Nature and Art, June 1, 1867.] 
THE FRENCH AND FLEMISH GALLERY. 
191 
says, the gods have given wings, may attain to the shining j 
summit ; and though all other wisdom should be ours, it 
will not help us in this matter. The French are probably 
the most skilful and ingenious people on the face of the 
earth, and have from time to time invented the very worst 
and most inartistic things of which we have any knowledge 
in modern Europe. For instance, it was to this nation of 
great warriors, renowned philosophers, and clever women that 
the idea first came that a crown would look more stately on a 
periwig, and that the delicacies of millinery would mix 
with the insignia of royalty. It would however be out of place 
here to pursue the reflection this anomaly suggests ; and be- 
sides, it is a somewhat ungracious subject for an Englishman 
to enlarge upon, seeing that we have as far as lay in our power 
imitated these fashions for the last hundred years : so we 
will proceed to examine some of these pictures, taking the 
well-arranged catalogue as our guide. No. 1, is worthy to 
head the list, for it is both characteristic and interesting, and 
belongs to a class of work of which we have no example in 
England. It may be styled “ classic genre,” and seeks to 
interest us in classic life, by showing that men and women 
in those days had much the same manners as ourselves and 
not (as the great art does) rousing our sympathetic recognition 
by showing that they had the same passions. Nevertheless it 
is both a pretty and interesting side of things ; and the 
pictures of Alma-Tadema are capital examples of what may 
be done. This one, called the “Visit to Delia,” is not so 
good as his other, called “The Honeymoon in the reign of 
Augustus” (2), which we will notice presently. It re- 
presents a morning call at the house of a fashionable 
beauty, by what are apparently intended for that clique of 
poets and statesmen of whom Horace sang so pleasantly 
and sweetly. The 'expression and character of the heads 
do not, however, deserve much notice. The painting of the 
flesh is hot and baked looking, and the hands and feet show 
none of the high-bred delicacy one wishes to suppose must 
have characterized the hands and feet of the most luxurious 
society in bath-loving Rome, where so much time and care 
was spent upon their adornment. Italian hands also are 
almost always finely shaped. But the realization of a 
habitable room in ancient Rome, of the ordinary look and 
use of the frescoed walls, couches and bronze work, brooches 
and gold chains, which we generally see only behind the 
glass of museum cases, is most ingenious and nearly 
wonderful. How pretty the bronze stove and chaffing- 
dish, so exquisitely drawn, and beautiful as a ground for the 
other colours, the black tesserm of the pavement. The dark 
blue fan against the lighter blue robe is a charming detail 
of colour, and the couch is altogether pretty. We have before 
said that we do not care much about its occupants ; the 
fault in the execution of this picture is that the touches are 
too hard, and many of the small lights out of tone. 
The “ Honeymoon ” (2), to which we before referred, is in 
many ways a better picture. It is a good composition, and 
the drawing is large and fine in style. The colour, though 
still not good, is much less coarse in the flesh than the 
other ; and the imitation of still-life, besides being of 
astonishing power, is far more harmonious and in tone. We 
would point out especially the marvellously, solid, and 
metallic bronze tub in which the oleander grows, and the 
beautiful tinting of the white marble seat. Throughout 
there is to be found beautiful and ingenious arrangements of 
colour— as the under dress of the woman for instance — and 
there is some grace in the action of the hands. But we 
cannot be expected to take much interest in the loves of 
these mature persons, whose charm must at any period have 
been a matter of singular personal taste. 
“ Deer in the Forest of Fontainebleau” (11) is by Rosa 
Bonheur, and of course is a very good piece of painting. It 
is, however, a slight work as far as thought is concerned, 
and has not much original impression. We seem to have 
met these deer in a good many pictures before. The fawn 
looking round the group is very good, however, and has 
something new in its wild, obstinate, fierce eyes. In all the 
works of this gifted artist we see real mastery. The beauties 
are chosen, and so are faults. There is no hesitation in 
the broad touch which sweeps out a thousand delicacies, 
and attains solidity and relief. The painting of the ferns 
should be compared with those by some of our English 
painters, to estimate rightly what has been sacrificed, 
and what gained. We do not much like the tone of the sky 
in this picture, which, for the rest, has so much of the im- 
pression of the Fontainebleau scenery that every one seems 
to recognize the exact spot. 
“Fast Asleep,” by Bonnat (13), is a strongly-painted 
little picture of a child, in an Italian costume, asleep upon a 
bank by the wayside. It is evidently a study, but so good, 
both in feeling and execution, as to make it the more 
regrettable that the painter should have tendered as a back- 
ground, a smear of dirty colour which takes all light and 
reality out of what would otherwise have been a charming 
work. Again, we wonder how it is that in France where 
there is so much pleasant sunlight, sunlight is banished 
from pictures. 
“The Authoress,” by Bisschop (17), seems virtuously 
conscious of her interesting occupation, and we feel sure she 
is writing some good little sentimental book fit for good 
people at Amsterdam. She is very well painted, however, 
and the colour of the old red desk, perhaps more choice and 
luminous than anything in the room. 
“ The Signal” and “Le Jeu de l’Orca,”by Coomans (28 and 
29). It is fortunate for English Art that two such elaborately 
bad pictures are almost impossible in our school ; for they 
must have taken some time to do, besides some knowledge 
and practice as well as prepensity of thought and associa- 
tions. And the absence of a market in England for such 
affectations would have mercifully preserved any one inclined 
to them from acquiring the skill necessary for their produc- 
tion. We speak so strongly because it is possible that the 
prettiness of the subject may mislead some careless observer 
into a certain complacency when looking at worthless per- 
formances, where everything is as untrue as it is fade and 
stupid. “The Little Boy washing his Feet in the House 
Fountain” (29) is the only really graceful thing in them, 
and that is taken from the antique. Nos. 34 and 35, by 
Caraud, are also bad, though the subjects are full of 
interest. One can scarcely paint the gardens of Le petit 
Trianon with a figure more or less like Marie Antoinette with- 
out attaining some interest, but here the interest stops with 
the first glance — the vacant face of the queen, and the cin- 
dery, sunless garden invite no further examination. As to 
Louis XYI. making locks, one only thinks it was a very good 
occupation for him, not without wonder how he managed 
to learn to do it. 
We may speak of “ Church-time ” (53), by M. Albert 
de Yriendt, and of (54) “ The Return of the Crusader 
Guillebert de Lannoy from the Holy Land, who relates 
his adventures to Isabella of Portugal, Duchess of Bur- 
gundy,” by Julien de Vriendt, as if they were by the same 
artist, so much are they alike in sentiments and point of 
view. M. Julien de Vriendt is, however, much more skilful 
than his namesake. They both seem to be pupils or imita- 
tors of the great Belgian artist Leys, that splendid colourist 
who has found his field in the pageantry of mediaeval 
life, but who, by his profound and serene expression, 
always holds to the great Art. But his very greatness 
makes him a dangerous guide to weak men. His ideal 
treatment betrays them to phantoms and lay figures, and 
his knowledge of colour gives them a terrible power over 
blue and red. There is something of mania in these 
works. “ Church - time ” has all the manner of the 
school, but, alas ! none of the matter. Two very dull-looking 
ladies in - very fine dresses appear to be going with reluc- 
tance into a Gothic Church. A nun pulls a bell-rope with 
provoking assiduity. And we can no longer wonder at the 
Reformation if this is in anywise a true presentment of the 
religious observances of the middle ages. The other 
picture is really pathetic. Poor Isabella of Portugal is 
there represented, shut up in a sort of Gothic pew with an 
ineffably dreary-looking Crusader bent upon telling his 
story, while her attendants and subjects contemplate her 
dreadful fate, through the bars, with terror and dismay. One 
sees that she will yawn in a minute ; there is no help for 
her, and Guillebert de Lannoy will go on. It is already 
sun-set, but they will light lamps presently. Whoso has 
heard a military story knows that it may not be averted. 
