnessed together, now 
 a shapely horse and a heavy, clumsy buffalo. To-day there is a railway by way 
 of Damanhour ; the houses, built of earth or dried brick, lean against each other, 
 
 and one can scarcely decide where the village ends and the country begins, so 
 
LIF ND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 119 
 
 uniformly gray is the earthy color. Farther on, the aspect of the country 
 changes and one is conscious of penetrating to the heart of Egypt. Enormous 
 fields of grain recall the low-lying fields in Holland, save that here and there 
 snowy herons furnish a luminous point in the general monotonous tone 
 of green. 
 
 “An infinite variety of birds dart past ; everything, from the diminutive lap- 
 wings fluttering about like August butterflies to the noisy sparrow-hawks and 
 strong-winged eagles. 
 
 Arrived at Cairo, Géréme organized a goodly caravan, composed, as we see 
 from his own notes, of twenty-seven camels, including ten dromedaries, which 
 carried the artists and their servants. While the preparations were being made 
 for the desert journey, Cairo and the vicinity were thoroughly studied from the 
 artist's point of view, and the pictures elaborated from the sketches here taken 
 prove a perfect panorama of Oriental life, to which the notes of master and pupil 
 furnish a piquant commentary. What seemed greatly to amuse the latter were 
 the little beasts of which Géréme has given us so good a type in his 4ze Lgyptien. 
 
 While the master paints, Lenoir embodies their reflections as follows: 
 
 “The ass plays too important a réle in life at Cairo and throughout the 
 Orient not to merit the honor of a zodlogical digression. In the first place, my 
 It was properly speaking the bowrriguot of Cairo, a quad- 
 tuped of a special nature, which should not be confounded with the beast of 
 burden, the common ass. The dourriguot is as lively, adroit, intelligent, and 
 indefatigable as his brothers of Montmorency are vicious, lazy, and obstinate. 
 The ass is not only the first friend you make in the Orient, he is also the best 
 pair of shoes you can buy! for you only use your boots when you throw them 
 under the bed. Always mounted on an ass, a horse, or a dromedary, the cus- 
 tomers of St. Crispin economize here astonishingly in shoe-leather. We lived, 
 so to speak, on an ass, during our whole expedition in the province of Fayoum, 
 just as, during the two months in the Desert of Sinai and at Petra, we lived 
 on a dromedary.” 
 
 ass was not an ass! 
 
 We have already laughed over the first wild rush through the narrow streets 
 
 of Cairo, but the little band did not always ride at such breakneck speed. Every 
 novel effect of color and form, of pose and grouping, was caught by keen eyes 
 
 and without delay transferred to the ever ready canvas: 
 
 “In the more aristocratic quarters, the passing of camels is prohibited by law, 
 and here wealthy inhabitants dash to and fro in handsome, springy barouches, 
 preceded by runners richly costumed. 
 
 “On every side we see the admirable sculptures in wood, which, under the 
 form of moucharabiéhs, serve as windows and ventilators to the elegant resi- 
 dences ; arches surmounted by terraces, fountains of rose-colored marble, niches 
 
120 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 adorned with paintings, slender pillars in every species of granite, carved bal- 
 conies, doors mysteriously ajar, each furnished with an almost imperceptible 
 
 véilleuse and piquing our curiosity to the highest degree.” 
 
 Géréme gives us a glimpse of one of these Eastern houris who was not so 
 averse to being seen, in his A/mée at the Window of her Moucharabiéh. Each 
 
 ramble furnished him with half-a-dozen motifs for canva: that have never 
 
 been hung at any Salon and the 
 greater part of which have never 
 
 even been seen by his country 
 
 men, since eager amateurs have 
 
 invaded his ateliers and carried 
 vie : them off to distant lands almost 
 
 a ee F before the paint was dry. One 
 
 ! Sf of the favorite points of rendez- 
 th vous was the Gate of Babel- 
 1 Nasr, the most beautiful of the 
 seventy-two gates which adorn 
 the walls of Cairo. 
 
 ‘By its elegant architecture 
 and historic associations it well 
 merits admiration and attention, 
 for it was through this gate that 
 General Bonaparte passed on the 
 29th of July, 1798, the day after 
 the battle of the Pyramids. It 
 eee was the first study that Géréme 
 sit to Cairo. 
 sd by two enormous square 
 
 made on his first vi 
 
 Flank 
 
 towers, this door presents an 
 appearance at once imposing and gracious, through its colossal proportions and 
 the sculptured ornaments that make it a real work of art. Two doors, literally 
 covered with iron, close the entrance to this warlike construction. Beneath 
 
 the arch a military post is stationed, which Géréme has immortalized in his 
 Arnauts of Cairo. Assuredly they are there from love of ornamentation and 
 to please us painters, for, studying this group of soldiers decked out in brilliant 
 costumes, one is tempted to question their strategic utility as regards the secu- 
 tity of the city. While awaiting a new conquest of Egypt by no matter whom, 
 
 these decorative soldiers, these sentinels of comic opera, have no other orders 
 than to stop the photographers whom they would honor with their confidence. 
 
 “Their costume, artistically loosened, their luxurious arms as brilliant as 
 they are inoffensive, their proud, disdainful attitudes, their slightest gestures 
 everything about them seems to have been carefully studied. 
 
EUNUCH. 
 
 GRAND WHITE 
 
 THE 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 123 
 
 “Nothing, however, can be more natural than these interminable Greek 
 mustaches which divide the face in two, like two enormous buffalo horns, and 
 which form the greatest ornament of these energetic faces bronzed by the sun. 
 The mustache, which has nothing of the Arabic in principle, is a sign of 
 Albanian origin in the Cairene soldier. The Arnauts,—this Greek militia 
 imported into Egypt by Mehemet-Ali to contend against the increasing impor- 
 tance of the Mamelukes,—inaugurated at Cairo both the fustanelle and the 
 mustache, the effect of which they heightened by wearing the richest stuffs they 
 could find in this country which they had invaded. It was an innovation in a 
 land where the beard is in high esteem, and where the respect due to a man is 
 
 graduated according to the length of this ornament. A soldier amateur, the 
 Arnaut plays his réle with ease, and becomes an indispensable bit of furniture at 
 the door of a mosque or the entrance of a palace, with a dozen pistols and sabers 
 artistically enlaced in the compartments of a wide belt of red leather, which 
 gives him the appearance of a walking bazaar. His pipe, tobacco, and food find 
 also a place on this vast ¢é/agére. He is fully conscious of his interesting 
 appearance and, in order not to disturb a single one of the arms in the museum 
 he carries on his stomach, he keeps ready a tremendous couwrbache, which holds 
 both enemies and admirers at a distance. The courbache is a long flexible 
 whip of hippopotamus hide, which combines the pliability of a whip with the 
 
 precision of a stick. It is the indispensable scepter which obtains everything, 
 regulates everything, and decides everything, when dakchich has become power- 
 less to settle a delicate question. 
 
 “A strange feature in these surroundings, which differed so essentially from 
 
 Occidental scenes and customs, was found in the cemeteries which lay outside 
 of the city, veritable forests of little whitewashed tombs, each of them consisting 
 of a large flat stone laid upon an entablature of one or two steps at the most. 
 The principal stone, forming the body of the tomb, is saddle-backed. At one of 
 the extremities is erected a column, or a simple oblong stone, sculptured accord- 
 ing to the importance of the deceased or the fortune of the parents. The end of 
 his stone, generally very rudely cut, represents the coiffure of the dead, and the 
 white ball, surmounted by the little fluted case, is nothing but the turban of the 
 oroprietor, in marble or imitation stone, according to the rank of the defunct. 
 On several tombs, more carefully decorated than the others, remains of palms and 
 votive offerings could be distinguished. Sometimes we saw women draped in 
 
 ong blue veils, crouched near a tomb, their factitious sighs and methodica 
 
 swaying imparting a savage tone to their manifestations of grief. Sometimes 
 
 simply seated, at others literally extended full length on the stone, they seemed 
 
 to speak with the dead. An idea of this singular conversation may be gatherec 
 from the following phrases: ‘Is God great? Dost thou see him? Art thou 
 happy? Await me—dost thou hear?’ and so on interminably, for the defunct are 
 generally discreet enough not to reply!” 
 
 Géréme's two pictures of Tombs of the Sultan at Broussa give one a perfect 
 
 idea of these strange sepulchers, before which a sheikh recites, at intervals, selec- 
 
124 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 tions from the Koran, keeping up a sort of perpetual prayer, burning candles and 
 incense according to the rank of the deceased. The City of Caliphs, improperly 
 called the Valley of Tombs, has furnished him with materials for many inter- 
 
 esting paintings. 
 
 “Its minarets and domes group themselves with the premeditation of a 
 theatrical decoration which desires to surpass the most extravagant expectations. 
 The multitude of these monuments, seemingly leaning against each other vy 
 
 reason of the marvelous perspective, which 
 permits us to take them all in at a glance; 
 the variety of their dimensions, the inde- 
 scribable elegance of their Saracen archi- 
 tecture, oblong cupolas of almost Persian 
 
 forms; these graceful minarets, each story 
 
 of which rev 
 
 als marvels of sculpture; the 
 
 gilded crosses which surmount them, the 
 
 bits of fi 
 
 aience sparkling in the midst of 
 arabesques of marble—all this transported 
 us to a former world, and we almost 
 expected to meet Saladin on an elephant 
 at some turn in the ancient cross-roads ! 
 ‘Everything in this spot confirms the 
 sentiment of religious admiration which 
 has taken possession of us: the solitude 
 of these almost abandoned mosques, the 
 uncivilized character of the clay houses 
 that surround them, and even the types 
 of the few inhabitants seem to conform 
 to the style of that magnificent Mussul- 
 
 man epoch under which were produced the most beautiful chefs d’euvre of 
 Byzantine art interpreted by the Arabs. 
 
 “It was not Cairo, it was Bagdad suddenly transported into Egypt to console 
 the painters who were not to have the happiness of going as far as the ancient 
 capital of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid. 
 
 “In the interminable row of monuments, each more graceful and admirable 
 than the other, the first mosque we approached was that of El-Achraf. Its 
 ruined interiors still present a most interesting and almost complete ensemble. 
 The little carved pulpit where the Koran was read is still intact, sheltered as it 
 is in one of the angles of the principal hall. Toa height of several meters the 
 walls are decorated with inlaid work and mosaics in exquisite taste. Higher up, 
 these luxurious decorations are supplemented by sober paintings, the charming 
 designs of which are fully equal in detail to all the other Arabic ornamentation. 
 A slight recess in Gothic form offers the richest decoration in the whole mosque. 
 This veritable aéside is not indifferently placed, but corresponds to the direction 
 of Mecca, and it is there the sheikh begins the dull and drowsy intoning of the 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 125 
 
 prayers or the reading of the Koran. The carved pulpit is placed at the right of 
 this sanctuary, where there is no altar, but simply a great profusion of lamps 
 
 and inscriptions. Two enormous copper candlesticks, adorned with two wax 
 
 tapers, still more enormous, mount guard on either side. 
 
 “The short, wide form of the candlestick and the colossal size of the candle 
 make one dubious at first sight as to the nature of this object, which is the entire 
 visible expression of the Mussulman worship. Some day 
 madea study of this mosque, which admirably renders its mysterious and poetic 
 character. 
 
 after this, one of us 
 
 “We had left our asses at the door, and also conformed to the law which 
 prohibits the shoes from accompanying their owners into the holy place. You 
 can imagine nothing odder than this battalion of boots sadly awaiting us on the 
 steps, where they seemed to envy us our privileges. The regulation bakchich 
 being bestowed on the sheikh, who is the doorkeeper of the mosque, we bestrode 
 our beasts, who of their own accord—such is their instinct for the beautiful— 
 deposited us at the entrance of the Mosque El-Barkouk. While we were in the 
 mosque the sight of our coursers had aroused the poor population, always hidden 
 away under the rubbish ; and like flies attracted by a bit of meat, this multitude 
 of women and children endured the rudest blows of our donkey boys, rather than 
 
 slacken their hold and renounce the paras of copper which we would toss them 
 in charity under the pretext of its being ‘‘bakchich.” For one must not fall into 
 the error of confounding bakchich with charity ! which latter would doubtless be 
 aumiliating to an Arab; the former is a gift, a pr 
 respect and desire to honor each other! Bakchich is 
 Orient ; it is an indir 
 
 sent among princes who 
 
 a colossal institution in the 
 ct contribution from the traveler, which may easily exceed 
 the cost of the whole journey if he does not guard against too great liberality in 
 his offerings. In addition, gratitude on the part of the child and woman consists 
 in a renewal of the demand with an irritating persistency proportionate to the 
 generosity which you have displayed in your first donation. The Mosque of 
 El-Barkouk is more imposing than that of El-Achraf, although of a later period. 
 
 ts principal entrance, surmounted by covered galleries, produces an extra- 
 ordinary effect; the staircas 
 
 a 
 
 in marble, and the columns of porphyry, are 
 avishly and picturesquely disposed. The taste of a skillful architect has cer- 
 tainly presided over this luxurious ornamentation ; for this richness is not the 
 result of a ridiculous heaping up of precious materials nor of loud colors, as in 
 
 the more modern constructions of the Mussulman religion. St. Sophia, with its 
 superabundance of gilding and gigantic proportions, certainly does not produce 
 the impression of grandeur and mysterious poetry which the Mosques of Cairo 
 inspire to the highest degree, from the superb Mosque of Hassan (El-Assaneyn) 
 to the smallest of the constructions which adorn the tombs of the Mamelukes,— 
 
 so fully do taste and elegance make up for mathematical proportions of a purely 
 massive and coarse construction.” 
 
 ¢ 
 
 worship in these wonderful mosques, and in the Reading of the Koran, where the 
 
 érome indeed made a thorough study of the different views and times of 
 
126 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 central figure of the white-bearded patriarch is especially fine; Prayer in a 
 Mosque, with ten figures in various devotional attitudes: Zhe Mihrab, with the 
 sheikh seated on the floor reading, and another Prayer, with five figures, he 
 reproduces not only the strange coloring, the magnificent sculptures in wood and 
 marble, and the graceful groupings and postures, but also the profound religious 
 
 sentiment which is ingrained in these simple Mussulmans, so faithful and unpre- 
 
 tentious in their worship. In Public Prayer in the Mosque of Amrou, with its 
 flock of doves fluttering down between the marble pillars,—which forms part of 
 the collection bequeathed by Miss Catherine Wolfe to the Metropolitan Museum 
 of New York,—the artist has given us, we think, the most perfect of all these 
 
 interiors. 
 
 ““Amrou, general under the Caliph Omar, was the author of this monument, 
 which is reputed to be the first Mussulman mosque built at Cairo. 
 
 “Nothing has arisen to contradict this origin, and the style of the edifice 
 confirms all the details connected with it. Gam-a-Amrou is the A rabic name. 
 Constructed in the year 640 of our era, at the time of the conquest by the Arabs, 
 it can be considered as a point of departure, or the cradle of Islamism in Egypt. 
 Situated to the east of old Cairo, with which it is contemporaneous, it is 
 
 sur- 
 rounded to-day by endless rubbish, shapeless ruins of the city of which it 
 oubtless was the most beautiful ornament. The walls of this architectural relic 
 
 form a perfect square, the interior being only the regular peristyle of an immense 
 court. Two hundred and thirty columns of marble form the foundation of this 
 open air edifice, for the covered portion is insignificant relatively to the rest of 
 the building. 
 “In the center of this enormous court is the traditional pool of the mosques, 
 where each Mussulman performs his indispensable ablutions before beginning his 
 prayers. This little pavilion, still dotted with paintings on the lower part, is 
 haded by a superb palm tree, which seems to be the time-honored guardian of 
 his holy place. But the water of the pool argues little in favor of the piety of 
 
 Aan 
 
 ne faithful of to-day, unless it is a result of their uncleanliness! We made a 
 
 conscientious study of this remarkable locality, where the slightest details express 
 
 noots up almost immediately over the principal entrance, and gs gnals from afar 
 
 ic 
 the pure simplicity and consequent beauty of Arabic art. A graceful minaret 
 S 
 
 U 
 
 ae presence of this important building, which, without it, would scarcely be 
 perceived on account of its regular form and the way it is closed in by ruins of 
 
 the ancient city and fragments of every description, increased by the encroach- 
 ment of the sand. In the covered part, which forms the sanctuary, where there 
 
 are six rows of columns, but few points recall the worship so long carried on in 
 
 this mosque. Its méhrab, or abside, turned toward Mecca, is in a state of ruin, 
 as well as the mender, the sculptured pulpit so religiously cherished in other 
 
 mosques. 
 
 “Tradition, or an apocryphal legend, calls your attention to a long white 
 vein or seam in one of the columns near this pulpit. This miraculous scar is 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, ie 
 
 NS 
 
 attributed to the courbache of the Caliph Omar. The tomb of the author, or 
 rather founder, of this public building and the city argues in favor of his 
 modesty : his funeral monument is a simple rectangular stone, surmounted by a 
 common little roof supported by four sickly little columns, and this excess of 
 simplicity has not lessened the veneration which true Mussulmans profess for 
 Amrou and his mosque, for the most important personages honor it often with 
 their official visits and carry away blessings of a very superior quality. 
 
 “In a second visit which we made ex masse to this interesting mosque, we 
 
 wished to comply with a pious legend which is one of the accessories of the 
 
 edifice, as follows: On the right of the door, under the peristyle of the court, 
 are two slender columns formed of a single piece of marble, bound together by 
 their capitals and the ornaments at the base. A space of only a few centimeters 
 separates the two shafts, and a pious Arabic legend gives to this opening the most 
 agreeable properties, among others that of prolonging the life of all those who 
 can pass between the two columns without breaking their ribs! Several of our 
 party, thanks to their youth and the elegant slenderness of their build, slipped 
 through like letters into a postal-box, easily carrying off a license of longevity 
 a@ discrétion. But one of us had to make such efforts that the columns seemed to 
 
 crack at contact with his powerful physique. ‘He'll get through!’ ‘He won’? get 
 through!’ He dd get through, but at what cost! At another spot we assured 
 
 ourselves eternal happiness by running, with our eyes blindfolded, a space of 
 several meters, at the end of which we were to touch a black slab inlaid in the 
 
 wall. The Arabs were convinced of our utter dishonesty, so often did we suc- 
 ceed in hitting it, nearly all of us striking the center of this celestial target. 
 The serious and almost fanatic conviction of the sheikh of the mosque con- 
 trasted singularly with the comic side of these superstitious legends, which 
 
 recalled to us the sack- 
 
 races and blindman’s-buff of our merry schoolboy days. 
 “ After numerous salamaleks, and still more numerous bakchichs, we were 
 able to tear ourselves away from the congratulations and compliments of the 
 
 sheikh, who doubtless saw in us future neophytes, or good customers, considering 
 the enthusiasm which we had displayed for his little games of chance and 
 of eternal salvation ! 
 
 “We returned to Cairo at full gallop by the route which runs along the Nile 
 as far as Boulak. A thousand picturesque incidents would have detained us had 
 we not been preoccupied with an important operation which awaited us at the 
 hotel, namely, the selection of a dragoman for our expedition to Fayoum, <A 
 veritable council of war, this ceremony had gathered together in our court a 
 fantastic collection of physiognomies and of strange types. At the mere sight 
 of some of these professional guides to whom we were about to confide our whole 
 existence, our hands instinctively buttoned up our coats and lingered in the 
 neighborhood of our watch-chains! Nothing could be more singular than this 
 legion of worthies, some of whom, armed to the teeth, recalled to us those types 
 of brigands which till now we had only seen in the stories of Perrault and which 
 spoil the comfort of travel like horrible nightmares. Inoffensive for the most 
 part, these honest thieves came to offer us their services with a zealous compe- 
 
128 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 tition most comical to behold. Each one endeavored to persuade us by fours 
 icates, forced from the victims who 
 
 de force of eloquence and bundles of cert 
 had honored them with their confidence. 
 “Generally they spoke several languages very well; one of them spoke 
 eleven, this profusion rousing a little anxiety lest he should attempt to speak 
 them all at once! We finally succeeded in making a double bargain with a 
 certain Hassahoui, for donkeys and drivers for Fayoum, and with a very 
 intelligent Syrian, named Joseph Moussali, for the dromedaries, camels, and 
 drivers for the Desert of Sinai and Petra. In our expedition to Sinai, we 
 
 were served by the domestics who formed the staff of this Moussali, remarka- 
 ble and varied types of this Arab population, so gentle and so docile, whose 
 dispositions have only been altered by the unjust treatment and indescribable 
 brutality of their conquerors. The contracts read, signed, and sealed, and all 
 being decided, from the number of fowls to the size of the pots and kettles, 
 we went to visit our tents, artistically pitched under the most beautiful syca- 
 mores of Ezbekyéh. Having consecrated an entire day to the trial of our 
 asses for the journey, we set off at five o'clock in the morning with all our 
 and reached the Nile a little above the island of Roudah, our 
 
 dromedaries haying arrived the evening before. It was here that we were to 
 cross the river to gain the road to Gyzéh and reach the Pyramids toward three 
 o'clock in the afternoon. At the end of this island, the impetuous current of 
 for 
 
 the river seems to slacken a little, its efforts being divided. It is doubtle 
 
 this reason that this point was chosen to effect its important passage. Here is the 
 rendezvous of the boats which ply between the banks in the interests of com- 
 merce and circulation. Canguwes, dahabiéhs, little crafts of every shape and size, 
 form at this spot a motley flotilla. Whether a favorable wind permits the grace- 
 ful sails to be unfurled amid this forest of masis, or an absolute calm brings into 
 use the colossal oars and professional oarsmen, this point of the Nile and of Cairo 
 
 offers the most vivid picture of maritime movement. Rarely does a collision 
 
 s each other 
 
 els cro 
 
 disturb the scene. Like real fish, the small and large v 
 carelessly with an equal rapidity, recalling the skill with which our Parisian 
 
 vehicles are guided through the densest crowds. What interested us particularly, 
 s the forced embarkment and stowing away of our asses 
 
 and amused us greatly, we 
 on the little barks, the patrons of which had first offered to take us over. We 
 had at first a slight repetition of our debarkation from the boat at Alexandria, in 
 the struggle among these worthy people, who wished to oblige us in spite of our- 
 selves, in snatching away our asses and literally tossing them into their respective 
 little wherries. It was the first time we had occasion to observe the importance 
 of our dragoman and the impressive gestures which saved him the fatigue of 
 expressing himself in his native language. With his sleeves turned up, and 
 armed with a formidable courbache, Joseph Moussali thrashed, in turn, every- 
 thing in front of him, beasts and men, till the most perfect order was established 
 for the transfer of our animals and of ourselves into the bargain! We were forci- 
 bly struck by the yellow coloring of the river. It is caused by the sand which 
 the Nile constantly rolls along, and, the current being stronger than usual, we 
 
MERCHANT 
 
 EGE: “CoA eile 
 
 1887 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 129 
 sailed over on a real vanilla-cream. We passed the last banks of sand near the 
 island and found ourselves in the middle of the river. A unique spectacle pre- 
 sented itself to us, and the poetic swaying of our bark intensified the impres- 
 sion of dreamy enchantment. It was about nine o'clock in the morning; the 
 sun flashed on each of the waves which made of the Nile a veritable tossing 
 sea, and the coloring of the water recalled the rivers of gold in Chinese 
 
 romances. 
 “On the banks of the island of Roudah, and over the walls of its gardens, 
 
 palm trees of an incredible height shot up like rockets over the Nile. Behind us 
 were grouped the thousand and one vessels, boats, and little craft which we had 
 
 found on the left bank; this forest of masts and white sails, the stuffs of various 
 colors which are generally stretched across the decks as protection from the 
 ardent rays of the sun—all this was charmingly mingled and mirrored in the 
 water. We reached the farther bank—as crowded, as animated, as noisy, as the 
 one we had just left. The unpacking of the asses was as difficult and as extrava- 
 gantly funny as their installation had been. During the fairly long crossing 
 they seemed to have taken a liking to navigation, and it needed sundry blows 
 of the courbache to rouse them from their sentimental reveries; they were 
 literally thrown into the air, and, like so many cats, generally landed on their 
 feet. Arrived at the village of Gyzéh, we found a battalion of camels carrying 
 our baggage; they had started the night before in order not to retard our 
 departure from Cairo. Behold us, beasts and men, ez route in Indian file, 
 of the roads along the Nile, and 
 
 firstly, on account of the narrowness 
 secondly, to conform to the classic aspect a caravan is supposed to have. The 
 
130 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON G 
 
 OME, 
 
 dragoman at the head, then each of us in turn, and our pack-camels bringing 
 up the procession; we must have looked like the figures in the landscape 
 paintings on clocks; but we were far from thinking of this, having for- 
 gotten our personal silhouettes in our admiration of all that stretched ou 
 before us. 
 
 ‘The Nile once pa 
 
 ssed, we entered really into a new zone: already the 
 temperature was sensibly altered, the proximity of the desert giving to the winc 
 unexpected sharpn 
 
 and violence; there are no longer gentle currents of air 
 which gracefully sway the palms, but sudden whirlwinds, which tear off branches 
 and leaves, while raising clouds of sand and dust. The country, still very ver- 
 dant, takes on a much more savage aspect. The village of Gyzéh is surroundec 
 by groves of palm trees, which make of it one of the most picturesque sites in 
 
 the environs of Cairo. These palms attain fabulous proportions ; their wrinlklec 
 trunks are enormous, and the elegant palm-tufts surmount them like immense 
 capitals, furnishing a dense shade, impenetrable to the sun; in several localities 
 
 reserved for travel, their symmetry produces an impression of a grand colonnade 
 holding up a marvelous vault of verdure. Although its name is historical, there 
 is nothing important about the village, unless it be the famous incubators for 
 
 which the fellahs have preserved the recipe from the time of the Pharaohs. 
 
 These manufactories of small chickens, which Herodotus so much admired, still 
 
 exist, and work with the same precision as they did in the kitchens of Sesost 
 
 In some more rugged portions of the valley we came across some saguiéhs, a sort 
 
 of turning well, the motive power of which is ordinarily a buffalo, an ass, or camel. 
 
 These primitive wells are the auxiliaries of the Nile and supplement the benefits 
 of its inundations. Two immense wheels, which form the gear, cause to descend 
 and ascend a veritable rosary of little earthen jugs, which empty the water into a 
 ditch destined to fertilize the surrounding soil or simply to supply the necessities 
 of a little village. The installation of a saquiéh generally offers the ensemble of a 
 
 mc picturesque composition in both design and color; one always finds an 
 uneven ground, water, palm trees, animals and their drivers, groups of women 
 and children, who come here for water when the Nile is too distant: it is the 
 tural life of Egypt in its most practical and truest aspect. 
 
 “Apropos of saquiéhs, it is important to notice that the Egyptians were the 
 real inventors of these wells, improp 
 Olympiodorus, who lived in the sixth century at Alexandria, writes that wells 
 
 y known among us as artesian wells. 
 g 
 
 were dug in the oases to a depth sometimes of 124 meters. 
 
 ““Tt is certain,’ says Dégousée, ‘that the existence of subterranean springs 
 
 was known to the Egyptians; the methods they employed to make use of 
 them are still practiced in Africa by the Arabs of the desert.’ 
 
 “Tn the search for, and difficult perforation of these wells, in consequence 
 of the shifting nature of the sand, one finds a nearly complete resemblance to 
 the means of sounding employed in China and the whole of the extreme Orient. 
 Is it not humiliating to think that these wells were not known and accepted 
 in Europe till 1828—imported from the Orient by the advice of the celebrated 
 savant Jobard, of Brussels? 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 131 
 
 ‘After having followed for some miles the left bank of the Nile, we turned 
 lands which were 
 
 suddenly to our right, leaving our beloved palm trees to cro 
 in a state of culture doubtless very satisfying to their proprietors, but much too 
 green to please our painter eyes; this general tone, almost disagreeable in its 
 monotony, only made us appreciate more keenly the sharply accentuated line 
 of demarcation between the desert and the cultivated lands. Our attention was 
 distracted from these geological considerations by the sight of the Pyramids, 
 which seemed to flee before us, so greatly did their gigantic proportions deceive 
 us in regard to the distance which remained to be traversed in order to reach 
 
 them. The view of the Pyramids obtained from Gyzéh is most imposing. Seen 
 
 from a distance of five or six kilometers, when a caravan between you and them 
 
 can serve as a scale of proportion, their extraordinary dimensions impress one 
 
 most forcibly. By the orders of the dragoman, and almost in a traditional 
 manner for those of us who had visited Egypt before, our tents arose, as if by 
 enchantment, under the shade of an enormous sycamore, which insisted on 
 flourishing in the midst of the sand; supplemented by three palm trees, this 
 magnificent tree formed the entire vegetation of the environs; it is under its 
 foliage that all travelers seek shelter and repose before beginning their archeo- 
 
 logical researches. There were as yet no tenants, so we installed ourselves 
 without protest, and drew up a lease of three days with this hospitable tree, 
 with freedom to move when we pleased. Camels, donkeys, tents, escort, don- 
 key-boys, camel-drivers, our luggage, and ourselves all found ample room under 
 its benevolent branches.” 
 
 While the novices in this joyous band hastened away at daybreak to pay 
 a formal call to the Sphinx, scramble to the top of the Great Pyramid and 
 explore its interior, as well as some of the numerous tombs which lie scattered 
 around, Géro6me remained alone to make the sketch which was afterward 
 
 reproduced in his exquisite painting called 7he First Kiss of the Sun. 
 
 “After several days in this interesting locality, we moved on, by way of 
 Dachour, to the real desert. After having followed, twisted around, and crossed 
 successively an interminable series of canals and pools, we reached the end of 
 the cultivated lands and prepared for our first assault on the desert itself. It 
 was to be a severe day, for our next halting-place was the village of Tamyéh, 
 which lies nearly in the center of the province of Fayoum. The day was truly 
 a disagreeable one, in spite of the precautions we had taken, for we had not 
 d us in the middle of the desert 
 
 counted on a hurricane of sand which surpris 
 at the always interesting moment of breakfast. The clock at the Bourse in 
 
 Paris probably marked noon, but our stomachs loudly declared it to be at least 
 four o'clock! The flat dishes were spread around and our eyes were already 
 devouring the papers in which our cold lunch was wrapped; we had just seized 
 our forks when, quicker than lightning, a real deluge of sand overwhelmed us ; 
 the bank against which we were leaning gave way, taken up by this tempest, 
 and poured over everything, eaters and edibles. Waves of sand dashed into our 
 
132 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 eyes and blinded us. Bottles, dishes, the menu, all lay buried under the sand, 
 and we began a series of excavations to prevent our property and ourselves from 
 disappearing entirely in this cataclysm. The Arabs, having lent us a helping 
 hand in our distress, had lain down in the sand, thus avoiding the painful con- 
 tact with the wind, which lashed our faces like blows of a whip. The temper- 
 ature which preceded this event had suddenly changed. An icy cold had taken 
 the place of the heat we had experienced since morning; like the currents of 
 warm and cold water which meet in rivers and the ocean, this cold air seemed 
 to fall from a celestial glacier. Our unhappy asses suffered horribly ; in spite 
 of their instinct of self-preservation, and the devoted efforts of our Arabs, these 
 miserable beasts were seized with real convulsions as they struggled and rolled 
 
 over, trying to get out of the sand that continually re-covered them. They bled 
 
 from eyes and nose, and in the midst of this general scuffle we thought of the 
 army of Cambyses, who, surprised like us in the desert, returned without a single 
 chassepot / 
 
 “On the avowal of our dragoman himself, this was a terrible day, and one 
 of the severest of our expedition. But we were o bliged to move on. This 
 was difficult enough ; after having found the greater part of our accessories, we 
 set ourselves to work to exhume our asses and to get them to go on farther. 
 We had swathed our faces in veils and ouffies, but the sand penetrated every- 
 thing, and its violence had nearly taken off the skin. At the end of two hours 
 this Lhamsinn abated, happily for us, but we found ourselves confronted by 
 a new trouble. In an exactly opposite direction from that we were following, 
 
 the mirage caused us to see endless lines of palm trees; our critical situation, 
 this deception, and the contrary direction we were taking, all contributed to 
 render us very anxious as to the dénowement of our day. At last the Arab 
 
 whose ey 
 
 yes are used to the desert and its snares, pointed out to us real palm 
 trees, but it was only two kilometers farther on that we began to barely per- 
 ceive them. These two little green tufts on the horizon of this ocean of sand 
 had the effect of promised land finally sighted. We felt like crying out, ‘Land! 
 land!’ As soon as we reached these trees of deliverance, we and our asses 
 threw ourselves down to take a little siesta, which was absolutely indispen- 
 sable in view of our fatigued state. The indefatigable camels carrying our 
 luggage, being above these little human weaknesses, continued directly on to 
 Tamyéh, where we were to rejoin them, finding our tents ready to receive us. 
 A good stretch of the desert remained for us to cross, and it was with diffi- 
 culty that, rousing ourselves from our slumber, we took up our march. The 
 soil had, however, changed in its character, the road which we followed still 
 bearing the imprint of the footsteps of men and camels; we were approaching 
 countries more solidly established and less movable than the sands that had just 
 failed to swallow us up. By the more assured stepping of our animals we felt 
 we were on roc 
 
 still covered with sand, but which were soon to make a strik- 
 ing appearance. 
 
 “After having climbed some uneven ridges, we found ourselves suddenly 
 on the border of an immense ravine, a real precipice several hundred meters 
 
LE, 
 
 SA 
 
 FOR 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 13 
 
 a 
 
 wide. This natural canal reaches beyond Tamyéh to the lake Birket-Keroun. 
 to hold the waters of the Nile, which completely fill 
 it at the time of the overflows. Just now it was dry, and presented a most savage 
 
 It serves, like two othe 
 
 and frightful appearance. By a caprice of nature, its heaps of rocks seemed to 
 be the ruins of a great city precipitated into the abyss. Weeds and shrubs of 
 every description filled up the gaps and made a natural resort for the most 
 ferocious beasts we could imagine. We were not altogether wrong, and this 
 Egyptian savanna merits only too well its reputation, for it is there that 
 numerous wild boars have established a republic most disastrous to the inhab- 
 itants of the neighborhood. The havoc they make in the crops is a veritable 
 calamity for the country, which can barely raise a sufficient supply, literally 
 surrounded as it is by the desert. Souvenirs of the chase made this locality 
 especially interesting to our colonel [Géréme], who was not there for the first 
 time, and who executed, the next day, the finest coup de fusil that had ever been 
 seen by the inhabitants of Tamyéh. The village, which is quite large, stretched 
 
 out before us on the other side of this immense ravine, the passage of which was 
 
 not of the easiest ; but two hours after, we were installed under our tents, pitched 
 
 to the northeast, facing the principal gate. This considerable oasis presents on 
 
 the whole a charming landscape, framed by a brilliant golden line which incloses 
 it on every side. It is an island of verdure in the midst of an endless stretch of 
 sand. From our encampment, perched on the heights, the slightest details of 
 the village were visible. 
 
 “The principal gate was in front of us, a sort of semicircular arcade, com- 
 posed of alternate dried and burned bricks. Here was the rendezvous of all the 
 
 arrivals—the great market where all the important personages of the locality 
 gathered together. On the right a pretty minaret stretched gayly upward like a 
 village steeple, overtopping everything, and several clumps of palm trees broke 
 the monotony of the roofs and terraces of the buildings. Animals of all kinds, 
 as well as the people, wander over the tops of the houses, and in its ensemble 
 
 this life on the roofs presents a most unique effect. Women laying out linen, 
 Arabs mending the roofs, and children running and leaping from house to house 
 like so many cats. But what struck us most forcibly as predominating in this 
 
 comical animation, was the incredible number of dogs; we had never seen so 
 
 many, nor such varieties ; not a terrace that was not adorned with at least three 
 
 or four of these animals; crouching like sphinxes, they watched one as far as 
 
 they could see. This picturesque glance at a city of dogs was to be followed 
 by a much less cheerful impression during the night. From the setting to the 
 tising of the sun, these thousands of guardians of the peace called and replied to 
 each other in the most plaintive, piercing, and discordant of tones. One could 
 believe that Jezebel allowed herself to be eaten by them to enjoy the felicity of 
 no longer hearing them! Our state of fatigue after this cruel day in the desert 
 rendered this free concert only the more insupportable, and it lasted from six 
 o'clock in the evening till five o'clock in the morning—without the slightest 
 entr’acte. This horrible night was a long-continued nightmare; cries and men- 
 
 aces were in vain. Our dragoman,in an excess of zeal, killed two of these 
 
136 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 gentlemen with his revolver—which made matters still worse, for all the dogs 
 a tempest of howl- 
 
 ings that would have terrified Dante! With the rays of the sun the infernal 
 
 in the village ran to eat up their comrades, and there was 
 
 orchestra ceased, and calm was at last re-established. It was time, for we were 
 half dead from want of sleep, not having been able to close our eyes during 
 the whole night. 
 
 “The day after, with the help of several natives, a first attempt at a hunt 
 was organized ; the sheikh of Tamyéh was greatly interested in this expedition, 
 and had promised his active assistance, and we expected on his part a deploy- 
 
 ment of forces in proportion to the 
 
 enthusiasm he had exhibited the 
 day before. The next morn- 
 ing every one was ready, 
 awaiting the promised 
 
 reinforcements ; we 
 
 ; i were under arms in 
 the village square, 
 when we perceived a 
 
 vig fellow, simply clad in a brown tunic, much too short for him; he ran toward 
 
 us, frisking and gesticulating like a madman. This monkey was the son of the 
 sheikh himself, and aside from this title to our consideration, no detail of his 
 exterior compensated for the too great simplicity of his accouterment. Cries, 
 eaps, and pirouettes in space were all that we could at first obtain from this 
 acrobatic Nimrod. On our remarking that he was only armed with his ten 
 fingers to fight the enemy of the desert, he rushed immediately to the tent where 
 our food was prepared, and chose an enormous kitchen knife, which he held 
 
 etween his teeth in order to gesticulate more freely! This strange companion- 
 in-arms was escorted by nine or ten other Arabs, armed with sticks, who were 
 to arouse, track, surround, and beat up the game. They began along the deep 
 ravine which divides the entire province. After several fruitless éa¢fues, an 
 enormous wild boar was pointed out to Géréme. Three shots, skillfully placed, 
 
 were fired into this huge animal, who, with a shoulder and a foot broken, twice 
 
 endeavored to continue his furious rush, and then rolled over into the bed of 
 the torrent, from which he was fished out by the Arabs. A camel had to 
 carry back this boar, fabulously large for this country, where they are generally 
 small; this one weighed over three hundred pounds. 
 
 “The son of the sheikh could no longer contain himself; preceding the 
 
 cortége, he and his knife executed indescribable fantasias in the air. ‘Alouf/ 
 Alouf! Kalas! Cawaga Géréme kebir/’ Such were the shouts with which the 
 entire village deafened our ears. David bringing back the head of Goliath had 
 ! The Copt population, like good Christians, 
 
 certainly no greater a success 
 came to assist us in consuming this bulky game, and a general distribution 
 was made in the village to our co-religionists. Everybody was at the feast, 
 
 for ‘the dogs had their part of this general quarry, and, in spite of the large 
 
 crowd gathered together, eagles and other voracious birds pooped down in 
 
LIO 
 
 Y 
 I 
 
 EHRAG 
 
 1 
 
 ie 
 
 OR THE 
 
 THEH TERRACE 
 
 1886 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 13 
 
 Nr 
 
 their midst and disputed the prey with them. Haunch of wild-boar, sauce 
 madére; filet of boar, sauce foivrade,; cutlets of boar without sauce, figured 
 for several days on our bills of fare. To send some to France to comfort our 
 families would have been a great joy to us, but postal difficulties hindered us, 
 and this generous movement of our hearts was interred in the depths of our 
 stomachs! Toward evening we all assembled again and proceeded to invest 
 one of the large ponds to the southwest of the village. Hunting is no longer 
 hunting in this marvelous country, in this veritable promised land, where the 
 
 keepers must have been on a strike for centuries. Neither the grains of sand 
 on the seashore, nor the star 
 
 ducks which blackened the water. As ni 
 
 s in heaven, can give an idea of the flocks of wild 
 
 rht fell, these compact masses seemed 
 to be immense floating rafts, which divided into squads under our incessant 
 firing. Fortunately for them the darkness came quickly and put an end to 
 this St. Bartholomew’s massacre. Besides, the tough flesh of this duck is 
 disagreeable to eat, and in these innumerable flocks only a few acceptably 
 increased the resources of our kitchen. The next day our intrepid hunters 
 left with regret this enchanted country, and this too short sojourn was often 
 recalled in the evenings under our tent, with recitals of all we had done and 
 all we could have done! As we left camp, the feathered population 
 us without ill-will and swelled the chorus of the villagers 
 us the most flattering ovations in honor of the three-hundred-pound boar of 
 whose undesirable presence the bravery and skill of Gérome had relieved them. 
 
 scorted 
 
 who lavished on 
 
 From the back of his ass, one of us killed a dozen pigeons with one charge, and 
 
 the menus of the province of Fayoum left the most cherished memories in 
 the heart of our cook. These orgies of game were lacking in the desert, and 
 we often longingly recalled Tamyéh at a time when English preserved meats 
 and sardines formed the chief part of our suppli 
 
 “From Tamyéh, the extreme northeast of the province of Fayoum, we 
 were to move toward the center, stopping at the village of Senouhrés, which, 
 after Médinet, is one of the most important localities. We were still in the 
 desert, but the sand was less powdery and less dangerous than that we had 
 crossed from Dachour. Here the soil was firmer, and as we could all move 
 more easily, we fully expected to sleep that night at Senouhrés (which city 
 furnished the theme for Géréme’s celebrated picture, the Saber-dance before the 
 
 Pasha). As we gradually left the sand, the village appeared in the distance like 
 a huge fortress perched on a plateau, graciously crowned by minarets and 
 cupolas. These domes, which appeared first, belonged to an ancient cemetery, 
 quite large, but abandoned and in ruins to-day, but which, by its importance, 
 testified as to the réle played by Senouhrés at another epoch. A number of 
 ponds, brooks, and little canals render the approach to the village tedious and 
 disagreeable. Passing suddenly from fine sand to a marshy soil, we consumed 
 several hours in going around and crossing these innumerable little obstacles. 
 This city of Senouhrés, on account of its commercial, and, above all, agricultural 
 
 importance, possesses a regular administrative machinery. Authority there is 
 installed on an official footing equal to our most intricate sub-prefectures ; 
 
138 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 therefore, by the advice of our dragoman, we prepared for a series of formalities 
 and salamaleks/ According to friendly indications, after having made the 
 circuit of the village, our tents were pitched to the south on a prairie on the 
 bank of a charming stream, and in the shade of ravishing palms. We had 
 patriotically unfurled our national flag before the eyes of the dazzled population, 
 and were almost disposed to put on our pear -gray gloves to go to pay our 
 respects to the sheikh and the other magistrates of the city. Already our 
 
 animals, decked in their gayest trappings, had crossed the ford which led to the 
 
 town hall; already we almost tasted the coffee they were fatally sure to offer 
 
 us, when our dragoman, who marched at the head of the procession, entered 
 
 into a long conference with a young Arab, magnificently dressed, who, running 
 
 breathlessly to meet us, indulged in a most expressive pantomime in order 
 
 to explain his meaning. We stopped; the dragoman apprised us that, warned 
 
 of our visit, the sheikh and all the municipal council, for reasons of gravest 
 importance, found it absolutely impossible to receive us; that they themselves 
 would take the trouble to come and bid us welcome the next morning ; 
 
 meanwhile they presented their most respectful homage and prayers for our 
 
 and 
 
 prosperity, etc., etc. Not at all annoyed by this disappointment, we were pre- 
 paring to regain our tents; but some of us, not wishing to lose time, applied to 
 the dragoman, who, according to directions easily obtained, conducted us to the 
 quarter where the dancers lived—the a/mées, whom we had seen in a mirage, 
 and of whom we dreamed every evening and sometimes in the afternoon ! 
 “After numerous detours among small, dirty houses, we arrived at a 
 little door, through which Arabs of all ages, sexes, and sizes were going in and 
 out. It was not the mysterious sanctum we had imagined, guarded by fantas- 
 tic beings adorned with sabers and costumes of brilliant colors; entrance was 
 free to all, and we went in without the slightest formality of an announcement. 
 In the midst of a little, square court, seated on rugs and mats, a dozen women 
 were munching oranges and drinking araki with some fairly well-dressed person- 
 ages, who were not at all disturbed by our entrance. These gentlemen, whom we 
 saluted @ /’araée, returned our greetings very politely, made room for us beside 
 them, and invited us to sit down en fwmille. We had certainly come to see 
 these ladies, but we had not foreseen the too-easy reception accorded to us. Our 
 very limited acquaintance with the Arabic language placed a forced restraint 
 
 on the expression of our sentiments. The words that we knew the best, just 
 
 at that time, were those referring to the saddling of our asses and the loading 
 of our camels. And we therefore ran the risk of committing an unpardonable 
 
 in reciting our little referfoire of the stable! ‘Koiss kétir/’ and ‘Kétir 
 
 rudenes 
 
 koiss /’ formed the refrain which accompanied the dainties we lavished upon 
 them. ‘Ya/ habibi/’ was their favorite response to our compliments, and this 
 petit Trianon on all-fours did not lack a certain royal cachet/ Our rivals seemed 
 
 to be charmed by our efforts to be amiable. Several of these women, rather 
 
 better-looking than the others, wore ornaments, collars, and bracelets of great 
 price ; attached by threads to their hair plaited in little braids, numerous pieces 
 of gold of all dimensions certified to the sumptuous bakchichs which had 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 139 
 
 een lavished on them. One of these danseuses struck us, not by the regular 
 eauty of her features, but by the savage character of her face and her fiery 
 glance. As an artist, she seemed to be the object of the particular attentions 
 of our quondam friends. Our dragoman asked her name—she was called 
 
 Hasné ; and ‘//asné koiss kétir’ was a ready-made new phrase which had an enor- 
 mous success. It became the mot of the evening; and I turned this success 
 into an absolute triumph by a cowp-de-thédtre which our native rivals could not 
 nave foreseen. I drew from my pocket one of those thirty-sou scarfs which 
 ordinarily form part of the Sunday attire of our peasants. I began by showing it 
 to Hasné ; like a real monkey, she seized it, put it around her neck, and then on 
 
 ner head, and was about to run away for fear that I should take her treasure 
 away from her. I made her understand that I gave it to her as bakchich ; her 
 joy knew no limit; she approached me with convulsions of satisfaction which 
 resembled epilepsy! In my triumph, what I feared most was to be bitten ! 
 Torrents of words, sharp and discordant, assailed my ears, and the dragoman 
 vainly essayed to translate for me the odd Oriental expressions of savage grati- 
 tude. Our Arab neighbors, without being saddened by our success, withdrew, 
 leaving us the field of battle; we profited by this to arrange for a formal enter- 
 tainment at our headquarters. Quite astounded by our conquest, and pursued by 
 the joyful cries of these princesses, we regained the camp and organized an 
 official reception for the next day. We were to have 
 illuminations, games, and a ball, with or without the permission of the mayor ! 
 However, we intended to invite him and his staff to this charming féte. 
 
 dance of the almées, 
 
 “ We awaited their visit in the morning,—the formal invitation was ready,— 
 they had only to make their appearance. But imagine the general astonishment 
 when they did finally arrive; they were the same personages whose /é/e-d-/éle we 
 1ad disturbed the evening previous! We could not help recalling the majestic 
 phrases used by their ambassador to express their regret at not being able to come 
 ance, and 
 
 and meet us! The municipal council had certainly not had a dull sé 
 
 chance had allowed us to behold th austere officials in full exercise of their 
 
 ! How 
 
 Functions ever, the whole affair was to them so simple that they immedi- 
 
 ately recognized us all and expressed great pleasure at seeing us again, almost 
 having an air of complimenting us on the manner in which we had supplanted 
 them! Coffee and araki successively circulated in cups and glasses, the most 
 extravagant Oriental compliments were exchanged, always by means of the 
 dragoman, and all went for the best under the most beautiful tent of the most 
 
 hospitable of encampments. This serious and official reception offered so sin- 
 gular a contrast to the merrymaking of the day before, that it needed all our 
 self-control not to laugh in the faces of these grave municipal councilors, whom 
 we had surprised very much at home in the Café Anglais. But all was gravity 
 this morning. Our guests remained to breakfast with us to the detriment of our 
 tablecloth ; it was not a slight operation with them, for they managed with their 
 fingers the food for which we usually need a knife and fork. Our Dijon mustard 
 had a tremendous success, as we had the pleasure of observing later on. We 
 did not say ‘adieu,’ but only ‘au revoir,’ till the féte of the evening. Our 
 
140 LIFE 
 
 AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 dragoman had buckled on his saber and wrapped a new ouffie around his 
 tarbouch—a proof with him of some extraordinary and solemn occurrence. It 
 was seven o'clock in the evening; we had dined well in order not to faint in the 
 middle of the ceremony. Paper lamps had been artistically hung in our largest 
 tent; as in the circus of Caracalla, all had been anticipated, ordered, and clas- 
 sified ; our beds and trunks formed /oges of the first and second galleries; in the 
 
 corner on the left the imperial loge, the place of honor among Mussulmans; on 
 the right, facing the municipal council, a carpet folded, for our colonel [Géréme | 
 and ourselves, formed the orchestra chairs; and, scattered around in the afore- 
 mentioned galleries, the suite of the council, the relatives and friends of the 
 dancers. Finally, our servants and camel drivers, crammed in like so many 
 sardines, formed one of the most picturesque sides of this strange picture. The 
 lamps were burning with impatience when the dancer Hasné (she of the thirty- 
 
 sou cravat) made a most overwhelming entrée, dressed in a long blue robe 
 
 spangled with gold, and caught at the belt with fringes of silk; some yellow 
 
 stuff, artistically wound around her head, formed a most stri king coiffure, 
 together with the innumerable braids which fell upon her shoulders, several of 
 
 which were brought around over her forehead by tiny gold rings. The metallic 
 sound of the napoleons that jingled in her hair, and the piercing cries which 
 formed a prelude to her first steps, the barbaric instruments of the musicians, 
 who had already begun their accompaniment, all these strange noises lent some- 
 thing of the diabolical to this scene, so utterly novel to some of t 
 
 “The orchestra was composed of three instruments as singular in tone as the 
 
 dance they were about to accompany; there was the darabowka, a drum in terra- 
 cotta ; the kemengéh, a kind of violoncello with two strings, and the zowmara, a 
 
 sort of double shepherd’s pipe. Our best rugs had been carefully spread on the 
 spot where the dance was to take place. The artiste did not wait to be urged ; 
 
 at the first sounds of the darabouka, Hasné planted herself boldly in the middle 
 
 of the tent. Doubtless animated by the size of her audience and encouraged by 
 the princely bakchichs we had promised her, and perhaps roused by the presence 
 of her municipal council, she served up to us the most exquisite refinements of 
 
 her choregraphic art. Her brilliant eyes darted lightnings, and at a given signal 
 the dance began. At first, slow and cadenced in her movements, the danseuse 
 scarcely moved from the spot to which she seemed bound by her feet ; then, the 
 thythm of the music accelerating a little, imperceptible and hasty steps suc- 
 ceeded the incredible inflections of her body and the almost convulsive move- 
 ments that form the basis of the dance of the almées. As the musicians 
 increased the time of the step, her gestures, contortions, and the least movement 
 of the arms and head assumed a more feverish and savage character. Almost in 
 a state of rhythmic epilepsy, she sank on her knees, executing new figures, more 
 
 strange and picturesque than the preceding ones, combining the suppleness of a 
 
 serpent with the grace of a gazelle. Such was the spectacle which charmed us 
 for positively an entire hour; applause, bonbons, oranges, araki, and bakchich 
 were not stinted! It was a genuine success, and she must have surpassed her- 
 self to judge by the delirium of admiration which overpowered the audience in 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 141 
 
 general and two of our camel drivers in particular. Both of them blind in the 
 
 same eye, this misfortune had doubtless drawn them together, and it was not 
 ure chance that placed them in the same loge of this traveling theater. The 
 araki and the music had already prepared them for the most noisy manifestations 
 of beatitude. But when Hasné fell on the rug like a wounded lioness, their 
 enthusiasm knew no bounds; one of them took the other's head in his hands‘and 
 kept time with it, with genuine howlings of satisfaction ; he seemed to wish to 
 twist the head off in order to throw it as a 
 
 ouquet to the almée—the other cheerfully 
 allowing himself to be thumped and twisted. 
 At the end of the séance, the two turbans, which 
 at the beginning were cocked in the most 
 yronounced manner over the ears of the pro- 
 srietors, finished by tumbling off entirely, 
 
 exposing to view their mysterious Mahomet; 
 
 nothing could be more comical than the spec- 
 
 tacle of these one-eyed beauties, with bare heads, 
 
 ) 
 
 most strangling each other to mutually express 
 
 heir happiness! But the most beautiful things 
 
 have an end. The lamps were beginning to / 
 smoke; one of them took fire, and this was 
 
 1e signal for a general retreat, after innumer 
 able salamaleks. There had not been too much 
 
 amage, our domestics were enchanted, and we 
 
 iad gained the esteem of the council, so the 
 
 atisfaction was general. The danseuse, con- 
 
 n 
 
 ducted to her home on our most beautiful dour- 
 pleased with us and did not 
 
 riguot, was als 
 
 elay giving us proofs of her lively gratitude ! 
 
 The next morning at five o'clock we were 
 roused by the squeaking of feminine voices from the sleep which we so 
 
 sadly needed after our soirée, as laborious as it was exciting. It was Hasné, 
 with all her friends, who had come to see us, ‘Ya kouloum habibi kétir. We 
 were all ‘her best friends,’ and at sunrise she hastened to greet us! They 
 coaxed her to have patience while serving her with coffee, and we spent a 
 gay morning all together. The conversation did not vary from the perpetua 
 ‘koiss kétir,’ but gestures and bonbons made up the deficiency. To amuse her, 
 I had the impudence to show her a frightful puppet w hich I had brought from 
 Paris, and which had already delighted us in several circumstances. This stupic 
 
 marionette, suspended by a caoutchouc, made a most ridiculous appearance. 
 generally hung it on the neck of my ass, for I had vowed that it should see al 
 
 the countries we were to visit; a bit of nonsense that was only excused by the 
 
 discovery of a similar doll in the baggage of one of our party, at Sinai! We 
 
 called him Jules, and Jules certainly did not realize his happiness. He had 
 ascended the pyramids with me and was now to be an actor in an exciting drama. 
 
142 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 Hasné played with it like a real monkey, balancing it on her head and sticking 
 it on her ears, with cries of joy that were enough to frighten our animals, I 
 went to make a sketch in the afternoon, and when night came Hasné and Jules 
 had disappeared! This elopement was very annoying! Whether he passed the 
 night on the heart or the é/agére of the lady, he has never confided to me. Only 
 the half of the next day was lost in searching for this article de vertu, and the 
 authority of the entire municipal council was necessary to secure a judicial 
 s of 
 dramatic emotions, we wished to profit seriously by our stay in this interesting 
 village, and we became adroit in escaping from the too frequent vis 
 who had taken an excessive liking to our society. By means of continual 
 bakchichs she was made to understand that we had to work and that we would 
 
 separation and surrender of the stolen treasure, After indulging in this seri 
 
 its of Hasné, 
 
 call on her in her den, which we did with the intention of photographing her, but 
 the smell of the collodion turned her stomach and produced a sudden fit of sea- 
 sickness, which spoiled our negative ! 
 
 “In its topographical configuration, the vil age of Senouhrés offers, on a 
 more important scale, the same aspect as the village of Dachour. Located on 
 a plateau considerably elevated above the level of the surrounding country, 
 
 Senouhrés presents on every side the silhouette of a gigantic fortr Like 
 
 Jachour, the inundations of the Nile are the sole cause of this particular situa- 
 tion, At the time of the rising of the river this plain, where we were encamped, 
 shaded by these magnificent palms, forms, it appears, an immense lake as far as 
 the end of the wood where our tents were pitched. The successive elevation and 
 
 depression of these lakes produce in the lay of the land a slow but steady lowering. 
 Immense plateaus of earth in successive stories 
 
 gradually form the buttresses 
 
 of the village, and the roots of the palm trees serve to consolidate these natural 
 
 ramparts, which the water eats away and displaces a little every year. Whether 
 nis is the only guarantee of solidity, or whether this veritable mountain has for 
 
 es 
 
 its base a foundation of indestructible rock, the village offers none the less, in 
 
 ts whole extent, the appearance of a fortified city entirely built of earth, from 
 
 oO 
 
 1e highest minaret of its little mosques to the foot of its walls. Chance had 
 placed us opposite the most traveled passage which leads from the plain to the 
 village by way of the ford, coming out directly on the market-place. (It was 
 here that Géréme sketched his picturesque Fe//lah Women Car ving Water.) 
 The women of Senouhrés 
 
 seemed to have chosen this spot to come and get water, 
 
 either because the brook appeared to them cleaner just at this point, or through 
 curiosity to see our encampment. From the rising to the setting of the sun, 
 hundreds of women and young girls descended to the water, following each 
 y of vestals going to the sacrifice. Without 
 
 other in a procession with the majes 
 being frightened off by our observation, they devoted themselves merrily to the 
 diverse operations which ordinarily precede, accompany, and follow the filling of 
 a jug of water. On arrival, a neighbor helps to lift down the jug from the little 
 cushion which serves to steady it on the head: the water is afterward carefully 
 inspected ; the woman then raises her dress a little above the knee, knotting it at 
 her belt with one of the ends of the veil which covers her head ; she then per- 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 143 
 
 forms the first cleaning of the jug, which does not lack in picturesque detail, 
 owing to the adroit and supple movements displayed in this first operation. 
 Holding the jug in one hand, she rubs it vigorously with the other, filling and 
 emptying it several times to a! 
 
 sure herself of its cleanliness; then, at the risk of 
 losing her footing, she advances boldly, sometimes to her waist, to dip up the 
 clearest water from the deepest part of the brook. It is in this last operation 
 that, with the most graceful and unpremeditated movements, these women 
 struggle against the violence of the current, the weight of the jug making the 
 it from this absolute bath more difficult. It is then the aid of a friend is 
 
 € 
 
 tion this 
 heavy amphora. The owner bends, gathering together, as best she may, her wet 
 and disordered drape 
 
 generally accepted, either to cross over a difficult spot or to place in pos 
 
 , while her neighbor, with a single sweep, lifts the burden 
 
 and balances it artistically on the head of her friend, where several bits of cloth, 
 twisted together, form a little cushion. Waiting then one for the other to go 
 back to the village, they recommence the picturesque procession in which they 
 had just come with their empty jugs. Their pace, less swift, was slackened on 
 account of the 
 
 n 
 
 ope and difficulties of the path, and a thousand incidents 
 occurred to enliven this march of statues, more or less veiled ; a dog that fright- 
 
 ened them, a child that tumbled, were pretexts for the most complicated stop- 
 
 ages and graceful groupings. It would have been pushing indiscretion too far 
 to ask for ten minutes’ motionlessness on the part of this charming crowd, but 
 we were able by rapid sketching to note their most frequent attitudes.” 
 
 In Géréme’s picture these ‘‘ graceful groupings” are reproduced in his most 
 
 masterly manner. 
 
 .... We were to leave Senouhrés the next day, and we paid a farewell 
 isit to the sheikh and the notabilities of the country. The danseuses, and 
 
 sné in particular, came to express their grief at our departure; we had bought 
 of them a goodly quantity of dress 
 
 ss and veils, and our short stay must have been 
 quite profitable for them. The fact of preferring things that had been worn to 
 new ones, utterly bewildered them as to the use we could make of them. We 
 revived for them the tale of Aladdin and his wonderful lamp, leaving them new 
 scarfs for old ones. After repeated adieux, and still more numerous bakchichs, 
 we started for Médinet, the most important city in the province of Fayoum. 
 “We were obliged to pass twice by Médinet in order to reach and return 
 from Fidémine. We could have taken another road, but a sad occurrence com- 
 
 pelled this detour ; one of our party was suffering painfully from exposure to the 
 sun. His state of health made it very inadvisable for him to continue the 
 expedition, and we were obliged to have him transported to Cairo, where com- 
 petent attention could be given to him to help him out of this disagreeable state. 
 The journey from Senouhrés was long and laborious, although we were in 
 cultivated regions sheltered from the khamsinn in its infinite varieties. The 
 
 remarkable number of canals which intersect this portion of the province make 
 the road a perfect labyrinth ; in default of a map, a native guide is indispensable, 
 
144 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 in order not to go astray nor to go over the same ground twenty times, finally 
 arriving at the starting point. It is in this locality, near the grand canal, called 
 
 ot 
 
 he Canal de Joseph, that vegetation attains most extraordinary proportions and 
 sed under 
 
 Surpasses the most exaggerated conceptions. In many places we pa 
 
 absolute vaults of verdure formed by enormous branches of trees and shrubs, 
 which we were accustomed to see in much more ordinary dimensions. The 
 lemon and orange trees had the appearance and vigor of our finest oaks: forests 
 of cacti and aloes bordered the roads as far as the eye could reach and seemed 
 to form an impenetrable rampart. After having followed these marvelous paths, 
 Wwe came out on one of the largest branches of the Canal de Joseph. This canal, 
 
 of which we will speak in our second passage by Médinet, is one of the most 
 important works in all Egypt: very curious legends are connected with its 
 construction and biblical origin. The animation around the city of Médinet 
 
 was entirely different from that of the cities and villag 
 Soldiers in uniform, cavaliers richly equipped, indicated the rank and impor- 
 
 s we had just passed. 
 
 tance, commercial and official, which spoiled the picturesque side and local color 
 
 of the place. Indeed, it was quite difficult to obtain permission to encamp in the 
 environs, from the inhabitants, who already have lost that rural simplicity of 
 costume and gentleness of manner that characterize the fe//ah. 
 
 “Our dear invalid, accompanied by an intelligent domestic, was intrusted 
 to good hands, and, while he went back to Cairo, we started for the village of 
 Fidémine, generally neglected by travelers, and which has therefore only the 
 better preserved its cachet de sauvagerie, so curious and rare to-day. We gradu- 
 ally ascended the Canal de Joseph. Reaching veritable savannas of plantations 
 entirely new to us, we followed a series of paths through woods where Robinson 
 Crusoe could easily have imagined himself on his island. Enormous tropical 
 vines stretched from one side of the road to the other, binding together the palm 
 trees which sometimes barred the road with their distorted and knotty trunks. 
 
 Our baggage-camels had great trouble in getting through the thicket, and our 
 steeplechase threatened to last till nightfall, We were unconsciously ascending 
 continually while in the woods, but the extraordinary vegetation prevented us 
 from noticing that we were very much above the level of the surrounding 
 country. Suddenly we emerged on the brink of an immense precipice, at the 
 
 bottom of which ran a brook, which we perceived between the trunks of the 
 palms and aloes which lined the sides of the ravine. We were therefore obliged 
 to make a horribly steep descent on foot, holding our camels by the bridle and 
 helping them as best we could, this long and difficult descent making us appre- 
 ciate the height to which we insensibly had climbed ; for, thinking that we 
 must be going down at least to the infernal regions, we simply reached the 
 natural level of a charming brook at the picturesque entrance of the village of 
 Fidémine. Our tents were pitched beside this limpid water in a virgin forest. 
 Aside from the few village huts which we had seen at the bottom of the ravine, 
 nothing till then had indicated the presence of human beings in this part of 
 the world. At our approach, animals of every description fled away with savage 
 cries, as if they were the sole inhabitants. Not a single person having appeared, 
 
“aSINS 3 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 147 
 
 we organized a watch for the night, to protect at least our poultry from the 
 beasts who deafened us with their howlings. Were they wolves or only jackals? 
 The sonority of the ravine increased the effect of these noises, and, our imagina- 
 tion aiding us, we were delighted at the idea of an encounter with really savage 
 beasts. Our revolvers under our bolsters, some of us slept with one eye open, 
 but after all we got off with a nwt blanche. The next morning, all these ferocious 
 animals having assuredly taken flight at the sight of our warlike preparations, 
 we took a delicious bath in the very torrent where, during the night, one imag- 
 ined all the lions in the desert were quenching their thirst, in chorus, to excite 
 their hunger. We were still in our bath when the visit was announced of the 
 Sheikh of Fidémine himself, with his suite and the older members of his family. 
 These were no longer the merry old fellows of Senouhrés, but true Arab fellahs, 
 stures as the others had appeared 
 
 as simple and dignified in their slightest ¢ 
 frivolous. The reception was touching and cordial. Through a sentiment of 
 
 hospitality truly biblical, the young sheikh had brought his gifts of welcome, 
 certainly ignorant as to our ability to return his generosity. The charming face 
 of this young Arab, the amiable dignity of the old men who accompanied him, 
 
 this ensemble of simple and primitive manners, was admirably framed in by 
 
 this virgin forest, where nature had been untouched. His gift consisted of an 
 immense dish of rice, with pieces of chicken, sprinkled with saffron, swimming 
 around in it ; an enormous f7/aw, which is the ordinary official piéce de résistance 
 of every Oriental repast ; we invited them in our turn to sit down under our 
 
 tents and to partake of our menw the following day. While we were at table, 
 an odd circumstance occurred to make this little féte memorable for us; for, 
 restricting ourselves to our admiration of the country, our conversation did 
 not offer any great variety; the number of his sheep and camels, his age, his 
 name, etc., formed the substance of the questions addressed by us to the young 
 sheikh, and to which he replied with a charmingly natural precision and 
 simplicity. 
 
 “ “How long is it,’ asked Géréme, ‘since you had a visit from strange trav- 
 elers?’ for to judge by the country, Europeans had not often passed that way ; 
 and one thing is certain, that when gas is put in at Fidémine, it will first be found 
 everywhere else! 
 
 “At this question the sheikh meditated silently, as if he wished to give the 
 
 exact response Mohammed himself could desire. ‘Five years ago,’ replied 1 
 
 ‘my father was then Sheikh of Fidémine. I was quite young, but I remember 
 the occasion perfectly.’ Giving the precise details then of the time of year and 
 appearance of the travelers, we found that he was unconsciously describing 
 
 Gérome himself on his second trip to Egypt. Then, after a pause of several 
 minutes, ‘My father,’ added he, ‘related to me that still five years before that, 
 stranger: 
 
 came to hunt near our village and one of these Europeans placed him- 
 self in front of our house, seated before a little box, and seemed to be absorbed 
 in some work quite strange to us.’ This strange labor was oil-painting, and the 
 traveler absorbed before his little box, which he held on his knees under his 
 great parasol, was Géréme again, on his 
 
 Jirst trip! A periodic comet which one 
 
148 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 ought to see at Fidémine the 9th of February, 1873, since it passes there every 
 five years ! 
 
 “We had only to follow the caprices of this enchanting torrent to make 
 acquaintance with the country. Ascending the left bank, we reached the vil- 
 lage. Descending on our right, we penetrated an endless labyrinth of rocks, 
 plants, aloes, and palms, where only serpents could circulate at ease. Game 
 was naturally abundant in this savage spot and we noticed footprints of ani- 
 mals quite unknown to us. Our hunters could not resist the temptation, and, 
 booted to the shoulders, they plunged into this almost impenetrable forest. 
 Strange cries and howlings lured them on for a long time, but the difficulty of 
 
 moving around among the cacti and wild creepers that covered the precipices, 
 rendered their efforts fruitless and gradually lessened their ardor. Birds of 
 every possible plumage and an enormous Pharaoh’s rat were the only results 
 of this first de¢twe in a virgin forest. To judge by this rat, the ca/s of Sesos 
 
 must have attained incredible proportions, This animal, however, has really 
 but little analogy with the field-mouse, and nothing justifies the name of rat 
 unless it be the long head and pointed snout. These amphibious animals, 
 which swarm in hot, damp countries, are very destructive to vegetation on 
 account of the way in which they gnaw the roots of the trees which border the 
 brooks, canals, and streams of every description; the Arabs hunt them inces- 
 santly, but, in spite of their efforts, this animal is a real plague in several 
 countries. The next day being market-day, we had an opportunity of seeing 
 and sketching the most picturesque and animated groups where the most strik- 
 ing types of the population naturally gather together. The family of the 
 fellah was represented in all its completeness and primitive character; the men 
 sive features; the women small, and very 
 
 tall and strong, with fine expre 
 vivacious in their movements; the children generally of a sickly aspect, and, to 
 
 the age of ten years, clad only in the garments furnished by nature at their 
 birth. In Egypt there exists a singular contrast between the admirable pro- 
 portions of the men and the almost pitiful and aged appearance of the women. 
 It is a sad and fatal result of the enervating climate and customs, by which 
 these absurdly precocious natures are exhausted long before the age of full 
 development among us. Numerous books have treated at length these physio- 
 logical and almost zodlogical questions, since here the woman is relegated to 
 the state of a beast of burden, as soon as she has ceased to adorn the é/agére 
 of a harem. Completely shaved for indispensable reasons of cleanliness, the 
 men preserve, on the tops of their heads, a tuft of hair which bears the sacred 
 name of Mahomet. Is it the name of the prophet attached to this lock or the 
 lock itself that is holy? Be that as it may, the Arab rarely uncovers his skull, 
 and he conceals, with an almost Britannic modesty, this ridiculous ornament. 
 
 “In our soirée at Senouhrés, chance procured us the favor of seeing the 
 Mahomets of two of our camel-drivers, the only two we shall perhaps ever see, 
 and we should be grieved to have lost this charming souvenir. 
 
 “Ophthalmia is the veritable plague which disfigures a goodly half of the 
 population, and the number of blind and one-eyed people has multiplied to such 
 
IN GEROME. 149 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LE 
 
 an extent that there is a proverb which says, ‘Among three Arabs you will never 
 
 find but four eyes!’ 
 
 “Rice, wheat, maize, and sugar-cane form the substance of the commodities 
 which figure in this open-air market, besides oranges and fruits of every descrip- 
 iven away instead of being sold. 
 
 tion, which fill the baskets and are almost ¢ 
 Asses, camels, and buffaloes take the place of carts with these Oriental market- 
 gardeners, and the women are 
 again the porters, while the 
 proprietors smoke their chib- 
 owks and drink their coffee, 
 nonchalantly reclining on rugs 
 and mats. Here, as) every- 
 where in the Orient, woman 
 fills the role of a domestic 
 animal condemned to the most 
 painful labor, and that most 
 ill-suited to her delicate nature ; 
 a monstrous barbarism, con- 
 secrated by the Mussulman 
 religion, which is far from 
 having disappeared from the 
 Orient. The next day the 
 young sheikh came to make 
 us his adieux, and we left 
 
 regretfully this picturesque and 
 savage spot to regain Médinet. 
 
 ‘“Médinet (which Géréme 
 has reproduced in his picture 
 of The Fayoum) is the principal 
 city of Fayoum, and its name 
 is generally accompanied by that of the province itself. Médinet-el-Fayoum 
 is very important from many points of view; commerce, trade, and farming 
 are organized and administered in due order and even with a certain official 
 cachet. The viceroy has a residence here and the movement takes on a 
 sed in all its 
 the Lake 
 Birket-Keroun, and at this point widens to a veritable river. This size, extra- 
 
 little of the tumultuous character of Cairo. The city is traver 
 
 length by the immense Canal de Joseph, which reaches as far 
 
 ordinary for a canal, has occasioned some discussion as to its real nature, 
 some attributing it to the hand of man and others considering it only a 
 natural deviation of the Nile. Whether Joseph busied himself more or less with 
 the plan, or whether nature alone was the engineer-in-chief, the canal is none 
 the less magnificent ; it is the principal artery of circulation and above all of 
 irrigation of the whole province, from the Lake of Birket-Keroun to the Nile. 
 
 Immense barges and flat-bottomed boats, moored as far as the eye can see along 
 the brick quays, come to seek the grains and straw of the last harvests. 
 
150 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 Numerous caravans compete with this transportation by water and serve to 
 connect Médinet with Cairo. The importance of this locality has decided the 
 government to build a railroad across the sands and shifting dunes, a line even 
 now in process of formation and on which we were soon to have an eventful 
 experience. Médinet is not a second Cairo, with its variety of buildings and 
 costumes; it is a great provincial city, therefore there are few loungers but 
 much animation between the buyers and sellers of the cereals and products of 
 the country ; it is the commerce of the fields on a grand scale. An interminable 
 
 bazaar, almost parallel with the canal, stretches from one end to the other of the 
 ity ; one finds there in miniature the variety and crowding of the shops of Cairo. 
 
 Q 
 
 [he merchants and inhabitants have, however, a remarkable simplicity of 
 naracter. In spite of the uniformed soldiers who mingle with the crowd and 
 
 fe) 
 
 oil the picturesque side, there are always the fellahs with their long blue robes 
 athered up at the belt with a cord, and wearing a white turban or a simple 
 felt. By reason of changes forcibly brought 
 
 D 
 
 08 
 
 rown or white skullcap in coa 
 pout through this greater agglomeration, the women of Médinet are prettier 
 
 » 
 
 and les 
 pense with the traditional veil, which by rights only 
 and, with a beginning of studied coquetry, they know how to dress their hair 
 
 savage than those we have hitherto seen in the province. Many dis- 
 allows the eyes to be seen, 
 
 with taste, mingling with their long blue veils silk stuffs of the most varied 
 tones and ornaments of gold and silver of the finest workmanship. 
 “Twas personally struck,’ says Lenoir, ‘by a superb pair of earrings which 
 
 dangled like a harness on the neck of a girl who was pretty enough but had a 
 
 very bad temper, for I had a great deal of trouble in obtaining these jewels, 
 
 though paying roundly for them in gold. I began by following her, although 
 she walked very rapidly, carrying on her head the eternal earthen jug without 
 which a woman fellah would no longer be a woman; she was going to a little 
 
 fountain which was 
 
 at the extremity of the grand bazaar. The rapidity of her 
 
 pace and the increasing obstructions in the street made me despair of catching 
 up with her. Perceiving that she was followed, and not supposing that it was 
 
 simply for her earrings, she hurried on still more rapidly and finally fled 
 through the bazaar like a gazelle, and wishing not to lose trace of her in the 
 swarming crowd, I trotted and galloped alternately, without which I should 
 have been infinitely distanced. I was just ready to give up the chase when a 
 
 happy chance came to my aid. In her precipitate race, one of her yellow 
 babouches slipped from her foot ; although this precious savate had nothing in 
 
 common with the slipper of Cinderella, she stopped to recover it: but had 
 already picked it up as delicately as if it had been a fan and was about to hand 
 it to her with a fowr de force of grace and distinction. But it had quite an unex- 
 pected effect. What I intended as an act of hazte galanterie was on the contrary 
 very badly misinterpreted ; with only one foot shod, she began to run faster 
 than ever, uttering ejaculations which had nothing of the melodious in their 
 
 sharp syllables. Not wishing to pass for a thief, and hoping to correct this first 
 unfortunate impression she had received, I began to run, holding the yellow 
 slipper in my hand; she was not disheartened, neither was 1! And we would 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 151 
 
 have gone on thus as far as the third cataract, had she not tired first. Finally, 
 boot 
 
 arriving at the fountain, she sat down and consented to accept her heell 
 and even offered me a drink from her jug. Although my profile did not resemble 
 his, I thought of Eleazar and Rebecca. But instead of bringing her jewels and 
 demanding her hand, I only had an affair with her /vo¢, and had just begged 
 her to let me have her ornaments! She was easily coaxed, for I showed her 
 one of the irresistible thirty-sou scarfs, with which I never forgot to provide 
 myself, and, thanks to this talisman of the Occident, I entered directly into 
 business negotiations. “ Bekam fi?’’ 1 said, indicating her long earrings. She 
 
 replied by a flood of words; not understanding the result of her calculation, I 
 
 showed her a bit of Arabic money about the value of two francs. She tool it, 
 gs laid it in my hand and made a pretense of going 
 
 and taking off one of her ri 
 away. This was not enough, and I was determined to have the other; there 
 was a new bargain to conclude and I returned at last to the bazaar with my 
 trophy. The affair had evidently been profitable to her, for, “Va habibi kétir,”’ 
 etc. I had become an ‘‘intimate friend,” and as a souvenir she gave me her 
 yellow babouches into the bargain. I put them on my heart and slipped away 
 from my Cinderella in the crowd of the bazaar. 
 
 ““T found my friends gravely seated in the shop of a tobacco-merchant, 
 seemingly holding a council of war, and debating a question of the gravest im- 
 portance. It was indeed worth the trouble; the merchant was showing them 
 a small sphinx in granite, of the finest style and workmanship, without the 
 
 slightest fracture. This treasure, this antique sculpture, charmed us all, and we 
 
 discussed seriously the price and the conditions under which we could become 
 owners of this beautiful rosy stone. The polish of the granite and the astonish- 
 ing state of preservation of this chef-d’euvre had so struck us that at first we 
 were inclined to question its acfe-de-naissance. But Géréme, grand amateur and 
 archeological expert, vouched for the real value of the object. The price asked, 
 however, seemed to him exorbitant, and the weight of this miniature Pharaoh 
 monolith made him anxious as to the facility of transport back to Bougival. 
 How much has he since regretted the lost occasion, having had leisure to 
 appreciate its value! Few bits of sculpture in the Egyptian Musée of the 
 Louvre have the charm of this little sphinx, which is perhaps still hidden away 
 
 in the shop at Médinet, unless it figures on the clock of some unknown col- 
 lector. Perhaps some Englishman has ordered a pendant in order to have a 
 pair of fire-dogs of the twenty-third dynasty !’” 
 
 We leave this entertaining journal for an instant to describe Gérdme’s picture 
 
 of Le Fayoum. It is a charmingly picturesque bit of landscape, with its spread- 
 
 ing sycamore affording welcome shade for man and beast, and its delicate doum- 
 palms mirrored in the limpid water across which a fellah trips lightly on a single 
 plank, balancing a water jar. Beside the arched walls, with their graceful 
 minarets, swarthy white-turbaned Arabs move to and fro, chatting and chaffer- 
 
 ing, 
 
 or sit upon the embankments of a rude bridge, watching the arrival of a 
 
15 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 chief, who canters gayly up on his snow-white horse, followed by his retinue. 
 A heavily laden ass plods along under the blazing sun, while others are awaiting 
 their burdens near the walls of the city. The scene is full of animation and 
 
 color, and an infinite variety of grouping and outline. As Gautier says: ‘‘ When 
 
 raughtsmen and painters of history apply their science to dandscape, they obtain 
 
 urprising effects. The landscapists by profes 
 
 Dn 
 
 on, too much occupied with 
 details, do not know how to bring out to advantage the contours that exist as 
 
 much in a landscape as they do in the human face.” To return to the records of 
 
 his interesting journey : 
 
 “Like all the cities of Fayoum, Médinet contains a great number of Copts, 
 Christians like ourselves; curious débris of this most ancient population before 
 the establishment of Islamism in Egypt; these Copts, in the exterior practice of 
 their religion, have preserved but little of the customs of the ancient Greek 
 church. The ceremony of the mass has been greatly altered, and the most 
 prominent characteristic of their ca/fe is the fashion in which they eat pork and 
 drink wine right before the nose of Mohammed! An Italian monk is installed at 
 Médinet, the last stone of a Latin monastery of considerable importance, which 
 had for its aim the bringing back to Catholicism of these almost barbarous 
 
 Christians. 
 
 “In our quality of strangers, this good Father regarded us as compatriots 
 and came to make our encampment a most affectionate visit. He gave us very 
 curious information about the Christian population of M 
 
 édinet in general and 
 his flock in particular; invited us to come and see his little rectory, and was 
 melted to tears when we spoke to him of Italy in his native language! He 
 offered us fruits from his garden and wine from his vineyard. In acknowledg- 
 ment of his amiability we presented him with a jar of Liebig’s beef-extract, which 
 recalled to him his distant country and the bouillon he had not heard mentioned 
 
 for forty-four } for roast beef, boiled beef, or beefsteaks are as unknown in 
 
 Egypt as a filet of crocodile in Paris. The buffalo is uneatable and the Egyptian 
 ox, with his twisted feet and horns turned upside down, does not figure on the 
 
 list of food supplies. Thanks to the importance of Médinet, we had a good deal 
 of trouble in finding a place for our tents. A laundry and abattoir, against which 
 we had unconsciously backed up, forced us to move off farther. It was not an 
 sasy affair to find a place, for the proprietors did not seem eager to entertain us. 
 While we were strolling along one of the branches of the canal, our dragoman, 
 like a veritable Solomon, solved the difficulty. 
 
 “A large field, bordered with cacti, presented a most inviting appearance ; 
 only, the middle of this attractive prairie wa 
 
 occupied by stacks of maize, dried 
 and carefully arranged. 
 
 “But a dragoman who has a real saber doesn't care for little details like 
 that! At a sign, the donkey-boys, camel-drivers, domestics, and he himself 
 fell to work ; the hedge was scaled and the bunches of maize flew through the 
 air as if by enchantment. In the twinkling of an eye the place was cleared 
 
ROSE 
 
 1889 
 
 THE 
 
N LEON GEROME. I 
 
 nr 
 a) 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JE 
 
 and our tents peacefully pitched on this field of battle so oddly conquered. 
 We were a little anxious as to the dénowement of this socialistic proceeding, and 
 the interpretation the proprietor would not fail to:put on it. But our drago- 
 ed of a special foupet (cheek !), and a still more Oriental 
 
 man, who was posses 
 imagination, anticipated the danger; he went to see the owner of the field 
 and explained that the prince (Gérome !) whom he escorted was doing him a 
 great honor in thus being willing to install himself on his property ! Charmed 
 by this flattering preference, the proprietor was almost ready to come himself 
 and aid our donkey-boys to pitch his last ricks of straw over the hedge, where 
 our camels had already begun to have a feast! We made several excursions 
 around the country. The extraordinary fertility of this part of the province 
 surpassed anything we could imagine ; several harvests are gathered every year. 
 The clover, for instance, is cut three times, and attains a height unknown in our 
 best land. This rich earth, fertilized by the mud of the Nile, has no need of 
 the rest so necessary for our cultivated lands. Scarcely has the wheat been 
 harvested when the plowshare turns up the soil to prepare it for a new 
 sowing. A camel or an ass generally draws the plow; the buffalo is often 
 reserved to work the wells and saquiéhs. The soil, softened by constant irri 
 gation, is so easily worked that the plow resembles a stool turned over, with 
 
 one foot s 
 which at home seems to try to turn up the bowels of the earth to the light of 
 
 ving as a plowshare. It is not the large, heavy, shining iron 
 
 day. Here it is sometimes a simple bit of wood, which moves along as if by 
 enchantment in the midst of furrows made in advance, which open of them- 
 
 selves before it. Everything in this marvelous country has the appearance 
 of a dream. Where we use steam machinery, the fellah scratches the soil with 
 a match! The ox, which one meets oftener in Syria, is quite rare in this part 
 
 of Egypt. The only ones seen here are generally small, with deformed feet, 
 and very long horns bent back like those of an antelope. An enormous hump 
 over the withers resembles a natural deformity, and only serves better to hold 
 fixed on its head. Its color is drab or yellow, sometimes almost pale 
 
 the harnes 
 
 enough to be called white. Can this ungainly animal claim its family papers 
 as a descendant of the famous Apis? Be that as it may, he is very ungrace- 
 ful. The hieroglyphic paintings and figures that reproduce the sacred bull 
 bear only a feeble resemblance to this strange animal. In this country, which 
 was almost always occupied by pastoral people, we did not see many flocks, and 
 those which we did see did not maintain their reputation ; the little black sheep, 
 with their long heads, resembled goats more than sheep. As far as that goes, the 
 
 Arab, who is not hard to please, finds the wool of camels sufficient for his needs 
 
 and for the coarse texture of his clothing. The finest stuffs which we saw on 
 
 the fellahs, and particularly on the women, come from Cairo, and are sometimes 
 imported from Europe. Blue is the almost uniform coior of all the clothing in 
 
 hese countries. The usual short frock of the donkey-boys, the long robe of 
 
 he deepest to the lightest shade, according to the use of the garment or 
 he uncleanliness of the owner. In the country, this soft tone enhances the 
 
 t 
 the fellahs, the square tunic of the camel-drivers, are invariably blue, from 
 t 
 t 
 
154 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 values of the grays and reds of the soil. The light robes of the women (Aadbéara), 
 and their long veils, of which we took many samples at Senouhrés, are of a 
 much deeper blue than the other costumes. These stuffs, of a finer mixture 
 of silk and wool, possess the flexibility, transparency, and brilliancy of what a 
 Parisian modiste calls grenadine. They lend themselves admirably to the 
 forms they cover, and however peremptory the law of Mohammed in regard to 
 modesty, he certainly did not foresee the nature of the gauzy stuffs which the 
 women so skillfully use to ameliorate this severe decree. Only concealing im- 
 perfections, these conventional veils leave almost nothing to the imagination. 
 
 Often one would even wish there were more, so great a charm is there in the 
 unknown, which surpasses the reality in beauty! The children have for their 
 sole covering the skin furnished them by nature, and which seems to contain 
 them with difficulty. The climate and the vegetable nourishment which forms 
 the substance of their food produce among them a state of precocious obesity most 
 painful to see. This exaggerated inflation deforms them entirely, sometimes to 
 the age of eleven years, when their proportions begin to gain a more symmet- 
 tical form. .... In spite of the charm of our sojourn at Médinet, in spite of 
 the series of ready-made pictures which met us at each step, and seemed to lie 
 in wait for us at the corner of each street and of each bazaar, our expedition to 
 Sinai and Arabia Petreea had been arranged, so that we were forced to begin 
 to think of leaving the province of Fayoum. A ravishing country, on account 
 of its essentially gentle and primitive character, with its inhabitants of the 
 
 Bible and savage vegetation ; a veritable terrestr 
 people, from father to son, continue to put their whole strength into the culti- 
 
 ul paradise, where the pastoral 
 
 vation of their fields. We were going to leave this living page of Genesis to 
 enter again the drowhaha of the restless and unhealthy world which has already 
 invaded Cairo, and, by means of steam, electricity, and asphalt, has succeeded 
 in replacing the natural charms of the ‘Thousand and One Nights’ by the 
 accessories of the Boulevard Malesherbes and the Rue Tronchet! . 
 
 “To commence with steam, we send back our asses, camels, and baggage 
 and go to take our tickets at the station of Médinet-el-Fayoum, The station? 
 Well, there was none as yet, but there is to-day, with beautiful gates painted 
 green, and beautiful employees, brand new. As far as that goes, stations are 
 quite useless. One takes the train where one pleases, along the wayside; it 
 stops with all the ease of a facre taken by the hour, and if there are some 
 stations marked on the indicator, they are placed there solely from a decorative 
 ry often and no matter where—accord- 
 
 point of view! The stations occur ve 
 
 ing to the laws of a most unforeseen fatality. To light a pipe, to pick a blue- 
 
 bell, to shoot a duck, are among the thousand pretexts for the train to make a 
 halt ; if this organ-point lasts too long, you can sit down to breakfast on the 
 
 OF 
 
 track and make coffee there, provided you do not set the cars on fire! About 
 
 nine o'clock in the morning we boarded the train without any other adminis- 
 trative formality than shutting the door after us. We stayed there two hours! 
 the time was not lost, 
 
 Thanks to our sketchbooks, which hardly ever left us 
 and we made numerous sketches of our neighbors under pretext of taking 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 155 
 
 notes for the administration. The good Italian Father came to bid us farewell, 
 and left us with tears in his voice as he thanked us for the pot of Liebig with 
 which we had enameled his existence. At the end of another hour, the train, 
 composed of a series of indescribable old boxes, made a start and we moved off, 
 carrying away from this lovely country, which we quitted with regret, hearts 
 and portfolios crammed with charming souvenirs. 
 
 “The line of the railroad runs almost directly between the sand and the 
 cultivated lands ; thus, from a certain point of view, we could not complain of the 
 slowness of our queer locomotive. At our left the whitish line of the desert ; at 
 the right smiling vegetation and charming views. It was a veritable magic 
 lantern, and we were jolting along in a pleasant dream when the alarm whistle 
 signaled a station—that is to say, a breakdown / First entr’acte in the middle 
 of a field—no more coal! This was the prime reason. At the first village the 
 
 children run to pick up whatever they can find, some trunks of palm trees, 
 
 brushwood, and débris of every description, and we start again, our locomotive 
 digesting with difficulty the varied and odoriferous fuel which has been crammed 
 into its stomach. Another whistle, new halt; no breakdown this time, but 
 a real station, although there is no sign of a building nor an official cap. The 
 village which occasions this second halt lies along the Nile; it is called El- 
 
 Wastah, a pretty little town, regularly laid out and almost clean. It is a point 
 
 of junction on the river with the line from Médinet, where the barges discharge 
 their loads or take on the merchandise brought by the trains. Consequently one 
 sees there a great number of camels which ply between the Nile and the rail- 
 road. ‘This station was no joke; we had two hours before us which we agreeably 
 spent in breakfasting on the grass under the palm trees, in company of all the 
 dogs of the village, who respectfully ranged themselves around us, begging for 
 a chicken or duck bone. Escorted by these unbidden guests, we strolled throug 
 
 ‘S) 
 
 El-Wastah. The barges, gracefully grouped, lend a charming animation to this 
 little port. On the invitation of the owner we visited a lovely pleasure boat, 
 
 which was only waiting for roving amateurs to descend or ascend the river; but, 
 
 faithful to our cardboard train, we left these enchanted shores to climb again 
 into our box. We were off; but too soon, a whistle ; breakdown! stop again! 
 no more fuel! and right out in the open country, as far from Gyzéh as we are 
 from El-Wastah! We finished by accommodating ourselves to this Way of the 
 Cross; we got out with our guns. The engineer declared he had just enough 
 This 
 
 combustibles to go alone with his machine to look for reinforcements 
 proposition was unanimously adopted without any one being consulted ; and he 
 left us there in the lurch. Several stout gentlemen in clean tarbouchs, who 
 must have been personages of importance, obtained the favor of accompanying 
 the engineer, but they fared badly, for the machine itself had to stop farther on 
 right in among the sand hills. It was doubtless one of these stout privileged 
 functionaries who went to Gyzéh on foot and persuaded the council of adminis- 
 tration to send first for the locomotive, and afterward to think of the travelers 
 who were dying of hunger in the open air. We had a six hours’ wait, during 
 which we struggled with famine, unable even to dance attendance at the buffet. 
 
156 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 Several of us went off hunting and returned with one duck, eight sparrows, and 
 a rat! We were content. Our ingenious dragoman had gathered up some 
 precious fragments of fuel which had fallen from the locomotive along the 
 track, and succeeded in furnishing us with a second-hand supper with the 
 remains of the chicken and the coffee of the morning. 
 
 “The night had come; with closed doors we were snoring, careless of the 
 future, without thinking that another train coming from behind might crash 
 into us; but Mohammed watched over us. Toward ten o'clock in the evening, a 
 locomotive, with piercing shrieks from its whistle, hooked on to our coupés and 
 finally dragged us out of this hopeless solitude. We were fairly dazzled on our 
 awakening; for a station, lighted by gas, transported us suddenly into the heart 
 of the most trivial European civilization, and, half-asleep, we were almost ready 
 to ask for the omnibus for the Palais Royale! But we were far enough from 
 it; for it was ancient Gyzéh at which we had just sleepily alighted, and for an 
 
 omnibus there was a boat to take us across the Nile below the Isle of Roudah. 
 A steeple chase soon organized itself between the passengers, to get the last 
 places on board the tiny boat which was getting up steam several hundred paces 
 from the station. Donkeys were ready for us on the other side, and, preceded by 
 the donkey-boys and their fanows, we committed ourselves and our beasts to the 
 care of Heaven as faras the hotel. After so varied a series of emotions, a 
 we slept while eating, and, had our bed- 
 
 restorative supper did not come amiss 
 
 rooms not been aw premier, we would have been found snoring on the table the 
 next day. Our dear invalid was better and we were going to be able to re- 
 
 commence our wanderings. : 
 
 “ By daybreak we had found our way to the superb Avenue of Choubrah, a 
 perfect vault of verdure, more than three kilometers long. The sycamores and 
 acacias which form a hedge on both sides of the road, and whose knotty branches 
 
 traordinary dimensions. A delightful gallop of an 
 
 interlace overhead, are of e 
 hour and a half brought us to the door of a charming villa, the chief attraction 
 of which was a real atelier, with easels, canvases, everything necessary to paint 
 after nature. An atelier on the bank of the Nile! a dream realized, and all the 
 yalaces of the pashas were not worth this enormous window with its large 
 green curtains! We received a most cordial welcome and could speedily have 
 forgotten that we were in Egypt, had not the Nile and the Pyramids lain before 
 our eyes. The disk of the moon had arrived at its stage of most accentuated 
 eanness, and, in consequence, our cavalcade that evening met with various 
 umbles into pools and holes, which forcibly retarded our return to Cairo. We 
 
 arrived looking like thieves, and sundry kicks were necessary before we suc- 
 ceeded in having our own doors opened and escaped being devoured by the dogs 
 of our watchman. 
 
 “The dogs of Cairo (of which Géréme has given us various specimens, 
 notably in the picture entitled 4 Warm Day in Cairo) deserve honorable 
 mention, not for the elegance of their forms but on account of the important 
 role they play in the city and in every particular street. Black and drab, they 
 resemble wolves and jackals more than dogs, They are the real guardians 
 
REX TIBICEN. 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GE 
 
 159 
 
 of the city at an hour when every honest man is supposed to be asleep and 
 
 only rascals abroad. They evidently place on the 
 who continue their habits of dining out, going to 
 
 latter list all Europeans 
 a ball and coming home 
 
 late. In order to return alive from these various operations, it is prudent to 
 
 go on ass-back, accompanied by a stout bludgeon o 
 the middle of the road is also wise, for if you but 
 
 to the care of these o/osses, you expose yourself to 
 
 and undeserved bites. The expression ‘ Jezebel devou 
 
 r a revolver. To keep to 
 graze the shops confided 
 he most unequal struggle 
 red by dogs,’ which I have 
 
 Ss 
 
 always considered as a sort of poetical exaggeration, is nothing of the kind; 
 
 it is easily explicable when one sees these ferocious animals who devour each 
 
 other when enough old women do not tumble from t 
 
 There exists 
 
 he windows 
 
 a sort of canine federation which assigns to each his street and his quarter ; 
 
 if a dog finds himself out of his domain, all those 
 
 in the strange street fall 
 
 on him and tear him to shreds. It is a corporation with a regular syndicate 
 
 and laws. For the maintenance of this police, the 
 
 butcher in each street has 
 
 charge of souls and stomachs ; he owes all his débris to the dogs of his quarter, 
 and the hour of distribution gives rise to most unexpected groupings, needy 
 families always occupying the front row. 
 
 “We wi 
 
 during our first stay in Cairo. The bazaar being close to our hotel, we began 
 
 ned to carefully examine all that we had but obtained a glimpse of 
 
 there. At the end of the Mouski, a wide covered way divides the quarter where 
 all these bazaars seem to be grouped. At the left are the jewelers, on the right 
 the stuffs, carpets, shoes, and costumes of every description ; farther on, the sad- 
 
 dlers’ bazaar, where one finds harness, saddles, and all the accessories of travel. 
 (Géréme’s picture, Buying a Bridle, otherwise known as dt? the Saddlery, repro- 
 duces this bazaar and gives us the portrait of a superb white horse to boot.) But 
 the so-called bazaar of arms is absurd, for the Hotel Drouot has bought up the 
 greater part of these Eastern bibelots de luxe. We saw at Cairo only horrible 
 modern blades coming from Brussels or England, which betrayed by their 
 brilliancy their trumpery European origin. To say that there were none genu- 
 ine or beautiful would be to exaggerate, but they were rare. The jewelers’ 
 
 bazaar offered the most unique effects. It is not on a level with the rest of the 
 street ; one is forced to descend several steps and squeeze in with the crowd that 
 always blocks up the narrow door. It is an immense caravansary rather than a 
 bazaar. Penned up like animals in a show, each goldsmith has his quarters, 
 
 his mysterious coffers, his weighing apparatus, his pipe, and his spectacles. In 
 this marvelous den we laid in an abundant stock of souvenirs in the shape of 
 bracelets, collars, etc. The premium accorded in the Orient to all European 
 money, and French in particular, gives rise here to a very simple mode of pay- 
 ment. The jewelry is placed in one s 
 
 ale, your gold in the other, for such is 
 their mode of establishing an equilibrium between their merchandise and your 
 twenty-franc pieces ; for in the jewelry of nearly uniform fabrication the work- 
 manship does not count. From the jewelers’, we crossed to the stuffs and vest- 
 ments; pelisses, waistcoats, long robes for men, everything was heaped together 
 and hung up in the greatest disorder. : 
 
160 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 with fitted sleeves are the two garments most 
 The abayes are the winter mantles which 
 
 “The abaves and long robes 
 generally worn in Egypt and Sy 
 the A 
 ing of a large square piece of cloth, is cut with biblical simplicity; it is the 
 
 ib puts on as a dernier ressort against the cold. This garment, consist- 
 
 tunic of the Hebrews, a sack with square openings for the head, arms, and legs. 
 
 g, has succeeded in making of this 
 
 g 
 
 Luxury, which takes possession of everythin 
 
 fe) 
 
 assic vestment a real objet dart, by the nature of the texture and the incom- 
 parable embroideries with which it is sometimes entirely covered; the abaye 
 of the camel-driver has no other ornament than two great brown stripes which 
 run from one end to the other. In the countries farther away from Cairo, the 
 
 abaye has other shades. In the environs of Petra, these large stripes are blue, 
 and the garment is sometimes lined with furs, but in the desert the primitive 
 color of the stuff is generally simplified by the wear and tear and most uni- 
 form dirtiness. The abayes in green silk, ornamented with embroideries in 
 silver, produce a ravishing effect. There are samples for every taste, from 
 black embroidered with gold, to the most delicate shades. One finds here also 
 a complete assortment of kouffies in every style. The waistcoats, vests, tunics, 
 and robes hardly ever change their forms, but the stuffs with their silky 
 reflections vary infinitely and produce always new effects. Half-wool, half- 
 cotton, these stuffs give the effect of being made of silk; being profusely 
 
 gummed and glazed, they lose much by being put in water. The sleeves of 
 these garments, widening like a funnel, seem at first sight as if they would 
 restrain the freedom of the arm; but this surplus stuff, falling over the hands, 
 preserves them from the painful effects of the sun. These ample costumes, 
 which seem to be made only to astonish strangers and embarrass those who 
 wear them, are, on the contrary, admirably adapted to the requirements of the 
 most natural laws of hygiene in a country where one struggles continually 
 against a torrid heat. The silk stuffs in which the Arabs literally swathe their 
 heads, far from stifling them, produce a refreshing coolness ; the more an Arab 
 is covered with loose woolen garments, the less 
 
 he suffers from the sun. 
 
 s for these admi- 
 rable rugs, which are made in Persia and sold in great quantities in Cairo. The 
 
 o go on to the Gobelins. Several of us had a weakne 
 
 Cour de Tapis (reproduced in Géréme’s famous Carfet-Merchant), aside from 
 the marvels sold there, is in itself very interesting, presenting one of the most 
 picturesque interiors to be found in Cairo. The installations of the merchants, 
 their cupboards and coffres de réserve, are veritable che/s-d’euvre of sculpture. 
 Verandas in carved wood shield the shops from too much light, and this twilight, 
 
 skillfully managed, only brought out more admirably the striking colors of these 
 eautiful carpets. We had the primeurs of the recently arrived new cargo and 
 the chance was too good to be lost. It was a real orgy ; they must have taken us 
 for commission-merchants, and nothing arrested our purchases but the expensive 
 question of transportation of all these riches. 
 
 “Feeling the need of repose, we sought quarters that would be well worth 
 studying meanwhile, and where the divans and coffee would bear some pro- 
 
 yortion to the importance of our cawas. We therefore decided to visit the 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 161 
 
 Persian ambassador, to refresh ourselves at his expense and do him honor! 
 
 These visits, which are made so familiarly at home, take on here in the Orient 
 
 a majestic and official character almost comical. 
 do not know; in your character of stranger, he 
 bonbons and deluges you with coffee, and it is h 
 the honor you have shown him. On our way we 
 of reclining on luxurious divans, but we had 1 
 European civilization. The ambassador invitec 
 
 mahogany chairs, persuaded, doubt 
 
 desires by this delicate attention. These fitting adornments of a ready-furnished 
 
 apartment contrasted singularly with the Orient. 
 
 abode ; fountains of porphyry, colonnades of mar 
 
 gold and inlaid with tortoise-shell, made of this enchanted palace a queer 
 
 as 
 
 sembly of the richest products of the Orient an 
 our European furnishings. In spite of our disap 
 
 , that he was filling up the measure of our 
 
 You go to visit somebody you 
 gorges you with liqueurs anc 
 e that is profuse in thanks for 
 sromised ourselves the pleasure 
 not calculated the progress of 
 us to sit down on horrible 
 
 al richness of this sumptuous 
 ple, paintings touched up with 
 
 d the commonest trivialities of 
 
 »ointment in finding ourselves 
 
 seated as if we were at home, we were none the less charmed by the princely 
 
 welcome we received. After the customary compliments, the ambassador pre- 
 
 sented to us his sons, very distinguished-looking young people, whose ward- 
 robes were supplied by Dusautoy, and who had nothing of the Persian about 
 them save their pointed caps of black cloth. The interpreter explained to us 
 how complete their education was, and rather maliciously added, just at the end 
 of our visit, that they spoke French admirably! Happily, we had not indulged 
 in too many indiscreet reflections suggested by some details of this strange 
 interior. We visited in order the chambers, the gardens, and the stables, 
 
 veritable marvels « 
 
 of Asiatic luxury with which 
 
 themselves, but which is almost always spoiled 
 some absurd prosaic accessory. The bath room, 
 
 painted wooden wa 
 
 inscoting and ceilings, excited 
 
 admiration. In going out, after having taken lea 
 
 he Persians love to surround 
 by some 6ibe/o¢t in bad taste or 
 all in Persian faience, and the 
 our particular and enthusiastic 
 ve of our hosts, we ran against 
 
 a black colossus who was half-concealed by the obscurity of the pas 
 
 5 loyy tare 
 jingling of his chains we recognized that it was a eunuch decorated with jewels 
 like a Spanish mwlet. (Gérome’s picture of the Grand White Eunuch, with its 
 delicious glimpse of the harem in the background, not vouchsafed to the visitors 
 that day, is a reminiscence of this encounter.) Guardian of the special harem of 
 
 the ambassador, this splendid figure was a fair type of these extraordinary beings, 
 whom we had already remarked at Cairo. Clothed in gaudy stuffs, this living 
 baldachino was literally covered with jewels, collars, bracelets, and rings, that 
 announced his presence from afar. He saluted us, not understanding the com- 
 passion with which his social position inspired us. A saber longer than himself 
 dragged at the end of a silk scarf and made us think of Blue-Beard ; therefore 
 we did not lounge in that corridor for any length of time! Women only have 
 
 the privilege of entering these harems, which have been described by some 
 
 imaginative writers in terms more or less improbable and false. 
 “Tn the Orient, the harem is more of a luxury than a social institution, and 
 is supported more through vanity than love of debauch. The harem is the 
 
162 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 barometer of the fortune of every important personage, and his income is esti- 
 
 mated more according to the number of women which he counts in his gvnécée, 
 
 than of the horses in his stables. A fair valuation can be made by counting the 
 number of eunuchs at the door. As to the life of the harem, we have had for a 
 long time very incomplete glimpses given by visitors authorized to penetrate the 
 ster of the celebrated Egyptologist Lane has made a very 
 
 sanctum. The 
 interesting réswmé of all that we could see, tell, or write on this subject. The 
 seclusion of the women of the harem has been much exaggerated, for, although 
 men can never gain admittance there, the women have every facility for going to 
 the bath or to visit among themselves. How often did we meet them on their 
 richly caparisoned asses, moving freely through the streets, simply preceded by 
 
 a sais ora slave. The women one does not see in the Orient are evidently the 
 most beautiful; those one sees are more strange-looking than pretty ; and those 
 
 whom one regrets to have seen, show themselves the most freely! The names of 
 
 = 
 
 ae women are not very varied; thanks to this simplification, one can easily 
 attain the favor of seeing the physiognomies of the feminine inhabitants of an 
 
 entire quarter. ‘Fatma! Fatma!’ you cry at hazard in the street, and fifteen 
 
 o twenty Fatmas automatically open the ventilators of the moucharabiéhs like 
 
 the birds in a cuckoo-clock! In this collection, several certainly merit the 
 
 trouble of this rude subterfuge. It was a Fatma whom we persuaded to come 
 and pose for us. It was a new thing for her, and in our honor she put on all 
 her richest ornaments. A tall, beautiful girl, her fine, expressive head was a 
 thorough type of the best Egyptian woman ; her sole fault was that she drank 
 1 
 
 araki like a camel-driver and smoked like a Swiss! But one cannot have every- 
 
 thing. The most absurd greediness and childishness form the particular 
 
 characteristics of these naive and almost savage natures, which are brought up 
 like rare birds, or trained animals, to sing, dance, drink, smoke, and sleep. 
 Fatma did not fear to trample underfoot that special law of the Prophet that 
 
 forbids photog 
 
 raphy and all reproduction of the human figure. She carried 
 away sufficient and varied bakchichs to immortalize our memory in her heart, 
 and she fell heir to the whole stock of thirty-sou scarfs that had not been given 
 away in Fayoum, and which would have no temptations for the austere monks 
 of Sinai. 
 
 “One of the chief ceremonies of the Mu 
 
 ulman religion happened to coin- 
 cide with our stay in Cairo and formed one of the most impressive souvenirs of 
 our journey, the Departure of the Carpet (kisweh) for Mecca. This carpet is the 
 annual offering of the Viceroy to the mosque of the holy city of the Prophet ; 
 a royal present which gives to the departure of the caravan a most 
 imposing official and religious character. The day before, the whole city is a 
 prey to the most unaccustomed excitement; curious sightseers go to reserve 
 their places, and pilgrims gather at the spot from which the caravan is to take 
 its departure the next day. It is near the Porte de la Victoire that the cor/ége 
 
 for the travelers, and even the 
 simple baggage-camels, are the objects of the admiration and attention of the 
 
 assembles. Richly harnessed, the dromedari 
 
 entire population ; the fanatics crowd around the animals and seem to wish to 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON G 
 
 sanctify themselves by contact with them. 
 
 OME. 16 
 
 The religious character of this féte 
 
 exacts the greatest reserve on the part of the Europeans who wish to observe 
 it; we were mounted on asses, and to make some concession to the Prophet we 
 had put on for the first time the ordinary tarbouch, that absurd red skull-cap 
 imported into Europe by pashas in disgrace and by photographs ad libitum. 
 
 The place in front of t 
 review this procession. 
 
 on in the same direction, 
 could breast this deluge of humanity. 
 s freshly painted 
 1e midst of all t 
 
 blue robes, with their nai 
 to be the most eager in t 
 the zaghrouta,a sort of 
 is the most ordinary mo 
 
 street-corner, animated groups escorted t 
 
 On our way we e 
 
 going toward the genera 
 way through the crowd 
 
 he citadel was t 
 
 and it was not 
 
 hen-like cluckin 
 
 rendezvous , Ca 
 for the little brot 
 
 withot 
 T 
 and al 
 ris tum 
 
 de of expressing their religious enthusiasm. 
 
 was, ar 
 herhooc 
 
 ing thumps to the children, dogs, and asses who 
 
 the way quickly enoug 
 
 orchestra. Following t 
 
 Behind 
 instruments, the darabouka, the cymba 
 
 ae 
 
 nein WA 
 
 them 
 
 s, and 
 uwlémas, the d 
 
 tionaries of the mosque of the quarter escorting 
 
 form a part of the grand 
 
 yrocessions, and by the a 
 
 ast able to reach the P. 
 
 pect 
 it 
 
 at our right, the pers 
 
 oehind, the Mosque o 
 shadow. 
 curious eyes. As in 
 
 ylockades we arrived 
 
 fanatic demonstrations o 
 
 caravan. 
 
 just in time. 
 
 if the 
 
 crowd. 
 
 ace Rouméileh, where t 
 we had ever witnessed awaited us. 
 
 “The citadel was before us, its picturesque 
 ctive of Mokattam and t 
 Ha 
 
 In this magnificent framework this picture was to present itself to our 
 
 A hedge ¢ 
 
 Finally 
 
 he superb position we had chosen to 
 ncountered a compact crowd struggling 
 
 it much hustling that our asses 
 
 he women, clad in their most beautiful 
 
 1 their jewels displayed, seemed 
 
 ult. Under such circumstances 
 
 g which they make with their tongues, 
 
 At each 
 
 1e parts of the procession which were 
 
 med with courbaches, opened a 
 they preceded, freely distribut- 
 did not take themselves out of 
 
 marched the musicians with their 
 
 the flutes which form their 
 
 ervishes, and the other func- 
 
 the pilgrims who were going to 
 ry twenty pac 
 
 Stopped ever s by these smaller 
 
 ulways increasing proportions of the crowd, we were at 
 
 he most extraordinary spectacle 
 
 door richly draped with flags ; 
 
 he first mosques of the caliphs ; 
 
 ssan, which covered the entire place with its gigantic 
 
 all complicated fétes, there was a delay, but in spite of the 
 
 »f soldiers stretched the whole 
 
 ength of the place, to free the path of the procession and protect it from the 
 
 , the cannon from the citadel 
 
 sounded the departure and the entire city, perched on its terraces, replied by the 
 
 most frightful cries o 
 
 themselv 
 
 in the dust ; the women struck up their c 
 
 f joy ; some raised their arms to heaven, others prostrated 
 
 hant, or rather their pierc- 
 
 ing cries of satisfaction, the camels and the asses mingled their guttural obser- 
 
 vations with the concert, and the noise was overpowering. 
 
 court equipages began. 
 
 artillery, these vehicles, decked out with plumes anc 
 long and tedious prelude to the real process 
 
 Preceded by detachments 
 
 ion, 
 
 The procession of 
 
 of military, infantry and 
 gildin 
 
 o 
 g, 
 
 furnished only a 
 
 while the cannon, sounding at 
 
 intervals, accentuated the official and almost dramatic side of this strange 
 
 ceremony. 
 
 the direction of the bazaar which connects the grand 
 
 that of the citadel. 
 
 Suddenly the cries redoubled, heads turned with 
 
 feverish haste in 
 alace of Karaméidan with 
 
 The terraces, the minarets, and the ruined walls seemed to 
 
164 
 
 sink under the weight of 
 that these worm-eaten cor 
 The 
 
 cries dominating the tumult. 
 dragoman signaled us to conceal our pipes, for the 
 
 men, entirely nude and 
 
 and surrounded by four 
 embroideries in gold an 
 
 was almost entirely hidd 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 the multitudes piled up on them, and it was strange 
 nstructions did not crumble under this agitated crowd. 
 
 women were number one in this universal row, their shrill and prolonged 
 
 Our ears rang, our 
 
 ses pranced, and our 
 
 arpet we Two 
 executing extraordinary leaps, preceded the cor/ége ; 
 these two lunatics are what 
 
 approaching. 
 
 are called saints, 
 religious and venerable personages who embrace 
 for want more to their 
 
 furnish 
 
 this career of a trade 
 
 taste. The piety of the faithful, who 
 them with everythin 
 in regard to their 
 of a cord 
 
 o 
 12) 
 
 had economized to-day 
 
 wardrobe, which consisted 
 
 Brilliant 
 seconded by the 
 ifficulty 
 kept back the crowd, which precipitated itself 
 the of 
 dromedary, bearer 
 gift of the 
 Entirely hidden und 
 
 around the waist. 
 numerous cawas, 
 
 cava- 
 
 liers and 
 
 soldiers of the regular army, with d 
 
 white 
 GH Wane 
 pilgrims. 
 its 
 
 under feet the 
 
 the 
 precious 
 
 er ormma- 
 
 j ments of brocade and gold, this 
 
 magnificent animal advanced with 
 
 difficulty under the of 
 
 the enormous 
 
 weight 
 
 catafalque which 
 
 swayed slowly on its back. In 
 of 
 
 was surmounted by 
 
 form a tent, this monument 
 
 a rich cross 
 
 other turrets; the entire canopy was sparkling with 
 
 d precious stones. The stuff itself, of green silk, 
 en by this mass of riches. The head of the drome- 
 dary was loaded down with ostrich-plumes and pompons of ‘silk and mar- 
 
 velous embroideries. 
 general tones of the cat 
 from a distance a most 
 
 “Then came 
 
 beauty ; these men, half 
 tance from the carpet; t 
 
 a 
 the mu 
 
 The rest of its trappings were in harmony with the 
 
 afalque, which, entirely of green and gold, produced 
 
 azzling effect. 
 sicians mounted on dromedaries of every shade of 
 nude, executed an infernal music at a little dis- 
 
 heir animals were painted with henna and covered 
 
 with ornaments in gaudy colors. These unhappy creatures gave themselves 
 up, with an indescribable zeal, to the deafening réle confided to them. 
 Licensed, doubtless, for the trade, some of them presented curious examples 
 
 of deformity ; their chee 
 tated by the blowing of 
 ment, such fabulous pro 
 each side of the hump 
 
 ks, immoderately distended by the inflation necess 
 
 their mwsefles, seemed to form a part of the instru- 
 portions did they attain. Immense drums, placed on 
 
 of the camel, recalled our ancient kettle-drummers ; 
 
 a great quantity of shri 
 
 fifes competed with the trumpets and cymbals and 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 16 
 
 n 
 
 rent the air till the blood rushed to our ears. But it seems that the excellence 
 of these maéstri is measured by the row they make. 
 
 “The camel carrying the carpet made a long pause on the square. Without 
 decreasing in the slightest degree the inflation of their cheeks, the musicians, 
 more deafening than ever, ranged themselves on each side. This halt per- 
 mitted us to note conscientiously the details of this strange and magnificent féte. 
 The rest of the procession then advanced to the center of the square, several 
 paces from us. A monstrous saz/on, entirely nude, opened the march. (In his 
 Santon before the Door of a Mosque, Gérome has skillfully represented one of 
 these extraordinary creatures.) The dromedary on which he balanced himself 
 was painted with henna and entirely covered by brilliant cloths and trappings. 
 The crowd, drunk with fanaticism, broke through the line of soldiers which 
 
 guarded the passage of the caravan; men, women, and children rushed to kis 
 the feet, the knees, the hands of this horrible monster, who rolled in fat on his 
 gilded saddle. The height to which he was hoisted prevented the greater part of 
 the faithful from reaching more than his sacred feet. As far as that goes, the 
 santon, but little relishing the veneration of the crowd, agitated himself like a 
 dog tormented by flies. Exasperated, doubtless, by the touches lavished on him 
 by the crowd, he distributed from time to time the most formidable kicks to 
 those whose fervor tickled too much. Balancing himself, he seemed to keep 
 time to the music, as if the dromedary was still on the march. Was it a desire 
 
 to get away or impatience to return to Mecca? It was difficult to read in this 
 swollen and oily visage, almost buried under the tangled locks which fell over 
 
 it, and which had not been combed for an age. The audacity with which the 
 women in particular scaled the hedge of cawas and sapties in order to reach this 
 hideous baboon, was remarkable. The most marvelous and beneficent proper- 
 ties are ascribed to mere contact with this lump of melting grease. They 
 touched him with everything they owned that was precious to them, their 
 clothing, their jewels, their children, to restore their health or preserve them 
 from all misfortune in the future. Those who were too small or too feeble to 
 reach the great toes of this hippopotamus, hung on to the dromedary and satiated 
 him with their transports of ferocious piety. The unhappy beast understood 
 nothing of this new kind of currying bestowed on him by these savages, who 
 seemed to wish to devour him alive. 
 
 “Tt is at once curious and sad to see what a point human folly will reach 
 when consecrated and rendered forever incurable by an idiotic and barbarous 
 religion. After having observed all the repulsive details of this religious orgy, 
 the rest of the caravan filed before us, richly equipped, the pilgrims having 
 vied with each other in luxurious display and new inventions; some of them, 
 
 sheltered in a sort of cave covered with awnings, displayed th Oriental art 
 
 in decorating these little traveling habitations. The richest stuffs and emblem- 
 atic flags in brilliant colors tastefully adorned these motley cots. Others, 
 simply covered by the tent canvas, were remarkable, however, on account of 
 the accessories necessitated by the long journey, which dangled from every 
 side; gargoulettes, narghiléhs, lances, and armes de luxe, shields, bags of provi- 
 
166 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 sions, all were suspended like trophies on the flanks of the animal, which seemed 
 to be impressed with a sense of its importance on account of all it carried 
 on its back. After a march of two hours came the poor pilgrims, who, 
 trusting in the protection of the Prophet, were going to make this long and 
 painful journey on foot. They were not very young, and in the ranks was 
 more than one very old man who seemed more likely to die on the way, 
 or at least at his journey’s end, than to return. Among these unhappy crea- 
 
 tures we noticed a great number wearing the green turban, a distinctive sign 
 
 of the faithful who had already made the pilgrimage to the saaba of the 
 
 Prophet. Several more santons figured in this long proc yn, all horribly 
 ugly ; this singular profession of traveling santon is transmitted from father 
 
 to son. One of them was the object of special ovations, and one of our 
 
 donkey-drivers, very 
 
 well posted in regard to the féte, being questioned, 
 explained to us that this unfortunate had already made the journey to Mecca 
 seven times and in the same costume! By the odor we might have divined 
 the seven times concentrated sanctity of this lump of lard! 3ut we dogs 
 of Christians were not connoisseurs! Our donkey-boy begged permission to go 
 and venerate this monstrosity ; more supple than a serpent, he slipped through 
 the crowd and between the legs of the soldiers, and, hanging on like a mussel 
 to the calf of this holy personage, he gave himself an indigestion of humid 
 piety. But everything passes, even a caravan; the féte was at an end, and 
 we returned thoroughly astonished by these strange scenes, and _ still wonder- 
 ing at the marvels of decoration and sise-en-scéne, but profoundly commiser- 
 
 ating the actors; the chief characters had played /oo we// their roles in this 
 
 apotheosis of brutishnes 
 
 “But we must be thinking of Sinai, of Moses, of the manna of the Hebrews, 
 
 and go to expiate all our mundane pleasu in the privations, the sand, the 
 fasting, the fleas, and the famine that await us in the desert. ‘Be serious!’ 
 says our little band to itself, feeling all the gravity of this second expedition ; 
 
 teal dromedaries and a real desert, without the slightest vestige of a ‘Restau- 
 
 rant Peters,’ this was the prospect which lay before us and which some of 
 us considered with no little apprehension. The railroad had brought us across 
 
 the sands to the dull and dirty little city of Suez. Our tents and superb drome- 
 daries were to arrive only the next day; for the time being we had no other 
 resource but the Hotel Anglais, already flooded with travelers bound for Indo- 
 China and Japan. Our unhappy fate made our arrival coincide with a near 
 departure and the hotel was full. ‘Comf/et,’ ironically cried from an upper 
 story a garcgon redder than the sea baptized by this name. We were deter- 
 mined, however, not to sleep out of doors nor in the city; we entered into 
 negotiations and our dragoman obtained the favor of having beds made up 
 
 on the divans in the salon. But when we came in to claim our half-beds, 
 a dozen Englishmen were snoring there in chorus. Their ungracious refusal 
 to disturb themselves for our benefit engendered all manner of designs in the 
 heads of our band, which exerted itself all night long in the most outlandish 
 inventions. The boots, ranged in battle array on the table of the salon, pro- 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 167 
 
 jected fantastic shadows into the corners, and some of us could not resist the 
 temptation of sketching them; as if by enchantment, umbrellas were spread, 
 color-boxes opened, and, in the scantiest of apparel, the merits of painting by 
 ght were debated! Having some visits to make the next day, we had 
 stipulated for some brushing and blacking. But as we possessed in the cara- 
 
 gasli 
 
 van a charming mélange of yellow boots, leggings, and black boots, which did 
 
 not call for the same kind of treatment, we had arranged that all the boots 
 
 which needed to be dZac, 
 
 @ should be placed at daybreak outside the door of 
 the salon. A diabolical idea occurred to one of us and was put in execution. 
 Like the lance of Saul, a single yellow boot was abstracted from each of the 
 selfish sleepers and traitorously mixed in with ours; bakchich was forthcom- 
 ing, 
 
 polished, each was placed silently at its post and we stole away, picturing to 
 
 and the blacking was not spared! When they returned, shining and 
 
 ourselves the scene that would follow the awakening ! d 
 
 “The desert which separates Cairo from Suez has a very peculiar aspect, 
 owing to the incredible mobility of the sand. This white, impalpable dust 
 undergoes the strangest transformations, following the slightest caprices of the 
 wind. Elevating itself sometimes into mountains of great height, sometimes into 
 a series of domes, the same sand presents the next day the appearance of an 
 immense level plain. The crossing is very painful for travelers and even for 
 the dromedaries, who, plunging in to their knees, can only move at a very slow 
 pace. To-day the railroad simplifi 
 
 this first stage of the journey out of Egypt, 
 but if commerce and busy travelers gain time, the real amateurs of the Orient 
 lose one of the most interesting points of the desert. The sands, of a brilliant 
 
 whiteness, partake in an extraordinary degree of the various colorings of the sky 
 
 at different hours of the day. In the morning they are rosy, with violet shadows ; 
 in the afternoon the direct sunlight gives them back their whiten 
 
 , softened by 
 gray and golden tones of the most brilliant effect. In the evening, during the 
 short period of the twilight, they reflect like metallic plaques the incandescent 
 tones of the setting sun; they are not then mountains of snow, but of fire; 
 
 perpetually agitated, the sand is always subject to a change of place visible to the 
 naked eye and occurring with frightful rapidity. On the crest of these moun- 
 tains the slightest breath of wind produces an effect like the melting of snow; 
 
 the sand sinks away, always with imperceptible clouds on its surface, whose 
 
 substance is treacherous and impalpab How many caravans have been and 
 
 @ 
 
 will be its victims! But to return to Suez. 
 
 “To stroll through the bazaar and the city, and complete our laying-in of 
 supplies for the journey, occupied the day till the arrival of our caravan and our 
 tents. Our encampment, with its military guard, was established to the north- 
 west of the city, where we were protected from its miasma, and, above all, from 
 
 its inhabitants. Suez at this time was of a repulsive uncleanliness, and no 
 
 historical monument makes up for this carelessness. The simple house occupied 
 by General Bonaparte offers the sole pilgrimage to make. The tide was high 
 
 and the holy patriarch having forgotten to leave us his rod, it was in a charming 
 little pleasure boat belonging to the Compagnie du Canal that we crossed the 
 
168 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 Red Sea, with dry feet, at the very spot where Pharaoh’s artillery had been 
 entirely submerged! Our caravan had made the grand tour in the morning. 
 We passed through the sheds of a section of the work on the Isthmus, where the 
 workmen, a majority of them Frenchmen, gave us the most cordial welcome ; 
 they offered us a ravishing little Syrian dog, and being assured that it would 
 follow us in the desert, we put it in a leash and confided it to one of the ser- 
 vants. Here it was that we made at last the acquaintance of our superb mounts. 
 we could 
 
 The Viceroy had graciously offered them to Géréme for our journey 
 
 ciate the value of these incomparably trained dromedarie 
 
 soon appr , to whom 
 we owed the rapidity of our journeying and our consequent ability to spend a 
 longer time at each encampment. In presence of these magnificent animals anc 
 
 their guardians, it was not without a sli; 
 
 t feeling of fear that the novices 
 measured the height of their new situation. The largest of the animals 
 measured 3 meters 25 centimeters to the saddle-bow, and was assigned to Lenoir, 
 he being the youngest of the party. The camels had all been made to knee 
 down; the moment we were seated on the saddle, the animal instantly rose up 
 with an excess of politeness we would gladly have dispensed with, for his zea 
 in this operation produced the most frightful swaying imaginable on account of 
 the inequality of length which exists between the hind and fore legs of this 
 beast. But the uneasiness experienced, when riding a camel, has been greatly 
 
 exaggerated, and the resistance which one makes to the natural movement of 
 
 the saddle is the sole cause of the disagreeable effects sometimes occurring on 
 
 these ships of the desert. It is not a rolling, properly so-called, but a very 
 
 regular and very supportable pitching. Habit soon made us regard this new 
 mode of locomotion as the most natural in the world, and we ended by displays 
 of the haute école which excited the admiration of our escort. 
 
 “Our first halting-place was not far away, and we soon reached Ain-Mouca, 
 the springs of Moses. We entered the desert by dunes of extremely fine white 
 sand, which greatly diminished the fatigue consequent on our first séazce on a 
 movable hump; we left behind us Suez, which soon disappeared behind the 
 steep flanks of the Djebel-Attaka; this mountain in red tones dominates the 
 route and melts away in the distance on the southern side of the sea that reflects 
 its warm tints. The absolute absence of decent drinking-water at Suez gives a 
 great importance to five springs which we found at this camping-ground. The 
 nature of the soil and the presence of this water have favored vegetation there ; 
 graceful palms and clusters of trees sheltered the springs; two natives had made 
 little gardens there and constituted the entire population of this refreshing little 
 It was there we passed our first night in the desert, the very thought 
 
 quarter. 
 of which was full of charm.” 
 
 Apropos of this first encampment, we find in the dedication of ‘Le 
 
 Fellah,” a charming volume by Edmond About, the following just tribute to that 
 
 work: 
 
 fidelity to nature which is one of the most striking qualities in Géréme’s 
 
 “My Dear Friend: Do you remember our last meeting i t was 
 
 under your tent at the extreme end of the desert of Suez, in sight of the caravan 
 
SEANCH 
 
 ANGIS; 
 
 TELE ND Or 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 169 | 
 
 which was carrying the carpet to Mecca. You were starting for Sinai: I was 
 preparing to return to Alexandria with a portfolio crammed with notes, as was 
 yours with sketches. I knew Egypt well enough to describe it from top to 
 bottom, as I have done the Greece of King Otho and the Rome of Pius IX. 
 But the hospitality of Ismail Pasha had swathed me in bands which paralyzed 
 my movements not a little. had no longer a right to publish ex Arofesso 
 a contemporaneous Egypt. Your example, my dear Géréme, has at once 
 
 fascinated and reassured me. No law forbids an author to work en feintre ; | 
 
 that is to say, to assemble in a work 
 of imagination a multitude of details be 
 taken from nature and scrupulously 
 true, though selected. Your master- 
 pieces, great and small, do not affect 
 to tell everything; but they do not 
 
 present a type, a tree, the fold of a 
 
 g 
 & 
 
 have followed the same method, in 
 
 arment, which you have not seen. I 
 
 the measure of my ability, which, 
 unhappily, is far from equaling yours, 
 and it is only in virtue of this fact that 
 “Le Fellah’ is worthy to be dedicated 
 to you.” 
 
 To return to the journal : 
 
 “Tethered by a cord, like horses 
 in the country, our dromedaries and : oe 
 baggage-camels formed one of the most 
 interesting parts of our encampment. The distribution of their daily food 
 
 was very instructive for us, who were to live for two months on their bacl 
 
 And here let us correct an error that is sometimes made, in regarding the 
 camel and the dromedary as animals of a different race; they are identically 
 the same, with the sole distinction that one is a beast of burden, and the 
 other is exclusively trained for riding. The dromedary is trained like the 
 English horse, and the camel is only used for transportation of heavy weights. 
 There is no more difference of race between them than between the blooded 
 horse and a cab-hack. Our camp, all during the journey, was composed of 
 
 three large tents and 
 dormitory for our lit 
 barely contained ou 
 apartments reserved 
 their nights singing 
 assigned to Géréme 
 the deserts hte ten! 
 avoid a too great 
 
 the séances de désert 
 
 two small ones. One of the former served as a general 
 tle band, the second was our dining-room, and the third 
 t kitchen apparatus. The two little tents formed the 
 for the serious men, who were not in the habit of passing 
 and dancing in a ring around the table; over the one 
 floated an Admiral’s flag, for were we not navigating 
 ants of these smaller tents generally took good care to 
 oroximity to the undisciplined and nois 
 
 y fold, but when 
 became too monotonous, momentary fusions and Trecon- 
 
170 LIFE AND WORKS OF SE: 
 
 V GEROME. 
 
 ] ciliations occurred; the serious men solicited the favor of penetrating into the 
 den and were made to pay dearly for the privilege. To a spectator placed on 
 the top of a mountain, our caravan on the march must have presented a very 
 
 respectable ensemble, for our effective force consisted of twenty-seven camels 
 and dromedaries. Our ten choice mounts belonged to the stables of the Viceroy ; 
 1 four were especially detailed to carry the water, three ca 
 
 ied the tents and the 
 camping apparatus, seven others were loaded with chopped straw and beans for 
 
 i the food of their brethren, for it is a mistake to extend the moderation of a 
 camel to his food ; he can remain for a week without drinking, but he must have 
 a daily meal, however slender, his conformation permitting him to carry only a 
 supply of water. 
 
 “One of these interesting animals must have been astonished, and with good 
 reason, at the solicitude of which he was the subject, and the ass carrying relics 
 | had less pretext for being excited; this camel carried more than Czesar and his 
 plus the two 
 chests of bottles and glasses which make its greatest charm; we lavished the 
 
 i fortune, for he had on his back our only photographic apparatus 
 
 greatest care on him in all the de 
 
 ents and difficult passages; his load, much 
 smaller than that of the others, must have misled his judgment as to the nature of 
 
 our kind attentions. How many statesmen fall into the same error in attributing 
 | to themselves the merit of the lamp-glasses they are carrying! ‘Don’t smash the 
 
 globe,’ is the basis of the enthusiasm of most of their electors! In these desert 
 countries the affections become displaced and concentrate themselves with 
 intensity on objects to which one would not before have dreamed of attaching 
 
 | any great importance. A second camel held a place in our hearts almost as 
 
 dear as the one carrying the camera ; it was he on whose hump our pot-au-feu 
 made itself each day in a marvelous Swedish pot, by the side of which Aladdin’s 
 lamp was insignificant! A chest of wood, thoroughly incased in wool and her- 
 metically sealed, contains a simple pot, which it holds like a jewel in its case. In 
 i this pot you place all the ingredients of the fot-aw-feu, together with its quantum 
 ! of boiling water (easily 
 closed with care, ebullition is maintained indefinitely until the water is entirely 
 
 »btainable an hour before departure); the box being 
 
 evaporated, if the matter is prolonged beyond the time nece 
 
 ary for a reasonable 
 cooking. In a carriage or on the back of a horse, an ass, or a camel, the pot- 
 | au-few thus prepares itself, and when, having started in the morning, you 
 } arrive worn out with hunger and fatigue, an exquisite and burning hot soup 
 is ready for you. This simple physical phenomenon was attributed by the 
 Arabs to sorcery on our part, and the marvelous pot caused them as much 
 
 terror as admiration. Every time our camel-drivers passed before the camel 
 
 which carried the soup, they made a grand detour, and crossed themselves 
 after their fashion. Our cook alone, great amateur of his art, had mastered his 
 religious scruples, and he confessed to us that he should renounce the paradise 
 | of Mohammed if he did not find there a Swedish marmite / 
 
 | “Our dragoman, of Sy 
 
 tian origin, was very intelligent, endowed like all 
 Arabs with an infinite power of brag; 
 
 1 
 
 the labors of Hercules were only a joke 
 
 in comparison to the feats he had performed, the relation of which was accom- 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 171 
 
 panied by vigorous gestures and demonstrations. Our two other servants were 
 Egyptians, much more reserved and respectful than the dragoman; they were 
 
 also very gentle and very intelligent, and were preparing themselves, they 
 
 avowed to us, to be in their turn conductors-in-chief of a caravan. One of 
 
 them, born in Upper Egypt, was named Ibrahim ; his fine, beardless face, graceful 
 
 gestures, and long blue robe gave him the appearance of a timid young girl; we 
 called him Miss Ibrahim. He and his associate Michel were of an exemplary 
 tidiness, a rare quality among the Arabs, and which offered a strong con- 
 
 tr 
 
 st to the carelessness of the dragoman and the remainder of his acolytes. 
 ; it was the kitchen 
 
 Another type among our servitors did not lack in interes 
 OY 
 
 that we naturally called him Snowball! Always laughing, his white teeth 
 
 a little African negro, whose name we did not know and who was so black 
 
 oroduced the effect of a gaslight illumination at the mouth of a cave. His eter- 
 nally gay nature contrasted with the dramatic side of his functions; he was 
 
 the sacrificial High Priest; it was he who slaughtered the fowls and the 
 
 sheep, but it was he also who cared for and fed them. Therefore the fowls 
 had conceived a great affection for him and followed him everywhere. On the 
 march, if Snowball passed near the camels carrying the cages of poultry, there 
 
 arose a tumult of joyful cluc 
 
 ings to which he replied by opening still wider 
 1is mouth, which he had never been able to shut since he was born. The horn 
 
 of slaughter was the same as that of the feeding, and the hens hustled each 
 other in their haste to meet him. The kitchen-knife in one hand and the sack 
 of wheat in the other, nothing was more striking than this high executioner, 
 distributing life and death at his own capricious pleasure to those who loved 
 
 him mos 
 
 There was a picture to make ; Sophocles would have written a 
 tragedy. ‘Zaib, taib kétir,’/ were the only words we ever heard escape from 
 this great laughing mouth, adorned with two thick lips that had never been 
 able to meet. Our cook, Achmet, was tall and thin, mute as the Sphinx, and 
 like him had lost his nose! The charming side of his character w 
 
 s displayed 
 
 in his excellent cooking, which never harms anything, even ez voyage. 
 
 “The first part of the desert presented a desolate aridity ; not the s 
 vegetation brightened the drab and gray tones of the sand over which we made 
 our way toward the mountains. In its general configuration, the Sinaitic 
 
 ghtest 
 
 peninsula forms the most singular collection of mountain-chains almost parallel 
 to each other, and which merge together at the extremity of the peninsula. 
 Between these gigantic walls, which nature has so singularly ranged, are the 
 natural beds of torrents resulting from rains and melting snows. These narrow 
 valleys, which are absolute corridors, the Arabs call wadis. The word valley 
 
 does not correctly give the meaning of the Arab word, so narrow is the passage 
 one is obliged to follow sometimes for several kilometers. The light only struck 
 the horizontal planes of the jagged flanks of the mountains, and these ravines 
 were like caves which are only lighted by a prolonged air-hole. The sonority of 
 these wadis is extraordinary, redoubled as it is by the absolute silence of nature, 
 and the strangest echoes permitted us to make with little effort as much noise as 
 
 a whole regiment on the march, During two days over sand and pebbles, we 
 
172 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 perceived continually these magnificent chains, to the heart of which we were 
 
 going to penetrate ; they seemed to fly before us as in a mirage, and it was with 
 real joy that, by a fracture which seemed to split the mountain in two, we 
 the 
 
 first which opened to receive us; it was noon; the shelter-tent, which never left 
 
 inaugurated this astonishing series of passages. The Wadi-Reiyaneh we 
 
 us, was pitched and we proceeded to breakfast, experiencing the satisfaction of 
 being lost to the world. The road appeared to us to be sufficiently easy to find to 
 loose our pretty little dog, who followed us very well. But alas! she was not to 
 be with us long. The wadi, till now very much closed in, suddenly changed its 
 character ; the manner in which the two sides of the mountain shot up, cut at 
 es which held them up, com- 
 
 right angles like two walls, and the regular buttres 
 pleted the illusion that possessed us, that these were the constructions of men and 
 not freaks of nature. At the end of this immense gallery we again struck the 
 
 sand, which was dotted here and there by tufts of foliage almost of a pearl-gray 
 tone, like bits of wool stirred by the wind. Our dromedaries did not neglect to 
 taste, as they went along, this unexpected luncheon, and we were soon vying 
 with each other as to who should find a bunch for his beast and assure him the 
 exclusive consumption of it. A little farther on, these tufts took on larger 
 proportions, and from their branches and roots were borrowed whips, which we 
 lacked, to stimulate the good will of our coursers. 
 
 “On leaving this narrow gorge we reached the shore of the Red Sea, and 
 followed it for some time. At this point the mountains begin to take on the 
 red, green, and black tones which puzzle the best trained eye that may wish to 
 determine the cause of this coloring. Under the action of fire only could the 
 earth and rocks undergo such strange upheavals and decomposition ; orange and 
 lemon-yellow veins slash from top to bottom the reddish sides of these natural 
 walls, and from afar imitate the caprices of the most extraordinary marbles. 
 Our admiration for this strange spectacle was diverted by the sight of the sea and 
 the prospect for a long-hoped-for bath. And indeed we had scarcely quitted the 
 Wadi-Sadr, when our dromedaries with one accord started off at their most rapid 
 pace and rushed into the water up to their breasts. The Red Sea, so terrible in 
 
 history, was at this spot, as indeed in its whole length, as limpid as rock-crystal. 
 Mohammed ought to have been satisfied with our ablutions, for we remained in 
 the water till nightfall, and we would have rejoiced to be able to pitch our tents 
 there. Adorable little shells, of every imaginable color and form, strewn over 
 the sand, were the only drawback to our enjoyment. The sensitive feet of our 
 dromedaries suffered equally from this excess of riches. Amphitrite had left at 
 this spot a lavish supply of those enormous red shells which traditionally figure 
 
 on the mantelpieces of our concierges, and we perpetrated the poor joke of 
 
 bringing to our absent friends a cargo of the largest, heaviest, and ugliest we 
 could find! We had just scrambled into bed after our lengthy bath when in a 
 
 moment the weather changed. The most piercing cold succeeded the burning 
 winds that had blown fiercely all day; a terrible tempest, with thunder and 
 lightning, burst upon us. Suddenly a formidable blast of wind blew away the 
 
 entire tent which composed the large dormitory, together with all its accessories ! 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 17 
 
 on 
 
 It was not a slight affair to catch it. The staff in the middle was broken, the 
 stakes were simultaneously pulled out from the earth, and the enormous 
 parachute, rising from the earth, sailed away in the direction of the wadi, and 
 we presented the edifying spectacle of tenants running after their house! The 
 hurricane lasted all night and considerably interfered with our departure the 
 next day ; several accessories of our camp had been lost in the tumult of the 
 previous evening, and the drenched soil had become very slippery and dangerous 
 for our animals. A day of halt was voted and decreed then and there; we 
 profited by this delay to take another bath and make various studies of these 
 
 strange mountains, whose lurid tones seemed to be more vivid after the rain. 
 
 (Gérome’s sketch-book wonderfully reproduces all these marvels.) 
 
 “Our tents, spread out on the shore, were drying in the sun, when our Arabs 
 signaled on the horizon the approach of two human beings; some of our men 
 went to meet them and brought them to the camp. Two skeletons, almost 
 naked, were before us, and with staring eyes made signs that they were dying 
 of hunger. These unhappy beings were two fishermen whose boat had been 
 wrecked by a storm some time before. For two days they had lived on raw 
 fish, but for the last four they had had nothing to eat; their appearance was 
 frightful. We came like a providence to them. Our Colonel and the Doctor 
 vied with each other in lavishing care on them, and gave them nourishment, 
 which gradually restored them; then, as we were on the point of departure 
 and these two unfortunates were to return to Suez, we gave to each three 
 loaves of bread, a bottle of wine and two of brandy, which had to last them 
 for quite a long journey, but which was all we could spare from our provi- 
 s of these men, whom we thus 
 
 sions. No words could describe the thankfulne 
 saved from a certain death, and none of us will ever forget the tears of grati- 
 Our w 
 
 tude they shed on leaving y lay in an opposite direction ; the sea 
 
 was superb and the fine sand, spangled with brilliant shells, was the natural 
 road we followed. The mountains on our left rose up in gigantic stories piled 
 one upon the other. The natural decomposition of the stone produced fairy- 
 like carvings, and the action of the rains had formed staircases of most aston- 
 ishing regularity. We seemed to be ascending the steps of Indian temples, 
 multiplying themselves before us as if by enchantment. It was in successively 
 mounting and descending this labyrinth of steps that we had the misfortune 
 to lose our dog Nina. A dromedary had hit her with his foot ; this unexpected 
 kick had frightened her so that she ran away, and the efforts of all our camel- 
 drivers were in vain to recall her. In those arid solitudes, so far from Suez, the 
 
 poor beast must have died of hunger or become the prey of some troop of jackals. 
 There was general mourning in the caravan, and this accident quite spoiled for 
 us the magnificent spectacle which unceasingly unrolled before our eyes. As we 
 advanced, the mountains became more lofty and of more vivid coloring than 
 those we had seen the day previous. We were obliged to leave the coast and 
 
 penetrate one of those frightful gorges whose existence could only be dis- 
 
 covered by the trained eye of an Arab, so nearly do the sides of the mountains 
 
 touch. 
 
176 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 “The Wadi-el-Amarah offered us the first opportunity of tasting those 
 springs of bitter water which gush out so abundantly in these mountainous 
 countries. The bitter fountain of Marah of the Hebrews is supposed to refer 
 to these springs. Lepsius was not of this opinion, but the water was none the 
 less undrinkable! Deceived by its crystal clearness, our animals plunged their 
 heads into it and withdrew them with horrible grimaces. Similar to that 
 
 of the Dead Sea, it tasted like an infusion of sulphur matches. We only wet 
 our hands and faces, and our skin was covered with blisters and impregnated 
 
 with salts, the removal of which gave us no little trouble. It was the 25th 
 
 of February; Mardi-Gras was being celebrated with masked balls at Paris, 
 which we wete unable to duplicate. But the most picturesque coiffures were 
 donned by the whole colony and a little dac was set up in our tent, which was 
 
 adorned with our best vintages. Jules was invited to the féte,and our Sinaitic 
 
 watch excelled in gayety the most successful efforts of our distant country. 
 Firstly, no one had anything to pay; secondly, in the middle of the night the 
 little band indulged in a torchlight procession which filled our domestics with 
 anxiety as to our mental condition. Patriotic songs alternated with ‘scies 
 @atelier’ in the best possible taste, and must have astonished the echoes of 
 these biblical wadis, which probably had heard nothing of the kind for a long 
 time! The fwnouws were at last extinguished and the desert resumed its 
 wonted silence. The Wadi-Schilla was the point on our journey where the 
 mountains surpassed in strange coloring all that one could imagine in violent 
 and outlandish tints; entirely vermilion, red or ocher yellow, they seemed 
 
 to be painted ; on their jagged sides various geological strata, green, blue, and 
 violet, formed arabesques impossible to describe. Wishing to have a clear con- 
 science, some of us made the ascension of the reddest peak to see if it was really 
 fast color, or if these extravagant tints were not the result of some optical illu- 
 this rouge was perfectly natural and, 
 
 sion. But it was not foudre de ri. 
 
 from top to bottom, each fragment of these sharp rocks looked like a burning 
 coal. We brought back some specimens which aroused the admiration of the 
 geologists, and we remained several days in this fantastic spot making differ- 
 ent studies of these freaks of nature, where not a single blade of grass varied 
 the extraordinary coloration. 
 
 “ Wadi-Mokatteb, Ja Vallée Ecrite, was the marvelous valley which we were 
 now to cro 
 
 s. At a height of two hundred meters, the sides of the mountain, 
 polished like tables of marble expressly prepared, are covered with Sinaitic 
 inscriptions; for more than three kilometers these remarkable signs literally 
 carpet the slopes that stretch up perpendicularly on each side, like two enormous 
 
 pages of hieroglyphics, the origin of which has been the subject of many dis- 
 
 putes. The red-brick tone of the mountains that bear these inscriptions gives 
 
 a still more striking character to this strange page of history written on the face 
 of Nature. This valley ends in a vast circular plain surrounded by mountains 
 on every side. The encampment was enlivened by a visit from the brother of 
 our sheikh. He was not alone, for when he entered our tent-salon, he had on 
 his arm an enormous sheep which he came to offer us, provided of course that 
 
TEE 
 
 AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 17 
 
 NI 
 
 we would pay him roundly for it! This courtesy on his part cost us twenty-five 
 francs, a fabulous price for this country. But we could not refuse, lest we should 
 vex this gentleman and a crowd of others who could have made matters very 
 disagreeable for us; after all he was very amiable, and invited us to dine with 
 him, to visit his little family, his little tents, and his little flocks. With graceful 
 gestures and feminine intonations, he explained how charming it all was; we 
 allowed ourselves to be tempted, and some of us actually put on gloves to go to 
 worth the 
 
 this dinner ‘in the city!’ The singular repast which awaited us was 
 trouble: fArlaz, cowscoussou, mincemeat with bread balls, curdled milk, nothing 
 that could produce seasickness was lacking! A sheep had been prepared @ 
 ZVarabe. The entire animal, placed on the embers like a simple chestnut, was 
 taken off thoroughly burned on the outside and perfectly raw inside. To com- 
 
 plicate the roast, the interior had in the first place been stuffed with fruits and 
 odoriferous herbs, which gave it a very pronounced taste of the apothecary shop. 
 We had the delicacy to find everything excellent, risking an illness of severa 
 
 days; Heaven came to our aid, for we were surrounded by the dogs of the 
 tribe, who assisted us to do honor to the repast. After this indigestion far 
 politesse, we left this plateau and plunged again into narrow gorges ; the soil and 
 the sides of the mountain were of a white and powdery sandstone, which crossed 
 the red tones that still prevailed. A fine sand covered the road and made the 
 walking difficult for our dromedaries. Here the irregularities of the ground dic 
 not take the form of crevasses and landslides, as they had hitherto. Swollen 
 
 ike lava in fusion, the slabs of polished granite over which we were moving oc 
 
 a- 
 sioned our poor animals more than one fall, inexperienced as they were in this 
 painful kind of ascension. We had all dismounted and, holding them by the 
 oridles, we often clung to them under pretext of assisting them. 
 
 “After this narrow defile we found ourselves suddenly at the entrance of a 
 
 magnificent valley, which reached to the steep sides of the highest mountain we 
 had yet seen. The sharp stones which formed the macadam of the road spoiled 
 the charm for us, and the bleeding of our poor dromedaries testified that they 
 were of our opinion in regard to the negligence of the road-menders. We had, 
 however, before us one of the most beautiful points of view in the desert. 
 Mount Serbal dominated all the surrounding mountains; the valley, gradually 
 
 sloping, came out on the sea above Thor ; the steep declivities, with their many 
 fissures and rounded rocks, plainly indicated the extraordinary violence of the 
 water at the time when the rains make a furious torrent of this valley. We 
 entered the mountains by a crevasse, resigning ourselves beforehand to another 
 series of wadis, when the nature of the soil suddenly changed. Bushes and 
 shrubs, with silvery leaves and graceful outlines, soon gave place to trees, and 
 
 iS) 
 
 prouts of palms seemed to push aside the rocks to make room for their lovely 
 foliage. This oasis is the only fertile wadi of the peninsula of Sinai. Wadi- 
 reeable, as 
 in penetrating farther we found ourselves in a forest of magnificent palms, 
 
 Faran, which introduced itself so charmingly, became still more ag 
 
 through which ran a ravishing brook. The village, composed of earth huts, 
 was concealed by the trees, whose branches touched the ground, starting from 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 the highest part of the trunk. These new specimens of palms were most 
 striking. The houses, low and level with the ground, were sometimes dug out 
 below the level of the road ; for in this gorge the most intense cold succeeds the 
 suffocating heat from which we were suffering at that moment. The less 
 exaggerated color of the mountains rendered more natural, so to speak, the 
 background of this magnificent picture. As yet we had met nothing as 
 picturesque ; instinctively we hastened to see who could make the first sketch 
 of this lovely country, where, by unanimous vote, we stayed for several busy 
 
 S. 
 
 days. (Géréme’s portfolio of sketches bears witness to his rapid and varied work 
 at this picturesque spot. ) 
 
 “After having visited some Egyptian ruins which are still visible in the 
 
 neighborhood, we started on the last march that was to bring us to Sinai. 
 
 Wadi-Solaf, the ‘Gorge of the Wind,’ was the last through which we were 
 
 to pass, but it was one of the most difficult. The path indicated by the 
 crevasse forced us to dismount, and our dromedaries suffered from a series 
 of adventures before finishing this gutter promenade. But on reaching the 
 mouth of the wadi, we were repaid for all our bruis 
 
 by the spectacle that 
 lay before us. In front, Sinai itself towered up into space, its imposing 
 silhouette vigorously outlined on the mountains around it. Djebel-Catherine, 
 which precedes and even overtops it, astounded us by its colossal proportions ; 
 some savants, on the lookout for novelties and historic contradictions, assert 
 that this is the true Sinai of Scripture. On the right, at an extraordinary 
 height, we perceived some white constructions, ruins of a palace which Abbas 
 
 Pasha, to gratify a caprice, caused to be built in these inaccessible regions. 
 
 After having scaled some very steep slopes we crossed a field of tall grass 
 
 of a pale yellow, which seemed by their nature, at once flexible and solid, 
 to be a kind of rush. It was a real feast for our animals, but we were in haste 
 to finish our journey and plied our whips energetically to subdue these 
 
 stomachic caprices. Rounding Djebel-Catherine we found ours 
 in the valley which extends to the foot of Horeb and Sinai. Like a little 
 
 ves suddenly 
 fortress, the convent appeared hanging on the steep sides of the mountain, 
 and the flowering trees in its garden produced the gayest and most novel 
 effect in this country so arid and so full of terrible souvenirs. Our camp was 
 
 pitched in sight of the convent, and without delay we made a bit of toilette 
 
 and went to pay our formal visit to its hospitable tenants. 
 
 “The convent of Sinai is the most singular assemblage of constructions 
 
 that one can find. Extending from the Byzantine period to the time of the 
 most modern Arabic art, every sort of architecture is here mingled at pleas- 
 ure. Colossal walls, flanked by towers and buttresses, give to the convent 
 the appearance of a great fortress, quadrangular in its ensemble; while, 
 conforming to the slope of the mountain which forms its foundation, it 
 
 appears to have wished to make the ascent and to have remained suspended 
 
 in space like an eagle’s nest. It is a little city, a castle and stronghold which 
 has sustained more than one attack and siege on the part of the Arab tribes 
 
 who covet its treasures. It had thoroughly the appearance of those castles 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 179 
 
 were passed in silence, and where 
 r. To judge by the height of the 
 
 of the Middle Ages, where entire existences 
 
 the inhabitants only sallied out to make w 
 
 towers and their buttresses, they must have been but rarely scaled, and we be; 
 to wonder what could have been the drawbridge and the entrance to this impreg- 
 nable fortress. It was by means of a kind of basket hoisted by a pulley that the 
 monks communicated with the outside world; the chain which served to mount 
 the loads and passengers was moved by a windlass, to which the monks har- 
 nessed themselves in order to pull up their supply of wood, that is to say, 
 what the Arabs brought in exchange for some donation. On a fixed day 
 a distribution took place, of bread and wine, to all the poor of the neighboring 
 sent at this curious ceremony where the bread fell literally 
 
 tribes; we were pre 
 from heaven. We had counted on performing this little aérial voyage our- 
 selves, and penetrating into the convent by this singular opening, but we 
 arrived too late. The mania for improvements had reached as far as Sinai, 
 and the good monks had indulged themselves to the extent of having a real 
 
 door with knockers of the most modern and hateful style. This new entrance, 
 which we perhaps inaugurated, wasn’t worth as much to us as the basket. 
 
 ne sacks of flour and rice had the sole right to pass through this artistic 
 entrance, which, as painters, we would gladly have shared, but the rule of 
 
 the convent forbade the gratification of this caprice. 
 
 “To begin at the beginning, we went to pay our respects to the Superior ; 
 he was in the library ; a monk, with a fine but rather sickly face, received us 
 and preceded us into the reception-room. To get there, we were obliged to 
 climb up several inclined planes, mount several flights of steps, and pass suc- 
 
 to find ourselves on a level with 
 
 cessively through obscure and winding galleries, 
 
 a second series of constructions, which seemed like a second city built over the 
 
 first. A vast court, adorned with three cypress trees, formed the center of this 
 
 second nest of buildings; there we wound around again and finally climbed up 
 ippery, at the 
 
 a wooden staircase, an enormous ladder, as worm-eaten as it was 
 
 top of which we found ourselves on the principal balcony overlooking the in- 
 terior court. There, by a little door, our amiable guide showed us into a low- 
 ceilinged apartment with two windows—one looking out on the court, the other 
 on the garden. While waiting for the Superior, we were able to make a 
 conscientious inspection of this strange chamber, where religious emblems, 
 
 Christs, portraits of popes, holy pictures, Greek inscriptions, and the most naive 
 ex-votos were singularly mixed up with trifles, pipes with zouave heads, and 
 tobacco pouches, as little biblical as our own. Wax matches from Marseilles 
 excited our admiration, especially the photographs of the actrices du boulevard 
 s holding the aforementioned matches Po find 
 e in the convent of Sinai was startling! We 
 
 were scarcely able to contain ourselves when the Superior passed the matches 
 
 which adorned the colored 
 
 Hortense Schneider and Thér 
 
 around, but we did not dare to ask if they were family portraits, in view of the 
 
 scanty nature of the Greek costumes. On his return from the library the presen- 
 tation took place; our reception was made with most charming gestures, for 
 
 g 
 the dragoman bore all the burden of our eloquence and we had only to approve 
 
180 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 by a slight smile, which, however, permitted us to better observe our hosts. The 
 Superior must have passed his sixtieth year ; his strongly marked features were 
 marvelously framed in by hair of a remarkable whiteness; a long fine beard 
 reached to his belt and fell like snow on the thick folds of a black robe which 
 covered him from head to foot. Like the priests of the Greek church, he wore 
 on his head a kind of black felt miter; a long veil, fastened on the top, and 
 thrown back, protected the neck and shoulders from the rays of the sun. 
 “The Superior presented to us the other monks of the convent, the most 
 important of whom had rejoined him in the reception salon. A repetition of the 
 dialogue by gestures and a repetition of smiles! Gérome afterward took the 
 jortraits of these hospitable brethren. Aged, for the most part, their faces 
 expressed the greatest gentleness; their severe costume gave them the appear- 
 ance of those ancient Byzantine patriarchs whose facsimiles adorned the walls ; 
 
 all their implements of prayer consisted of an enormous string of beads and a 
 book of psalms written in Greek and Arabic. The mission of these good monks 
 is not simply to receive strangers and pilgrims, but to devote themselves to the 
 srofound study of the rare works and incomparable manuscripts which fill the 
 
 ibrary of the convent. This marvelous library is usually only accessible to 
 monks; but our quality of artist-painters, and, above all, the magnificent pro- 
 yortions of our official dromedaries, smoothed away all difficulties; the Superior 
 himself conducted us thither and dusted off the most curious parchments and 
 ri. A Life of the Saints, exquisitely decorated with paintings and por- 
 
 pap 
 traits, particularly excited our admiration by the purity of design and brilliant 
 
 coloring. These manuscripts alone are worth the whole journey, and we 
 obtained permission to make prolonged studies among these che/s-d'wuvre. 
 They showed us also the four Gospels entirely written, it appears, by the hand 
 of the Emperor Theodosius. The bindings are as remarkable in their way by 
 the richness and taste which are displayed ; some of them, in carved wood, are 
 loaded with ornaments 
 side of the principal church, the convent is divided into an infinite number of 
 small chapels, each of which is under the invocation of a special saint. Con- 
 nected by corridors, they also communicate with the cells of the Fathers in such 
 
 n silver and gold, of most exquisite workmanship. Out- 
 
 a way that each one has, so to speak, his own particular little oratory. ane: 
 principal church itself presents the same aspect of a basilica divided into distinct 
 chapels, the rood-loft of which is separated from the rest of the nave by a wall 
 
 and richly ornamented wainscoting. A colossal figure of Christ dominates the 
 choir, surrounded by images painted on a background of gold in the style of 
 Russian decorations. Lamps in copper and silver, of graceful forms, descend 
 from the vault and are doubtless very tempting to pilgrims who are amateurs, 
 for visitors are not allowed to stay too long within reach of these precious 
 objets d'art. 
 
 “Tt would be difficult to name precisely the style of architecture which pre- 
 dominates in this construction. Arched vaults, and heavy, widening capitals on 
 short columns like those of St. Sophia, are distinctive points in this church, as 
 Byzantine as it is Roman, where the most modern restorations are seen close 
 
‘OSUAA ADDITION 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON G WE, 183 
 to the débris of most primitive and incongruous ornamentation. The mosaics 
 come, it is said, from St. Sophia, which is very possible considering its very 
 sumed a very 
 
 damaged state. Suddenly the monks who accompanied us a 
 solemn air and informed us that we were about to be admitted to the sanctuary 
 where God appeared to Moses. The altar of this little chapel is placed at the 
 precise spot where formerly appeared the burning bush; a night-light reflected 
 by a gold plaque is the emblem of this apparition, and it was with terrible 
 gestures that the monk drew back the veil which conceals this little light from 
 the eyes of the profane. This chapel is unquestionably the most curious and 
 richly adorned of all. Stained-glass windows harmoniously temper the glaring 
 light which would destroy the poetic charm of this sacred spot. Persian carpets 
 were under our feet, and, as at the mosques, we were obliged to take off our 
 shoes at the entrance. Moses himself had given the example in obedience to 
 the command, ‘Take off thy shoes from thy feet, for the place where thou standest 
 is holy ground.’ Such is the biblical origin of this custom, observed to-day by 
 all Mussulmans at the doors of all their mosques. In one of the contiguous 
 
 chape aced, as well as the convent itself, under the protection of St. 
 Catherine, we saw two chests of wood which contained two coffins in silver of 
 remarkable richness and workmanship. These works of art, incrusted with 
 enamel, gold, and precious stones, were presented by the great Catherine of 
 
 Russia, and one of them contains the remains of the saint whose name was borne 
 
 xy the empress. Another shrine contained gold and precious stones by the 
 pushel, gifts and offerings of illustrious pilgrims or important Russian person- 
 ages. We thought of the good haul the MWandrins du Désert, those roving 
 
 robbers, could make here, were it not for the vigilance of the monks and the 
 
 formidable ramparts which protect their convent. And, indeed, several attempts 
 at assault by surprise have been made by the Arabs, who are not ignorant of 
 the immense riches accumulated here for centuries. The door of the church is 
 curious as a work of art; formed of panels of sculptured wood, it is a veritable 
 
 acework framing in marvelous enamels, the effect of which is heightened by 
 iron work silvered over. 
 
 “In going out, the monks called our attention to the ruins of a mosque, the 
 construction of which in the interior of the convent had been exacted by Turk- 
 ish authority as a sign of recognized sovereignty. The Arabs never penetrating 
 to the spot, this fragment is useless and in a state of absolute abandonment, 
 which the government tolerates, provided its little cupola is always surmounted 
 
 by the crescent of the Prophet, a pure question of religious amour propre. The 
 monks came several times to return our visits and our camp did not lack anima- 
 tion; the quantity of information they gave us about the country was very 
 useful to us during the journey which we were still obliged to make before 
 reaching Akabah. These monks, thanks to their charity and erudition, are 
 greatly esteemed by all the tribes of the peninsula, who sometimes come to 
 consult them and choose them as arbiters in their disputes. 
 
 “The valley of Horeb and Sinai at this point enjoys par excellence that 
 grievous property of mountainous countries—great cold and stifling heat. We 
 
184 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 had already noticed hoarfrost in the crevices of the rocks which the sun did not 
 penetrate ; to walk over snow with the thermometer at 88° had astonished us; 
 but what annoyed us the most was the intense cold of the nights,and the 
 mornings as long as the rays of the sun were intercepted by the mountains. We 
 were no longer surprised at the pelisses lined with fur worn by the monks, nor 
 at the stoves which adorned their cells. Our first night in camp was glacial; 
 
 our camel-drivers having been as- 
 
 sembled, we proceeded to build a 
 colossal fire. All the débris of the 
 valley, brushwood, roots, and bushes 
 were piled on; the flames roared 
 up to an enormous height and 
 4 threw fantastic shadows on the 
 
 sides of Sinai. The spectacle we 
 
 magnificent. If Moses had hap- 
 pened to be passing by, he would 
 
 certainly have taken off his shoes 
 and prostrated himself; but he 
 would only have heard violent 
 recriminations against this Orient 
 @ la glace, of which travelers have 
 not spoken sufficiently, and against 
 which one is never sufficiently 
 fortified in these strange countries. 
 ‘ Bardann, bardann kétir, ‘1 am 
 
 frozen’; such was the chorus that 
 
 issued from this burning bush. 
 The state of our poor dromedaries 
 
 was pitiable ; in their distress they 
 lay down one upon the other to 
 obtain by this means a little more 
 heat. In the morning we found our water frozen to a depth of twelve centi- 
 meters, and had to go to the convent to wash our faces. 
 
 “Our sojourn at Sinai coincided with a joyous circumstance which caused 
 a momentary sally from that contemplative calm that we had vowed to preserve 
 to the end. It was the féte of our dear Doctor, and for six days the cook and 
 his aids conspired to organize a Sardanapalian feast which would destroy all 
 preconceived notions as to the privations and suffering of the desert. It was to 
 give the lie to history, and our stomachs were to put a good face on the matter. 
 ;, three roasts, a variety of desserts, and above all mustard 
 
 Two soups, four extrées 
 @ discretion! It was a first-class wedding feast with tombe glacée a la manne. 
 At dessert on this memorable day, as on all our great occasions, all the play- 
 things of the colony came out of their boxes: a top, Jules, loto, and cards took 
 their turn. Our best wines were uncorked and served in glasses of all sizes ; we 
 made a formidable pool at écar/é, where no one paid, and again the most patriotic 
 
LOVE, THE CONQUEROR 
 1889 
 “ Out que tu sois, voici ton maitre / 
 Il Test, le fut, ou le doit étre/”’ 
 [Whoever thou art, behold thy master / 
 fle is, he was, or should be/ | 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF /. IN GEROME. 16 
 
 n 
 
 songs our country had ever inspired awakened terrific echoes among the moun- 
 tains. The good monks had been invited and had not disdained to take part in 
 our little festivity. We smoked, drank, and sang a great part of the night, and 
 only a little calf of gold was wanting! The most beautiful /em-fams of the 
 kitchen were brought into play, the tumult was soon at its height, and it was 
 enough to break all the tables of the law. To expiate this life of disorder and 
 darkness, the next day was entirely devoted to the perilous ascension of the 
 holy mountain, which promised a fatigue similar to that we had experienced at 
 the Pyramids. Here, without the vestige of an Arab to pull one up or lend a 
 helping hand, each one had to scale for himself the angular and slippery rocks. 
 
 “Sinai, composed essentially of granite, presents the appearance of a moun- 
 tain bristling with teeth, its roughness and crevasses being due to the action of 
 fire and violent volcanic convulsions. The color of the granite is red from the 
 top to the bottom, which increases the terribly imposing aspect of the mountain. 
 The monks have endeavored to outline a kind of staircase, but this Cyclopean 
 task had to be performed every year, after every fall of snow and descent of the 
 torrents that brought down with them the stones which the fathers had used for 
 this work. After climbing painfully Mount Horeb, which serves as a buttress to 
 Sinai, we commenced the more difficult ascension, where the path was still less 
 
 indicated and where the pointed rocks to which we clung became more slippery 
 than ever. Our boots suffered sadly from this trip, and we wondered how the 
 bare feet of the Prophet could have traversed these razor blades. Half-way up we 
 came to a little isolated platform, where there is the only cypress tree to be found 
 on the whole mountain, which serves asa sort of landmark for travelers to find 
 their way and to inform them how much farther they have to go. We made our 
 first halt at this spot and sat down to take breath. Sinai has the deplorable 
 reputation of being peopled by serpents and enormous lizards. It was to the 
 intense cold we owed the real favor of not seeing a single one. We saw on the 
 
 way the plant that produces the manna, which the monks gather with the 
 greatest care. The manna of Sinai has the reputation of being superior to all 
 other, and the convent of St. Catherine could have obtained more than one 
 medal if the Arabs had ever thought of holding the sli 
 
 ghtest exposition! But 
 they are above all such trifles. To be truly Hebraic, we tasted this singular food, 
 which enjoys, however, the peculiarity of having no taste at all! Little by litt 
 
 o 
 
 we arrived at a very satisfactory height, for we came into the region of snow. 
 We longed to reach the end. It was 
 
 not attained without difficulty, but the 
 spectacle which awaited us there repaid us effectually for the fatigue of the 
 ascent. The summit of Sinai forms a nearly level plateau; one of the sides, in 
 the diz 
 
 ction of Thor, being perpendicular from top to bottom. From this plat- 
 form a wonderfully extended panorama spread out around us; the two arms of 
 the Red Sea and of the Gulf of Akabah uniting at the extremity of the peninsula, 
 with the opposite banks of the two seas visible through a silvery fog which 
 blended with the water; at our right and our left, the converging crests of all 
 
 ne Sinaitic chains of the Peninsula, Mount Serbal and Djerbal-Catherine seeming 
 
 = 
 
 to overtop Sinai itself, although not presenting as imposing an appearance as the 
 
f 
 
 186 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 sacred mountain. An immense flagstone of natural formation is indicated as the 
 spot where God appeared to Moses and where the tables of the law were given 
 to him. Certainly the locality corresponds in every respect to the descriptions 
 in the Bible, and nothing could have been more striking than the perpendicular 
 and jagged rocks which extended clear down to the valley of Rephidim, where 
 the people of Israel awaited the return of the holy patriarch. 
 
 “From this point one is shown the spot where Moses, supported by the 
 two Levites, lifted up his hands during the battle in which the hosts of Amalek 
 retreated in good order before the soldiers of Israel. A little Greek chapel 
 has been constructed on the platform at the summit, where every week one of 
 the monks of the convent comes to officiate; the Mussulmans, jealous of the 
 
 Christian souvenirs attached to this mountain, began to build a mosque which 
 is in ruins to-day, but where they still show the footprint of the camel of the 
 Prophet. The ascent being absolutely impossible to a dromedary, this foot- 
 
 print is stoutly disputed. It may have been made by the Prophet himself, 
 but then, what a foot/ Im the Greek chapel, which is the grotto where Moses 
 took refuge in order not to see God face to face, a pious legend calls attention 
 also to an imprint on the wall said to be that of the patriarch’s head. Here one 
 is tempted to exclaim, not ‘What a head!’ but, ‘What a bump he must have 
 
 atiated ourselves with the grand spectacle 
 
 given himself!’ After having 
 before us, we proceeded to a little breakfast in which manna figured but 
 
 scantily A tremendous religious discussion broke out at dessert and varied 
 
 the fatigues of the day. There were plenty of Aros and cons, and the most 
 
 erudite theologians would not have been able to draw any conclusions from 
 our arguments, which were as subtle as they were inexhaustible! The 
 coffee and the liqueurs having been generously served, the dispute was on the 
 point of becoming envenomed, and it required all our energy to refrain 
 from throwing each other down the mountain, where sufficiently terrible 
 dramas had been enacted without our adding another tragedy. One of the 
 orators had the wit to turn this conference in the clouds into the chorus of a 
 song, and we descended from the mountain-top in a state of perfect accord— 
 for the time being. Our return to camp was saluted by a second great /ew 
 de joie and above all of wood; for which all the remaining combustible 
 
 material was brought into requisition by our Arabs. The wail of ‘ Bardann, 
 
 bardinn kétir,’ again arose, and we rolled ourselves up in our blankets at an 
 early hour with a satisfaction unequaled in history. 
 
 “The next day was passed at the convent, the garden of which we had 
 not yet visited. All the trees were in blossom; these white and rose-colored 
 tufts on the branches contrasted singularly with the desolation which reigned 
 round about this little paradise. The vegetable mold, which explained its 
 incredible fertility, had been brought from Egypt on camel-back ; one can form 
 some idea of the patience and time which the monks needed to accomplish 
 this result. Arbors, shaded with vines and symmetrically disposed, trans- 
 ported us suddenly to one of those too minutely cared-for villas in the 
 environs of Paris. In the center, a low door seemed to lead into a cave, and 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 187 
 
 in truth it was the entrance to the necropolis of the monks. It is here that 
 the bones of the monks and brothers are heaped up in two distinct rooms. 
 The bones of the skeletons were ranged in categories ; the heads in one place, 
 the tibiae together, and so on, for each member. The patriarchs alone are pre- 
 served entire, in boxes which recall the sarcophagi of Egyptian mummies. 
 The season of the year did not permit us to taste the fruits of this delicious 
 garden, where a sample of every known tree seemed to figure; but, to judge 
 by the blossoms, the crop must have realized their fondest hopes. In the 
 absence of fruit, the fathers offered us some vegetables, which had an enor- 
 mous success in view of the privations on that score we had endured since 
 our departure from Cairo, They gave each of us a little bag of manna and 
 a little tin tube filled with honey made by the bees of the sacred mountain. Con- 
 sidering that this little religious brotherhood, isolated among the mountains, 
 wants for nothing and even entertains very hospitably, one is apt to wonder 
 what is the source of this tranquil ease in the midst of these desert countries. 
 
 The revenues of the convent come from farms which the communities possess 
 in the islands of Cyprus and Crete; moreover, rich endowments have been 
 made by sev 
 
 I empresses of Russia and rich pilgrims. It is not without 
 reason that the Arabs have long coveted the treasures accumulated there, 
 but Russia watches closely over the convent and would severely punish any 
 indiscretion. In inscribing our names on the register before leaving, we saw 
 the signature of General Bonaparte at the bottom of a firman written by his 
 own hand, assuring to the convent his protection, the prestige of which has 
 not yet disappeared from among the tribes of the peninsula. Finally, our 
 pockets stuffed with innumerable dainties, we tore ourselves away from this 
 hospitable circle, mutually pleased with the reciprocal favors, for we did not 
 fail to leave a bakchich, which largely compensated for our entertainment. 
 “The Wadi-Saal, by which we resumed our route, offered nothing new except 
 the perspective of a new series of narrow gorges and wadis similar to those 
 which we already had traversed. The Arabs, however, regard it as of great 
 importance, for it incloses the tomb of a venerated sheikh. The possession of 
 the marabout of the Sheikh Saleh is, we were told, an eternal subject of war 
 
 between the tribes jealous of this privileged hearse. The country, however, has 
 a less d 
 
 from the city of Suez. Tamarisks, and bushes with gray, trembling foliage, filled 
 
 late aspect than that part of the peninsula which separates Sinai 
 
 our dromedaries with a joyfulness which we did not yet share. Was it sadness 
 at parting with the good monks or apprehension of the unknown regions before 
 
 us? Like the Hebrews in the desert, we had our little discouragements, but 
 
 they did not last long. The Wadi-Schkattah was preparing for us a marvelous 
 surprise the next day. At the opening of the valley the mountains seemed 
 suddenly to change their direction, and, widening out on each side, gave place 
 to an immense plain of white and rosy sand. An Indian city with towers, 
 
 pagodas, minarets, and domes suddenly appeared before us. Ledg 
 
 S superposed 
 
 served for pedestals to these constructions and intensified the effect. It only 
 
 needed elephants to complete the illusion, for all that we saw was simply a 
 
188 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LLON GEROME. 
 
 mountain. Terraces and details of sculpture were so clearly outlined that we 
 positively thought of making a long detour in order to draw nearer to the 
 mountain and convince ourselves that it really was a delusion. But our 
 arrangements for our journey to Akabah did not permit of alteration, to our 
 great regret, as we should have greatly liked to make some sketches of this 
 marvelous panorama. This Babylon seemed surrounded by colossal walls 
 flanked by battlemented towers ; it 
 merged on the horizon into another 
 series of plateaus of more vivid 
 
 tones, which helped to render more 
 
 natural this mirage of a g 
 
 at city 
 
 built on the side of a mountain. 
 The Wadi-Ain, which we reached 
 the same day, offered no compen- 
 
 sation for the superb spectacle we 
 \ were leaving, save the sight of an 
 
 abundant spring, shaded by palms, 
 \ where we expected to bathe. But 
 in this limpid water lurked a dan- 
 \ ger which we happily perceived 
 in time; it contained myriads of 
 tiny leeches which could have 
 
 produced most disastrous results. 
 Our animals, who did not inspect 
 the water so carefully, must have 
 
 given themselves a pronounced fit 
 
 of indigestion, and we had con- 
 
 Sascteee siderable trouble in making them 
 understand that we were in haste 
 to reach the sea in order to take 
 our bath in turn. 
 
 “Tenorantly we fled from the leeches to a greater danger, for this part of 
 the coast of the Gulf of Akabah is literally infested by sharks. And, moreover, 
 it was only after our second bath that the Arabs took the precaution to inform us 
 of this interesting fact, for a camel-driver is not expected to think of everything 
 at once! These dangerous shores owe this favor to the quantity of fish found 
 here, The clearness of the water and its tranquillity permitted us to see the fish 
 from the shore, and it is under these conditions that the Arabs fish with the line, 
 
 the net, or, so to speak, by hand. The coast here differed absolutely from the 
 
 borders of the Red Sea coming from Suez; there were no horribly pointed rocks 
 and stones, but a fine rosy sand which made one recall the beach at Trouville. 
 Shells of various tints were scattered around and looked like enormous flowers 
 cast up by the waves. There we saw a great quantity of coral in formation, 
 veritable scarlet sponges of a most brilliant hue, from which it appears the name 
 of the Red Sea has been borrowed. The soil hereabouts is sufficiently fertile and 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEz LEON GEROME, 189 
 
 well stocked with springs to attract the Arabs en villegiatura. Their employment 
 consists exclusively in fishing in this sea that is calmer than a lake. The first 
 day of our arrival two fishermen presented themselves in costume ; that is to say, 
 clad in their nets and lines. They must have belonged to the tribe of Beni- 
 guenons, for we had never imagined that men could look so much like monkeys, 
 Their awkward gestures, their winking eyes, and the frightful contraction of 
 their jaws made us reluctant to acknowledge them as friends and brothers. 
 
 We were guilty of the maive/é of offering to pay them for their fish in money, 
 but they would only exchange their merchandise for something to eat ; we had 
 not reflected that, afflicted with an absolute absence of any pocket, they could 
 
 not carry their purses with them. These two gorillas interested us greatly ; they 
 
 were real savages; we gave them something to eat and, thinking they would 
 
 want to drink also, we ordered them a gargou/ette of fresh water. Thanks,’ 
 
 replied the fisherman, ‘1 drank yesterday!’ We little expected this lesson in 
 temperance, translated to us by our dragoman, but the reply was so decided that 
 we felt some scruples about insisting. He allowed himself, however, to taste a 
 little glass of brandy, which probably caused him to see the heavens half- 
 opened, for in his joy he executed jumps that would have achieved the despair 
 of Auriol. Broiled on hot stones, which were applied like mustard-plasters, the 
 fish were excellent. We made our two apes understand that we should be happy 
 to have some more, but that, as we were obliged to resume our journey, they 
 
 must accompany us; we would stuff t 
 
 hem with eatables and they should be 
 
 attached to the caravan as grand fishers in ordinary to our Majesties. This was 
 
 st 
 
 going to camp, in order to have time to 
 
 very agreeable to them and they 
 
 they leaped into the water, disappeared, 
 
 arted at once for the spot where we were 
 
 fish before our arrival, Like real frogs, 
 and returned to the bank to ascertain 
 
 their catch. This mode of fishing was very amusing, and, while pursuing our 
 
 march, we followed them along the s 
 
 hore; suddenly they made us a sign to 
 
 approach, pointing to a spot where our inexperienced eyes distinguished at first 
 only a gray mass floating between two currents. It was an immense skate, about 
 five meters long, almost stranded ; it was snapping up the thousand little fish 
 that swarmed near the shore. The Arabs surrounded it adroitly and, having no 
 
 lines, but our revolvers, we rushed our dromedaries into the water ; they entered 
 in breast-high and we were just about to finish if when, with a single bound, the 
 To fish 
 
 with pistols from the backs of dromedaries is a novelty certainly worthy to be 
 
 huge fish cleared itself and shot away, to our general stupefaction. 
 
 recorded in the annals of pisciculture! A new sight soon attracted our attention : 
 shoals of tiny silvery fish sprang through the air, disappeared, and reappeared 
 farther on, like clouds of butterflies ; the presence of pursuing fish explained this 
 singular maneuver by which these poor creatures endeavored to throw their 
 
 enemies off the track and escape the pursuit. 
 
 “At this point on the gulf we had before us a charming little island, where 
 the ruins of a fortress and a convent are still tolerably well preserved ; it is 
 called Kouriéh. It was formerly an important strategic point at the time when 
 the Gulf of Akabah was more frequented, being traversed by all the caravans 
 
190 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 coming from Arabia and India. Unhappily it is in this spot that the sharks have 
 established their center of operations, and numerous accidents have happened in 
 consequence of the imprudence of travelers who have been tempted to traverse 
 the distance between the shore and this little islet. We bathed there, however, 
 but with the greatest precautions. (It was near this point that Gérome made his 
 sketch for his famous painting of Qwaerens guem devoret.) The mountains, 
 
 which reach here to the water's edge, present a most imposing aspect by their 
 
 grand horizontal lines; the sharp peaks and jagged rocks having given place to 
 immense plateaus, rising one over the other, with drifts of sand here and there, 
 so astonishingly white that from a distance it can easily be mistaken for snow. 
 The warm coloring of the soil, the pearl-gray and light green of the foliage, give 
 to the landscape the softest and most harmonious of tones. It was there that we 
 saw for the first time the doum-palm, whose thousand branches, grafted on a 
 
 single trunk, make it one of the strangest and most picturesque of trees. It 
 produces as a fruit a kind of almond, which we tried in vain to eat, but to which 
 the Arabs attribute preservative properties against illness and above all against 
 the evil eye. At last we arrived at a point where the city of Akabah appeared 
 at the entrance of a magnificent grove of palms, on the other side of the gulf. 
 Our attention was distracted for a moment by singular heaps of stones ranged 
 
 symmetrically across the route we were following. In a country where the 
 
 mountains touch the heavens, so to speak, and form almost impassable boundaries 
 between each tribe, the Arabs experience the need of adding these little heaps of 
 
 pebbles to define more exactly the precise limits of their respective little stat 
 Having ridden roughshod over these absurd barricades, we ceased to be under the 
 safeguard of the sheikh who had protected us till now. We were entering on 
 new territory and were now going to encounter civil and military authorities 
 unknown and much more serious. The overturning of one of these boundary 
 walls would offer a sufficient pretext for a declaration of war and be the signal for 
 bloody reprisals throughout the entire country. Thus, being sufficiently con- 
 vinced of the importance of these border beds, we henceforth made the tour of 
 them with great respect, knowing beforehand what villainous characters we had 
 to deal with. 
 
 “Akabah is unquestionably the point in our desert journey which made the 
 most profound impression upon us, by the savage and picturesque character of al 
 that we saw, from the brilliantly colored costumes of the inhabitants to the 
 strange constructions with their marvelous decorations. Before us the blue-green 
 sea, with palm trees mirrored in its transparent wave ; an extraordinary vege- 
 built o 
 clay, carefully aligned, and whose doors were surmounted by Arabic orna- 
 
 tation, which reminded us of the most wooded parts of Fayoum ; hous 
 
 mentations almost barbaric in style. Moreover, the types of the population 
 differed from those we had hitherto met; tall and strong, these athletes looked 
 
 marvelously well in their long red robes; a black kouffie covered their heads and 
 
 heightened still further the wild expression of their manly physiognomies. 
 
 There were doubtle 
 
 representatives of several tribes here, for several of these 
 Arabs had very white skins, their resemblance to Europeans of our acquaintance 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 191 
 
 being quite startling. Scarcely had our tents been stretched under the outlying 
 palms when a numerous deputation came to bid us welcome, and, at the same 
 time, and above all, assure themselves of the resources we could offer for their 
 industry of thieving and pilfering. Our kitchen tent was voted the most inter- 
 esting, and swarmed with amateurs, among whom the most formidable sheikhs 
 in the country did not disdain to figure, ordering an uninterrupted series of cups 
 of coffee and petits verres. Our poor cook Achmet could not fill half the demands 
 of this horde, who, like a set of chimpanzees, turned over and examined every- 
 thing they could lay hands on. By a system of telegraphy which the Arabs alone 
 understand, and practice marvelously among themselves, our departure from Suez 
 had been signaled ; the quantity and quality of our official dromedaries, the num- 
 ber of our tents and our chickens—all had been heralded ; we had been expected 
 for a month, to judge by our crowds of visitors and the extraordinary welcome 
 which overwhelmed us, for we were honored during the evening by salvos of 
 firearms and a display of fireworks. Our presentation to the Sheikh of Akabah 
 
 could not take place till the following day, because he had gone to steal camels 
 from some neighboring tribes and had not yet returned from his expedition; such 
 was the explanation given us of the absence of this prince! And it was the 
 son himself who furnished us with these interesting details as to the occupation 
 
 of his noble father! The evening of our arrival, the young Governor of the 
 Citadel came to see us, accompanied by his Grand-Master of Artil ery and the 
 principal officers of his military household. The sole emblem of his explosive 
 functions which distinguished the Grand-Master of Artillery from the rest was a 
 long pole, at the end of which trembled a tiny fuse, which was to touch off the 
 
 dozen firecrackers to be burned in our honor. The Governor seemed to be 
 
 about thirty years of age and did not appear to be very much enchanted with the 
 
 official post he held in the locality, where his authority was trifling in comparison 
 with that of the Grand Sheikh, who was for the moment absent on his thieving 
 tournée. His réle as representative of the Viceroy was to see to the revict- 
 ualing of the Caravan of Mecca, going and returning. It is a halt which all 
 
 pilgrims are forced to make, on account of the configuration of the desert which 
 remains to be cros 
 
 sed ; a station where they arrive generally having exhausted 
 their last supplies of food and water. It is to come to the aid of this pious want 
 of forethought on their part that the government has organized this colossal 
 buffet, without which the caravan would be obliged to devour itself ev route, in 
 order to reach the holy city. The little féte, the firecrackers, and illuminations 
 had lasted far on into the night, and we were eager to get to sleep under the 
 protection of these brigands, armed with every imaginable weapon, and with 
 whom we were constrained to be extremely amiable. 
 
 “Tt was about five o'clock in the morning and we were all sleeping the 
 sleep of the just when the dragoman, greatly excited, came to awake us, 
 announcing the arrival of the Grand Sheikh himself, the real, the only 
 Mohammed-Gadd; at once the greatest, the most powerful, and ugliest ! 
 Mounted on a beautiful mare, covered with a cloth all embroidered in red silk 
 and gold, the sheikh appeared en si/houette on the horizon, like a monument. 
 
192 
 
 He was followec 
 
 dressed in the brilliant red robes which we had noticed the day before. 
 ging on the ground at the end of a leather strap was an enormous pistol, 
 
 produced a terrific clanging as it rattled over the stones ; while in his left 
 
 he held a lance 
 His chibouk bet 
 
 and, with the assurance of a man who knows his importance, walked in 
 
 tent where we w 
 
 into the kitchen where he ordered, sans cérémonie, everything he coulc 
 
 down. This ma 
 
 much vex 
 
 himself wait for 
 iw 
 r 
 
 the journey of 
 oman, more and 
 on account of th 
 
 While we were 
 
 this official prese 
 
 from the lips of 
 had not been ab 
 he would have e 
 o 
 ous brothers anc 
 yproach, he ha: 
 oset ! 
 vas with his mc 
 
 1e dragoman 3 
 
 a 
 
 uns and stray p 
 
 w 
 
 have 
 tb it, I 
 
 it 
 may distw 
 
 hat Now 
 
 great Mo 
 
 The rest of the little band remained to fill his cup and pass him 
 
 into whic 
 time passed ina 
 and then 
 ularly ex 
 
 so large t 
 these barges in 
 he showed us /e 
 his great-grandf. 
 terrifying blade 
 
 engraved en relief ar 
 
 the greatest val 
 during this littl 
 
 1 by t 
 
 f our kitchen in passing glass 
 
 most extravagant compliments were exchanged through the mec 
 
 yeeches, our Colonel, addressing himself to the dragoman, rep 
 
 a, by w 
 
 cited his ac 
 
 hat eac 
 
 GEROME, 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON 
 
 n, and 
 Drag- 
 which 
 hand 
 
 1 by a number of others, armed like himself to the teet 
 
 immoderately long and adorned with tufts of-ostrich plumes. 
 
 ween his lips, he fell off rather than descended from his horse, 
 to the 
 ere to receive him ; not finding us there, he passed immediately 
 gulp 
 tinal visit had taken us unawares and the dragoman was very 
 -Gadd 
 
 Awakened with a start, our Colonel, greatly fatigued by 
 
 his contretemps, which compelled us to make Mohammec 
 us! 
 1e previous day, was particularly exasperated, and the drag- 
 more anxious, recommended us to observe the greatest courtesy 
 e danger attending our stay in the territories of these brigands. 
 hastily donning the most indispensable vestments, to undergo 
 ntation, he came to report the flattering words which had fallen 
 the sheikh, while he was swallowing everything that the cook 
 eto hide from him! If we had not soon made our appearance 
 
 mptied our bottles, for in our absence 4e was doing the honors 
 
 s and cups down the line formed by his numer- 
 Warned of our 
 
 friends who had escorted him to the camp. 
 stily quitted the kitchen, like a child surprised in the preserve 
 
 He installed himself in the salon, and, taken unawares in his turn, it 
 
 yuth full and a biscuit in each hand that he received us! The 
 ium always of 
 in the midst of the stars, we were roving planets! a cascade of 
 these charming 
 ied, ‘Tell 
 er that nothing 
 The 
 
 earls of the Occident! etc., etc. To reply to all 
 
 him 
 
 seen him my happiness is complete, and in ord 
 
 am going at once to ded/’ No sooner said than done ! 
 
 hammed-Gadd seemed profoundly touched by this delicate attention! 
 
 he sugar-bowl, 
 
 ay of simplifying matters, he finally emptied his coffee! The 
 
 we took off 
 
 reciprocal examination of costumes first one thing 
 
 another in order to pass things around more easily ; our boots partic- 
 
 miration. He himself had superb ones, entirely red, anc 
 ris feet must have had to take two or three steps inside of 
 We showed him our revolvers ; 
 
 h of 
 to drag them after him. 
 It was also the saber of his grandfather, of 
 
 order 
 sabre de son pére/ 
 and in fact of all his ancesto 
 
 The Arabic inscriptions, admirably 
 
 ather, for this marvelous anc 
 
 back to Abou-Bekr. 
 nd inlaid with gold, made this weapon an objet d'art of 
 The coffee, the cognac, and the liqueurs were not sparec 
 e exposition, and we became greatly concerned at the rapic 
 
 datec 
 
 ue. 
 
THE RETURN FROM THE CHASE, 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LLON GEROME. 195 
 
 disappearance of our most cherished supplies. Thinking to do us a great 
 pleasure he promised to come again and see us; we thanked him effusively, 
 promising ourselves not to be caught at home. The refreshments must have 
 struck him as being first-class, for at the end of an hour a fresh clanging of the 
 pistol over the stones announced his return with a new series of sheikhs, redder, 
 greedier, and thirstier than the others! Our poor cook, raising his hands to 
 heaven, uttered wails of despair, for the cups and glasses began a more rapid 
 circulation than ever. Between two cups, Mohammed-Gadd presented to us his 
 brother, the Sheikh Mak-Boul, little, thin, dried-up, and black ; it was he who 
 was to accompany us as far as Petra and secure for us a friendly reception by 
 ne different tribes. The diplomatic intervention of the governor of the fortress 
 
 ae 
 
 was necessary before we could get rid of this always increasing invasion o 
 hirsty visitors. The friends of friends brought ¢eir friends, and our canteens 
 began to grow alarmingly light. 
 
 “Akabah is to-day the most important city in all Arabia-Petreea; consid- 
 erably more so than Petra, which is only the ruin of a great city, the haunt of 
 the thieves and brigands who are designated by the term rebellious tribes. The 
 exceptional situation of Akabah and the marvelous vegetation which charac- 
 terizes its environs seem to prove that it is built on the same site as the 
 ancient Atlana, known among the Hebrews under the name of Elath, and 
 ooken of in Exodus. It was at the end of this gulf that the port of Asion- 
 gaber was situated, from whence the fleets of Solomon carried as far as the 
 Indies the renown of his glory and his little collection of proverbs. Dur- 
 
 n 
 
 ing our stay here we were industriously employed in making a series of 
 most interesting studies. The most important tribes of this part of Arabia 
 
 held out a long time against the troops of Mehemet Ali, who revenged him- 
 self by cutting down all the palm trees in tk 
 
 e country around the gulf, which 
 reduced to nothing the richness of this territory for many years. To stea 
 camels and cut down palm trees constitute the basis of the warfare indulgec 
 in by these different tribes among themselves, for, profoundly cowardly as 
 
 individuals, thes 
 
 Arabs rarely encounter each other in a hand-to-hand fight; 
 they delight to pepper each other from a distance, crouching behind a rock, 
 
 heads ! 
 
 “The governor of the fortress invited us to visit his little citadel. Sur- 
 rounded by wide ditches, it occupied the southwestern part of the city. Its 
 high walls are flanked by towers, where four cannon, disabled and useless, 
 terrify the tribes by their mere appearance. The Grand-Master of Artillery 
 explained to us his system of defense in case of attack, but having occasion to 
 notice that the ammunition was three times the size suitable to load these 
 
 or to tumble down half a mountain on each othe 
 
 deadly cannon, we did not place much confidence in his representations. The 
 casemates and interior galleries of this stronghold had a savage character which 
 delighted us; they recalled, from a decorative point of view, the odd descrip- 
 tions of Salammbo, by a formidable display of iron bars, of pikes, of extraordi- 
 narily long lances, and rusty s 
 
 abers, which must have dated from the creation, 
 
 so primitive and barbarous were their forms. As in the most thrilling periods 
 
EROME, 
 
 196 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON G 
 
 of the Middle Ages, there were piles of stones carefully ranged near the ram- 
 parts, ready to be pitched down on the assailants ; they showed us also the 
 copper pot for the boiling oil and the torches destined to set the village on fire 
 at need. Greek fire was the only thing lacking in this little museum of engines 
 of destruction. The prisons of the fortress were also very inspiring, but we dis- 
 of torture reserved for the prisoners. 
 
 pensed with the sight of the instruments 
 Besides, there were rows of posts 
 
 ~ arranged like gas-lamps in the court, 
 \ ‘ which were simply gallows on which 
 Vos 3 ae F A 
 
 EA the recalcitrants of the little garrison 
 
 were wont to dangle in space. The 
 governor of Akabah is only the repre- 
 sentative of the government of Cairo, 
 and this post is generally very little 
 
 sought for by the Egyptian diplomats. 
 
 This mission de confiance is often the 
 result of disgrace, or an absence necessi- 
 tated by a too pronounced devotion to 
 roulette and trente-et-quarante. We could 
 not divine the special case of our host, 
 yut this exile weighed heavily on him, 
 to judge by his sighs every time we 
 mentioned Cairo or Paris. To thank 
 
 him for his gracious reception we took 
 his photograph twice, and invited him 
 o dinner, together with his ally Mo- 
 hammed-Gadd, The tablecloth again 
 suffered woefully, for a horrible and 
 
 sickening messing with the fingers 
 
 began. They barely escaped maiming 
 
 hemselves with their forks, which they 
 at first tried to use; the spoons were less rebellious; but the most exquisite 
 dishes of our cuisine were not to their taste; the English mustard, pepper, 
 and onions, however, had a tremendous success. With a heaping spoon the 
 sheikh saturated his throat, his beard, and his clothes ; but these spots, flagrant 
 roofs of his gluttony, were far from intimidating him, and when he had 
 
 rinsed out the first pot of mustard, he asked for a second, smiling like a great 
 
 yaby asking for more preserv And then commenced a vocal guttural concert 
 
 of satisfaction, which from long experience we expected, and which on their 
 
 part was a proof of the gratitude with which their stomachs were overloaded. 
 Juring our sojourn we had made one friend; it was the nephew of Mohammed- 
 
 Gadd himself, and son of the Sheikh Mak-Boul, who was to accompany us as far 
 
 as Petra. This child, about ten years old, had a remarkably fine and expres- 
 sive face; his gentle disposition had won our affection and consoled us for the 
 
 ferocious aspect of his relatives ; he took neither coffee nor brandy and that was, 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 197 
 
 of itself, sufficient title to our esteem. He also was to form part of our escort 
 with his father, but only as far as the principal encampment of his tribe. 
 
 “Our departure for Petra was fixed for the next day, and it was not without 
 regret that we abandoned our superb dromedaries to bestride common camels, 
 much less swift and less easy of gait. The adieux to our camel-drivers from 
 Sinai and to the original drivers were touching. The two soldiers who had 
 accompanied us received a bakchich which so far surpassed their most eager 
 expectations that they became almost crazed with joy, for our Colonel had 
 counted out to each a hundred francs in ten-frane gold pieces. As each little 
 piece jingled down, their eyes widened with admiration, and when the count was 
 finished, the Arabs stood petrified, with open hands and gaping mouths, unable to 
 believe that this fortune was for them; in all their lives they had never seen so 
 much gold at one time. The joy of these good people was indescribable, and they 
 stify to their 
 
 could not find expressions sufficiently extravagant or Oriental to te 
 regret at leaving us. A last grasp of the hand, a last look, and we started in dif- 
 We 
 
 y direction and entered on a new 
 
 ferent directions, promising ourselves to meet again somewhere, some 
 
 passed up above the village in a northeaster 
 
 series of wadis ; the mountains were a succession of plateaus of a deep yellow col- 
 
 oring, more bizarre than agreeable to the eye. No incident broke the monotony 
 
 of our first encampments save the apparition of some coveys of partridges, which 
 gave us an opportunity to polish up our guns which had lain untouched since we 
 left Fayoum. These partridges, as large as our largest fowls, are not hunted by 
 
 the Arabs for the want of powder; they differ from the European birds, their 
 flesh being quite tough; but we were happy enough to have them. Their gray 
 color makes it difficult to distinguish them at first from the soil, but the Arabs 
 have good eyes and they delighted to point them out tous. The tribes to which 
 our new camel-drivers belonged were of a much more restless character than 
 those of the Sinaitic peninsula, and they loaded the camels and put up the tents 
 to the sound of a war 
 
 song. This was about the style: one of the Arabs chanted 
 a couplet and all the rest took up the chorus; there were questions and respons 
 
 as in the tragedies of Sophocles. We asked for the translation of some of these 
 strophes, whose poetic fancies and Oriental metaphors have a wondrous resem- 
 blance to the cheerful sublimities of—some modern writer: 
 “An Arab alone. ‘ He is there, he is 
 
 “Chorus: ‘Who? who? who? who?’ 
 
 ! Here is aspecimen : 
 
 thete sicHicnunerens 
 
 “The Soloist: ‘The enemy of our tribe; I do not see him; he sees me. 
 Presently I will see him and he will not see me!’ And so on for entire hours 
 without cessation. 
 
 “Another idiocy of the same quality : ‘There is a lion who is a wolf, for I, a 
 wolf, am a lion, and I will conquer him by my strength. And his children will 
 be the slaves of our children, unles 
 
 s they are their masters.’ Which shows 
 clearly that if M. —— had not died in France, he would still be living among 
 the wadis of Arabia-Petreea! Moreover, these war songs @ /a gomme are entirely 
 en rapport with the harmless combats which the Arabs wage among themselves, 
 a specimen of which we had at Petra; they are so afraid of getting hurt that 
 
198 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 they content themselves with uttering piercing cries and making terrible ges- 
 tures, after which they embrace each other desperately, invoking Allah and 
 
 thanking him for the victories they have gained over—themselves! It is gen- 
 erally in this final embrace that they relieve each other of all valuables in 
 sign of reconciliation, in order not to lose their skill and to keep their hand in. 
 These periodical and obligatory vocal concerts amused us for several days and 
 we sometimes even took part in them, improvising stanzas; but at the eighth 
 encampment we felt that we were going crazy, and it needed several diplomatic 
 tours de force to persuade these artists that their foefry, though ravishing, was 
 beginning to give us an attack of the nerves! The very evening that we 
 expected some relief, we were greatly surprised to hear them recommence 
 more furiously than ever; astonished by our reproaches, they informed us that 
 this time they were singing /rose; and that to please us they had even changed 
 
 the music. We did not wish to annoy them further, so we endured to the bitter 
 
 end, only begging them to lower the tone an octave! Lance in hand, the great 
 Mohammed-Gadd had accompanied us; mounted on his steed of battle, he 
 
 indulged in extraordinary cries and gestures to quicken its pace, for the poor 
 animal, staggering under his weight, could with difficulty keep up with the long 
 
 stride of our camels. At the entrance of the Wadi-Guerra, the sheikh took 
 leave of us, intrusting us to the care of his brother Mak-Boul and the latter's 
 little son. The child rode ex crowfe on the paternal saddle, holding in his arms 
 a little gazelle which he dandled like a doll. To inspire our new guide with a 
 
 more perfect confidence, we invited him and his son to take their meals with us. 
 
 We did not regret this move, for it assured us all his zealous authority in the 
 dangerous environment which attended our departure from Petra. In order to 
 return our hospitality, he invited us to dine with him when we reached the 
 
 principal encampment of his tribe; it was a horrible repetition of the slovenly 
 
 tepasts we had already endured in the tents of these Bedouins ; diving up to the 
 elbows into a dish of rice-balls and passing a sauce in a kind of wooden sabot, in 
 which each one dipped his rice-ball before putting it in his neighbor's mouth / 
 “As we left the desert of Thi farther and farther to the left, the country 
 became more and more verdant. Tall grasses and flowers of every color softened 
 
 the yellow and red tints of the rocks; against the background of these warm-toned 
 
 mountains, the silvery-leaved shrubs looked even more metallic than on the sand, 
 where we had already seen them. On the horizon, a little to our right, rose 
 Djebel-Isagra. We had ordered our tents pitched in a natural amphitheater 
 formed by the rock 
 
 ; we found there several flocks of sheep, camels, and goats 
 which, like us, had sought shelter from the wind. From this Noah’s ark of ani- 
 mals we could make our choice, and we adopted a young camel which had been 
 
 | abandoned by its mother ; it looked like a large goat, and its youth was an excuse 
 
 for its absolute lack of education, for it soon became extravagantly familiar with 
 
 us, entering our tents and not disdaining to roll on our beds! This foundling 
 we baptized with the name of Young Eliakim. The country became more and 
 
 more green; it was an ocean of bushes at almost equal distances, the quivering 
 foliage giving to the desert the appearance of a foaming and agitated sea. 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LE 
 
 NV GEROME. 199 
 
 “We followed the Wadi-Delaga and the Ain-Réisin between two white walls 
 formed by the natural bed of the torrent. This chalky formation greatly resem- 
 bled the plains of Champagne ; numerous partridges were the only inhabitants of 
 these rocks, overgrown with plants, grasses, and bushes, and the hunters slaugh- 
 tered them by the hundreds for the benefit of the Swedish marmite. At each 
 turning in the ravine we encountered herds, without any guardians, horses, and 
 particularly superb mares and their foals. We would have been glad to buy one 
 of these lovely animals but the difficulty was to find the proprietors, of whom we 
 had not seen the slightest vestige. We had not seen them, but probably they 
 could not say the same of us, for from behind a rock the faithful shepherd is 
 wont to spy upon the country and watch the travelers, to rob them when 
 convenient! These herds of horses, which have an air of being entirely aban- 
 doned, are all numbered, and when one is wanting, the tribe to which its 
 proprietor belongs rises in its entirety to find and reclaim it, if need be, by force 
 of arms. The stealing of animals constitutes the perpetual occupation of the 
 country and keeps up the disagreeable relations between the tribes, who, of 
 course, are forced to steal again what has been taken from them. At our 
 preceding station the Arabs had presented to us one of their friends, a shepherd 
 of the country and known as the most skillful thief in the whole region. In their 
 eyes he was a great persona 
 
 e, and they professed for him the profound admi- 
 ration they always entertain for the author of a theft or skillfully executed 
 surprise. One more day among the stones and chasms and we were going to 
 study at our ease the most remarkable types of these worthies, and especially 
 
 their merits afrés nature, furnishing them with many involuntary tributes ; al 
 that was left of our coffee and sugar, in fact all our most cherished supplies, were 
 appropriated by them, and if we did not complain more bitterly, it was because 
 we were thankful not to be gobbled up ourselves.” 
 
 In a continual state of anxiety as to the intentions of these marauders, 
 who each day grew more impertinent and aggressive, sketching became a really 
 dangerous amusement, since one could scarcely have ‘‘one eye centered on the 
 beauties of nature while the other kept watch on these crafty wretches.” The 
 master succeeded, however, in making various studies, one of which, Spring- 
 time in Arabia, represents a lioness rolling on a bank dotted with flowers, that 
 in their vivid coloring remind one of the Alpine flora. Her mate looks down 
 
 from a neighboring height on the rocky plains of Petrzea, which resemble 
 
 petrified billows, while the rising sun flecks with rose the cloudlets that fly 
 before the wind. 
 Géréme himself described to us one morning, in his atelier, a droll episode 
 
 which occurred at this time. 
 
 “‘T remember once [said he] we were camping in the forum at Petra, where 
 the Arabs are brigands, veritable brigands. They stole everything they could 
 see by day, and at night they would creep up so close to us, in hopes of finding 
 
200 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 something else that they could carry off, that we could feel the tents shaking 
 as they moved about. It is an astonishing fact that these miserable wretches 
 are without any moral sentiment save that of modesty, which is developed to 
 an extraordinary degree. So that when their nocturnal attentions became 
 insupportable, we could always drive them off by sending one of our little band 
 
 to confront them clad only in his 
 
 boots One night, Lenoir, poor 
 
 Lenoir! was so exasperated at hav- 
 
 ing his sleep disturbed, that in 
 anguage more energetic than ele- 
 gant, he called out to one of the 
 intruders whose voice he recognized, 
 yidding him begone! We were 
 all convulsed to hear this Arab, 
 RY whom we called Agamemnon, repeat 
 
 ike a parrot the last three words, 
 with a perfect accent, although he 
 
 was entirely ignorant of their 
 
 meaning. This tempted Lenoir to 
 
 try another experiment. He sat 
 if up in bed, and shouted ‘7 ‘7’ 
 
 echoed the Arab. ‘4mm,’ continued 
 
 oa Lenoir. ‘4m,’ said Agamemnon. 
 Cal 
 thief /’—' A thief/'—these self-accusing words re-echoing in the forum with 
 
 “A scoundrel /’—‘A scoundrel!’ 
 marvelous distinctness to the intense delight of our whole encampment.” 
 
 While relating this anecdote, Géro6me rose up and, with inimitable gesture 
 and tone, mimicked in turn Lenoir and his Arab in a manner worthy of the 
 Comédie Francaise. Then followed other stories, gay and grave, of artist 
 friends who had passed away: of Fortuny, who painted for two months, in this 
 very studio, on his Spanish Marriage ; of Barye, whose che/s-d’euvre lie on 
 
 every table and cabinet in the ateliers, and who owed his election to the 
 
 Institute largely to the warm affection and personal efforts of Gérome. ‘‘ For 
 years they allowed him almost to die of hunger!” said the master, flushing 
 with generous indignation. ‘‘It was only after he was gone that his genius 
 
 was fully recognized, and now they will pay any price for pieces cast by his 
 own hand.” 
 
 Then he spoke of Baudry, also one of his intimates, whose talent he 
 greatly admires and whose loss he deeply mourns ; and of Fromentin, one of his 
 near neighbors and good friends, of whom he said: “ A remarkable man, a writer 
 of the first order; but, as a painter, he unfortunately lacked the advantage of 
 
 serious study in his youth. No one realized this more keenly than he himself. 
 
MARABOUT 
 
 THE 
 
 1889 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 201 
 
 One morning I came into his atelier and found him making a simple rudimentary 
 study. ‘Why are you doing that?’ I asked. ‘70 /earn/’ he replied frankly. 
 And in that spirit he worked till the day of his death. He was only fifty-five 
 years old—a very remarkable man !” 
 
 And then he chatted of his beloved pupils. Of Bargue and Aublet, of 
 Dagnan-Bouveret and Courtois, of those Americans, Bridgman, Stewart, 
 Harrison,—all of whom have almost become Frenchmen !—and with especial 
 interest and affection of our own Abbott Thayer and De Forest Brush. 
 
 The following extracts from letters by well known American artists bear 
 witness to their deep appreciation of the exceptional qualities of their chosen 
 master and friend. 
 
 Abbott Thayer writes : 
 
 “The thought of Géréme arouses first of all, in an artist's heart, the senti- 
 
 ment of truth-worship. Whatever the degree of appetite for his paintings, they 
 must forever magnetize each fellow-artist by their stamp of a great nature’s 
 austere fidelity ; and their purity in those respects, which was plainly his aim, 
 destines them to last among a very few to represent his epoch hereafter. As a 
 man, he is so imposing that it may be dangerous to speak. When he came into 
 the schoolroom, his presence hushed the crowd, even to the roughest Communist 
 element, so that you could always have heard a pin drop, save for his own serious 
 voice 
 
 a homage emphasized by their different treatment of many other digni- 
 taries. One of my innermost longings will always be to get his approval of my 
 work.” 
 
 Says Will H. Low: 
 
 “Five months in the atelier of Géréme is so short a time that I have never 
 presumed to call myself his pupil, but, under the influence of so strong a nature, 
 
 it is possible to receive in that brief period a distinct and abiding impression of 
 
 the man. His personal presence, alert, erect, and keen, is that of a soldier, and, 
 amid his colleagues of L’Ecole des Beaux-Arts, clad in their uniform of dark- 
 green, embroidered with silver palms, he appears a veteran surrounded by con- 
 scripts. His art is tinctured with the like qualities, and against the invading 
 armies of modern realism he has 
 
 tood—valiant soldier—firmly at his post. And 
 in the future, when the wheat is winnowed from the chaff, it can hardly be 
 questioned that the typical reality which he has upheld will prevail against the 
 accidental reality of the protemporary modernistes. One of these last—Georges 
 Rochegrosse 
 
 exhibited at a late Salon a Death of Cwsar where the assassins 
 
 clambered over one another in their effort to reach the prostrate emperor, as 
 beggars scramble for a penny pitched in the midst of them. Such a represen- 
 
 tation, however possible or probable, can never supplant the dignified and simple 
 tragedy portrayed by Géréme, any more than the Venus of Milo, with her typical 
 beauty garnered from a thousand perfections, can be supplanted by a cast from 
 nature !” 
 
202 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 J. Alden Weir writes : 
 “Tt is with great pleasure that I subscribe my profound respect and admi- 
 ration for Géréme. I shall always consider it my good fortune to have had his 
 counsel and advice—just, severe, and appreciative. Differing greatly in the phase 
 of art which I follow, yet I cannot but esteem him as one of the masters anc 
 
 most distinguished men of his age.” 
 
 George de Forest Brush says: 
 
 “ As a teacher he is very dignified and apparently cold, but really most kind 
 and soft-hearted, giving his foreign pupils every attention. In his teaching he 
 avoids anything like recipes for painting; he constantly points out truths of 
 nature, and teaches that art can be attained only through increased perception 
 and not by processes. But he pleads constantly with his pupils to understand 
 that, although absolute fidelity to Nature must be ever in mind, yet if they do 
 on, they will end as they began—only 
 
 not at last make imitation serve express 
 children. There are people who pass by Géréme because he is not a ‘ coloris 
 because he does not paint lovable faces, or something which they would do if 
 they could paint! But these people do not see over him; ¢hey have not yet seen 
 him. \ believe he is one of the greatest masters, not of modern times, but of @// 
 
 times, and that he will be venerated more and more as we grow up to him.” 
 
 The master’s admirers who have not the happiness of a personal acquaint- 
 ance with him are legion, and he is the constant recipient of letters and 
 souvenirs testifying to the respect and affection of his unknown friends. In 
 several cases a profound and touching friendship has thus sprung up, notably 
 with the well-known artist and professor in the School of Design at Philadelphia, 
 Stephen J. Ferris, to whose intense appreciation of Gérome and enlightened 
 “propaganda” the writer gratefully acknowledges her indebtedness for her first 
 glimpse of the great artist, and the ineffable honor of having been chosen to be 
 his biographer. 
 
 But we must return to Petra and our artists there in camp. On the day of 
 
 their final departure they were obliged to mass their forces and, with revolvers 
 at full-cock, slowly retire across the boundaries beyond which these brigands 
 did not venture to follow, Gérome and two of the ‘‘best shots” closing up the 
 rear and keeping off this howling crew, who were only prevented from sur- 
 rounding and massacring the entire party by the imposing calmness and 
 
 strategic skill of the Colonel. 
 
 “On my return from this journey [Geréme writes in his private journal], 
 
 I exhibited two very different pictures which caused me all manner of annoy- 
 ances: La Mort de Maréchal Ney and Golgotha. Apropos of the first one I 
 was very near having a serious affair with the Prince de la Moskowa, son of the 
 Marshal. The superintendent of the Beaux-Arts begged me several times not to 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 203 
 
 exhibit this picture ; but I steadfastly refused to yield, for the sake of the prin- 
 ciple involved, declaring to him that painters had as good a claim to write history 
 with their brushes as authors with their pens, which is incontestable. Besides, 
 this picture was only a statement of a well-known fact, without comment of any 
 kind. The Administration might put its veto upon it. It did not do so, but 
 chose a middle course—the picture was hung in a corner, It was none the less 
 looked at, and started the tongues of the various political factions to wagging. 
 The Legitimists said, ‘What a toady of the Imperial Government!’ etc. The 
 Lonapartists, ‘What harm have we done him?  Isn’t he contented yet, when he 
 has just been made Officer of the Legion of Honor?’ etc. What do you think 
 
 of these two ways of speaking? If I had wished to displease the Legitimists, 
 I should have served the purpose of the Bonapartists, and vice versa / 
 
 “As to the subject of the second, there was great astonishment because I had 
 only painted the shadows of Christ and the thieves, thus running full tilt at 
 
 ancient and venerated traditions. It seems to me, however, that there was a 
 
 certain poetry in this view of Calvary, a new manner of treating it, well within 
 the domain of painting; but my innovation was not to everybody’s taste, and 
 
 I was made to feel it keenly. 
 Gautier writes : 
 “The Death of Marshal Ney, exposed under the title of The 7th of December, 
 
 1815,9 o'clock in the Morning, will certainly attract an unceasingly renewed crowe 
 of spectators. It is a historical picture, but not in the ser 
 
 e in which this word 
 
 was formerly understood. In the first place, the canvas mall as for a scene 
 
 of genre, and the subject is not drawn from the remote past ; it still palpitates anc 
 bleeds, so to speak. The artist has treated it in the modern histori 
 which traces things back to their origin, throws aside all va 
 
 il manner, 
 rue phr 
 
 seology, anc 
 ness and gravity, 
 more thrilling than a dramatic mse en scene, M. Gérome depicts this lugubrious 
 execution just as it must have taken place. One would say, a frocées-verbal 
 painted by an eye-witness. A dirty wall, a common plastered wall, scribbled 
 over with political inscriptions which efface and contradict each other, anc 
 
 seeks for absolute reality of detail. With a terrible concis 
 
 studded with white stars by a volley of balls, occupies diagonally nearly the 
 whole let 
 
 sth of the picture. It is scarcely daylight and this gray morning in the 
 month of December shakes off, as best it can, a night of fog. In the angle of 
 
 the wall a street-lamp swings its expiring yellow light, and we have a glimpse, 
 
 in the shadow, of a picket of soldiers marching away with hurried step, almost as 
 
 if fleeing. In the foreground, a black object, flattened against the ground, attracts 
 the eye, restless in the presence of this sinister solitude: it is Marshal Ney, 
 fallen forward like all those whom the balls pierce to the heart, the face turned a 
 
 little to one side, the body covered with the mantle, not so completely, however, 
 but that one can see the silk stockings and pumps, for the bravest of the brave 
 had made a full toilette to go to his death; admirable coquetry of a hero! 
 
 Several paces away lies his hat @ /a Bolivar. This hat, in the fashion of the time, 
 
 produces the same tragic effect as the shoe in the foreground of the Barricade of 
 
204 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 Meissonier; this form, which would be absurd to-day, takes on a terrible gravity 
 in its minute rendering. It dates the scene and mingles the dowrgeois life of the 
 time with this sober drama. On the muddy ground and the meager blades of 
 grass that shoot up at the foot of the old walls, the torn papers of several car- 
 tridges are still smoking. In falling, the Marshal seems to have created around 
 him solitude, abandonment, and terror; everybody, in the shock and stupor con- 
 sequent on the murder, has fled from the body that but now was living and which 
 the bullets on so many battlefields had spared. According to history, the body of 
 the Marshal remained alone ten or fifteen minutes; it seemed that no one dared 
 to return. It is this moment that M. Géréme has marvelously depicted. One 
 
 shivers before his picture as if it were a reality. The painting is forgotten in the 
 
 spectacle. Doubtless everything is rendered with the fine, precise touch which 
 
 characterizes M. Gérome. But one does not pay attention to it; the eye returns 
 
 constantly to the frightful black spot. Whether the impression produced is the 
 
 result of the fact itself or of the art with which the painter has portrayed it, one 
 
 thing is certain, that one cannot pass before The 7th of December, 1815, without 
 on of the heart.” 
 
 yainful emotion and oppress 
 
 Scott, the eminent English critic, comments on this remarkable canvas as 
 follows : 
 “Some artists, like some fashionable physicians, take the high places at the 
 feast by qualities quite apart from their abilities. These, such as many in our 
 Royal Academy, if they live too long, have an unpleasant experience of neglect 
 
 and even de 
 
 yn in their old age. Others grow in honor the longer they live, 
 and of these is certainly Gérome, the first living painter in all the world for 
 power in reproducing a dramatic moment on canvas. Unity of sentiment and 
 
 In 
 
 color, it appears to me, is the crowning quality of several French painte 
 
 our Burlington House Exhibition, just closed, Géréme’s Death of Marshal Ney 
 was a notable example of this. The bluish-gray, misty morning, with the street- 
 
 amp burning down and dimly gleaming (the old oil-lamp that exhausted itself 
 in the dawn); the pallid wall inclosing the caserne, against which he was placed 
 ; the black figure lying quite straight on the s 
 
 to receive the volley ordid ground ; 
 
 these were the elements of the picture, and the sentiment was preserved in its 
 integrity, the picture maintained as a true work of art by the colorless self- 
 
 denial of the painter, that would not even let him accent the blood that was 
 discoverable beginning to ooze from beneath the dishonored hero. This sim- 
 plicity of color and propriety of color in relation to sentiment we find very 
 obvious in the landscape-painters of the French school as compared to ours— 
 
 in Troyon, for example 
 in all the works of Géréme. The Death of Marshal Ney I have described 
 
 and, among figure-painters, most admirably displayed 
 
 because it was before the English public so lately; but in his Gladiators— 
 
 Ave Cesar, Imperator! morituri te salutant/ it was no less ably preserved.” 
 
 During the painting of the Golgotha, otherwise known as Consumimatuim Est 
 
 or Jerusalem, the critic of the London 4¢henceum wrote as follows : 
 
‘daa.LS SIH GNV dVaV FHL 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 207 
 
 ““M. Géréme has recently been occupied in carrying out a novel pictorial 
 conception of the Crucifixion. This consists in rendering, with the utmost of 
 his extraordinary power, the terror and pathos of that awful subject as they were 
 expressed in the features and actions of the spectators, who, soon after the event, 
 were assembled at the foot of the cross. The figures of Christ and his com- 
 panions in suffering are represented in the picture by shadows that fall before the 
 spectators. The city of Jerusalem is shown in the background of the picture.” 
 
 Gautier devoted to this impressive scene a long column in his Salon review. 
 
 He says: 
 
 “It is customary to begin a critique of the Salon by general reflections upon 
 art, more or less eloquent, but ordinarily gloomy, from which it would appear 
 that we are in a state of absolute decadence and that our best artists would be 
 scarcely worthy to mix the colors in the atelier of one of the old masters. We do 
 not share this opinion and we have a decided esteem for this poor nineteenth 
 century, so much despised, but which will, however, be one day ranked among 
 the most glorious and precious epochs. In these jeremiads, one forgets that an 
 exposition is not a museum, and that, in former times also, there was a great 
 
 deal of bad painting which has not been preserved for us. It would be un- 
 reasonable to exact that the labor of a year should equal the productions of all 
 eral centuries, and yet this is almost demanded by those who 
 
 schools during 
 compare the che/s-d’cewvre of Italy, Flanders, and Spain with the canvases which 
 our contemporary painters bring at a certain time to the halls of the Palais de 
 I'Industrie. So then, without entering into these idle discussions, we shall at 
 once attack our subject and speak of the paintings which seem to us the most 
 them in review as they present themselves, and shall 
 
 remarkable. We shall pa 
 not attempt to arrange them in impossible classifications now, when all styles 
 seem to leave their special limits and tend toward a general blending. 
 
 “Tt is a singular composition, the picture which M. Gérome entitles 
 Jerusalem, the view of which is taken from Calvary. The artist has chosen a 
 moment neglected by the painters who have so often reproduced the great drama 
 of the Passion. This work, to speak truly, is more picturesque than religious, 
 and, besides, it does not exceed the dimensions of an easel-picture ; a wise limit, 
 in a time when the habitations of men resemble the cells of a honeycomb, and 
 when grand proportions should only be employed for the mural paintings of 
 churches and palaces. The tragedy is consummated; the executioners, the 
 
 Roman soldiers, and the curious crowd that is always attracted by a spectacle of 
 punishment, are returning to the city. In the foreground of the picture formed 
 by the summit of Calvary, in the wan light of an eclipse, three strange, mournful 
 shadows stretch out over the chalky ground. What are these trees of death 
 
 with their ghastly burdens, which project these black silhouettes? The three 
 gibbets, placed by the artist ow/side of the picture into which their shadow falls. 
 We can recognize the cross of the impenitent thief by his more convulsed profile. 
 This manner of indicating the invisible gallows shows an original and striking 
 
208 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 power of invention. The shadow of the torture is more frightful than the 
 torture itself; but perhaps the idea is too ingeniously literary for a painter ! 
 Many another artist would have simply painted Christ between the two thieves, 
 with all possible care, representing the crosses from the rear in order to conform 
 to the point of view; but then, it would only have been a Calvary like all the 
 others! In subjects treated in so superior a manner, it is after all thoroughly 
 permissible to seek for something new, 
 
 above all when the work has not an 
 
 > especially religious destination. 
 
 “The rest of the composition 
 spreads downward from this plateau of 
 Calvary, like a panorama around the 
 platfo 
 
 m on which the spectator stands. 
 
 A The Roman cavaliers, who follow the 
 i \ winding road and half turn upon their 
 
 horses to point to the cross of the 
 
 Christ, have a positively superb /owr- 
 nure, and, in spite of their smallness, 
 are of the most beautiful antique style ; 
 
 \ they well represent the Roman power 
 in Judea, and by their calmness pro- 
 test against the old Jewish fanaticism. 
 
 {i The death of this just man, whom they 
 
 would gladly have spared, h 
 
 pro- 
 foundly moved them; the wonders that 
 gt follow his death amaze them. In truth, 
 
 the sun is eclipsed and a livid twilight 
 envelops the land. On the summit and 
 sides of the hill on which it is built lies 
 Jerusalem, with its ramparts, its towers, 
 
 its gates, its dwellings, and its massive 
 temple, which dominates the other 
 edifices. Against the reddish and misty 
 background of the sky, it stands out in a vague sulphureous glow; some olive 
 trees with pale foliage are touched by a bluish-green light, and in the valley, 
 like a black serpent, winds the already distant procession. The effect of this 
 composition is strange and bewilders the judgment. One scarcely knows in 
 what category to place it, for the figures and the landscape are of equal 
 importance. It will best come under the head of ‘picturesque history.’” 
 
 Géréme also drew upon his Oriental portfolios for another canvas which he 
 finished this year. Masson describes it, and one of similar theme, in an article 
 written for Les Lettres et les Arts. 
 
 “General Bonaparte at Cairo and General Bonaparte in Egypt, like the Gdi- 
 pus, are excellent historical pictures. In the first, Bonaparte, mounted on an Arab 
 
N LEON GEROME. 209 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JE. 
 
 horse, regards the immense city extended at his feet. The meditative features 
 are outlined on the pale azure of the sky stretching over the warm undulations 
 of the Mogattam in the distance. Below the citadel, the Muezzins are calling 
 the faithful to prayer, and the minaret of the grand Mosque pierces the heavens. 
 pt, the simoon blows upon 
 
 In the canvas entitled General Bonaparte in Egy 
 the army on its march in the desert; perched upon a white camel, whose 
 neck is stretched out desperately under the hot breath of the wind, the Gen- 
 eral appears de face, his meager, yellow countenance framed by long black 
 hair. The coat, buttoned up, makes a somber spot accentuated by the white 
 leather breeches and the yellow-topped boots. The body erect, the great 
 hat posed as if in battle array, he moves on, correct in his severe uniform, 
 while behind him, succumbing to the heat and the burning sand which blinds 
 them, the officers of his staff, whose dromedaries vainly seek for some tuft of 
 
 moist herbage, abandon themselves to weary postures. Near the General, a 
 Turk on foot, and several Arab horsemen in their striking costumes; in the back- 
 ground, the army slowly defiling. Never has any one more truly rendered the 
 golden mist raised by the khamsinn ; never has any one thus perfectly expressed 
 the frightful lassitude which takes possession of the best trained men save those 
 who have compelled the body to be the docile slave of the mind. What is 
 
 remarkable in this picture is, that the thought one reads upon this emaciated face 
 is evidently far from the desert. It has left the body and, while the eyes fixedly 
 regard the horizon, it goes on crossing rivers, climbing mountains, traversing 
 seas. Bonaparte is no longer on the road to Syria—he is on the way to India! 
 He hesitates between these two halves of the world which he holds in his hands ; 
 
 he ponders upon the fate of Alexander and of Cesar; he asks himself if Asia, of 
 which he holds the key, is worth this Europe from whence he comes ; and, uncon- 
 scious of suffering, his dream embraces the universe! It is a bit of history that 
 the author of the 4ge of Augustus has painted for us here, plainly showing, as in 
 many other celebrated pictures, the philosophical power of his mind.” 
 
 He has also given another view of Bonaparte on the heights above Cairo, 
 which is but little known and which does not equal in power the two just 
 described. 
 
 At the Salon of 1869 he exhibited only two pictures and a pencil-sketch, in 
 
 which, as Gautier says: 
 
 “He again reproduced the sculptural form and grand style of those races 
 which civilization as yet has not changed, which are like medals that have pre- 
 served the clear imprint of the primitive stamp. The Strolling Merchant of 
 Cairo, at this Salon, maintains a rare majesty while selling his bric-a-brac; one 
 
 could easily use him as a patriarch, Abraham or Jacob, in a biblical picture. 
 The Promenade of the Harem shows us a caigue flying swiftly along the Nile 
 under the united efforts of ten oarsmen; in a cabin on deck is a group of 
 mysterious beauties, half visible behind the curtains 
 
 and, crouching in the 
 stern, a musician chants to the accompaniment of his gwz/a one of those nasal 
 
LEON GEROME. 
 
 210 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEz 
 
 songs that possess so keen a charm for barbarous ears, and which we confess 
 ourselves fond of, even should this frank avowal arouse the contempt of our 
 musicians. The boat slips over the clear transparent water along the misty 
 shore, in a s¢ 
 
 rt of luminous fog which produces a magical effect. The bark seems 
 to float at the same time in the water and in the air. These effects, which appear 
 almost impossible to eyes that are not accustomed to the tender tones of the ‘land 
 of light,’ are rendered by M. Géréme with absolute fidelity. An admirable 
 pencil-sketch, which belongs to the Baron de Boissieu, represents a peasant from 
 the region of the Danube, doubtless a souvenir of the artist’s first journey.” 
 
 The disasters of the years 1870-71, and their mournful effects on artist circles 
 and life in Paris, have left so indelible a souvenir that we need not dwell upon 
 them. Géréme had removed his family to his villa in Bougival, and, like all 
 his countrymen, full of confidence as to the ultimate result of the struggle, he 
 endeavored to continue his quiet routine of work in his summer atelier. The 
 unexpected and rapid approach of the hostile forces compelled him to make 
 a hasty retreat. Gérome hurried to place his wife and little ones in safety in 
 
 England, and started back, intending to share the fate of his comrades in the 
 
 defense of Paris. But the beautiful city was already encircled by an impregnable 
 
 cordon of vigilant foes, and he was finally obliged to return to London, an invol- 
 
 untary and unhappy exile. He accepted the hospitality of an English studio, 
 
 and endeavored to utilize the time of his enforced sojourn in a strange land. He 
 
 found many devoted friends there, and under other circumstances would have 
 thoroughly enjoyed his stay. - He often recurs with emotion to those days when, 
 although unable to speak a word of English, he learned to know and appreciate 
 the warmth of English hearts. But grief for the irreparable misfortunes of 
 
 *rance, anxiety for the future, and the difference in climate, told unfavorably 
 
 upon him. One of his distractions may be inferred from the following extract 
 
 from a letter written by him some years later in re 
 
 ply to some questions. It 
 
 touches several points of interest : 
 
 “Leon G 
 
 was one of my pupils; he painted my portrait (very badly !). 
 t was exhibited, but achieved no success, which was just. As to my dzsé, that 
 is another affair. It was executed by Carpeaux in the year of the war. I was at 
 
 sondon, Carpeaux also; he proposed to model my bust; I naturally accepted, 
 as he was a sculptor of great talent. This bust isa chef-d’euvre and artists buy 
 it, not, you understand, in order to have my effigy, but because it is a most 
 remarkable work of art. I will show it to you when you come, which I hope 
 will be soon. / did not reproduce the Phryne in sculpture; it was Falguiére, 
 who, by the order of the Maison Goupil, modeled this little figure after my 
 picture and my studies. The two little statuettes representing the Danse du 
 Ventre and the Danse du Sabre are by Mercié, both after my pictures, and 
 ordered by the Maison Goupil.” 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 211 
 
 As these exquisite figurines have been ascribed in several biographical 
 sketches to Gérome, it is satisfactory to hear the master himself give “honor to 
 s 
 
 whom honor is due.” Apropos of Carpeaux’s work, Timbal say 
 
 “Carpeaux excelled in the bust; he gave it life; the eyes of his figures 
 sparkled with a brilliancy which till now it seemed that painting alone could imi- 
 tate. And then, this son of a workingman had an aristocratic talent, and, under 
 a rough exterior—strange contrast with which Nature sometimes amuses her- 
 self—a fineness of intuition which revealed the gentleman in art. He knew how 
 
 to place a beautiful head on shoulders royally modeled by nature, and to let 
 
 wavy tresses fall naturally upon the velvet or ermine of a state-portrait. The 
 beautiful bust of Madame la Princesse Mathilde soon made Carpeaux the sculptor 
 in ordinary to the Imperial family. The full-length statue of the young Prince, 
 accompanied by his celebrated dog Nero, consecrated before the eyes of the 
 public this title which he did not bear, but whose office he filled. What has 
 
 become of this charming work, not more fragile than the good fortune of him 
 who had commanded it? Poor artists of France, who imagined they were 
 working for history, dogged in the shadow by the /é¢ro/e of social progress ! 
 
 Among the busts which will perhaps escape the spiteful conspiracies of the 
 future, we hope at least that of Géréme will find a favored place. None will 
 afford a more perfect specimen of the manner of Carpeaux. It is an instantane- 
 ous sketch which, with two strokes of the chisel, has caught the fleeting mo- 
 
 ment of a happy expression ; a rare good fortune, the force of which has not been 
 weakened by after study and labor of perfection.” 
 
 Maxime Du Camp also writes: ‘Life circulates under these thoughtful 
 
 features, the glance darts two lightning-flashes of intelligence and will. This 
 head is cast in one’s memory as it is in the bronze.” 
 In November, 1870, several small pictures appeared at an exhibition of 
 7 I 
 
 English art and were chronicled in the London 4 ¢heneum. 
 
 “We may turn now to examine and laud the elaborate and learned work of 
 M. Gérome, which is styled ‘4 Bashi Bazouk.’ It is a halflength figure of a 
 negro warrior. On his head a high and twisted turban with pendants, on his 
 body a superbly painted robe of deep red-rose color, which, having a sheeny 
 surface, reflects the light, melts its glowing tints in the shadows, and flushes 
 strongly in the intermediate folds. Thus this work is more potent in color than 
 usual ; it is not, however, less solidly and finely modeled. A still more interest- 
 ing picture is the Piferari, two Neapolitan men and a boy standing in a very 
 reet, during frosty weather. The house to which the noise 
 
 inhospitable-looking s 
 of their bagpipes is directed is thoroughly unsympathetic, although probably 
 
 musical. Recently painted, this picture looks dull and flat, so that most of its 
 subtle wealth of color is lost for the while, but enough is visible in parts of the 
 whole to show how strong and beautiful much of the rest must be. The faces 
 are full of striking and suitable expression ; the drawing is worthy of the artist, 
 
212 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 which is all we need say. The drapery shows science and learned thought, and 
 a profound sense of the obligation to be truthful. With these qualities the result 
 stands solid, rich, sound; an artist's work such as, when we have been looking 
 at the series of pot-boilers to which we have above referred (productions though 
 they are of two of our most successful and able painters), is certain to give the 
 English critic unpleasant notions of how much better it might be for art among 
 us if the example of M. Géréme were all-powerful. He stays among us fora 
 little while and should receive that homage which is due to his honored, honor- 
 able, and rare power in art. In no better way can he be welcomed than by 
 observing his fine example.” 
 
 In April, 1871, appeared another small canvas, entitled 42 Eastern Girl, 
 which was immediately acquired by the Duke of Wellington. The A/henwum 
 ty of 
 
 calls attention to the ‘superb flesh painting, perfect modeling, and intens 
 expression” as being difficult to surpass. 
 In reply to a letter regarding the Piferari, received many years later, Gérome 
 
 writes as follows : 
 
 “ Dear Sir: When I arrived in London the year of the war, with my wife 
 
 _and children, I had neither brushes, canvas, colors, nor costumes. I soon made 
 
 the necessary acquisitions, and as I found some Italians near at hand, I hastened 
 to profit by this in employing them as models. I recollect the picture, but it 
 would be difficult to estimate its full value considering the time that has elapsed, 
 but I remember that it had much success at Mr. Wallis’s exhibition in Pall Mall. 
 I know that I painted it carefully and worked on it sufficiently to finish it 
 properly, so | may say, without fear of mistake, that the work is respectable, 
 worthy of me, and worthy of figuring in any serious collection of works of art.” 
 
 The third picture represented a corner of the arena at a bull-fight, where the 
 Picador, from whom the canvas takes its title, sits motionless upon his horse, 
 resolute, keen, alert, firmly grasping his long lance, ready at any instant to repel 
 the attack of the infuriated animal, who has just succeeded in unhorsing one of 
 
 his comrades. The skillful matadors on the opposite side of the arena have 
 
 momentarily drawn off the attention of the bull, and afforded the unlucky 
 horseman the necessary opportunity to limp to the gate which opens for his 
 retreat behind the scenes. Each face in the crowd of onlookers is a study, and 
 the coloring truly Spanish in its warm tones. The Atheneum also records at 
 the London Exhibition of 1872 two canvases drawn from his inexhaustible store 
 
 of Oriental sketches : 
 
 “MM. Gé 
 Scene in Cairo. There we have architecture in sunlight and shadow ; booths and 
 
 éme’s pictures will attract all visitors. The first of these is a S¢reet 
 
 shops; a long vista of broken pavement; half a score of dogs dozing; deep 
 shadows in the recesses. The chief human figures are two superbly armed and 
 
BATHSHEBA 
 
 1889 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 213 
 
 mounted Arabs in conference with a merchant, who hands to one of them a 
 bottle of cool water; the third Arab leans up against a bulk; a tall woman, clad 
 in dark blue and veiled from head to foot in black, bears on her hip a basket filled 
 with oranges like globes of gold; astride her shoulder (his flesh making 
 delicious ‘color’ with her blue robe) sits a lively and entirely naked boy; she 
 grasps his ankle and makes nothing of her double load. This is a charm- 
 
 ing group, exhibiting some 
 of the noblest qualities of 
 
 M. Géréme’s art. Before the = EP 
 
 mother trots an older boy, 
 who is naked but for a green 
 veil streaming from his head ; 
 he carries a fresh branch of 
 palm. Clad in light blue and 
 
 walking behind the last goes 
 a tall mnegress, bearing a 
 
 great water. on her head. 
 
 Beyond these, two women, , 
 muffled in white from head to Z 
 foot, are bargaining with the 
 owner of a booth; men are 
 chaffering just on the verge 
 of the gloom which obscures 
 more than half the interior 
 of a nearer shop. The boy 
 donkey-driver and his beast 
 have brought to the door of a 
 private house a visitor, who 
 
 oe 
 
 ‘ tert 
 upper window by a servant. i 
 
 is reconnoitered from an 
 
 It is a precious example of 
 
 delicate and elaborate workmanship. Its careful drawing will be enjoyed by all 
 lovers of form, who will also like its sound and profoundly studied modeling, 
 which is everywhere observable in the rendering of textures, light, and shade.” 
 
 This Rue aw Caire was one of the famous twelve seen at the Universal Expo- 
 sition of 1878. Paul Lenoir, strolling day after day with Géréme through these 
 fascinating streets, and with him stopping to note all the peculiarities of life in 
 
 this typical Eastern city, thus records their impressions : 
 
 ‘Cairo is more the capital of Egypt than Paris is of France, for the good rea- 
 son that Paris is only a city, and Cairo is in itself a whole province. Indeed it is 
 more than a province, it is a wor/d; it is all the Orient, past, present and to come 
 —as complete as at the time of the Mamelukes, as brilliant as at its zenith, as 
 picturesque as it was under the caliphs. To think that one could see everything, 
 
214 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 study everything, during a three years’ residence there, would be a great mistake. 
 Our impressions and notes then can only be the thousandth part of the notes and 
 impressions unrecorded. So much premised, ‘Vadlah/ Vallah/’ and forward! 
 The Mouski is an admirable type of the most animated and brilliant streets of 
 Cairo. This immense avenue offers a réswmé of all that is picturesque and strik- 
 
 ing in the busy city life of the East. An endless row of shops, crowded with 
 
 goods, most extraordinary in their variety and profusion, ca/¢és, hairdressers, 
 
 —each follows 
 
 yutchers, antiquaries, shoemakers, and kitchens in the open ai 
 
 the other in most unexpected succession—borrowing from their incongruous 
 neighborhood a new cachet of oddity. Everywhere one sees open chests and 
 yoxes, half capsized in the street to attract customers. To make the amateur 
 walk over the merchandise, in order to force him to pick up some article, is the 
 admirable industrial problem successfully solved by the greater proportion of 
 these thousand and one Ali-Babas. From the old Jew in spectacles, who waits to 
 ye implored before he will disturb his bits of antiquities, hidden away in myste- 
 
 rious little coffers, to the shoemaker of the sheikhs—for whom the congr raiter 
 
 is the last achievement of civilization—all seem to be serving in a kind of priest- 
 hood. One does not hear the fatiguing and impertinent harangue of small shop- 
 keepers ; a most religious stillness presides over all purchases, all transactions in 
 
 the street. The zeal of our ‘counter-jumpers’ in France, the gesticulations and 
 
 dissertations with which you are pursued as long as you are within sight, apropos 
 of a meter of grenadine or calico, would be considered here a most shocking 
 sreach of good taste; it is almost the holy silence of the mosque that reigns 
 among the shelves and counters of the Mouski. Do you want to buy a kouffie? 
 You hold the object in one hand and your money in the other, according to the 
 value placed on it by your dragoman, unless sufficiently skillful to make your 
 
 yargains for yourself. After having offered on an average the half of the 
 
 price asked for an article, you retire with the calmness of a man who knows the 
 value of the thing he wishes to buy, and you do not insist ; the merchant recalls 
 
 you by an almost imperceptible sign ; he consents to displace his pipe, accepts your 
 money and tosses you the goods with the plaintive sigh of a woman robbed of her 
 child! If your proposals are unacceptable, the tradesman manifests his bitter 
 
 sorrow by smackings of the tongue which recall the experiments of an amateur in 
 wines. And, with tears in his voice, he pushes back his merchandise, cursing, as 
 if you had beaten him. ‘Za, la, la, mafich /’ he murmurs between his teeth and 
 
 his pipe 
 self-respecting Cairo merchant. The stuffs of the country, with their changing 
 
 for the chibouk or the narghiléh is the indispensable accessory of every 
 
 colors, pearly reflections, and marvelous embroideries, necessarily attract our 
 attention, and we would still be in those shops had our desire to explore the city 
 
 not got the upper hand of our admiration of yellow s vater, becoming more 
 expert, we used to buy, almost at full gallop, several of those silly foulards called 
 kouffies, that the Egyptians use as headdresses. Yellow, striped with green and 
 red, or yellow upon yellow, embroidered with floss in the same tones, these stuffs 
 shine in the sun in an astonishing manner. Imperceptible threads of gold or sil- 
 
 ver, artistically mixed in the texture, produce a brilliant metallic effect. One of 
 
LIKE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 nv 
 an 
 
 the most striking features of this street-life is the peculiarity of the noises. The 
 absence of paving and consequent rumbling of vehicles, the dull sound made 
 by the footfalls of the dromedaries on the hard ground, all this gives a mysterious 
 and almost religious character to the spectacle which absorbs us. The cry of the 
 donkey-bo 
 
 , sharp and clear, the music of the ca/é, the neighing of the asses, the 
 snort of the dromedaries, furnish the substance of the orchestra that accompan- 
 ies this perpetual representation ; for the Arab walks silently through the stree 
 
 the merchants only cry their wares in special bazaars, and almost the only ones 
 
 who avail themselv 
 
 of this privilege are the strolling old-clothes-men and the 
 
 auctioneers of cast-off garments. The methodic gait of each individual accen- 
 
 tuates still more this mysterious effect. The donkey-drivers run in a kind 
 
 of short trot favorable to respiration ; the donkeys are on the trot or very 
 
 often a full gallop; the horses generally walk at a slow pace, as do the camels 
 and the dromedaries, since it would seem to derogate from their dignity were 
 they to increase the already frightful swaying of the enormous burdens 
 they carry.” 
 
 One day, in passing under an archway, they caught a glimpse of a group that 
 Gérome immediately transferred to his canvas, and which appeared at this same 
 exhibition under the title of A Discussion. The Atheneum gives a brief outline 
 Oi mie A 
 
 “A gaunt, sun-dried old Nubian camel-driver, clad in white, and girt with a 
 rude sword, grasps the halter of his patient waiting beast and, because he is irate 
 beyond other modes of expression, dashes his goad on the stones of the street. 
 He grins like an angry tiger because two Cairene men, one of whom is a descend- 
 ant of the Prophet, have, as he thinks, tried to cheat him. They remonstrate 
 with different and marvelously expressive action, and all three seem to be speak- 
 ing at once. Through the archway we have a glimpse of a narrow street, with 
 veiled figures lingering in the shade—of balconies and windows and far-off sun- 
 light. The camel, like the human figures, is admirably drawn; the tones of the 
 picture are richer than usual, and the effect is more than commonly happy.” 
 
 Gérome did not exhibit again till 1874, the interval being occupied in 
 traveling and sketching. He went with Fromentin to Egypt, with Gustave 
 Boulanger to Spain and Africa, and back to Egypt with several friends, among 
 whom were his dear pupils Paul Lenoir and Jules Stewart. It was on this last 
 journey that the ill-fated Lenoir was suddenly seized with a chill while sketching 
 in the environs of Cairo. In spite of Gérome’s earnest entreaties, he lay down in 
 the warm sand and fell asleep. This was the beginning of an illness that proved 
 fatal, and he was interred at Cairo. 
 
 The Salon of 1874 was a memorable one, the master receiving the Grand 
 
 Medal of Honor for the second time, the first being in 1867, in which year he was 
 also promoted to the rank of Officer of the Legion of Honor. Says Bergerat : 
 
216 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 “Since this epoch, which ended for him the militant portion of his artistic 
 life, Géréme has enjoyed the tranquil exercise of a talent sure of itself, masterly 
 and undisputed. With Baudry and Meissonier he marches at the head of the 
 French School, and his last expositions have assured him veritable triumphs. 
 Thus in 1874 he obtained for a second time that medal of honor which an artist 
 
 may consider himself happy to have merited once in his life. He had sent to the 
 Salon three canvases, equally remarkable, and which displayed three different 
 aspects of his talent. I wrote as follows in the Journal Oficiel of L’Eminence 
 Grise, the most popular of the three: ‘ No one is ignorant that the chief person- 
 age in this scene is that famous Father Joseph, whose occult power, the shadow 
 
 of the Cardinal's, inclined the haughtiest of heads at the court. With his eyes 
 
 fixed upon his breviary, he slowly descends a monumental staircase; a motley 
 train of courtiers, bowing to the earth, presses close to the balustrade to give him 
 room. Their sparkling costumes contrast with the capuchin’s frock, girt with a 
 cord from which hangs a rosary. It is in this contrast that M. Géréme has 
 sought to point the satire against the life of the court which he wished to 
 
 indicate. It is indeed biting, and the Cardinal, who, on the upper step, turns to 
 dart a furious glance at the humble monk whom he has just obsequiously saluted, 
 
 is an irresistible conception. What has most evidently tempted M. Géréme in 
 this subject is the occasion that he finds to paint all the backs of these courtiers, 
 and to show all these profiles succeeding each other in the same expression of 
 smiling servility. The curvature of the spine, in all its degrees of flatness, this 
 has been his study, his pictorial ozif, He has assembled all the phases which 
 the disposition and temperament of each individual could give to these backs 
 
 bent in salutation; he has graded their diverse silhouettes, and, covering the 
 whole with satins, velvets, and laces of all shades, he has written a grand scene 
 of high comedy, very human, very real, and very ironical. It is a masterpiece, 
 
 not as a historical picture, but as a perfect anecdote, where one can find no 
 faults, but where there is almost everything to admire. 
 
 Masson refers to it as ‘‘that marvelous picture, so full of purpose and 
 acuteness, of color and life, where Father Joseph, in his voluntary poverty and 
 monkish simplicity, is so skillfully opposed to this gilded, iridescent, sparkling 
 court.” And the London Atheneum says ‘‘the characterization is perfect, the 
 figures are triumphs of design, and the picture is, as a whole, the best of Géréme’s 
 late productions.” But we might multiply indefinitely the laudatory criticisms 
 of this well-known picture. Let us pass to the second, of which the Atheneum 
 
 writes : 
 
 “We come to the chief attractions of the Salon when we pause before 
 M. Géréme’s pictures. Rex Tibicen makes every one smile. All must admire the 
 intensity of the design and the humor of the artist, who has shown King 
 Frederick of Prussia in his cabinet, working away at a flute, for the love of which 
 he has thrown aside fatigue as well as business. He stands with bent knees 
 
N (ScuLPrure). 
 
 ANACREO: 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 219 
 
 before an escritoire on which he has propped up the music-sheet, and, clutching 
 the magic tube with the finger-tips of both hands, he sets his m eager lips to the 
 orifice to produce, one would imagine, harsh, unmelodious music, for he will 
 low, it seems, foo hard, and his lean cheeks try to compel the sweetness they 
 cannot utter; as it is, up go his eyebrows, and the eyeballs are uncovered in his 
 eagerness, while the cue of his wig quaintly rises on the stiff collar of his coat, 
 So thirsty for melody is the soul of the king that he has not stayed to take off 
 nis dirty boots! Just returned from hunting, he has stepped into the cabinet 
 followed by the dogs, whose muddy feet have left marks on the polished floor 
 
 and rich carpets ; but before each weary animal can throw himself down to rest, 
 one in the king’s own chair, the others on the ground, Frederick has torn open, 
 read, and crumpled up the dispatches that waited his coming, cast them on the 
 floor, and grasped the intractable instrument. What will Mr. Carlyle, whose 
 soul enters not with zest into the enjoyment of such frivolity as flute-music, say 
 to M. Géréme for thus making fun of his model conqueror? Above the desk is 
 perched a bust of the sarcastic Voltaire! The ridicule of the picture is not the 
 less pungent because it is keen enough to penetrate the thickest skin without 
 giving an excuse for blustering. The irritable captor of Silesia himself could 
 hardly have made this jest an excuse for war. As a design it is perfect; as a 
 
 satire, one of the best modern examples.” 
 
 “Tn 1875 this same picture was exhibited in London,” says the 4r¢ Journal, 
 “together with Corot’s Sowvenir d’Arleux du Nord. A grand gold medal was to 
 be given, and the votes were equally divided between Corot and Gérome six 
 
 SUCCE. 
 
 ultimately, by the casting vote of the President, it fell to 
 Géréme.” 
 
 The third picture was the famous Collaboration, where Gérome, who adores 
 Moliére, shows us the young playwright in close confab with the venerable 
 Corneille. This is one of his choicest canvases in this genre, remarkable for 
 quiet thought and concentration, masterly drawing and harmonious color. 
 
 In the London Art Journal of 1875, we find the following article, entitled 
 “The French Gallery in Pall Mall.” 
 
 “The present generation of untraveled Englishmen owes more perhaps of 
 
 its art culture, in a large and catholic sense, to what it has learned on the walls 
 of the French Gallery, than to almost any other London exhibition that could be 
 named. The Royal Academy and other kindred institutions do noble educa- 
 
 tional service and keep up annually the national interest in art: but while 
 teaching us in a hundred pleasant parables that ‘man does not live by bread 
 alone,’ their tone is 
 
 apt to become monotonous, their stories twice-told tales, and 
 the fare set before us runs thus the risk of losing its savor from the simple fact of 
 its sameness. Much has been done, however, to improve all this lately ; but when 
 
 the French Gallery was first opened, our native exhibitions seemed to strive 
 unwittingly quite as much after perpetuating our insularity as disseminating art ! 
 
220 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 What the French Gallery began, the International Exhibition of 1862 completed, 
 as a home of the Fine Arts, is perhaps the most liberal 
 
 and ever since, London, 
 city in Europe. It is then with peculiar satisfaction that we call the attention of 
 our readers to the twenty-second annual exhibition of Continental pictures at the 
 French Gallery. . . . But, after all, #4e picture of the exhibition is the Danse 
 
 du Sabre of Gérome. The head of the girl posturing so lithely before the great 
 man and his guests, who are seated in an 
 alcove, is veiled in green gauze, her bosom 
 is covered with gold pieces and the upper 
 part of her figure is enveloped in diaphanous 
 white ; around the lower portion is bound a 
 thick blue garment, yellow-edged, and be- 
 neath it peeps a petticoat of black. In her 
 right hand she holds a naked scimiter and 
 balances another on her head, and all to the 
 
 music of those seated in the half-shadowed 
 recess behind. The scene is in a sense 
 barbaric, but by no means unpleasing, and 
 Gérome, by his masterly details, the cunning 
 way in which he throws the light on them, 
 
 and the evenness which, by beautiful, har- 
 
 monious lines and changes and counter- 
 changes of color, he gives to the whole 
 composition, simply spirits us away with 
 him, and reveals to us a scene which has all 
 the reality of concrete fact. It is too late in 
 the day, even if our space permitted, to affect 
 
 xérome’s 
 
 detailed criticism of a man of ( 
 
 stamp; suffice it to say, the picture is as 
 
 complete an example of the master as we 
 
 have ever seen, and that the four thousand 
 guineas for which it was commissioned have received at his hands ample 
 justice and consideration. The artist has given another and simpler aspect 
 of the same theme in the Saber Dance in a Café, which possesses, however, 
 the same inimitable qualities as the more elaborate canvas.” 
 
 There were but two pictures at the Salon of 1876, 4 Sanfon, begging at the 
 door of a mosque, and Turkish Women at the Bath, both of which were re- 
 exhibited at the Universal Exposition of 1878. The first represents one of those 
 religious fanatics so graphically described in the Procession of the Carpet; the 
 second is vastly more attractive. The same strength and delicacy of treatment, 
 so often commented on, is noticeable in this scene at a public bath, where a great 
 variety of postures, always graceful and natural, displays the artist's unrivaled 
 
 powers as a draughtsman. The imperious beauty sitting on the warm-toned 
 
vo 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 2 
 
 carpet seems inclined to chide her swarthy attendant, and the ebon-hued damsel, 
 
 in her turn, vigorously protests as she clutches the narghiléhs, which perhaps 
 have made too tardy an appearance. The low-browed, fair-skinned daughter of 
 the Orient, reclining indolently upon the warm marble step of a fountain to the 
 right, has just fastened a bracelet on her arm and is toying with some jewels as 
 she listens languidly to the discussion. In the background, which is lighted by 
 floods of sunshine, are other bathers in different stages of their ablutions. There 
 is a general impression of well-being and comfort, which is the invariable result 
 of these elaborate baths with their accompaniment of hot and cold douches, brisk 
 
 rubbings and skillful massage, followed by a delicious siesta from which one 
 
 rouses to enjoy the crowning delight of the agreeable programme—a cup of 
 
 steaming amber-colored Mocha, and an occasional whiff of perfumed tobacco. 
 
 In coloring and grouping, this is a charming canvas. 
 
 The Universal Exposition of 1878 marked one of the most noteworthy epochs 
 in the life of this great master. In an eloquent page Claretie writes, ‘‘It was at 
 the close of the Salon of 1874 that M. Géréme obtained for the second time the 
 Grand Medal of Honor ; it was indeed the hour of his supreme sway. Gérodme 
 was fifty years old, and he seemed to have arrived at the zenith of his renown. 
 But not yet; since then, he has reserved for those who loved best his rare talent, 
 new surprises, and it was thus that, besides admiring his pictures, the world 
 assembled at the Universal Exposition of 1878 saluted him as ‘Sculptor!’ Yes! 
 this same hand, which used the brush with such delicacy, had molded the clay 
 par grande masse, and aside from his numerous and most interesting paintings, 
 perfectly finished, masterly in their exquisite beauty, and always supreme, 
 Géréme as sculptor offered to the public a superb group—this Combat of Gladi- 
 ators which, with its powerful and virile composition, commanded universal 
 admiration. It is at once the work of a savant and an artist.” And indeed, 
 
 even those who divined to a certain degree Géréme’s vast res 
 
 € power were 
 astonished and confounded. That a painter should be tempted by the more 
 
 plastic art is not surprising, and we have on record several who have achieved 
 
 g; 
 
 success in both specialties. But that a /rs¢ attempt should prove him the peer of 
 those who had spent a lifetime to acquire their reputation—this was startling, and 
 
 utterly overthrew the theories of a faction which exists everywhere, whose creed 
 
 seems to be, ‘“‘Thus far and no farther!” and their aim, to restrain and limit the 
 
 manifestations of genius. Dubosc de Pesquidoux, in his ‘‘ Art of the Nineteenth 
 
 Century,” a review of the Universal Exposition of 1878, writes : 
 
 “We find in this first series the remarkable work of a new athlete who, from 
 many points of view, belongs in the pleiad I have just reviewed. M. Gérdme, 
 
 weary, no doubt, of seeing sculptors invade the domain of painting, has wished, 
 
 like M. Doré, to take a painter's revenge in the realm of sculpture. M. Doré and 
 
nN 
 i 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 M. Géréme on one side—M. Falguiére and M. Dubois on the other! The struggle 
 is interesting, and the champions worthy of each other. M. Géréme has chosen 
 for his début an epoch that he knows thoroughly and a subject that he has treated 
 many times. Who has visited the world of the ancients oftener than he? Did 
 not the artist in his youth make anew the fortune of unfashionable Olympus 
 and restore neglected Greece and Rome to honor? Is it not he who resuscitated 
 Bacchus and Venus, Anacreon and Theocritus, Daphnis and Chloe, the Czesars 
 and the Gladiators, the sacred woods and the amphitheaters, the arches of 
 
 triumph and temples, for a generation dotingly fond of plumes and tournaments, 
 
 of chatelaines and men-at-arms, of feudal towers and Gothic colo 
 
 “To be sure, M. Gér6me owes much to antiquity, but the antique world owes 
 1im something! He has reconciled our epoch with worn-out types by presenting 
 them under a new aspect. It is assuredly a merit to make an original translation 
 of an old motif and crown it with success. After having been the chief of the 
 
 Néo-grecs, 1 am aware that M. Géréme brusquely abandoned his followers and 
 layed truant—burning incense before other gods. But the ancient deities 
 only reconquered their pedestals through him, and to-day, resuming in Sculp- 
 ture the subjects that brought him good fortune in Painting, the grateful 
 artist worships again before antiquity and borrows for historic statuary a beauti- 
 
 ful theme, which has already furnished him with the subject fora beautiful paint- 
 ing—the Gladiators. M. Gérome returns thus to his point of departure and 
 
 renews the loves of his early manhood. Happy privilege of art, which permits 
 one never to grow old! And in fact the artist has not grown old. The Gladi- 
 ators is worthy of his best days. More rugged perhaps than the work of expe- 
 rienced sculptors, it has in its picturesque mass an individual /owrnure and style 
 which are worth infinitely more than polish and préciosité. 
 
 “The mirmillon, a figure in bronze, larger than nature, has thrown off his coat 
 of mail, a part of which remains hanging to his belt. He has broken the formid- 
 able trident of the retiarius, and at this moment, with his right foot on the throat 
 of his fallen and panting adversary, he holds him down. The latter writhes like 
 
 a boa-constrictor in the clutch of a lion. He has seized the leg of his conqueror 
 and tries to force it aside. Vain efforts! the foot presses like a rock upon his 
 breast, the sandal is welded to his neck! The retiarius retains scarce force 
 enough to raise his arm toward the assembly and hold up two fingers in a desper- 
 ate appeal to the clemency of the spectators. The mirmillon, triumphant and 
 superb, the haughty head mz 
 
 ked by the large visor, the body erect, with shield 
 on arm and sword in hand, turns toward the seats and awaits the popular verdict 
 
 that shall deliver or slay his adversary. verything betrays the intoxication of 
 
 victory and pride in 
 
 strength. Under his armlets one divines the muscles of 
 
 steel developed by daily exercise, and beneath the heavy armor lurks the agility 
 
 of a wild beast. Such is the group, and it would be difficult to impart to it more 
 accent, more passion, more movement. It would be difficult to render more stril- 
 
 ingly, on the one hand the pitiless tranquillity and brutal pride of the victor in the 
 arena, and on the other the anguish of defeat and the terror of death. The science 
 
 of the mise en scéne, the exactitude of the accessories,—natural fruit of the arche- 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 223 
 
 ological studies of the author,—the arrangement of the contours, the adjustment 
 and the style, unite to insure the incontestable superiority of this intensely dra- 
 matic work. This masterly group well merits the place of honor assigned to it 
 under the Trocadéro. Dare I confess my whole thought? This creation has a 
 spirit and a power that throw the exquisite and incomparable pictures of the 
 artist into the background and place the sculptor before the painter.” 
 
 Charles Blanc, in speaking of sculpture, says: ‘‘It is a great art and at times 
 one is tempted to believe it the greatest of all, because it is at one and the same 
 time like the reality and far superior to nature, substantial and ideal, palpable 
 and divine.” 
 
 In later yez 
 
 rs, when Géréme had revealed, by the most varied masterpieces 
 
 in marble and bronze, his marvelous powers in this new sphere, we have heard 
 him say more than once, with a sigh of mingled regret and satisfaction, ‘‘ Ah! 
 I was dorn to be a sculptor,’ and he had lived more than fifty years before 
 being able to give reins to his grande passion’ One of the most touching 
 souvenirs in our memory is furnished by his description of his timidity in 
 
 undertaking this first group. His preparations for it lasted a year, and he 
 
 scarcely ate or slept after having once begun to mold the clay. He worked with 
 
 desperate energy, trembling, hoping, fearing, 
 
 and at last the mighty group 
 
 st, with 
 
 was cast in one piece, producing a chef-d’auvre that placed the a 
 one stride, in the front rank of the sculptors of this century. Though tempted 
 by munificent offers, he has* many times refused to part with this, his “‘first- 
 born,” as he laughingly calls it, which won for him his first medal for sculpture. 
 It remains on the lawn of his country-seat at Bougival, overshadowed by 
 majestic trees, the magic touch of sun and wind and rain having bestowed 
 on it a deep rich fatine that art could neither originate nor imitate ! 
 
 In the painting of Pollice Verso the chief combatants have this same pose, 
 and the tragedy is intensified by the unanimity with which the Vestals in their 
 pure white robes, which seem to typify grace, mercy, and peace, reverse the 
 thumb, and savagely demand the instant death of the supplicating victim. 
 
 But we must not forget the paintings which the master also sent to this 
 exposition, an array so imposing that, in addition to the medal for sculpture, 
 
 he received for the ¢hird time the Grand Medal of Honor, and was pro- 
 
 moted to the rank of Commander in the Legion of Honor. The cross of 
 Officer is worn on the lapel of the coat, that of Commander is suspended around 
 the neck. Apropos of this promotion, Géréme received the following charming 
 
 note of congratulation from his friend Edmond About : “ Cher ami, je fais comme 
 
 votre croix—je vous saute aw cou/’’ |Dear friend: I follow the example of 
 
 your cross, and fall upon your neck!| In a résumé of this exposition De Pes- 
 
 quidoux writes : 
 
v 
 is 
 as 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 “M. Géréme, whom we place at the head of picturesque genre, exhibits 
 
 twelve paintings, seven of which appear for the first time. We will not pause 
 
 to speak of Z ‘Eminence Grise, 
 A Santon, and Women at the 
 Bath, long since appreciated. 
 We must be content with a 
 rapid survey of the others. In 
 all of them we admire the 
 
 purity of drawing, the pre 
 sion of modeling, the delicacy 
 of touch, and the solidity of 
 coloring ; 
 
 eminently picturesque, some- 
 
 besides, they are all 
 
 times touching history in a 
 familiar way, and borrowed 
 from a magic country, source 
 of all light and all beauty 
 as of all truth—we mean the 
 Orient! A Bashi Bazouk, 
 with turbaned head orna- 
 mented with motley baubles, 
 is very vivid and ‘fetching,’ 
 
 as he grasps his damaskeened gun and dances to amuse his companion, while 
 
 the roast of meat, fruit of their last robbery, is cooking, suspended on a 
 tripod. Notice his old comrade with the gray beard, who takes the long pipe 
 
 repast when they again 
 come to a halt. He is the 
 far-sighted purveyor of the 
 band. Half soldiers, half 
 yandits, and indeed less 
 
 @ 
 
 soldiers than bandits, these 
 Scamps are more amusing 
 
 nere to travelers than in 
 teality ! 
 
 “The Turkish sports- 
 man in a _ rose-colored 
 jacket, in the Return from 
 the Chase, stopping to let 
 horse and dogs drink from 
 
 a circular basin surmounted 
 by arabesques and shaded 
 by green boughs, with a 
 deer slung over the croup 
 
 mixed in pell-mell with his arsenal, hangs the 
 
 from his mouth and smiles at the gambols of his friend; from his sash, 
 
 poultry which will furnish the 
 
HL 
 
 JE BAB wL-ZOU. 
 
 C 
 
 1 
 ae 
 
 ( 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 of the horse, is equally telling in local color. He bends with solicitude to watch 
 the movements of his animals, and does not stir lest he should trouble them. 
 It is an excellent picture, of a supple firmness and a soft, charming elie ta 
 
 This last picture, otherwise known as 4 Circassian at the Fountain, is a 
 peculiarly personal souvenir. Returning from a hunting expedition, Géréme’s 
 weary horse and hounds halted to quench their thirst at this picturesque foun- 
 tain. The combination was tempting. He slipped from the saddle, and the 
 
 sketch then taken furnished the motif for this effective group. 
 
 “The lion, couched in his den, surrounded by gnawed bones and moving his 
 tail, is superb in his majesty, as calm as a lion in Egyptian granite, as alert as 
 the untamed denizen of the 
 Atlas. Whoever has seen 
 the sapphire eyes of this 
 monster shining in his 
 tawny head, will not soon a 
 forget them.” [This can- 
 vas, also known as The Lion A 
 of the Phosphorescent Eyes, fet AN 
 was painted for the Sultan | We) 
 Abdul Aziz, who was so 
 treacherously assassinated. | 
 
 “The lion on which 
 St. Jerome is taking 
 
 so 
 
 sound a nap is not less 
 powerful and serene, but 
 he is evidently civilized 
 by the neighborhood of 
 the Saint! The artist has 
 wished to prove that he 
 
 understands animals as well 
 
 as he does men; he can 
 paint every species. The 
 African sloughis, who form 
 
 the Camp Guard, squatted on their paws or seated on their haunches before the 
 row of tents whose occupants are wrapped in slumber, with ears pricked up and 
 watchful eyes, show an all but human attention heightened by the simplest 
 mise en scene. The Flemish masters have not bequeathed creations more dis- 
 tinct nor in a better environment; M. Géréme, like a true master, grows as 
 he advances. He has never done better, and it seems as if it would be difficult 
 to do better /”’ 
 
 The Street Scene in Cairo has already been described. Of the Moorish 
 
 Bath, a negress assisting her mistress who has just emerged from the water, 
 
 quidoux says: 
 
226 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 “The ebony body of one and the ivory form of the other, the first with a 
 yellow Madras kerchief on her head, the second with her wealth of golden 
 tresses, are bathed by the ambient air, the high lights being adjusted with 
 remarkable flexibility ; there is nothing to criticise in this little gem, no fault 
 of style or orthography ; one could write Aerfect from one end of the canvas to 
 the other. The drawing, 
 
 ‘As for the melancholy duo in the midst of the desert, entitled 7he Arab and 
 
 the color, the action, are equally irreproachable. 
 
 his Steed,is it not a real drama? How gravely he sits, this Arab, mute in his 
 grief, worthy son of Mohammed! What a four de force of draughtsmanship and 
 anatomy is the body of this great quadruped, still saddled, and stretched out at 
 full length, his head inertly reposing between the hands and on the knees of the 
 cavalier who is sadly bending over him. And all the details of the work, the 
 
 hands, the feet, the mane, the hide, the stirrups, the fe/sse, the turban, the 
 
 burnous, aside from the actors, are portrayed, not only with accuracy but with 
 breadth.” 
 
 Several of these pictures, exhibited some years later in London, aroused 
 universal admiration ; the art journals calling especial attention to the ‘finely 
 drawn and solidly painted group of 7he Arab and his Steed,’ and to the Moorish 
 Bath as a ‘* masterpiece of plastic art ; the modeling of this figure, so subtle and 
 yet so vividly strong, is a study for the English artist, over the deficiencies of 
 whose academic training we have so often to mourn.” 
 
 The same qualities are notably displayed in the Women at the Bath, with the 
 Narghiléh, an additional charm being added by the skillful reflections in the 
 water. 
 
 At the Salon in 1881, Géréme’s exhibit renewed the universal wonder and 
 
 applause of 1878, and again obtained for him the Medal for Sculpture. The 
 
 London Atheneum writes: ‘‘M. Gérome has won a new laurel by his admirable 
 group in marble of Anacreon, Bacchus, and Love. Here the joyous poet, with a 
 face abounding in humor, walks with a lyre at his back and carries a godlet on 
 each arm. Bacchus dozes, while Cupid, a lovely boy, plays with the poet's beard 
 and is regarded by him with tenderness exquisitely mixed with satiric laughter.” 
 
 This remarkable group, which confirmed the artist’s title of Master-Sculptor, wa 
 
 purchased by Mr. Jacobsén, a well known lover and patron of the fine arts in 
 
 Copenhagen, and placed in the fine museum which he has generously presented 
 to his native city. 
 About this time Géréme also finished the Raphael and Bramant in the 
 
 Sistine Chapel, and again took up a canvas for which he had years before 
 
 made a sketch, the Burning of Shelley’s body in the presence of Lord By 
 
 on, 
 but it still remains to-day with many other unfinished canvases in his studio, 
 
 among them the Consfirators, of which we are happily able to give the original 
 
 drawings. We remember that Claretie, being called upon for a biographical 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF , LEON GEROME., 
 
 y 
 to 
 “ 
 
 sketch of Gérome, was so astounded at his vast achievements, that even this 
 facile writer was obliged to treat most of them ew masse, feeling that to cite 
 merely the names of such masterpieces would be enough, so well are they 
 known to art-lovers all over the world. The period between 1870 and 1890 has 
 been his most prolific one. Working at the same time on many different 
 naintings, it is difficult for the artist himself to give the exact date of the 
 completion of many of his beautiful creations, which were often sold without 
 having been publicly exhibited in his native country, passing directly into 
 
 srivate collections abroad. Most of these are souvenirs of his various journeys, 
 
 for Gérome is continually on the wing; all are intensely interesting and worthy 
 of detailed description, but owing to their number we are forced to pass some 
 with a very brief outline, and many with mere mention. All of his Oriental 
 themes are taken directly from nature, and give an absolutely faithful idea of 
 the scene or personages represented, and so inexhaustible are his portfolios of 
 sketches, that he can always produce a charming variant of any desired theme 
 and avoid the repetition so distasteful to him. Passing often from one collection 
 
 to another, the original names of the paintings have been changed, and the same 
 
 canvas is known under several different titles, necessarily producing much con- 
 
 fusion in the lists of his works hitherto compiled. We have given to each 
 
 work its baptismal name, received from the fountain-head. So inimitable is 
 Gérdme’s style and draughtsmanship, however, that there is little danger of 
 
 any spurious work appearing under his ostensible signature, whereas even his 
 
 unfinished work bears the unmistakable imprint of this master-hand. A nota- 
 ble proof of this came in a very curious manner to our personal notice, an 
 unfinished and unsigned canvas, abstracted from the artist's atelier during the 
 Franco-Prussian war, having been recognized as his work, thousands of miles 
 from Paris, by a well-known American amateur, the Hon. M. P. Kennard, for 
 many years U.S. Sub-Treasurer of Boston. It was bought by him on faith, and 
 afterward authenticated by the master. As the work in question is the sole 
 example of Géréme owned by the Art Museum at Boston, the circumstances 
 of its discovery and authentication are of public interest, as verifying the 
 genuineness of this beautiful canvas. Several years ago, while dining in Paris 
 at the hospitable house of Mr. J. Buxton-Latham, a well-known English jour- 
 
 nalist, the host, in relating some of his exciting experiences during the siege of 
 
 Paris, mentioned an occurrence which aroused our cur and eventually led 
 
 to the discovery of the missing canvas. After dinner, the following brief outline 
 
 of the story was jotted down on a card and signed by our host : 
 
 “During the first days of October, 1870, I went to Bougival and visited the 
 atelier of M. Géréme. My companion took away a canvas (nude slave). We 
 
228 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 were living with a M. Ducrot, a lawyer, No. 8 Place Hoche, Versailles, and he 
 was to have taken charge of the picture till the end of the siege.—J. B. L.” 
 
 Armed with this card, we repaired to Géréme’s atelier, where we were then 
 gathering the material for this volume. Leading the conversation back to the time 
 of his hasty flight to England with his family, without giving our reasons, we 
 obtained from him a full description of the canvas on which he had been at work, 
 and which, as he discovered on his return, had been cat owt of its frame on the 
 easel! Inquiry proved that M. Ducrot at Versailles had mof received the painting 
 in question, and the only clew remaining was that the roving journalist, who had 
 thus easily become the owner of a chef-d’euvre, hailed from Chicago. Owing 
 to the interval that had elapsed since the abstraction of the canvas, its discovery 
 seemed hopeless ; but it is always the impossible that happens! The little card 
 was carefully preserved, and exactly seventeen years from the October of 1870, 
 
 we chanced to be dining again, this time at the house of Dr. Charles Gilman 
 
 Smith, one of the best known physicians of Chicago. Himself an ardent admirer 
 of Géréme, it was but natural that the conversation should turn in that direction. 
 By a strange fortune, it happened that we had just related to a little circle in one 
 corner of the drawing-room the story we had heard in Paris, laughingly inquiring 
 if all Chicago journalists were of that stamp. Our host, who had heard nothing 
 
 of this conversation, joined our circle a few moments later and, with a “ By the 
 
 way—apropos of Géréme,” that promised much, related to us that some years 
 
 before he had strolled into an out of the way shop in Chicago, attracted by some 
 bits of bric-a-brac in the window. The owner of the shop, in rummaging behind 
 the counter for some of his wares, dislodged a canvas which unrolled itself upon 
 the floor, and although it was hastily returned to its hiding-place under the 
 counter, the doctor had seen enough, even in the dim light, to arouse his atten- 
 
 tion. The dealer evaded his questions and declared the canvas was left only on 
 
 storage. It happened that the Hon. Mr. Kennard was visiting Doctor S. at this 
 very time. Being an ardent lover of the fine arts, his curiosity was also aroused, 
 and the next day he took occasion to stroll down to the shop. Long before our 
 
 host had finished his story, we had divined that he was unconsciously furnishing 
 
 the ‘‘missing link,” and that the waif was found! The following week we 
 
 started for Boston, and traced the treasure to its present home in the Art 
 
 Museum. At Gérdéme’s request, Mr. Kennard wrote the following account of the 
 
 circumstances under which he bought the unfinished canvas: 
 
 “The story has obtained some circulation that the atelier of Géréme at 
 
 Bougival was broken into and sacked by the Germans, or the Communists and 
 ‘petroleuses,’ during the demoralized condition of affairs in the environs of Paris 
 incident to the lamentable Franco-German war. This is erroneous. The report 
 
“SOW 
 
Re 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 2 
 
 arose, however, from an incident which may be worth relating. Unhappily, 
 the atelier of Géréme had not that exemption from the possibilities of the war 
 accorded to Bonheur at Fontainebleau and to Ed. Frére at Ecouen, obtained from 
 the German government through the influence of the business agents of those 
 illustrious artists in London. Gérome had not demanded it. It is, however, now 
 well understood that in an unprotected moment his atelier was entered and a 
 small unfinished canvas surreptitiously carried off. 
 
 “Some years subsequently this canvas was discovered in a small art-material 
 and picture shop in a western city of the United States, by a well known Boston 
 gentleman, who instantly recognized the touch of the great master as the can- 
 vas was unrolled before him, and who purchased it upon the assurance of its 
 
 poss 
 
 ssor—a German newspaper correspondent—that during the siege of Paris he 
 rescued a number of the works of Géréme from the action of a mob, and upon 
 depositing these treasures at Versailles, the awthorities there gave him this imper- 
 
 fect work in recognition of this service/ On this canvas one figure only, a female 
 
 slave, was apparently finished ; for the rest, there was simply a foreshadowing of 
 
 the background, with certain pencilings indicating the perspective design. This 
 history of the waif, found so far away from home, was implicitly believed by 
 its Boston owner till a recent personal acquaintance with the master in Paris 
 
 sion to the 
 
 revealed the absolute facts. It some time since passed from his poss 
 Museum of Fine Arts in Boston and now hangs upon its walls. 
 
 “Tts author, pleased that his work should be so readily recognized in a 
 foreign land, and that his canvas had thus fallen into appreciative ownership, 
 yielded to the fortunes of war, and very courteously and generously offered to 
 his newly found friend to authenticate the work with his signature should he 
 desire it.” 
 
 Mr. E. H. Clement, the accomplished editor of the Boston 7ranscrift, wrote 
 
 at the time of the discovery the following exquisite description of the picture : 
 
 “The Hon. M. P. Kennard, of this city, last spring purchased of a picture 
 dealer in a western city a little half-finished painting which has had something of 
 a history. It was represented by the art-dealer that it was a Gérome, taken from 
 the studio of that famous artist, together with other canvases, to save it from 
 becoming ‘loot’ for Communards, and subsequently brought to this country by 
 the correspondent of a western paper. The western picture-dealer parted with it 
 for a comparatively moderate price, and Mr. Kennard received his prize here last 
 summer. On being shown to artists and connoisseurs in this city, it was univer- 
 sally pronounced a genuine Géréme; Géroéme was written in the subject and 
 the execution as plainly as the master’s autograph signature could have been 
 
 attached in a corner. The canvas w 
 
 bout twenty by thirty inches. In the 
 center stood the only figure completed, and that fortunately was finished with 
 all the perfection that characterizes the head of the French school of figure 
 painters. It was a nude Greek or Circassian slave girl, stood up ona dais ina 
 dealer's quarters. The penciled sketches in outline of two or three men were 
 
232 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GELROME, 
 
 perceptible around this central subject, which is by some declared to be from the 
 same model that furnished Géréme’s Phryne and Cleopatra. No description can 
 begin to do justice to the painful beauty and thrilling pathos conveyed in the 
 figure of the shrinking victim. The tristful story was told, not only in the face 
 half hidden by the sidewise bowing of the head, with its rich black locks, upon 
 t and cheek; not only in the knitted brow 
 
 hand and arm pressed close to br 
 and swollen but tearless eyes and quivering, half-closed mouth, upon which the 
 long drawn out horror and agony had fixed an immovable anguish; but in the 
 
 whole tend brunette-hued form, painted with Géréme’s relentless realistic 
 
 fidelity to skin and flesh. The whole quivering figure plainly breathed and 
 
 palpitated the mute suffering of the ordeal, and sent forth a protest against the 
 unnatural indignity too deep for expression save in an equally unnatural patience 
 of dignity and endurance. 
 
 “The suggestion was only of the purest, entirely one of sympathy and com- 
 ssion. The painting was last week placed without note or comment in a 
 
 ate exhibition of artists at the Union League Club in New York. It at once 
 
 attracted the marked attention it deserved, and was almost unanimously pro- 
 nounced a genuine Géréme. It was especially interesting to the artists as show- 
 ing the master at work, and his peculiar effects in process of development.” 
 
 After receiving the account from Mr. Kennard, we made another effort to 
 trace the journalist, this time with success; and, on writing to him to ask his 
 confirmation of these facts, we received a lengthy letter, giving full details of 
 the expedition to Bougival. Aware, however, that his statements could easily 
 
 be verified, he did not venture to assert, as he had previously done, that the 
 
i 
 ow 
 oo 
 
 LI. AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 authorities had given the picture to him, but justified his retention of it on the 
 ground that he had assisted in saving other valuable paintings, and with a 
 sublime disregard of the difference between “ mewm and tuum’’ he calmly adds 
 that on this occasion he “acguired other interesting mementos, among which 
 are letters from high-standing persons to Gérome !” 
 
 So profoundly was the name of Gérome honored that the invading Germans 
 and even the riotous hordes of Communists respectfully left his town and country 
 residences and studios untouched, and even voluntarily established a guard over 
 them, and we were not a 
 little chagrined to be obliged 
 to confess to the master that 
 our research had proved one 
 of our own adopted country- 
 men to be the delinquent! 
 
 We refrain from giving 
 
 the name of this enterpris- 
 
 ing German-American, but congratulate the journalistic profession that he has 
 transferred the exercise of his peculiar talents to another sphere, although their 
 loss will hardly be considered a gain by the Chicago Board of Trade! 
 
 After passing through several hands this precious fragment was donated, as 
 we have said, to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, where we found it carefully 
 “ skied,” the authorities being unwilling to accord it a prominent place om 7s 
 merits. We were happy, however, to notice that at the recent spring opening, in 
 1890, of the enlarged Museum, it had obtained its rightful place of honor ‘‘on the 
 line,” close to a highly finished Meissonier, and, though still lacking the master’s 
 signature, it is registered in the catalogue as a Gérome. Mere sketch as it is, 
 it has been pronounced by more than one connoisseur the gem of the collection. 
 
 One of the finest of Géréme’s finished paintings, with this same theme, is or 
 Sale, of which we give an illustration. A later variant with the same title has 
 A 
 
 two figures and the droll form of a baboon leaning against a sleeping negre 
 less mournful scene from Eastern life is portrayed in the Sowvenir of Cairo. An 
 almée sits in negligent attitude om a stone settle outside of her house, her 
 hands clasped around one knee and the babouche half slipping from her raised 
 foot. A gauzy veil, only half concealing her truly Oriental face, heightens the 
 beauty which will doubtless be thoroughly appreciated by the approaching 
 soldiers. Her dimpled, bejeweled arm is exquisitely drawn, and the voluminous 
 
 trousers are most artistically massed about her. A thin spiral of smoke rises 
 
 from her chibouk, as, with half-closed e she yields herself up to a day-dream 
 
 which, let us hope, may have a less disastrous ending than that of Alnaschar the 
 
 ! 
 
 Visionary 
 
234 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 A realistic scene is furnished by the Gun Merchant in Cairo, a swarthy old 
 Arab in white turban and striped mantle, who, comfortably resting on his cush- 
 
 ions behind the low balustrade which separates his booth from the street, is 
 
 delicately testing with thumb and forefinger the sharpness of a scimitar, while 
 his shrewd, piercing eyes are lifted to the questioning warrior who has paused 
 before the shop, doubtless tempted by the glittering array of arms which cover 
 the walls and dangle from the ceiling, catching and reflecting the light and 
 brightening the otherwise obscure recesses of the booth. A branch of palm is 
 thrust behind a full suit of mail hanging outside of the door, beside which a 
 deliciously ugly Cerberus has mounted guard, and where the inevitable long- 
 
 stemmed pipe stands ready for a friendly smoke after the bargain shall have 
 
 been concluded. The gorgeous costume of the helmeted soldier, the coloring 
 
 and quality of textures and the effects of light and shade are most admirable. 
 
 The Wall of Solomon, which now forms part of the Mosque of Omar, is a 
 
 composition rema ble for religious feeling and absolute simplicity. Only a high, 
 weather-beaten wall, with tufts of grass springing here and there from the inter- 
 
 stices between the stones, and a group of motionless figures absorbed in prayer or 
 
 mournful meditation, But what memories attach themselves to this consecrated 
 
 spot, intensifying, by force of contrast, its present desolation! For the glory of 
 
 Ss 
 the House of Israel has departed, and the unbeliever desecrates this once Holy 
 
 Temple of Solomon by the worship of strange gods. Beside the sacred wall, with 
 
 garments tattered and travel-stained, a weary pilgrim leans his forehead against 
 
 the cold stones in an attitude of utter abandonment and hopelessness ; a little 
 
 farther on, an old rabbi reads aloud comforting promises from Holy Writ, which 
 are reverentially listened to by a woman clothed from head to foot in spotless 
 
 white, while an ardent believer, who looks for the literal fulfillment of th 
 
 € 
 Scriptures, peers through a crevice in the wall, if haply he may descry the 
 
 Prophet whose advent has been so long awaited. Farther still, a fifth, with 
 
 folded hands and bowed head, is reciting his prayers, and, in the background, 
 another woman, whose face and form are entirely concealed by her ample drap- 
 eries, stands quite apart, not daring to ‘‘raise even so much as her eyes unto 
 
 Teaven!” In the immediate foreground a typical son of Abraham, with uplifted 
 
 countenance and concentrated gaze, seems to look also for the literal coming of 
 
 the Prince of the House of David, before whose presence the hated idolators shall 
 
 fly like chaff before the whirlwind, and under whose reign the chosen of the Lord 
 
 shall again chant in peace their praises of the Most High. 
 The artist has painted another view of this sacred wall with only one old 
 
 tabbi at his devotions. A sharp contrast to this quaint figure is offered by 4 
 
 Bashi Bazouk Chief, a picturesque specimen of a brigand, who has thrown himself 
 
 down in an indolent attitude on a wooden settle, his left hand resting lightly on 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 it) 
 
 os 
 a 
 
 the exquisite carving, while his right grasps the stem of a chibouk. His bronzed 
 features are admirably set off by a huge turban, and the different textures of the 
 rich costume are rendered with the artist’s usual fidelity and skill. 
 
 A most attractive group is entitled 4x Arab and His Dogs. One smiles in 
 instinctive sympathy with the pleasant-faced Moslem standing in his doorway, 
 and affectionately regarding two superb greyhounds who lift their heads and 
 return his glance with absolutely human intelligence. Aside from the incom- 
 parable drawing and plastic pose of these animals, one easily divines the affection 
 that has guided the hand of the master, who has reproduced again, with such 
 
 startling fidelity, the portraits of his inseparable companions. The graceful 
 
 attitude of the Arab as he leans against the massively carved door, the various 
 details of the rich costume, the jeweled weapons in the embroidered belt, even 
 the tiles upon the wall, are rendered with the perfect taste inseparable from the 
 
 east of Géréme’s studies. 
 
 A strange mixture of effeminacy and vigor is the Bischari with crisp, wavy 
 hair standing out from his head, tawny complexion, heavy eyebrows, dreamy 
 eyes, firm, well-shaped nose, and thick lips, with just a suspicion of mustache, 
 and which, parting, reveal teeth of dazzling whiteness. His mantle, slipping 
 
 from his shoulder, shows a muscular, well-knit frame. With his shield of hip- 
 
 popotamus-hide slung around his neck, a formidable sword held by a thong 
 
 yassed over his right shoulder, and a sheathed dagger thrust into a leather band 
 around the wrist, he is an adversary by no means to be despised, in spite of the 
 sleepy languor of his glance. 
 
 But one lingers longer over the grim-visaged Greek called Botzaris. Robed 
 in rich apparel and bristling with costly weapons, he sits on his carven and 
 cushioned chair, somber and listless, gazing moodily into space. Who can 
 divine his thoughts? Does he, like Alexander, sigh only for more worlds to 
 conquer, or has the spirit of modern life, with its weariness and satiety, its 
 melancholy refrain of “ fowt passe, tout casse, tout lasse,”’ penetrated even to this 
 favored country, where gods and goddesses in their immortal and joyous vigor 
 once deigned to consort with humanity? Whatever the tenor of his gloomy 
 reverie, he furnishes a fine motif for a picture. The tiled wall, with its dado of 
 matting and little niche containing a jar of odorous spices and rose-leaves, forms 
 
 a pleasing background, and the minor accessories, such as the pendant saber 
 
 and cord, the narghiléh with the stem coiled like a huge serpent upon a tray, 
 the rug stretched upon a floor covered with strange arabesques, present a most 
 harmonious exsemé/e of coloring and design. 
 
 In the painting Horses Held by a Slave we have a characteristic group, upon 
 
 which the artist stumbled while strolling through the quieter streets in Cairo. 
 
 Before a door studded with massive nails and iron plaques with heavy rings, 
 
236 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON G 
 
 and sheltered by a curiously carved portico, stands an ebony-hued slave swathed 
 in the folds of a snowy burnous. One brawny arm is bare from the shoulder, 
 and in the hand are loosely gathered the bridles of three fleet-footed Arab 
 coursers. The favorite, the ‘‘ pride of the desert,” carefully groomed and richly 
 accoutered, turns his eye to watch for the coming of his owner, whose morning 
 occupation is easily divined by the presence of the fine fowling-piece hanging 
 from the pommel of the saddle. Beyond the deep shadow cast by the over- 
 hanging stories of the adjacent buildings, the sun shines warmly through an 
 archway that leads to the narrow street at the left, and, perched up aloft on the 
 tiles of the roof, ev st/howetfe against a cloudless sky, a solemn old stork stands 
 on one leg, enjoying to the full a delightful sun-bath. A simple scene, full of 
 light and warmth, and betraying, in spite of its unpretentious realism, the 
 hand of the master in the inimitable draughtsmanship and perfect adjust- 
 
 ment of values. 
 
 Who does not know the Circus Maximus, with its wild, mad rush of gallant 
 steeds through clouds of dust that almost entirely conceal the rumbling chariots 
 
 and their sinewy-armed drivers, who are urging on the foaming hors 
 
 35) [ony 
 frenzied shout and stinging lash! We hold our breath with the crowd that is 
 massed in this great arena, intently watching the furious onward sweep of these 
 superb animals, who are straining every nerve to gain for their owners the 
 coveted laurel-wreath. Never has Gérome exhibited his complete mastery of 
 motion more vividly than on this spirited canvas. To the left rises the old 
 
 palace of the Czsars, with the theater curving toward the center from which a 
 
 subterranean passage led to the grand /oge where the Emperor was wont to sit, 
 surrounded by his favorites. The seftizonium towers loftily in the background 
 against the delicately outlined hills. The stalls for the chariots, not visible in 
 the foreground, are so placed that no one of the competitors will have any 
 advantage over the rest in reaching the starting-point, which is on the right, 
 parallel to the mea, which, with its three towers, marks the goal, and in the 
 
 interior of which the favor of the gods was invoked before the commencement 
 
 of the races. To allow sufficient space for the turning of the chariots, the spina 
 
 traverses the arena obliquely and terminates where the half-way point in the 
 course is marked by the second meta, the towers of which are barely visible 
 behind the great obelisk, which to-day adorns the Plaza of St. Peter’s in Rome. 
 Profound research was necessary for the recdnstruction of the vast arena with 
 its imposing architectural entourage; this, with the spirited drawing of the 
 
 horses, the delicate finish of the miniature-like figures of the spectators, and an 
 
 astonishing variety of detail, harmonized under the mellow light of late after- 
 
 noon, form an ensemble worthy of the great master, and which places this 
 
 canvas among the che/s-d’euvre of historical paintings. 
 
‘MQNO0 LVauND AHI 
 
 ANV ‘AIX SINOT 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROM 
 
 is) 
 
 39) 
 
 More than once it has been said that one involuntarily smiles and sighs with 
 Gérome. This power extends even to his minor pictures, which often portray 
 only the simplest events in the daily life of the dwellers in the land of the sun. 
 What, for instance, could be more ordinary and less inspiring than the sight of an 
 Old Jewish Merchant, disputing with some Arabs over a common saddle and 
 trappings! Yet what complete and subtle knowledge of race and character is 
 expressed in the drawing of these strange physiognomies, in these postures, in the 
 very turn and bend of the fingers! Look at this Arab with the glittering eyes 
 and regular white teeth, his hands crossed quietly over his sheathed saber and his 
 burnous thrown back, revealing his bronzed neck and chest. One can almost 
 hear the incredulous, mocking laugh that issues from his open mouth. His 
 friend and companion-in-arms, most probably also his aider and abettor in all 
 
 kinds of mischief, whose left hand firmly grasps the stock of his gun while the 
 
 fingers of the right are extended and eloquently expressive of figures, is giving 
 vent to a vigorous opinion concerning the merchandise that lies on the ground. 
 
 A third Arab, the muscular development of whose arm is calculated to inspire one 
 
 with a certain respect, stands behind his comrades and contents himself for the 
 present with listening attentively to the discussion. The shrewd son of Abra- 
 ham, far from allowing himself to be intimidated or even moved by the noisy 
 protestations of his clients, leans upon his staff and lifts his hand with a gesture 
 of quiet superiority intended both to repress their vehemence and indicate his 
 
 entire indifference to their arguments. One can imagine that the articles tossed 
 
 so carelessly upon the ground have been brought back as a bad bargain, and an 
 indescribable something in the attitude of the old Jew suggests that his indiffer- 
 ence is assumed and that he is perfectly and rather uneasily conscious of having 
 
 over-reached his swarthy customers. Very likely, in accordance with the old 
 
 maxim ‘‘ An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” he has only succeeded in 
 
 paying off an old grudge against these wily sons of the desert, whose reputation 
 for upright dealing leaves much to be desired. And on looking more closely at 
 their faces, one is convinced, in spite of their show of righteous indignation, that 
 it is a case of ‘‘ pot and kettle !” 
 
 In Louis X/V. and the Great Condé, we have one of Géréme’s effective histori- 
 
 cal incidents. The staircase in the Palace at Versailles, at the head of which the 
 monarch stood to receive his illustrious visitor, exists no longer, but the Escalier 
 de la Reine is intact and has the same decorations. Owing to an attack of the 
 gout, the Grand Condé ascended the steps slowly and furnished the King with an 
 opportunity for the flattering remark, ‘‘’Tis not astonishing, my cousin, that you 
 walk with difficulty, you bear so heavy a burden of laurels.” As in L’ Eminence 
 Grise and the Woliére, the grouping of the court and the rich costumes furnish 
 
 graceful contours and warm coloring to this striking scene. 
 
40 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LLON GEROME. 
 
 In the Arabs Crossing the Desert, we have again the stifling heat, the pitiless 
 lare, the interminable wastes of the wilderness; but this time its monotony is 
 
 fog 
 & 
 
 relieved by vivid bits of color and glint of steel, for the tribe of Abou-ben-Adhem 
 
 has broken camp and is marching across the trackless plain, guided by that 
 
 strange instinct which rarely betrays the ever wandering Bedouin. The white- 
 bearded patriarch and chief, armed to the teeth and mounted on a thoroughbred, 
 gazes steadily forward as he paces over 
 
 His 
 
 faces sheltered from 
 
 tide at 
 the 
 
 their burnous, but 
 
 the shifting sands. escort 
 
 his side, their 
 heat by the folds of 
 their keen eyes sweeping the horizon with 
 
 incessant vigilance. To the left, several 
 
 heures 
 
 white-robed sway to and fro 
 
 on their lurching dromedaries, but the 
 
 number march on 
 
 the 
 
 greater vigorously 
 
 \ foot, seemingly isturbed by 
 
 of 
 
 \{ 4 forms are hazily outlined. 
 
 unc 
 
 dust through which their 
 
 T 
 
 motion, at 
 
 clouds 
 
 ais picture 
 od 
 
 he faultless 
 
 is full of life and the at- 
 
 mospheric effects fully equal t 
 
 drawing. 
 7 The Negro Keeper of the Hounds is 
 a striking type, as he stands surrounded 
 oe | by his superb animals, the effect of his 
 
 | iA swarthy complexion being heightened by 
 
 g 
 | his snow-white turban and the back- 
 
 I j 
 H fj ground of dark green cacti and palms. 
 § L’Aveugle is the portrait of a_ sight- 
 
 le 
 
 youthful guide to bring a supply of Nile 
 
 patriarch who came daily with his 
 
 water to Géréme, then encamped close to the Sphinx, on one of his many 
 ¢,a Frenchman who gained 
 
 droll 
 
 journeys through Egypt. The picture of Jean Bar 
 
 renown the vinst a incident 
 
 upon sea fighting ag the English, recalls 
 
 On 
 
 leisure moments in sketching this figure from a 
 
 related by Gérome. the eve of leaving for 
 
 occupied he received a visitor, Monsieur X., who, 
 
 Egypt, he employed few 
 While thus 
 
 after arranging with him a 
 
 a 
 
 favorite model. 
 
 matter of mutual interest, wished him a 60m voyage and left him, still busily 
 
 painting. Several months later, Gérome, arriving 
 
 according to custom telegraphed his model, too 
 
 at Marseilles on his return, 
 
 the night train, and, on 
 
 reaching his atelier in Paris the next morning, found the fictitious Jean Bart 
 
THE POETS DREAM 
 
 1886 
 
COME 241 
 
 LIL 
 
 AND WORKS OF JEAN LE 
 
 dressed in his costume and ready to pose. Without delay, the artist seized his 
 brushes and began where he had left off. 
 
 His friend Monsieur X., having read in the evening journal the announcement 
 of Gérome’s arrival at Marseilles, hastened to his atelier early in the morning, 
 
 intending to be there to receive the wanderer. Entering unannounced, his look 
 
 of joyful anticipation was changed to a stare of surprise on seeing Gérome 
 quietly painting and Jean Bart in the I 
 
 same posttre, with the same expres- 
 
 sion on his face! His perplexity je 
 became positive stupefaction when F 
 
 Gérome, whose quick wit had seized 
 
 the possibilities of the situation, 
 instantly began, ‘‘As I was saying,” 
 and, without looking up, resumed 
 the topic of conversation which had 
 occupied them at their last inter- 
 view! Utterly mystified, the visitor 
 
 sank mutely into a chair and listened Ue \ 
 
 to the artist, who talked on com- 
 osedly, while painting, only raising | i 
 
 his eyes now and then to glance at 
 
 vis model. Finally his friend could I 
 
 bear the situation no longer. Striking \ 
 
 his forehead despairingly, he sprang | 
 
 to his feet and cried, “ 7e// me, in | 
 
 Jeaven’s name—have you been in 
 
 2eypt for months, or have / 
 
 o 
 45) 
 
 gone mad: : = 
 
 A hearty peal of laughter from the 
 
 master and a hearty embrace relieved his mind of all doubt, and Jean Bart took a 
 
 holiday, while the two friends went out to a petit déjeuner, where they celebrated 
 
 the safe return of the traveler and the success of his impromptu comedietta ! 
 The Harem in the Kiosk is a charming scene with a luminous atmosphere, 
 the favorites of the Sultan being gathered in a picturesque pavilion overlook- 
 
 ing the rippling waters of the Bosphorus. In the Guardians of the Sultan anc 
 
 the Grief of the Pasha (after Victor Hugo) the artist displays his incomparable 
 
 drawing of wild animals, the lifelessness of the pet tiger being most skillfully 
 
 rendered. In the Serpent Charmer, the pose of the central figure, the convolu- 
 
 tions of the great snake, and the varied types and expressions of the fascinated 
 
 audience, combine to make this one of Géréme’s most remarkable works. 
 
242 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 “ Nominor Leo,’’ another magnificent lion, the artist has presented to the 
 Museum of Fine Arts at Vesoul, his native city, where he is beloved by old and 
 young and where he has numerous pensioners for whose wants he generously 
 provides. The Flag Makers is a small canvas remarkable for the classic contour 
 and pose of the figures. A Chat by the Fireside, with one figure standing and 
 another crouching by a chimney-place in blue /wience,is one of his most effective 
 interiors in coloring, grouping, and textures, and in An Arnaut Smoking, and 
 blowing the smoke into the nostrils of a superb dog, we have one of his best 
 examples of this genre. These two pictures were especial favorites with the 
 
 artist. Other phases of his talent are shown in /’aiting (one figure, epoch of the 
 
 Restoration), 4 Bacchante, Set, 
 
 ioneur Louis XII1., A Retiarius, A Gallic Gladiator, 
 Mademoiselle Lili (a portrait of a daughter of Dumas), Pas commode (ancient 
 officer), Cave Canem (Roman prisoner of war chained), Portrait of the Artist's 
 Daughter with her Dog, Personnage—Louis XIII., Portrait of Baudry, and Por- 
 trait of M. Rattier (view from his villa, with Géréme and daughter coming up the 
 avenue). Besides the paintings we have already described in detail, a Bashi 
 Bazouk Drinking, Egyptian Café, Young Greeks at the Mosque, Treading out the 
 Grain in Egypt, The Sentinel at the Sultan’s Tomb, Dante, Almées Playing Chess in 
 a Café, Diogenes, The Runners of the Pasha, Cairene Horse Dealer, The Albanians 
 with their Dog, A Game of Chess (interior), A Dwo (Arnaut and bird), Aoorish 
 Bath No. 2, The Tulip Folly and the Relay of Hounds in the Desert, are among 
 those best known to the public through reproduction by photogravure. Less 
 familiar are a Bashi Bazouk (from near Smyrna), Cairene Butcher, Arnaut 
 Chief, Almée of Cairo, Greek Woman, Casting Bullets (interior), Call to Prayer, 
 Woman of Constantinople (flower design on wall in background), A/wsic Lesson 
 (Arnaut and Raven), Catrene Merchant, Arnaut with two Dogs, Greek Smoking a 
 Chibouk, Cairene Women, Arnaut in front of his Tent, Conversation by a Stove, 
 The Standard Bearer, Bashi Bazouk (high turban, hanging ornaments, thick 
 lips), Reading of the Koran in a Mosque, Woman of Constantinople (seated), 
 
 Woman of Constantinople (standing), Prayer at Broussa, Egyptian Recruiting 
 
 Officer (on a donkey), Armenian Lady (veiled, beautiful face and hands), Field 
 
 of Rest (cemetery of Green Mosque at Broussa), Almée at her Door (smoking 
 
 cigarette), Study of a Jewess, Butcher of Jerusalem, Arnauts before the Door 
 (one playing on mandolin), Syrian Shepherd, Return of the Lion to his Den, 
 Greek Herdsman (playing on flute), Black Panther on the Watch (belongs to 
 M. Théophile Gautier), and Winand Foking (drinking curacao in Holland, 
 
 admirable effects of light after the manner of the Dutch masters). 
 
 In 1883 Gér6me completed one of his most famous works, which needs no 
 further comment than that furnished by the following letter, sent with the 
 
 canvas to its owner, Mr. W. T. Walters, of Baltimore : 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 243 
 
 “My Dear Sir; 1 send you a few notes about my picture The Christian 
 Martyrs’ Last Prayer, which you have bought. I regret to have made you wait 
 
 for it so long, but I had a difficult task, being determined not to leave it until I 
 
 accomplished all of which I was capable. This picture has been upon my easel 
 for over twenty years. I have repainted it from the beginning //ree times ; have 
 however, 
 
 rehandled and rechanged both the effect and the composition, alway 
 preserving my first idea, This, therefore, is really the third canvas which you 
 eceive. 
 
 “The scene is laid in the Circus Maximus, which might readily be mistaken 
 
 for an amphitheater, as in the picture only the end of the circus, and not the 
 straight sides, is visible. But you will see on the left the meta, which ends the 
 
 spina, and is the goal around which the chariots made their turns in the races, 
 as I have indicated by the tracks of the wheels in the sand. The Circus Maxi- 
 
 mus was one of the mightiest monuments ever built. It held more than one 
 hundred and fifty thousand spectators. Its left touched the Palace of the Czsars, 
 whence a subterranean passage led directly to the Emperor’s loge. In the time 
 of the C 
 devoured by wild beasts. 
 
 “This is the subject of my picture. 
 
 sars Christians were cruelly persecuted, and many were sentenced to be 
 
 “As they were religious enthusiasts, to die was a joy, and they cared little 
 for the animals, their only thought being to remain firm to the last. And rarely 
 indeed was there found a case of apostasy. The Roman prisons were terrible 
 dungeons, and Christians, being often long confined before the sacrifice, when led 
 into the circus were emaciated by disease and covered only with rags. Their 
 hearts alone remained strong, their faith alone remained unshaken. In the 
 middle distance I have placed those destined to be burned alive. They were 
 usually tied upon crosses and smeared with pitch to feed the flames. Alluding 
 to this, Tacitus says, ‘These Christians should certainly be put to death, but 
 wherefore smear them with pitch and burn them like torches?’ His sympathy, 
 however, went no further. It was the custom to starve the wild beasts for 
 several days beforehand, and they were admitted to the arena up inclined planes. 
 
 “Coming from the dark dens below, their first action was of astonishment 
 upon facing the bright daylight and the great ma 
 
 ss of people surrounding them. 
 “They did then, as does to-day the Spanish bull when turned into the arena : 
 
 entering with a bound, he suddenly halts in the very middle of a stride. 
 
 “ This moment I have sought to represent. 
 
 “T consider this picture one of my most studied works, the one for which I 
 have given myself most trouble. 
 
 “Ts it a success? Very truly, 
 
 i) 
 
 “J. L. GEROME.” 
 
 In this year appeared also La Danse Pyrrhigue, which united in a most amaz- 
 ing manner many of the artist’s best qualities. Careful study will reveal, at every 
 
 instant, hidden beauties which escape notice at a first glance, so harmoniously 
 
 adjusted are all the values. It is greatly to be regretted that the accompany- 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 44. 
 
 ing illustration cannot render the fine coloring of this canvas. This was soon 
 
 followed by the Danse du Baton, in which the lithe, beautiful almée uses a staff 
 
 instead of a saber. The wonderful effects of light and motion in these exquisite 
 
 canvases testified that the master’s incomparably skillful hand was daily acquir- 
 
 ing new and more subtle power. In 1884 we find the following notice in the 
 
 London Atheneum : 
 
 “No painter has been more heartily welcomed on his return to the Salon than 
 
 M. Géréme. He has this year favored the world with two remarkable works. 
 In his SZave Sale at Rome, the leading figure, that of a young female slave, is 
 standing on a lofty platform, so placed that not one feature escapes the light and 
 the eyes of the shouting crowd of bidders, whose extended hands indicate their 
 eagerness and their admiration of her beauty. Each hand is a study of character 
 
 and, so to say, biographical of its owner, not only in its peculiar form, but in its 
 
 heir bodies only the shoulders 
 
 ul 
 
 Few of the men’s faces are shown, and of t 
 garments. Wonderf 
 f the virginal figure ; 
 
 action. 
 
 covered by variously colored skill and care have been 
 
 expended on the modeling o over every contour, line, and 
 that no part is incomplete. 
 Her 
 
 Conscious of her 
 
 changing hue, the artist’s pe 
 Immense study has been exp 
 right arm is raised to shade 
 
 neil has lingered so 
 ended upon the foreshortening of the limbs. 
 her face from the glaring light. 
 
 fate and careless of her nakedness, devoid of that cogwetterie which every French 
 
 painter except M. Géréme attributes to all the daughters of Eve, her air, attitude, 
 
 n antique statue. T 
 her glance reveals retrospection of the home which 
 Here lies not a little of that 
 
 and expression are those of a he shadow of her arm is her 
 only covering, and out of that 
 is broken, but not a gleam of 
 ( 
 
 and willful blindness to the future. 
 
 hope for the future. 
 
 deeper pathos of M. Géréme’s design, which illustrates Greek recklessness of fate 
 By the 
 
 side of the desk on our right stands the girl’s mother in a black toga, holding a 
 
 Nevertheless, her people are here. 
 babe, and nearer still are three naked children. The oldest of them squats on 
 the platform, her chin resting on her knees, which both her arms embrace, while 
 in a stolid way she ga’ 
 
 s into vacancy beyond the crowd, and waits her turn to 
 
 stand where her sister is, and be sold. The bold, hard-featured Roman who sells 
 the family wears a yellow toga with a red ¢vadea. 
 human chattel, toward the crowd, while with one hand outstretched he replies 
 
 iferously to the bidders. Clerks of 
 
 He stoops by the side of his 
 
 vo the market seated at the desk and a 
 
 second group of slaves com 
 
 “ Night in the Desert [continues the Atheneum| is a 
 near a pool, where a huge tig 
 
 the sand, and seems to purr 
 
 plete the design.” 
 
 calm, moonlit scene 
 
 ress lies at ease, like a grand Egyptian statue, upon 
 with grim content, while not far off her two cubs 
 
 of sentiment, and it has a vague grandeur due to 
 
 gambol. The picture is ful 
 the vastness of the landsca 
 
 pe and its simple forms, which, although but half 
 
 visible, loom up in the uniform, almost shadowless twilight of the moon.” 
 
 A Roman Slave-Market, which was finished about this time, but not sent 
 
 to the Salon, shows the reverse side of the Slave Sale at Rome—the faces of the 
 
PER OF HOUNDS. 
 
 NEGRO KEE 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 247 
 
 bidders, with all their variety of lineament and expression, while that of the 
 
 beautiful slave is turned aside. It is 
 first canvas. 
 
 It was in this year, in celebrati 
 
 almost as effective and pathetic as the 
 
 on of Géréme’s sixtieth birthday, that 
 
 Chaplain, engraver in metals, executed his famous bronze medallion portrait 
 
 of the artist, an admirable woodcut 
 Magazine of February, 1889, by ‘a well- 
 of Gérome, Wyatt Eaton. The same 
 
 of which was made for the Century 
 known American artist and former pupil 
 
 number contains other engravings after 
 
 Géréme, several of which are worthy to be cut out and framed, especially those 
 
 executed by Henry Wolf, an Alsatian, we believe, who begged the favor of 
 
 reproducing the masterpieces of his il 
 pronounced Wolf's work, especially in 
 
 seen, and was delighted to find that t 
 
 Géréme sent but one canvas to the Salon of 188 
 
 ustrious countryman. Géréme, in turn, 
 L’ Gdipe, to be the finest he had ever 
 he engraver was a Frenchman. 
 
 , but it aroused the most 
 
 enthusiastic admiration for the amazing and evidently steadily increasing powers 
 
 of this veteran of sixty ; it is probably t 
 
 genre. We well remember strolling 
 
 ae most remarkable of his pictures in this 
 
 hrough the Palais de I’Industrie, on a 
 
 gloomy, rainy morning, that reminded one of London, and suddenly exclaiming, 
 
 “The weather must be clearing!” But the sound of the steady downpour soon 
 
 undeceived us and we found that the warm light shone out from a large canvas 
 
 on the opposite side of the room. It seemed to fill the whole gallery with its 
 
 sunny rays, so wonderful was the refraction from the great pool of water and the 
 
 rising vapor. 
 
 Phe London Atheneum says : 
 
 “The Grande Piscine de Brousse is a larger work than M. Gérome usually 
 
 gives us, with more figures, and not less elaborate than his wont. The scene 
 
 is the interior of a vast Romanesque octagon of stone ; its solid arcaded walls are 
 
 fixed with seats in the recesses, and, in front, a wide platform of colored stones 
 incloses the bath proper. The place is illuminated by brilliant rays of sunlight 
 
 which, entering by openings in the solid roofs and traversing the vapor-laden 
 
 atmosphere of the building, strike the floor to be reflected on the numerous nude 
 
 or half-nude bathers who sit on benches, loiter with their feet in the water, swim, 
 
 or stride on high clogs across the pavement. A tall, fair maiden, thus mounted 
 
 and leaning on the shoulder of a black attendant, crosses the place with unsteady 
 
 steps. This young bather is one of the 
 
 best figures M. Géréme has ever painted, 
 
 so clear, firm, elastic, and rosy. It is exquisitely drawn and modeled with the 
 
 utmost choiceness, refinement, and research. Some of the minor figures also 
 
 have all these charms of delicacy, vital 
 
 ity,and grace. The best group sits on a 
 
 bench on our right in the mid-distance and is illuminated by cool, direct rays— 
 
 still others by warm, reflected light.” 
 
 The illustration we give conveys 
 
 canvas. 
 
 but a faint idea of the beauty of this 
 
248 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 About this time appeared also that grandest of all his desert scenes, Les Deux 
 Majestés, which has been described in an early part of this volume. These two 
 paintings are well calculated, in their absolute dissimilarity, 
 to emphasize the varied and perfected powers of the artist. 
 The year 1886 was again a most memorable one. Our 
 
 readers will remember the encamp- 
 
 ment in the desert where Lenoir, 
 heading the merry crew, 
 
 started before daybreak 
 
 to make the ascent of qa = =o 
 the Great Pyramid with 
 
 the assistance of their Arabs, leaving the master alone to watch the shadows 
 melt away and the unimpressionable mass of stone in these eternal monu- 
 ments blush under the First Kiss of the Sun. The canvas which reproduces 
 this perfect scene appeared at the Salon of 1886. Says the Atheneum, ‘Simple 
 as it is, this picture is grand and poetical,” and Mrs. Stranahan writes, ‘‘ The 
 
 In the hush of 
 
 Kiss of the Morning Sun is full of poetry 
 
 the early dawn a caravan lies sleeping in the desert, as 
 the highest peaks of the Pyramids and the Sphinx are turned 
 
 to a rosy hue by the first rays, the kiss, of the rising sun. 
 
 It is impressively suggestive of the processes of nature 
 continuing with their full effects of beauty, whether there 
 be observers or not, even while man sleeps regard- 
 less of the rare and passing instant.” But Gérome 
 
 was not the one to sleep away the hours when 
 Nature reveals herself to her true worshipers 
 in her loveliest moods, one of which he has 
 reproduced for us in this exquisite land- 
 scape. Charming as it is, it was almost 
 eclipsed by another desert scene, the famous 
 Gdipus, which we have also sketched in the 
 early portion of this work. The London 
 
 Atheneum writes as follows : 
 
 ‘As M. Géroéme’s pictures depend greatly 
 
 on the expression and character of their land- 
 scapes, we shall notice them in the 
 present connection among the other 
 landscapes with figures. No. 1042 is named Gdife, and gives us Napoleon on 
 horseback before the Sphinx, which is a prominent object on the vast plateau 
 where, in squadrons and lines, dark-blue masses of the French army are seen as 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 249 
 
 far as the eye can reach. The time is late afternoon, when the sun is well on the 
 north. Beyond the margin of our picture, on our left, the Emperor's guards are 
 assembled, but only their shadows are distinct on the sands in front. The execu- 
 
 tion of this picture is so 
 minute and veracious that 
 the effect is stereoscopic. 
 The delineation of the enor- 
 mous Sphinx could hardly 
 
 be more striking; it gives 
 
 a shadow of a clear sap- 
 
 phire blue on those contours 
 which face the sky, and 
 shows them to be brown 
 where they front the ruddy 
 or the yellow earth, the 
 local color of the stones 
 being, of course, a pale 
 brown. The modeling is as 
 solid as in a photograph. 
 The foreshortening of the 
 outlines of the shadows, as 
 they lie on the varying sur- 
 faces of the statue, could 
 hardly have been studied 
 with greater delicacy. Na- 
 poleon’s figure, and that 
 
 of his beautiful horse, are 
 quite like miniatures, and 
 have been depicted with the same research which is apparent elsewhere ; 
 his air and face inform us that he is demanding of the statue the answer it 
 
 has given to none.” 
 
 In connection with this canvas the following extract from a letter to a friend 
 is interesting: 
 
 “To reply to your question as to the Sphinx, I made his acquaintance a long 
 time ago; I was camping all alone near the Pyramids, with my cook and my 
 dragoman. I lodged under a large tree where, in spite of the great heat, for it 
 was in the month of May, I was very comfortable. I was at the gate of the 
 desert ; the cultivated lands end just there and the desert begins, consequently I 
 made sketches of everything that surrounded me; the Sphinx, the Pyramids, the 
 sandy plains, which from this point extend far into Africa. I did not know 
 beforehand what I was going to do with these studies, nor with all the others that 
 
 I have brought back from my travels. It is only later that ideas come ; there is 
 an unconscious labor in the brain and, suddenly, they are born! At least, so it 
 is with me, and I suppose the same thing happens to many others.” 
 
250 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 In an original pen-and-ink sketch of the @dipus, the Eagle is proudly 
 perched upon the Sphinx, as if to imply the absolute dominion of the First 
 Consul. In the painting, this feature does not appear. The fortunate owner of 
 the sketch saw this remarkable canvas for the first time under circumstances 
 which reveal so evidently, as in the story of “/ean Bart,”’ the master's love of a 
 practical joke and his skill as comédien, that we venture to reproduce this scene 
 
 in the artist’s atelier, quoting from the original version of the episode : 
 
 “The talk one morning turns to the Salon of 1887 and the preceding year, 
 and a much desired opportunity comes to me. 
 Do you know where your pictures go when they are sold?’ I ask, as he 
 
 leans back among the cushions, this time really smoking, not matches, but a 
 simple brierwood pipe. 
 ‘Sometimes, but rarely beyond the first purchaser, if they change hands.’ 
 
 But don’t you care to know?’ I persist. 
 “« When they are finished, they are finished,’ he replies, with a shrug of his 
 ‘and there is an end of them as f 
 
 shoulde ar as I am concerned. But why do 
 
 you ask? 
 ‘“<Because there is one I have not yet seen, and cannot trace, but which | 
 
 am determined to find if I have to make a special pilgrimage.’ 
 
 Ah—and that is- 
 “* T’ Gsdipe, Bonaparte before the Sphinx, which you exhibited at the Salon in 
 1886. was not here, and I have only seen a wretched woodcut of it; but the 
 
 idea, the composition, made so deep an impression on me that it haunts me.’ 
 “There is a sudden flash from the slumbrous eyes. 
 «© Tiens/ c'est curieux /” 
 
 «What is strange ?’ 
 
 “« Everything in life,’is the sage reply. ‘But I find it especially strange that 
 
 I should happen to know where this very picture is at this moment.’ 
 ‘| spring up in excitement. 
 ‘Tell me where? Is it here in Paris? Is it far away? Where shall I find 
 it? Tell me, quickly! 
 “© Voyons—voyons ! Soyez tranguille/ Wt is here in Paris, just around the 
 corner. It belongs to one of my friends, and you shall see it as soon as you like.’ 
 “T begin to draw on my gloves. 
 “<7 will go at once, and you, cher Maitre, you will write a line to say 
 “Please admit bearer to see the Sphinx/’’ Make haste, oh, please make 
 
 haste!’ 
 
 ‘“My impatience has no effect on the imperturbable smoker, who regards 
 me steadily, a very sphinx himself, with the addition of an amused twinkle in 
 the enigmatic eyes. 
 
 “““A card is not necessary. You have simply to ask, and you can see it. 
 You may say I sent you.’ 
 
 “<*Oh, truly! I think I see myself demanding to enter private apartments, 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 251 
 
 and saying, “Géréme sent me/’’ It is likely that I would be admitted! What 
 objection can you have—it will take but a second! Come, here is paper, ink, a 
 pen!” 
 
 “Thus I plead, not a little surprised that it should be necessary, so quick is 
 this generous nature to respond to the slightest appeal. Finally he rises, but 
 instead of going to the writing-table, he cross 
 
 s the room to a corner where hang 
 his coat and hat. Ah, the good master! he is going to accompany me himself ! 
 I seize my parasol and, in obedience to a gesture, hasten toward him, But to my 
 astonishment, instead of passing into the hall, he turns a brass knob till then 
 unnoticed by me, and a door in the wall swings back, revealing a dim passage. 
 A courteous wave of the hand invites me to enter. Not daring to question, I 
 
 step in, followed by my host, grave and mute as the Memnon and Sesostris who 
 guard this mysterious, movable panel which closes noiselessly behind us. The 
 sudden transition from the bright atelier to the obscurity of this narrow gallery 
 confuses me and I stand irresolute, till a light touch on my shoulder urges me 
 
 forward. My heart beats with eager anticipation of, | know not what, but 
 assuredly it will be something delightful! I advance, step by step, turning to 
 the right, to the left, then sharply to the right again, and my outstretched hand 
 
 strikes an obstacle. 
 ‘A door !’ I whisper. 
 
 “© Bbbén! ouvrez/’ There is a quiver of suppressed merriment in the 
 voice. 
 
 “T grope for the handle and turn it. Darkness still. A faint perfume hangs 
 in the air, and my foot sinks ina luxurious rug. In mingled enjoyment of this 
 mystery and impatience to end it, I cry : 
 
 ‘«« Where are we?’ 
 
 “The words have scarcely escaped me, when I hear the harsh grating of a 
 bolt, the shutters are thrown back, and a flood of light falls upon the Sphinx / 
 
 “Eh bien!’ The master sits quietly in a chair, enjoying his little plot ; 
 for he, himself, is the owner of the painting which is truly ‘just around the 
 corner,’ and the obscure passage turns out to be a plain everyday corridor, which 
 runs along his ateliers and connects the rooms where he stores costumes, books, 
 casts, etc., with his own apartments, darkened to keep out the summer heat 
 and glare, and in one of which hangs the long-sought-for Zdipus. 
 
 “<Tt is for my children,’ says the artist. ‘I would never sell it. I love it 
 too well. We are old friends,’ he adds, rising and passing his hand affectionately 
 over the mass of yellow stone. It is impossible, while looking at it, to think of 
 paint and canvas / 
 
 “ And then he falls to describing his life in the desert, alone, in the twilight 
 and the early dawn, under the blazing sun and in the midnight stillness, with 
 this mysterious being who has revealed to him ‘marvelous things.’ 
 
 ‘“‘T can well believe it! 
 
 “ After this, the little door stands always open to me, and I slip in often 
 alone, to look at this masterpiece, which, with its tender tones, renders the 
 Orient so much more faithfully than the flaming canvases of other painters of 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 Eastern subjects. And as I study these inscrutable features, | fancy that I catch, 
 now and then, a fleeting, semi-ironical smile which seems to say, ‘ Why search 
 elsewhere? Behold in me all mystery and the key thereof!’ I speak of this to 
 ans doute/’ and smiles at the Sphinx, 
 
 the master. He replies quietly, ‘ J/ais 
 who positively returns his glance! There is certainly an understanding between 
 
 them !” 
 
 In November, 1886, Gérome finished another well-known painting, Za Porte 
 des Boulets, now in the Powers Art Gallery at Rochester, N. Y. The following 
 
 etter from the artist to Mr. Powers accompanied the canvas : 
 
 “ Dear Sir: Excuse me for not writing to you in English, but I only know 
 wo words of that language, ‘yes’and ‘no’! As you see, my vocabulary is very 
 small, and does not permit me to express my thoughts. Your picture was 
 finished to-day. I have given great care to it in the hope of pleasing you, and 
 
 trust you will find it altered to its advantage. When you honored me with 
 your visit, only a few of the figures were drawn, and the principal ones were not 
 sent to you in a very bad state, like all the work that goes out 
 
 finished. It is 
 of an artist’s studio, that is to say, that it is covered with spots and blotches 
 it because it 
 
 that will disappear in the varnishing. I took pains zof to varn 
 y painted, and that would have been disastrous in the future. Do not 
 
 is fres 
 yass judgment on it for the present; wait until it is varnished, for it will be 
 completely changed, but do not submit it to this operation before two months. 
 3y that time it will be completely dry. 
 
 “The scene is laid at the Gate of Bab-el-Zouel, which ends the large bazaars 
 of Cairo. This place is always filled with people of all countries. One sees 
 here fellahs, Jews, inhabitants of the borders of the Red Sea, people from 
 Central Africa and Abyssinia, men from the Soudan, traveling merchants, 
 s, loungers, and Europeans. It is the liveliest sight in the city. 
 
 yurch 
 “The two personages dressed in white are runners, or sais, who precede a 
 
 pasha on horseback. Riders have always one or two sais, who clear the way and 
 who hold the horse when they go into a house or shop. Formerly there were 
 st. Then 
 
 the number of sais was large, but to-day, as there are many vehicles, they have 
 
 only two means of locomotion, asses and horses; carriages did not 
 
 singularly diminished, but still a few remain. 
 “Contrary to my usual custom, and to accede to your wish, I have signed 
 this picture éwice, the first time with my ame, and the second time with my 
 
 portrait, in the right-hand corner, the person dressed in blue. On my head there 
 is a green turban, to which I have no right, because only those who have 
 returned from a pilgrimage to Mecca may wear it. It is true that I have been 
 very near that holy city! This work is therefore doubly authenticated, and | 
 shall be pleased to meet your approval. 
 
 “Please accept, sir, with my cordial salutations, the avowal of my best senti- 
 ments. 
 
 «J, L. GEROME.’ 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 255 
 
 Two other superb canvases, finished this year for a personal friend of the 
 artist, Mr. Elbridge T. Gerry, of New York, were L’Zntrée du Taureau and La 
 Terrasse du Sérail, which are ranked by Géréme as two of his best works. 
 They are certainly triumphs of color, pose, and light; never has the master 
 displayed to better advantage in small figures his inimitable draughtsmanship 
 than in the lithe, well-knit bodies of the toréadors in the first picture and the 
 graceful forms of the harem beauties in the second, which presents a faithfu 
 reproduction of the interior of the Old Palace at Constantinople. 
 
 In this same year Gér6me, who was then at work on the statue of Omphale, 
 
 conceived the idea of reproducing on canvas the unfinished figure as it looked 
 
 at the close of the day’s labor. He has produced a most effective scene called 
 The End of the Séance, showing his model flinging wet cloths over the statue 
 to keep the clay from drying, while the sculptor himself bends over a pai 
 of water and wrings out the linen bandages. The contours and pose of the 
 model are replete with grace, delicacy, and strength, and the arrested action 
 is startling in its realism. The posture of the artist also is eminently nove 
 and interesting. At the Salon of 1887 appeared Omphale, of whose beauty 
 
 we have already endeavored to give some idea. Masson writes of this exqui- 
 
 site creation : ‘‘Gérome has found also in sculpture that which he has so long 
 
 sought for and found in painting—beauty and grace. He himself has bestowed 
 the informing idea.’’ Placed in the garden of the Palais de |'Industrie, its 
 charm was heightened by the near neighborhood of that terrible and power- 
 ful group entitled Ze Gorilla, executed by Gérome’s intimate friend Frémiet, 
 who this year obtained the Medal of Honor. 
 
 Although the master had seriously undermined his health by uninter- 
 
 rupted labor, having worked on the Omphale many days from seven in the 
 
 morning till eleven at night, he did not permit himself any rest, and this year 
 
 he produced also two remarkable and very finished canvases, 7he Carpet 
 
 Merchant and The Rose, both of which were immediately acquired for American 
 collections, where, indeed, the greater number of his masterpieces may be found 
 to-day. In letters to a friend, received during the autumn and winter of 1887 
 and 1888 
 
 , there is the same record of unremitting toil, betraying in and between 
 the lines the unflagging energy of this man of indomitable will, under the 
 most trying circumstances of mental and physical suffering. Even when he 
 refers to his own cares and anxieties, there is no trace of egotism, and his 
 
 generous heart, burdened by personal griefs, interests itself for the poor and 
 
 needy, the sick and suffering, be they in want of succor and comfort for body 
 or soul. To divert their minds, he forces himself often to be gay. Always 
 inspiring, always uplifting, he leads the way by precept and practice, in the 
 
 struggle toward the ideal. We translate several passages from these letters 
 
256 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 in the hope of stimulating the ambition of students and workers in every sphere 
 of usefulness, and encouraging them to accomplish truly serious and conscien- 
 tious work, whatever the difficulties and drawbacks of their environment. 
 
 In May, 1887, writing of a young artist in whom he had expressed a deep 
 interest, he says : 
 
 “T had advised young F—— not to go to Spain, but to remain here in order 
 to study seriously. I regret that he did not listen to me, so much the more since 
 I learn by your letter of his unfortunate journey. It is money, and above all, 
 time lost. 1 am much pleased to know that he is busy, and trust his work is 
 
 serious, with an éye to his future. When he decides to return to Paris, you may 
 
 rest assured that I will interest myself to the utmost to serve him and to be 
 
 useful to him in every possible way. I regret that he did not long since carry 
 out his intention of returning to France. It is here that one finds all that one 
 needs in order to pursue truly awséere studies, which re-echo through the entire 
 career of an artist—/or good principles inculcated in a young mind are never 
 
 effaced.” 
 In June, he writes from Bougival : 
 
 “Tam in my atelier in the country, working in the open air, getting ready for 
 
 the winter. I endeavor to console myself by zzcessant /abor for the misfortune 
 
 which has befallen me and which always weighs heavily upon me. .... To 
 amuse you a little, | send you a bit of verse that I have made about the sketch I 
 had the honor to show you the last time you came to my atelier. 
 
 “TESPRIT ET LA BETE. 
 
 _e Poéte est assis mollement sur la gréve, 
 
 A Vheure 04 le soleil va se coucher ; il réve. 
 
 La Muse l'a touché ; la Muse lui fait voir 
 
 Tous les Diewx de la Mer, comme dans un miroir. 
 
 Emergeant de l’écume, c'est Venus Astarte, 
 
 -ivot fécond, sur qui tourne !humanite ; 
 Neptune, sur son char au cavalles humides, 
 
 Les 7ritons, les Dauphins, les blanches Néréides ; 
 Le Cyclopfe, au repos sur les monts sourcillewx, 
 /care, déplumé, tombant du haut des cieux. 
 
 ues Sirénes perfides, Protée, gardant ses phoques, 
 Glaucus, Melicerte, et les monstres baroques ; 
 
 Le vieux NVérée, la téte ceinte du nénuphar, 
 
 =t Phebus, dans les flots précipitant son char. 
 
 1 nest déja plus jour, il n’est pas encore nuit, 
 
 La vision s'efface, le réve se finit ! 
 
 Les Diewx ont disparu, pour ne plus se montrer ; 
 ‘Ah! jai grand faim, dit 7 Homme— il est temps de rentrer /” 
 
i 
 
 1ft 
 
 NV LEON GE. 
 
 TD WORKS OF J. 
 
 a 
 
 The sense of the ridiculous and love of abrupt ‘contrast which are to be found 
 in many of the master’s paintings crop out in the last line of this impromptu 
 “Envoi’—which reminds one of Heine, in its unexpected dénowment. 
 
 In September, he writes : 
 
 “T am very much behindhand—forgive me. For some time I have been 
 greatly oppressed with sorrow and melancholy—a sort of nostalgia. I have no 
 courage to do anything, and do not like to burden others with my weaknesses. 
 
 I have just returned from a short journey 
 to the shores of the Mediterranean, where I made 
 some studies of the sea which I need for a picture 
 I am painting. And here I am again installed 
 for it is 
 
 in Paris, preparing work for the winter 
 
 work alone which satisfies the mind and consoles the 
 
 heart. .... One cannot, in the course of a day, 
 entirely re-create one’s self. Still, one must not feebly 
 succumb, but resist to the utmost; not yield without 
 a struggle, but always seek to regain full self-possession. 
 The spirit should always dominate the flesh.....1 
 shall send you some photographic reproductions of 
 
 some of my paintings and will keep you posted in regard 
 to my future work.” 
 
 In October, he writes : 
 
 “T have just sent you a collection of photographs 
 of some of my pictures. I hope you will like them. In 
 any event, I shall esteem myself happy if you will 
 receive them favorably and occasionally glance at 
 them,....I1 have begun again to work with frenzy, 
 to forget my grief and melancholy. Since I had the 
 pleasure of seeing you I have finished several pictures 
 which have gone to your country, and I have begun 
 several others which will probably follow the same route. I also have a mind 
 to model another figure in order not to lose time during the months of 
 November and December, when the light is too poor to paint, but sufficient 
 to model in clay.” 
 
 In November, he writes : 
 
 ““We are having days so gloomy that one might imagine one’s self in Eng- 
 land, and it is almost impossible to work. Nevertheless, I keep at it desperately, 
 and expect to fght on to my last breath /”’ 
 
 In December, 185 
 
 “Your letter just received. I hasten to reply. You are giving yourself 
 too much trouble for me; | am not worth it. I fear your conversation with 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 the editor of —— can have no effect, for journals and reviews often /o//ow 
 the taste of the public, instead of directing it, and they are obliged to reflect 
 the opinions of their readers, otherwise their articles would not be read! 
 As to 
 this question of zuwdity, it is useless to argue about it in your country. Many 
 people who are not better than others desire to appear so. They are simply 
 
 And when one is a journalist, one must take care of the subscribers! 
 
 Jesuits! The nude, in itself, is not indecent—but the manner in which it is 
 rendered may be so, through the evil intention which has guided its execution. 
 Are the Venus of Milo, the Venus of Medici, etc., immodest statues? On the 
 contrary, nothing could be more chaste; and often certain figures, dressed 
 in a certain manner, are more calculated to awaken improper ideas than figures 
 which are entirely nude. 
 
 ““<Tt is not the nude,’ says Diderot, ‘that is indecent; it is the retroussé. 
 And he was right..... As to my method of teaching—it is very simple, but 
 this simplicity is the result of long experience. The question is to lead young 
 people into a straightforward, true path; to provide them with a compass 
 which will keep them from going astray; to habituate them to Jove Nature 
 (the #we), and to regard it with an eye at once intelligent, delicate, and firm, 
 
 being mindful also of the plastic side. Some know how to copy a thing and 
 will reproduce it almost exactly; others put into it poetr 
 
 charm, power, and 
 An 
 
 make of it a work of art. The first are workmen, the second are artists. 
 abyss separates the mason from the architect/ To-day, in this epoch of moral 
 
 and intellectual disorder, there seems to be a sovereign contempt for those 
 who seek to e/evate themselves, to move the spectator, to have some imagina- 
 tion; for those who are not content to remain fettered to the earth, dabbling 
 in the mud of realism! It is to-day the fashion, to which all the world sacri- 
 fices, because it is only granted to a few to have a well-balanced mind, and 
 because it is easier to paint /Aree fried eggs than it is to execute the ceiling 
 
 of the Sistine Chapel! But all this will pass like a shadowy phantom, and 
 it need not make us uneasy. As Lamartine says: 
 
 ue cygne qui s’envole aux votites éternelles, 
 Amis, s'informe-t-il si !ombre de ses ailes, 
 flotte encore sur un vil gazon ?’ 
 
 [Does the swan who wings his flight toward the eternal vaults, question 
 
 whether the shadow of his wings still floats o’er the sward below ?] 
 
 “The method of instruction should above all tend to protect the young mind 
 from the influx of these paltry sentiments, which, having generated here, have 
 crossed the Atlantic, and are in a fair way to infect America. I claim the 
 honor of having waged war against these tendencies, and shall continue to 
 
 combat them, but what can one do against the current? A young painter, who 
 begins his career, has need of great strength of soul not to be swept away by 
 it, and even those who resist cannot entirely ascend against these rapids, 
 but suffer in a certain measure from their influence. Yet I am far from being 
 a retardataire, an exclusive, and I have always loved all experiment, all effort, 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 259 
 
 in whatever direction; these indicate in a country a force of expansion. I love 
 Only, these revolutions should be made by 
 
 movement, for movement is li 
 people of talent, who have understanding and knowledge, and I must say that 
 
 many painters of the modern school, the impressionists, the A/ein-air-istes, the 
 
 independents, etc., are more or less /wzmistes, some of them humbugs, and some, 
 ignorant as carps! To-day, when a work is insipid and badly executed—badly 
 drawn, badly painted, and stupid beyond expression—it stands a good chance 
 of being a success, since it is o7 a level with those who admire it/ ‘Yo-day when 
 one walks through the halls of the Exposition at Paris, one is struck first by the 
 great number of works produced—works which often have not cost their authors 
 any great pains in any respect, either as to subject or execution. The Common- 
 place is in honor, and Poetry has fled to the skies! Will she ever descend 
 
 again ?” 
 Later he says: 
 
 “T send you, with this, a letter written some time ago apropos of the thirty 
 per cent. duty placed on works of art on their entry into the United States 
 
 of America. It has been printed in some American journal, | do not know 
 which one. Thanks for all the trouble you take for me, of which I am un- 
 
 worthy. 
 
 In writing these reflections on the subject of the thirty per cent. 
 duty imposed on foreign works of art on their entry into the United States, 
 regret that I am not of American nationality ; for, being a Frenchman and 
 suffering from this measure, my opinion may not appear disinterested. It is 
 none the less so, however, for | am accustomed, when I have to pronounce 
 judgment, to eliminate my personality. I will give you, then, my views in al 
 frankness, without prejudice, with entire freedom. 
 
 “What is the odject of this measure? What will be the rest? Will it 
 enrich the Treasury? Will it benefit American painters? The reply to these 
 
 last two questions can only be negative. In the immense revenue of the Unitec 
 States, the sum gained by this entry-tax on paintings,—whose number wil 
 inevitably be diminished by this species of prohibition,—will be as a drop of 
 
 water in the sea, and your vast country, so rich through its agricultural and 
 industrial products, will make but a few dollars more. As to the sale of the 
 works of indigenous painters, it will be no more and no less active than in the 
 past ; if they are good, they will find purchasers, for the taste of Americans is 
 
 already singularly well cultivated, and they only seek works of art desirable on 
 account of their invention and good execution, without troubling themselves 
 as to the nationality of the authors. If the works are dad, they will inevitably 
 remain on the hands of the producers, and this will be just! Those who buy 
 works of art are generally rich people, who sensibly prefer to pay well for a good 
 picture, than to buy cheaply a canvas which they would scorn to hang on the 
 
 walls of their houses beside a masterpiece acquired elsewhere. These two points 
 
 seem to me clear: the odject has no reason for existing, the result is null and void. 
 There is a moral side to this matter, which I would like to emphasize, and which 
 
260 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GLROME, 
 
 seems to me not without importance, namely: that it is in France and in Ger- 
 many that many young American artists have received their instruction; we 
 have given them their education gratuitously ; they have been treated like native 
 pupils in our State Schools. It is then to foreigners that they owe what they 
 
 know, and without these foreigners there would have been neither painters nor 
 sculptors in the United States. Is it just to treat the productions of these foreign 
 
 artists and teachers with so great a severity? Is there not a little ingratitude in 
 
 this kind of ostracism? I know well that it is said ‘Nations feel no gratitude— 
 
 ests.’ Perhaps this is true ; in any case, this is 
 
 they care only for their own inter 
 not to their credit, and I regret it above all in this special case, where their 
 
 interests are so very badly comprehended. 
 
 “ At the time of the announcement of this custom-house law, which, let us 
 confess, is a trifle uncivilized, there was great agitation among the artists in Paris. 
 In order to consult as to what was to be done, I called together an assembly of 
 French and American painters at my house and, I must say, the position taken by 
 the latter was eminently correct and irreproachable. They were almost as dis- 
 contented as we were, and they proved it by their petition addressed to the 
 Congress of the United States, a petition whose tenor bore witness to their 
 gratitude to us, and their regret at the adoption of a measure which damaged our 
 interests so seriously. 7/ey recognized clearly their obligation to us; that we 
 had treated them well in every respect; that they had been admitted to our 
 
 Academy of Fine Arts on the same terms as our French pupils ; that they enjoyed 
 the same privileges at our Annual Expositions as our native exhibitors ; that they 
 received rewards when they merited them, and good places at the Salon when 
 they were worthy of them! Why were we, then, thanked for our kind services 
 
 by such lion-like proceedings? 
 
 “In short we have only praise for these young people in regard to this 
 
 matter, and I desire to repeat loudly, so that no one may be ignorant of it— 
 
 did not succeed, but this lack of success cannot be 
 
 they all employed every possible means to induce Congress to repeal so un- 
 reasonable a law; they 
 
 ie 
 
 aid at their door! It gives me the more pleasure to bear th imony, in 
 that certain contrary rumors have been put in circulation. had it at heart 
 to deny them ; it is done! 
 “Tn all countries in Europe, works of art are entered free of duty; this sys- 
 tem of non-prohibition has already been fruitful in results. Itis by this means 
 
 that different Schools of Painting, Architecture, and Sculpture have been formed 
 in Germany, in Italy, in France, in Belgium, in Spain. It is the study of the 
 works of their predecessors that has developed the men of genius who are the 
 glory of their country. Itis only 
 in establishing serious Schools of Art. It is little by little that the sentiment 
 
 after protracted efforts that a nation succeeds 
 
 of beauty is infused into a people, as a result of an education which is the work of 
 time and of the beautiful and good creations placed before its eyes. What would 
 be worth more than a frohibitory tax, to America which has no fasz, would 
 be measures favoring the entry of paintings, statues, etc., which would permit 
 individuals to form private collections, and cities to possess 
 
 public museums! 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 263 
 
 “One day it will be said: ‘It was at the end of the nineteenth century, in 
 the full expansion of civilization, that there arose a strange, incomprehensible 
 idea of classing the productions of the mind with sardines in oil and smoked 
 ham! In all countries works of art were free from duty—in all save one, 
 where they were burdened with an exorbitant import-tax—by the youngest, 
 the greatest, the richest of nations !’” 
 
 This eloquent protest needs no comment; its trenchant justice must be 
 apparent to every one who has thoughtfully considered this subject. But when 
 we remember the almost superhuman efforts that were needed to overcome the 
 obtuseness and obstinacy of our law-makers, who disgraced the nation for years 
 by their repeated rejection of a law to repress theft and enforce common honesty 
 in the matter of International Copyright—we despair of opening their eyes to 
 perceive this lesser but still humiliating blot on the American escutcheon. Until 
 it, also, is wholly effaced, those who were once our warm allies and admirers may 
 rightfully accuse us of injustice and ingratitude. 
 
 Arriving 
 
 zain in London in the early spring of 1888, the master’s corre- 
 
 spondent found a letter of welcome in which he writes: ‘‘ You Americans are 
 intrepid travelers. | admire the courage of your mother who, at the age of 
 sixty-nine, has crossed the ocean with you. As for me, I have not left my 
 
 easel since | saw you, save for that one little trip to the Mediterranean, where 
 
 I went to make some studies of the sea for the picture which I have at the 
 Exposition. I am well, only a little tired by the steady work of the winter, and 
 
 I really need a little rest, but I have no time for it / 
 
 The painting referred to as at the Salon of 8, was The Poet's Dream, which 
 
 the artist himself has so charmingly sketched in the impromptu verses previously 
 
 quoted. We find the following description in a Paris art journal : 
 
 ‘A deserted strand on the coast of Greece. In the distance, emerging from 
 the depths of the sea, two rocky islets whose steep sides are colored by the setting 
 sun with tints of sapphire and amethyst. The poet, clad in /a derniére mode of 
 1804, top-boots, brown coat with metal buttons, white necktie and lace cuffs, is 
 reclining on the sands while he dreams, contemplating the infinite heavens and 
 the boundles 
 
 sea ; his Muse, draped in green, crowned with laurel and carrying a 
 yre of ivory, arises behind him and gently touches him. Immediately the hosts 
 of Poseidon become visible to him. The Nereids lie upon the sand; the Tritons 
 olow into their shells; the three Sirens, Parthenope, Hygeia, and Leukosia, 
 advance singing ; Aphrodite surges up on a jet of foam, and from each bitter drop 
 that falls from her tresses a Cupid is born! There is already a veritable swarm 
 
 iovering around the goddess! 
 
 Seated upon a rock, old Proteus guards his herd 
 of prophetic seals. Further off, Phoebus skims the liquid plain with his chariot 
 drawn by horses, as light as the halcyon breeze and as swift as the tempest. 
 Arion is borne away on the back of his tuneful dolphin, and Icarus, stripped of 
 his wings, falls from heaven into the gulf below.” 
 
264 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 This was not the only exhibit of the master. Near by hung a small 
 canvas with one solitary figure, which, however, impressed the observer with a 
 sense of illimitable space and concentrated vitality. It was entitled 7irs/, and 
 
 was described in the London A¢hencum as follows : 
 
 “A grand desert scene, charged with a whitish glare; the blank brilliancy of 
 
 torrid noon dominating a waste of sun-blanched sand and stones. The desert 
 
 extends nearly to the horizon, where a group of palms and other trees forms one 
 ong line, and beyond that a dim 
 yurple range of mountain-tops 
 Ooms int the vain, he effect is 
 stereoscopic, and the atmosphere 
 yerfectly painted. Near the front 
 are a few shallow pools, at one of 
 
 f _ which a huge lion laps the water 
 
 in an ecstasy of thirst well ex- 
 
 pressed by the design of the animal. 
 
 His haunches are drawn up, his 
 
 tail is extended straight along the 
 sand, and his mane drops forward 
 as he drinks.” 
 
 It is needless to say that these 
 chefs-d'euvre found immediate pur- 
 chasers, the first passing into the 
 already rich collection of the Czar 
 
 Eds of Russia. 
 
 Gérome also exhibited this 
 same season, at the Royal Academy 
 
 in London, a Negro, draped in a 
 
 rose-colored burnous, on a_back- 
 ground of blue /aience ; at Copen- 
 hagen, Le Hammam—Vapeur séche, which obtained for him a royal decoration, 
 and in Moscow, the Vafeur humide ; in addition to which he had finished three 
 other canvases, respectively entitled: 4 Bath, Woman Bathing her Feet, and 
 The Awakening. Each one is a masterpiece in which the artist seems to have 
 surpassed all his previous achievements, especially of modeling and flesh tints. 
 Words can give no idea of the marvels of texture and coloring, the effects of light 
 and vapor, the solidity and grace assembled in each of these canvases. The 
 contrast—between the flesh tone in the Vafeur séche, where the body is rosy from 
 the exertion of the bath and massage, and the warm brunette hues of 7%e 
 
 Awakening, where the half-roused beauty slips from the couch to her knees, 
 
 stretching her exquisite arms luxuriously above her head—shows Gérome’s 
 
TANAGRA 
 
 1890 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LLON GEROME, 265 
 
 absolute mastery of the most subtle secrets of color. We should but multiply 
 adjectives in endeavoring to give an adequate description of these later works, 
 the skill revealed in them amazing even those who are best acquainted with his 
 work and have followed him step by step. 
 
 In the midst of his absorbing occupations, Gér6me was ever ready to respond 
 
 to almost daily appeals for advice and help. President and member of many 
 different societies, he was prompt and punctilious in the fulfillment of his official 
 duties. His private charities were 
 innumerable, and of him it could 
 be said truly that his right hand 
 knew nothing of the generosity 
 of the left. When chance laid 
 before him an opportunity for a 
 good action, he never evaded it, 
 though it might cost him infinite 
 trouble and annoyance. How 
 many poor souls has he saved 
 from the destitution and misery 
 that, in a great city, result too 
 often in crime! He would not 
 only give liberally of his money, 
 and, treasure of inestimable value, 
 his time, but would take the 
 greatest trouble to interest his 
 friends for his needy /Protégés. 
 The following brief notes furnish 
 an outline of but one of many 
 instances that have come under 
 the writer's personal notice : 
 
 “T send you a letter from 
 Mme. la Baronne Salomon de Rothschild, with some money for our poor 
 protégée. ave her write a line of thanks. am writing myself, but that 
 is not sufficient.” 
 
 And again, ‘Translate as soon as possible into French the certificates of 
 our proftégée and have them stamped at the Consulate of ——_. For, if we find 
 her a situation, this is indispensable.” It is almost needless to say that the 
 situation was found. 
 
 One bitterly cold and stormy day we entered the atelier, where he was 
 
 coughing heavily. Knowing that he was one of a few guests invited to meet a 
 
 personage of high degree who was passing through the city, we expressed our 
 
266 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 concern that he should expose himself in such unfavorable weather. ‘‘I have 
 just sent a regret,” replied the master. ‘‘I am not well and should be sure to 
 
 take more cold, and then I could not talk to my children at the Ecole des Beaux- 
 Arts to-morrow.” While he was speaking, there came a timid knock at the door. 
 A man, prematurely aged, haggard, and illy clad, entered the atelier. He hesi- 
 
 addressed the master, who greeted him with marked warmth and, after 
 
 a few minutes’ murmured conversation, said, ‘‘ 1 will come immediately.” With 
 a look of gratitude, the man bowed low and left the room. Pulling on his great- 
 coat, Géréme continued, ‘‘ You must excuse me. I shall probably not return till 
 late. He lives at Belleville. It is one of my old pupils who is in trouble ; poor 
 devil, he will never do anything! I must go and see how I| can help him.” 
 
 ‘But your cold !” we remonstrated. 
 
 “T must risk it ; he needs me.” 
 
 “But you gave up the reception——” 
 
 “They did not need me!” 
 
 ‘And the Ecole to-morrow ?” 
 
 “The boys must endure my grow! /”’ 
 “You will at least take your breakfast ?” 
 “T have no time—he is waiting! Iam off—a dbientot/”’ 
 
 The concierge told us, the next day, that Géréme returned late in the after- 
 
 noon, utterly exhausted, having eaten nothing all day, and that he had gone 
 
 to bed with a violent chill. ‘“‘He went out to the Ecole this morning at 
 half-past seven, all the same,’ added Thomas. ‘‘He would go /here if he 
 were dying /”’ 
 We were at work in the studio when the master came in, pale and fagged, 
 and, after lecturing two hours, unable to speak above a whisper. 
 “What about your old pupil?” we asked, while he was preparing his palette. 
 “Ah, mon Diew/ he needed me badly enough; he was painting a Venus, a 
 Venus of the Batignolles/ \t was frightful /’’ A look of profound commisera- 
 tion overspread his face. 
 ‘“Was that all?” 
 
 “Oh, no! they had no fire, no clothes, nothing to eat! that was soon rem- 
 edied! But that Venus, nothing could ever remedy that/’’ And from time to 
 time during the day, the master paused in his work and, overcome by the remem- 
 brance, sighed, “ Oh, that Venus / it was frightful /”’ 
 
 Wearied by his toil, and worn by anxiety for a member of the family who 
 for some time had been seriously ill, Gérome accompanied his household, in July 
 of 1888, to one of their summer residences, in Calvados. But even here he did 
 not become an idler. From St. Martin aux Chartrains, near Pont l’Evéque, he 
 
 pens the following characteristic letter to a friend : 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 267 
 
 “T had hoped to send you in this letter a little sunshine, for during the last 
 two days the weather has been very fine, and I had begun to work in the open 
 air; but I have been forced to follow the caprices of the barometer, and retreat 
 indoors, for the wind has turned to the southwest and it has rained all night. 
 So Iam compelled to begin something else that I can paint in the house. I am 
 the more annoyed by the bad weather, because all my children are here and 
 we can neither ride nor walk, which is a pity, for the country is superb, a 
 veritable garden—too well watered just now! I wrote you to Bella Vista. Did 
 ibly after your departure? The bad 
 
 you receive the letter, which arrived poss 
 news of the health of your mother has grieved me deeply, and I hope that by 
 the time you receive this letter she will be much better. I wish it with all my 
 heart. I know too well the anguish one endures beside a beloved invalid, and 
 I pity any one who is in this sad situation. It is unfortunate that you cannot 
 
 work, for work is the grand remedy for all evils, a way of escape from all grie 
 
 Happily I am still in sufficiently good health not to be condemned to inaction, 
 or I should be the most miserable of mortals! You are wrong to read so much, 
 when your eyes are not in good condition. The eye is an instrument that 
 must be taken care of, since we can do nothing without it. Repose is often the 
 best medicine for this organ. Take care also of the sfirit, the sow// Do not 
 let yourself be disturbed. One must always react, regain full self-possession, 
 
 not allow one’s self to be led ; de always master /”’ 
 
 Later in August, ‘‘ Rain,—rain,—always raining ! What abominable 
 weather! Soon I shall have to dress in a dving-suit in order to go out at all. I 
 am sitting before my canvas as stupid as a goose, unable to work. Decidedly I 
 must make an effort to get a fresh start!” 
 
 Later still in August : 
 
 ‘I have received the proofs you sent me, and, in accordance with your 
 
 suggestion, have written Mr. Fraser, giving him some advice as to changes in 
 the reproductions. I’ve made up my mind to come back to Paris at the end of 
 this month. The weather has been wretched here all the time and have 
 
 scarcely been able to work, and that very badly/ Just now I am making a 
 
 study of a horse, and this animal won't stand still a second! I fear I shall be 
 
 obliged to give it up, which would annoy me very much, as I need it.” 
 
 On his return to Paris, Géréme devoted himself to his magnum opus, the 
 
 Tanagra, which electrified the world at the Salon of 1890. At the same time 
 he worked on the 7rwmpeter, which represented one of the musicians who were 
 wont to head the procession of gladiators, as they marched around the arena 
 
 & 
 
 before engaging in the deadly struggle. This figure, cast in the bronze, is a 
 
 most astonishing anatomical study. The inflation of the cheeks, the contrac- 
 
 tion of the chest, the tension of the muscles in the limbs, the sturdy planting 
 
 of the feet, as he marches carrying his mighty tuba, combine to produce a most 
 
268 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 realistic as well as thoroughly artistic work. Not content with having two 
 models at work, one posing while the other rested, in their respective ateliers, 
 the master began with a third, for the exquisite Head of Diana, which was fin- 
 ished about the same time as the 7rwmpeter. He went from one to the other 
 his models often exhausted, he never pausing for rest! The Diana was cast 
 in dead silver bronze, a highly burnished crescent moon forming an admirable 
 background for the lovely head. 
 
 His joyous labor was interrupted by the sudden death of the artist Boulan- 
 ger, which affected him most seriously; stunned for days into inaction, he 
 eventually flung himself into his work with a feverish energy that evidently 
 sought to stifle sorrow and leave no time for vain regret. His own health 
 visibly failing, his friends besought him to take absolute repose. But the 
 answer, half-sad, half-smiling, was invariably the same: ‘‘I have no time!” 
 
 adding more than once, ‘‘It is my turn next and I must finish the 7anagra first |” 
 
 But even his busy and dexterous hands could not keep pace with the concep- 
 
 tions that thronged his brain, imperiously demanding form and expression on 
 
 canvas, or, still more satisfying to his inmost desire, in the clay, afterward to 
 be firmly fixed in bronze or marble. We well remember standing in the inner 
 atelier, in the early twilight of a winter evening, and looking at the half-finished 
 
 Tanagra which Géré6me had unswathed to show us his progre At her feet 
 
 was a mass of clay which the porter had just brought for the next day’s 
 
 work. Suddenly seizing a double-handful, the master looked at it as one 
 
 regards a beloved friend, and cried, ‘‘Ah! the beautiful earth!” with such a 
 
 fervor of tendert 
 
 that it seemed impossible the senseless clay should not 
 
 have thrilled into instant and sentient being. 
 
 g, 
 
 under the vivifying touch of this 
 
 Nineteenth Century Pygmalion ! 
 
 But the artist forced himself to reserve the brightest days for painting, 
 and, as a change from the figures he was modeling, he again returned to the 
 desert and his much loved lions. 
 Before the New Year, Solitude, a scene representing a majestic lion, 
 couchant and gazing into space, was finished. The mysterious charm of this 
 picture, even greater than that of Les Dewx Majestés, has been felt by all who 
 have seen it. At the same time four or five other paintings were on different 
 
 easels and the master passed from one to the other, working with a sure, firm 
 
 touch and incredible rapidity; never confused, carrying out the design that 
 
 had been absolutely finished in his mind before the scene was sketched upon 
 
 the canvas. To study these and watch their gradual completion was an absorb- 
 ing and enjoyable occupation. One of the most fascinating was the lion 
 prowling on the shores of the Red Sea, Owerens quem devoret, for which Gérome 
 
 made the sketch, as our readers will remember, when camping with Lenoir 
 
“ATION 
 
 dITNL AHL 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 2 
 
 NI 
 
 by the Gulf of Akabah, on the Red Sea. The fleecy clouds pile up and melt 
 
 away toward the horizon, while, through the haze, one perceives alluring paths 
 
 leading up from height to height upon the mountain. At-its base, masses 
 
 of rock in warm tones of brown, and drifts of yellow sand, reach to the water 
 edge. The lion, with lowered head and eye intent, powerful, subtle, alert, 
 
 steps softly yet firmly, his shadow sharply projected on the stony beach, 
 
 where waves of a deep yet tender green break in delicate foam. This canvas 
 
 absolutely flawless in idea and execution, was finished in the early summer 
 
 of 1889, and, we believe, immediately found an American purchaser. Sfring- 
 
 time in Arabia, the lioness rolling among the flowers, which has been already 
 described, was exhibited in the spring of 1890 at the Cercle Artistique in Paris. 
 A remarkable painting, the background of which never satisfied the artist, and 
 which he altered frequently, represented Vegroes Carrving Home a Dead Lion. 
 The absolute lifelessness of the great beast,—suspended, limp and inanimate, 
 on the shoulders of the savages who stagger under its weight,—is expressed 
 with surprising verity. Among others were 7he Love Letter, in which Cupid 
 guides the hand of a charming young girl; Cupid and the Vestal, who blushes 
 
 in her sleep under the potent e of Love, who lifts her veil; Anacreon and 
 
 Cupid, in three scenes: Anacreon warming the wet and shivering god, who has 
 »egged him for shelter; Anacreon pierced to the heart by an arrow from the 
 quiver of the ungrateful and fleeing traitor, and Anacreon aged and bent, 
 beholding in the embers of the smoldering fire the roguish, tantalizing features 
 of the fickle Love of his early youth! 4 Lion Pursuing Antelope, leaping in the 
 air in his endeavor to reach the last straggler in the fleeing herd, and another 
 ion snapping at a troublesome wasp. 
 
 The political agitation of the winter of 1889 occasioned some spirited discus- 
 sions in the atelier, and, contrary to his custom, Gérome allowed himself to be 
 
 interviewed concerning the elections that seemed pregnant with danger to his 
 
 yeloved France. In reply to the question, ‘Ought we, in the interests of the 
 
 country, to vote for General Boulanger?” he wrote as follows : 
 
 “To speak truly, 1 know nothing about it, but I ¢hink, No/ I fear that 
 those who vote for the General in order to strangle the Republic, will send 
 us from the ‘ frying-pan into the fire.’ As for me, I shall vote neither for him 
 
 nor for Jacques. 
 
 “General Boulanger has denied his signature, on the tribune; he is sur- 
 rounded by people of very bad reputation, and he inspires me with no confidence 
 in the future. 
 
 ‘“Monsieur Jacques is perhaps a good man ; I do not know, for I have never 
 heard him spoken of. But I mistrust him, for he represents the Communists, 
 
 that is to say, incendiarism and assassination ! 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 “T shall vote for Pasteur, in the hope that he will cure us of the political 
 madness which, since the advent of the Republic, has deranged our country ! 
 
 “Paris, 2gth January, 1889. 15 tba GEROME.” 
 
 This characteristic letter was published in Ze J/atin and aroused considerable 
 attention by its brief but trenchant exposition of the real situation. As a matter 
 of fact, Gérome did actually vote for Pasteur, for we happened to be in the atelier 
 
 on the morning of the elections, 
 and can testify that he went, 
 in company with the sculptor 
 Frémiet, to deposit his vote for 
 the great specialist ! 
 
 The master, in spite of per- 
 
 sistent entreaties, declined to 
 
 send an exhibit to the Universal 
 Exposition of 1889, on the 
 ground that all of his later 
 works were so widely scattered 
 —from Russia to America—that 
 it would be impossible to re- 
 unite them. The owners were 
 reluctant to risk them, and the 
 
 artist did not insist. But he 
 
 accepted a position on the jury 
 
 and faithfully discharged his 
 
 onerous and fatiguing functions. 
 
 To the Salon of 1889, how- 
 
 ever, he sent Love, the Con- 
 
 gueror, an admirable canvas, 
 
 full of poetry and strength, representing the all-powerful god of Love enter- 
 ing a cage full of wild beasts, who at his advent begin to roar ‘‘as gently as 
 any sucking dove.” There is a look of surprise and respect for his daring on the 
 
 dignified features of the African lion, and into the eyes of a fierce lioness steals a 
 
 strange tenderness ; a magnificent Bengal tiger rolls upon his back as if wooing 
 
 the beautiful child to join in his gambols, and a treacherous black panther, 
 utterly subdued, lengthens out its lithe form and protrudes its red tongue to lick 
 the dainty bare feet! Among these superbly drawn animals is a spotted jaguar, 
 with glittering green eyes, who approaches with stealthy tread but does not 
 attempt to attack this universal conqueror. Confident of his power, the lovely 
 
 boy smiles at one and all, and fully justifies the quaint couplet of the sagacious 
 
to 
 ~ 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 Voltaire which underlines the canvas: “ Qui gue tw sotis, voici ton maitre! IL 
 Vest, le fut, ou le doit étre/’’ (Whoever thou art, behold thy master ! He is, he 
 was, or should be !) 
 
 At the Cercle Artistique hung the Ouwrens guem devoret and a Hunting Scene 
 in the Forest of Meudon, a charming landscape, the central figure of which is the 
 hospitable friend over whose preserves 
 Gérdme shoots regularly, twice a 
 week, during the season. 
 
 The other figures are also portraits { C 
 
 of well-known ans, among them 
 the artist himself. The smoke drifts 
 away among the almost leafless 
 trees, the trophies of the day's sport 
 are laid in comely rows upon the 
 ground, while down the avenue come 
 
 the gamekeepers with hands well 
 
 filled, to add to the collection. It isa 
 
 genial, attractive scene, worthy of our 
 
 best landscapists and poss 
 
 ng an 
 unusual feature in the masterly draw- 
 ing of men and dogs. 
 
 The Universal Exposition of 1889 
 brought all the world to Paris, and 
 
 many were the visits we made to the 
 
 atelier to present friends to the 
 
 master—Americans, English, Swedes, 
 
 Norwegians, Italians, Germans, and 
 
 Japanese! He received them all with his unvarying and exquisite courtesy, 
 and though his official duties on the jury made the time for work doubly 
 precious, he never allowed his visitors to feel that their coming was inapropos 
 or that he would prefer to abridge their stay. The effort to make up for 
 time lost through innumerable and unavoidable interruptions told seriously on 
 his health, but in spite of constant suffering and increasing weakness, he 
 
 persisted in the performance of many wearisome duties entailed upon him by 
 
 his artistic and social position. In a note dated July, 1889, he writ 
 
 “Tam greatly grieved to learn that you are again ill. I pray for your prompt 
 ie 
 
 recovery. I too am sick, having taken a severe cold at the Exposition, and 
 
 for three days I have been very miserable. What troubles me most is, 
 that to-morrow, in spite of my wretched state, I must absolutely go to 
 the Palais des Champs-Elysées, where my presence may be useful to certain 
 
274 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 i) 
 
 pupils of mine who are competing for the traveling purses. I wish your 
 
 dear mother a 6on voyage 
 
 Attendance at this meeting, where he interested himself beyond his strength 
 
 in behalf of his pupils, seriously aggravated his condition, and a violent fever 
 suddenly reduced him to a dangerous state of prostration. To a friend, then in 
 London, who was greatly alarmed by the rumors that crossed the Channel, he 
 
 penned with feeble hand the following lines : 
 
 “Your good letter, which has deeply touched me, this moment received. 
 I reply at once, hoping mine may find you in good health both of body and soul. 
 Do not be anxious about me. The crisis has passed, and | am better. I shall yet 
 be able to put a little color on canvas or scratch a bitof marble!.... Itisa 
 long time since I retired into my tent, dési//wsionné as to men, women, and things. 
 
 Youth has passed—i/ faut étre philosophe/ Not regret too keenly what is gone, 
 
 g, there still 
 
 and thank Nature for what she leaves us. In spite of everything 
 remain to me—precious things—the enthusiasm of youth and love for art! 1 
 would like, before passing to a better world, to create in scazlpture a series of 
 works equal to those I have made in fainting. I have always sufficient courage, 
 and, if my health does not fail me, I do not despair of accomplishing this. Work 
 ts the sole consolation of old age/ Happy those who are able to devote 
 
 themselves to it.” 
 
 In all his stress of suffering he always had a thought for those who depended 
 on him. He forgot no one, he neglected nothing, however seemingly trivial, as 
 we have seen by these fragments of correspondence. He sent a cheery message 
 here, a feebly-scrawled line there, exhorting all to patience, courage, perse- 
 verance, self-possession, and above all, to wnflagging industry. It was his 
 sovereign cure for all ills! His indomitable spirit, which he had trained to 
 rule his body, asserted itself now. He looked at the work that crowded three 
 ateliers, and said to himself, “7 must finish this.’’ Thanks to a temperance 
 of living, in every respect, which bordered on abstemiousness, there remained to 
 this youthful veteran an astonishing recuperative power. But there was no 
 doubt, in the minds of the few friends who saw him daily during this anxious 
 time, that his determination to get well was the chief factor in his recovery, 
 which was as surprising as his illness had been sudden and severe. 
 
 He worked much at Bougival, on the roof of his summer atelier, which was 
 
 arrang 
 
 sd so that the trees and shrubbery inclosed and sheltered it from curious 
 
 eyes, enabling him to pose his model in the open air and obtain wonderful 
 atmospheric effects. A chef-d’ceuvre painted here this summer is called Bath- 
 
 sheba, and represents the beautiful wife of Uriah the Hittite, bathing on the ter- 
 
 race-roof of her house. This figure is a marvel of plastic grace and delicate 
 
 flesh-tints, and the effects of light are equally amazing. 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JL LEON GEROME. 275 
 
 In August, he writes 
 
 ‘I did not receive your letter till last evening, and attributed your non- 
 appearance at the atelier to the bad weather. I am sorry to know that you are 
 again suffering with your eyes, and, not seeing you to-day, fear they are 
 no better. Bathe them with hot tea, as hot as you can bear it! and take good 
 care of yourself. I have seen Mr. ——. He stayed some time with me, and 
 we chatted about the Orient. It is twenty years since we met. How old 
 
 he looks! But he probably said the same of me! which is not consoling. The 
 marble has arrived! I am hurrying to finish the little copy in order to begin 
 our hand-to-hand struggle! What if ¢¢ should prove the strongest !” 
 
 The little copy to which he refers is a small replica of the Ga which 
 
 he had consented to make in order to escape from urgent and persistent 
 entreaties to sell the original. He made but one alteration, in the pose of the 
 horse of Bonaparte, but more than once while painting on this little canvas 
 
 he remarked, “It will be better than the first.” This gem has found a home 
 
 in England. The marble alluded to was the 7anagra, which had just been 
 
 brought to his ground-floor atelier on the Rue de Bruxelles, from the workshop 
 where it had been roughly fashioned from the block after the cast. It was 
 something wondrous to see this ideally beautiful creature slowly emerge from 
 
 its chrysalis under the magic touch of the master, typifying that epoch of art 
 
 which produced the graceful statuettes excavated a few years ago on the site 
 of the ancient city of Tanagra. Géréme’s 7anagra is a life-size female figure, 
 seated in Egyptian fashion on a rude block, the stiffness of this ancient style 
 
 relieved by the position of the arms and feet. The latter are drawn up, one 
 
 posed lightly upon the other; the right arm, turned so that the palm of the 
 
 hand curves to the back, rests upon the block; the left, bent at the elbow, 
 is extended, and in the palm of the hand is poised a dainty statuette of 
 a dancing-girl, the drapery flying around the exquisitely molded form, the 
 head bent to look through a hoop, grasped lightly but firmly. Serene, far- 
 
 seeing eyes, shadowed by waves of rippling hair, look out from the purely 
 
 Grecian face of the 7anagra, and seem to demand of future generations 
 
 their verdict as to the beauty of the lovely figurine she presents for their 
 inspection. 
 
 Against the block leans a pick, and in the débris we descry other lovely heads 
 
 and arms, revealing a wealth of artistic beauty which still awaits resurrection. 
 
 Words fail to describe the dignity of this goddess-like figure, which, though 
 
 palpitating with life, still overawes one by the majestic purity expressed 
 
 in every line and contour of its superb form. With even greater ardor than 
 
 attended the creation of the Omphale, the master worked on this, his Benja- 
 
 min, his best-beloved—brilliant lights, multiplied by many reflectors, enabling 
 
276 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 him to labor far into the night. It was always with reluctance that he quitted 
 this little atelier for the large studios where many canvases, long promised, 
 awaited completion, and only his rigid conscientiousness prevented him from 
 turning them all to the wall and abandoning himself entirely to his grande 
 passion. Among his latest paintings are A Sentinel, Camels Drinking, Boileau 
 and Moliére, The Marabout, A Wood-nymph, and Far Niente 
 
 old lion taking his siesta in the desert. Not content with these, he worked 
 
 the latter a fine 
 
 at the same time upon the portraits in marble of his daughters, reproducing 
 in each not only the beautiful features, but a startling, vivid, and expressive 
 
 personality. It is small wonder that the month of October found him again 
 
 wearied and exhausted, and drawing heavily upon his reserve strength and 
 will power, in order to continue all the work he had blocked out. Relying too 
 much on the vigorous constitution that had enabled him to rally so remarkably 
 
 in the summer, and undeterred by the chilliness and dampness of the ground- 
 
 floor atelier, he labored on unceasingly, hoping to finish the Zanagra before 
 the advent of the winter. Asa natural result, he became one of the first victims 
 of da grippe, long before it developed into the epidemic which ravished Paris 
 perhaps more fatally than any other large city. Making light of this attack, 
 
 as was his wont, he was soon completely prostrated, and so rapid was the 
 
 progress of this mysterious disease, that the end seemed very near. But this 
 
 ardent spirit refused to be quenched! He insisted on being brought out to the 
 
 large atelier, where he lay upon the divan and, from time to time, with an effort 
 
 which left him pallid and panting, he would seize his sculptors burin and 
 work for a moment upon the bust of his daughter, which was drawn up close 
 to his couch. He murmured often, “/e veux mourir en travaillant’’ (1 wish 
 to die working), and sometimes, seeing the unconquerable grief and emotion 
 of the friends who gathered round him, he would look at them reproachfully, 
 saying, “Wais, qu’est-ce gue vous avez donc?’’ (Why, what is the matter with 
 you?) and then, in his inimitable style, he would relate some amusing anecdote, 
 adding, “/7 faut rire—et mourir /*’ (One should smile—and die!) To a friend 
 who was obliged to leave Paris at this most critical time on account of sudden ill- 
 ness in the family, he sent a word of encouragement, writing with much diffi- 
 culty : ‘The telegram you had the goodness to send me has reassured me ; if —— 
 escapes with a fortnight in bed, it will be nothing. This favorable state has, 
 I trust, dissipated all your apprehensions and restored serenity to your troubled 
 spirit. I await the promised letter, and have good hope that it will bring me 
 still better news than that in your very brief dispatch. Arm yourself with 
 
 patience. One must meet the accidents of life with calmness, and face its storms 
 
 with tranquillity ; it is the best way to render one’s self master in critical situa- 
 
 tions and to vanquish all difficulties.” 
 
NIM OM.L 
 
 SHL 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON 
 
 ROME. 279 
 
 Contrary to even his own expectations, as he afterward acknowledged, the 
 master again rallied, though his strength returned but slowly. This convales- 
 cence was retarded by two untoward and almost fatal incidents. The gas 
 
 escaped during the night from the large stove in the inner atelier and penetrated 
 
 to his 
 
 leeping-chamber through the open door of the communicating passage. 
 Owing to the great height of the rooms, this deadly poison was probably so 
 
 diffused that its evil effects were diminished and the master’s life saved. While 
 
 still weak from this additional assault, he endeavored, in the dim twilight of a 
 
 November day, to reach down from a cabinet a bronze vase—a late acquisition. 
 
 His strength failing him, the vase fell, striking his noble forehead, cutting a 
 deep gash and dabbling his snowy hair with blood. The wound in itself proved 
 not very serious, but the concussion was terrible. These trying and painful 
 circumstances revealed, to those who were fortunate enough to be near him, 
 new beauties in this noble nature, whose patient fortitude in suffering taught 
 a lesson never to be forgotten. The physical distress and pain, though often 
 extreme, seemed to be nothing as compared with the resulting inability to 
 work. A little later he writes, ‘‘I still remain feeble and anemic, but think 
 this condition will soon come to an end ; it troubles me much on account of my 
 
 work—one can do nothing well without good health. Good health and vigor of 
 
 mind go hand in hand. 
 Paris was now in the fatal clutches of /a griffe, and, barely convalescent 
 himself, Géréme resumed his usual habit of life, adding a daily round of visits 
 
 to old friends and comrades who had succumbed to the general malady. 
 
 Careless of himself, he was unwearied in his care of others, and exposing 
 
 himself, he reproved them roundly did they fail to submit to the most rigid 
 precautions! In December he writes to one of them: ‘‘I hope you are better 
 
 to-day. I was utterly astonished, on going to see you yesterday, to find that 
 
 you had gone out in such bitterly cold weather, and at such an hour! It was 
 the height of imprudence, and, in this time of epidemic, very dangerous. Send 
 me a line to reassure me as to your health. I am just starting for the chase, 
 and count on finding a letter on my return this evening!” When assailed in 
 turn by the reproaches of his friends, he laughed, saying, *‘Vows savez gue je 
 suis depuis longtemps ‘exempt’/’’ adding, with an amused appreciation of his 
 own double entendre,“ Ce que me sauve, c'est que je suis plein-air-iste/”’ which 
 was probably literally true, though in the bitter winter weather it seemed a 
 heroic cure. 
 
 At this time he began the portraits, in pencil, of his dear old friends Protais 
 and Arago, going every morning, as we have already related, to the atelier of the 
 first, who was daily becoming more feeble. Arago, however, posed in Gérome’s 
 
 studio, and one of our most vivid memories is of our last visit to the atelier, 
 
280 LIFE 
 
 AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 where Géréme, convulsed with merriment over his friend’s witty sallies, vainly 
 endeavored to compose himself in order to proceed with his work; while his 
 model, without relaxing a line of his imperturbable countenance, increased the 
 general hilarity by bursting out with an eloquent harangue in an indescribable 
 jargon that he termed “offaloa-Billa-Engleesha,”’ to the intense delight of his 
 only serious auditor, a small American boy, who believed, in good faith, that 
 this Parisian of Parisians 
 
 was talking pure Choctaw / 
 
 In February, 1890, the 
 
 master writes: 
 
 “‘T will send you short- 
 ly a proof of the portrait 
 of Arago, and also one of 
 Protais. Alas, poor Pro- 
 tais! We lost him three 
 weeks ago. A pneumonia 
 grafted itself on his heart 
 disease ; he took to his bed, 
 where he remained eight 
 days, and died. His loss is 
 deeply felt by everybody, 
 for he was greatly beloved 
 and, above all, esteemed 
 for his upright spirit and 
 character. 
 
 “Tt has deeply afflicted 
 me, more deeply than I can 
 express. .... Apropos of 
 
 letters, 1 have had those 
 Arago gave you copied, 
 and will send them to you with the bust, the drawings, and the photographs. 
 
 gs, 
 
 I am working always unremittingly, for my health, which keeps good, 
 permits me to do so. At this moment I am putting the finishing touches on 
 the figure of 7anagra, and in two or three days I shall faint it. I rely much on 
 this proceeding to give life to the marble, provided that it succeeds! I have 
 commenced also to model some lions, in order to improve the two pictures which 
 you will remember. Thes 
 
 > sculptures will enable me to find picturesque and 
 true effects of light which I could not well obtain de chic, as the painters say ; I 
 shall also sculpture a lion, life-size, to bring some pleasure into my life and 
 amuse myself a little. It will cost me a great deal, but one can’t pay too 
 dearly for swch pleasures! To-day they brought me the bust of Lavoix, which 
 
 has been very well cast. I think I shall send the Tanagra to the coming 
 Salon.” 
 
a | 
 
 || 
 
 | 
 
 i 
 
 | 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 281 | | 
 
 This bronze bust of the Director of the Department of Medals in the Biblio- | | 
 théque Nationale, is one of his best portraits, the universal verdict being, “J/ais, | | 
 c'est absolument lui.” 
 The coloring of the Zanagra had long been planned by the sculptor. The | 
 block of marble had been carefully chosen with a view to this operation, and he | 
 had made frequent experiments on fragments of the same texture. The figure | 
 seemed perfect as it was, and we sometimes | | 
 regretted that the master should think of | | 
 incurring so great a risk. ‘‘If it does not | | 
 succeed?” we ventured to say one day. ‘“‘I | 
 id 
 
 will make another!” was the smiling reply. 
 
 The incessant labor of two years was but a 
 
 bagatelle before this indomitable will. hea eX fiih \ h 
 Later in February, he writes, ‘‘ You ; Hyer} 
 must certainly have received a letter from i ga | Ne 
 
 me lately, announcing the death of my dear 
 
 friend Protais. This loss has been very bitter 
 to me. I regret it immeasurably. He was 
 a beautiful soul, an upright man, a faithful 
 
 friend. At a certain time in life one sees ; ae 
 
 everything collapse around one; it is perhaps Vif \] 
 the most painful accompaniment of old age. \ i | | 
 
 We must elevate and strengthen our | 
 souls and face the tempest with calmness and \ | 
 courage.” : 
 
 Toward the end of March, 1890, the new 
 
 | 
 papers all through two continents contained | 
 the alarming dispatch from London: ‘The celebrated painter Gérome lies 
 dangerously ill in this city.” The overtaxed physique had again given way, and 1] 
 once more this precious life was in danger. Private letters from London at last 1 
 chronicled his improvement and departure with his friend, the Duc d’Aumale, for 
 the Island of Sicily, where he had a very serious relapse. The 20th of May, he | 
 writes from Paris : 
 
 hasten to reassure you again as to my health, which has almost regained 
 
 its usual state. The influenza which made me so ill about two months ago hay- 
 ing relaxed its hold somewhat, I started for Sicily, where I took cold and again } 
 fell ill—fever, acute pains in the head, heavy cold, and, as I could take no kind of 
 food, extreme feebleness. As soon as I was able to travel, I lost no time in 
 
 embarking for home, where I have really taken good care of myself. But this 
 diable de maladie is very persistent in its effects, and I have been shaken to the 
 
82 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 very foundation! I am still feeble, but I trust that matters will, little by little, 
 mend themselves, as before. I work without fatiguing myself too much, and 
 tranquilly await my complete restoration. I have finished the Ziov in sculpture, 
 life-size ; it went to-day to be cast; that finished, it will be sent direct to the 
 foundry. I think it is a good work; we will see when it is placed before the 
 public. The statue of 7anagra, on exhibition at this moment, is a great success, 
 greater than I dared to hope! I am well content. It has been bought by the 
 state, to whom I have sold it for much less than it cost me, but I wished this 
 work to remain iz my country. Protais is buried in the cemetery of Montmartre. 
 We had a sale of his pictures, studies, etc., which remained in his atelier; it did 
 not bring much. One of his pictures, the best and most important, has been 
 bought by the state. .... Justice marches with slow pace; she often arrives 
 late, if she arrives at all! But what is to be done? We must fight on. It is 
 
 much to have the right on one’s side.’ 
 
 From the columns of the Boston 7ramscript, under date Paris, July 6, 1890, 
 and over the initials of the Hon. M. Parry Kennard, we take the following 
 charming description of the Zamnagra, as it appeared in the garden of the 
 
 Salon : 
 
 “An exceptional, but a leading and yet undemonstrative attraction in that 
 spacious amphitheater of sculptures in the Palais de I’Industrie was the famous 
 Tanagra, in marble, by the distinguished painter and sculptor Géréme, and which 
 the French Government has acquired by purchase. This is a novel conceit, and 
 entirely unconventional, representing a nude female of a purely Greek type, sitting 
 very upright upon what simulates a fragmentary mass of ruins partially exca- 
 vated, amid the dééris of which are discerned tiles and bricks, etc., while in the 
 crumbling mortar, here and there, are partially exposed and imperfect Tanagra 
 figures, one of which has been secured complete, and is held in the extended left 
 hand of the statue. This marble beauty is not much above five feet in height, 
 and should be under glass, as really the jewel of the statuary collection, for I finc 
 it so esteemed. It was given a central position amid many larger and more 
 ambitious works, and thus was at some disadvantage, and perhaps it was ‘ caviare 
 to the general,’ yet one could not but be interested in observing the attention it 
 
 received in excess of any other exhibit. Géréme seems the ‘most industrious and 
 
 untiring artist living, when we consider his many wonderful canvases, so largely 
 distributed among the royal collections of Europe and in the United States, anc 
 
 his remarkable creations in marble. I lingered an hour about this charming 
 
 work of art, which, in its chaste simplicity, is as a gift of the gods, and only coulc 
 have been conceived and executed by a great master, the versatility of whose 
 genius and whose schola 
 
 hip and accomplishments render him the Leonardo of 
 his time. Had that historical performance of Michael Angelo been repeated, anc 
 
 this figure been secretly buried for a time, and then publicly excavated as an 
 antique, with perhaps a broken arm, it would have turned the heads of the whole 
 art world, and been declared in its vital characteristics and subtle anatomy a riva 
 
ty 
 on 
 
 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 of the Milo Venus. Time hereafter will, | am persuaded, find warrant for all the 
 praise that is now accorded this exquisite creation. Increasing the novelty with 
 which this captivating marble has been invested, the author availed himself 
 of the authority of antiquity and delicately tinted it, with gratifying success. 
 M. Gérome has just modeled a colossal sitting lion, which is now in the hands 
 of the founder, to be cast in bronze—intended for the Salon of next year.” 
 
 Being congratulated again on the enthusiastic reception of the Zanagra, the 
 master replies : 
 
 “The success of this work has surpassed all my hopes and filled me with 
 joy. Lregret that you did not see it with the light coloring I have added to it. 
 I believe that this pleasing Aatine, which gives life to the marble, has contributed 
 much to this favorable result. Excellent photographic reproductions have been 
 made at the Exposition. There are four of them, that is to say, from every side ; 
 the two profiles, the face, and the back ; we will choose the most interesting for 
 the book. I believe it will be the profile where the pick stands and the figurines 
 emerge from the earth—you shall decide. I am obliged to change for others 
 the drawings of the camels we had chosen—they were made on yellow paper, 
 which does not yield good proofs, and they have been returned to me as impos- 
 sible to reproduce. This detail is easily remedied. I will find others better 
 adapted. I have finished my portrait in a little picture which represents me 
 working on the marble | 7azagra|, with my model beside the statue in the same 
 pose; it is said to be a success. It is not yet photographed, or I should send 
 
 you a proof. Have also finished a lion, life-size, warming himself in the sun— 
 title, Beatitud 
 a month. I have also begun a picture with a very hackneyed subject—Pyg- 
 mation and Galatea ; | have tried to rejuvenate it. The statue is coming to life 
 in the upper part, while the limbs are still imprisoned in the marble so that she 
 
 cannot change the position of her feet ; but as the upper portion of the body is 
 
 It is just now at the founder's, and I trust to have the proof in 
 
 already living, she leans to embrace her sculptor, who returns the caress most 
 
 fervently !” 
 
 After repeated endeavors to escape furnishing the Preface to the present 
 volume, according to a promise obtained after urgent entreaty some years 
 previous, Géroéme finally yielded, and in a letter dated July, 1890, which gives 
 
 new proof of his goodness and modesty, he 
 
 yS: 
 
 “T will, then, write your introduction, although I am very unskillful with 
 the pen ; but I will try to prove myself equal to your desire, though, I repeat, it 
 is a very delicate matter for me to write the first page of a book which treats of 
 me and my works. To digress a moment, I beg of you, let nothing be exag- 
 
 gerated ; be moderate, and do not extol too highly my poor merits.” 
 
 The following extracts are from letters written by the master during the 
 
 dreary winter of 1890-1891, when he was suddenly called upon to bear the 
 
GEROME. 
 
 284 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LE 
 
 greatest trial that had yet assailed him. We give our readers a glimpse of this 
 profound grief, in the hope that it may inspire every heart to imitate the heroic 
 endurance which sought surcease of sorrow only in patient, unflagging, con- 
 scientious labor, and a more active expression of sympathy for his fellow- 
 
 suffer 
 
 Under the date of November, 1890, he writes : 
 
 “You have imposed on me a severe task in asking me to write a Preface 
 to your book; nothing is more difficult for me than to write. I do not know 
 how, and am forced to make stupendous efforts which, moreover, are never 
 crowned with success! But at last it is done, and I send it herewith. I have 
 done my best, but am sure it is very bad. Here, too, are the verses dedicated 
 to me by my friend Popelin, that you wished to have. 
 
 ‘Nous sommes, mon vieux Gérome, 
 De résolus combattants 
 Dont la male ardeur ne chome 
 Voila plus de quarante ans. 
 
 Avec fortune diverse 
 Nous avons fait le devoir, 
 
 Nul au chemin de travet 
 N’a pu nous apercevoir. 
 
 ‘Dans le plein jour de la vie 
 Nous avons sans cesse été 
 Droit, par la route suivie, 
 En hiver, comme en été. 
 
 * Vienne le sort qui nous touche, 
 Veétérans, nous brtilerons 
 Notre derniére cartouche, 
 
 Et, debouts, succomberons. 
 
 ‘ Nous sayons par compétence 
 ‘Tout ce que vaut le travail ; 
 Sans lui, la courte existence 
 Serait un épouvantail. 
 
 ‘Aussi, nous menons nos ceuyres, 
 Et ne nous arrétons pas 
 Pour échapper aux couleuvres 
 Qui puliulent sous nos pas. 
 
 ‘Toi, tu fais parler la toile 
 A détfier tous les mots ; 
 
 Né sous une moindre étoile 
 Je fixe au feu des émaux. 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 iS 
 ~ 
 on 
 
 Mais sur mon esquif en rade 
 Quelquefois j’écris des vers, 
 Recois les, mon camarade, 
 Avec les deux bras ouverts.’ 
 
 Life is only a succession of sorrows and sacrifices ; one must resign 
 one’s self, since things are so ordered and cannot be otherwise on this globe ter- 
 ragué, where our sojourn is not in any wise desirable. May you be recompensed 
 for your self-denial. As for me, I have fora long time led a painful existence, 
 as you know ; but the most cruel blow has been reserved for me. My only son, 
 
 built like Hercul has fallen ill of consumption, and, I fear—in truth I am 
 
 sure—the future has most mournful changes in store for me. My entire family 
 left this evening to pass the winter with him in a milder climate, at Cannes, and 
 
 I shall remain here all alone for six months. In addition, my father-in-law, 
 
 already very aged, is nearing his end, and from this quarter a catastrophe is 
 imminent; you see that all this is not very cheerful. Further still, | myself am 
 far from well, but | keep up good courage and plunge up to my neck in work ; 
 
 this is absolutely necessary for me, for | am miserable, unhappy olate, in a 
 
 deserted house. .... I painted this summer several pictures, which are not 
 quite finished—a View of Cairo, Venus Rising (the star), and the Pygmalion and 
 Galatea. ‘Vhis latter, | think, shows good invention, and | shall shortly put the 
 last touches on it. For the moment, I have abandoned myself entirely to sculp- 
 ture, and am making a figure of Be//ona uttering her war-cry ; this statue is life- 
 size and will be made in various materials; the nude parts in ivory, the draperies 
 and armor in gilded or silvered bronze, the whole tinted in different colors. It 
 is a considerable work and probably the last of similar importance that I shall 
 create. I have strong hope that I shall succeed, but also have my doubts ; we 
 
 shall see ! 
 
 As we remember the sketch of the Venws alluded to, the canvas showed a 
 stretch of blue, star-lit heavens, veiled here and there by semi-transparent clouds 
 which drift across a beautiful face and bust of the Queen of Stars, whose rising 
 eclipses all lesser lights. Even in its unfinished state, this picture exhibited a 
 luminosity of atmosphere that it would be hard to surpass. 
 
 Days and weeks of unremitting, almost frenzied labor now ensued, until the 
 master was summoned away to sustain by his comforting presence the poor 
 invalid who had already entered the Valley of the Shadow of Death. In the 
 
 month of January comes a letter, in which he struggles to face, with unflinching 
 
 courage, the bitter prospect of bereavement that lies before him—and, with his 
 
 usual unselfishnes' 
 
 , puts aside even this great grief to fulfill requests which are 
 regarded as veritable duties by this conscientious spirit. He says: 
 
 “It is from Cannes that I write you, always behindhand nowadays with my 
 
 letters ; it is because, in this latter time, my life has been peculiarly over- 
 burdened, and then | am a prey to the most acute mental suffering. I am 
 
28¢ LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 
 
 here, having left Paris and suspended all work, to stay by the bedside of my 
 son, who is extremely ill; alas! unhappily, 1 must avow it, dving. You can well 
 understand, can you not, in what condition of mind I am, and how profoundly 
 
 my whole being is agitated, when I behold the frightful spectacle which pre- 
 cedes the death of a young man of twenty-five!.... I leave this mournful 
 subject to reply to your questions. I have long since given orders to make the 
 plate of the Zanagra from the profile which best renders the statue; if it is 
 not yet finished, it should be very soon, for I did justice, without delay, to your 
 
 most legitimate request, as soon as you expressed to me, in one of your letters, 
 already old, the desire you had on this subject. This point. then, is entirely 
 cleared up—have no more anxiety about it. .... Since you interest yourself 
 as much as ever in my work, I will make a little recapitulation of that which 
 I have just finished or which is under w 
 
 “First, the large figure of Bel/ona ; she is standing on tiptoe, with her arms 
 thrown back ; naturally in one hand she holds a sword, in the other a shield; 
 at her feet, upon the pedestal which represents a half of the terrestrial globe— 
 a map of the world cut in two—is coiled a serpent; his head is raised and the 
 
 immense jaws are open. The figure is draped in a tunic and mantle raised by 
 
 the wind, which gives a certain movement to the ensemble. This sculpture 
 appears to have gained the approbation of those who have seen it; but, the 
 
 model once finished, | am not yet at an end of the problems to be solved, for I 
 
 wish to execute this statue in different materials, bronze gilded and tinted, 
 oxidized silver, niellos, etc., and the nudes in ivory; all this does not fail to 
 
 give me some anxiety, for it is a difficult thing to find all the workmen to success- 
 fully carry out so complex a work. I shall, however, do my very best, and have 
 decided to make all necessary sacrifices to obtain the desired result. I have 
 also lately finished a little figure in marble, half life-size, of a dancing-girl ; it 
 is like the one 7anagra holds in her hand, only this is more seriously made, and 
 
 the nude portions, as well as the draperies, have been studied with care. I have 
 painted it, and I believe I have succeeded with the coloring; I was still work- 
 ing on it the day of my departure, but was able to finish it. It will be exposed 
 at the Cercle, as well as the portrait (bust) of 
 
 seneral Cambriels, and the 
 picture representing me at work on the Zanagra, with my model at one side in 
 the same pose; I think it is of an agreeable tone of color, but one does not 
 know exactly what to think of one’s work until it has been placed before the 
 
 public, which praises or condemns. When an artist has accomplished all of 
 which he is capable, when he has tried to put both his soul and his heart into 
 his work, he should await this verdict with tranquillity. Also (as I have men- 
 tioned) I have finished a lion in sculpture, life-size, who is going to sleep while 
 warming himself in the sun (title, Beatitude). 1 shall reser 
 
 e this for the 
 coming Exposition in the month of May. Among my pictures are a large View of 
 
 Cairo, the Pygmalion and Galatea (which I intend very shortly to put into maré/e), 
 and some lions—three or four, in different situations—pursuing antelope in the 
 desert, watching for prey in a landscape of arid mountains (Salon 1891)—the 
 
 me one as the sculpture, lighted by the rising sun, and another tormented by 
 
 @s 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME. 287 
 
 a butterfly. This is about all that I have done lately ; but during the last four 
 months I have been greatly disturbed by this calamity which has so suddenly 
 assailed me, and whose last blow I now await.” 
 
 These mournful apprehensions were too soon to be realized. Before the 
 spring had come the journals of Paris chronicled the death of Gér6éme’s only 
 son, and, on both sides of the Atlantic, sympathy for the master’s irreparable 
 loss was universal and profound. Almost crushed by this cruel affliction he 
 instinctively turned to his art, seeking, as ever, comfort in his work. But the 
 blow had struck deep, and months after his letters showed that the wound had 
 
 not yet begun to heal. 
 
 “He is dead — dead! and only twenty-five. .... You will comprehend 
 in what condition my spirit has been and still remains; worké has sustained 
 me; it has not consoled me, but has helped me to endure this horrible mutila- 
 tion... .. Each one has his sorrows, of diverse nature, and one is forced to 
 acknowledge that on this wretched sphere where we live, all are unhappy, and 
 those who /eave it are not to be pitied! they enter into rest and peace. 
 
 But you know all this, already, for I wrote you all from Cannes ; but it is dif- 
 ficult for me not to recur to it.” 
 
 From his dear friend, the Hon. Mr. Kennard of Boston, who visited Gér6me 
 just before the first premonitions of this short and fatal illness were felt, we have 
 
 the following sympathetic pen-portrait : 
 
 “You kindly ask of me a word as to the master, Géréme. 
 
 ‘I deem it my good fortune that I can claim some personal acquaintance 
 with him. Few men whom I have met, in what may be thought perhaps an 
 exceptional experience, so readily commanded my profound admiration, and so 
 easily won my affectionate esteem. Unaffected, free from the proverbial eccen- 
 tricities of genius, quiet and dignified in his ways, scholarly in his acquirements 
 and in his conversation, an accomplished cosmopolitan, his agreeable person- 
 ality cannot be forgotten. 
 
 “Chaplain’s profile medallion, reproduced by W 
 the February, 1880, number of 7he Centa 
 
 vatt Eaton, and given us in 
 
 ry Magazine, faithfully portrays that 
 
 thoughtful face, serious without austerity, and indicative of the brain that 
 
 has given us that remarkable picture of the Death of Ney, in which is em- 
 balmed so much touching pathos,—intensified history,—sincere and unmatched. 
 
 “The atmosphere and properties of his most inviting atelier strikingly 
 illustrate the refined student and perfect artist. His tastes and his. treasures 
 manifested there would warm enthusiasm in the dullest veins. Apparently 
 indifferent to the world’s applause, like his friend Barye, he has pursued 
 with an unusual and conscious industry his own somewhat sequestered paths, 
 and thus perhaps avoided a commonplace celebrity, while it has not detracted 
 from his fame or his honors. 
 
288 LIFE AND WORKS OF JEAN LEON GEROME, 
 
 “The art life of Paris for the last generation could not afford to lose the 
 influence and the exemplary individuality of Jean Léon Gérome. 
 this. Not always during the 
 
 “The reverent affection of famous pupils atte 
 life of an artist can be anticipated the award of history 
 much to predict that the creations of this gifted master must enroll his name 
 
 ; it is not, however, too 
 
 not only among the distinguished of his own day, but with the illustrious for all 
 time. His sculptures, notably his 41acreon group, his Omphale, his Gladiators, 
 attest the consummate anatomist and his marvelous versatility, while they 
 exhibit all the distinction and delicacy of touch that characterize his canvases. 
 sistibly charming marble, is another 
 
 “His statue of Zanagra, an irr 
 and more recent illustration of this manner, veritably rivaling the antiques. 
 It seems to be given to but few men to love and to pursue their work as does 
 Gérome, and this enthusiasm lends generous inspiration to his fertile brain 
 and dexterous hand. May the day be far off when that hand shall be still, 
 
 or the well whence that inspiration is so copiously drawn shall be dry!” 
 
 We can but echo this prayer from our inmost heart as we close the record 
 
 of this fruitful life, leaving this veteran of sixty-seven working with unabated 
 
 energy and ever-increasing skill, as the matchless groups of Fe//ona and P 
 lion and Galatea indisputably attest. His powers of creation seem inexhaustible, 
 
 and assuredly we can say of Gérome, as did Pliny of Timanthes : 
 
 “In all the works of this artist there is untold wealth of suggestion, and 
 however lofty the pinnacle to which he has elevated his art, his 
 still higher.” 
 
 tril soars 
 
 FINIS, 
 
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