foreign to the French genius, which never tolerates it after it
has ceased to be novel, that it probably never will. It is a great
tribute to French "catholicity of mind and largeness of temper" that
Carpeaux's "La Danse" remains in its position on the facade of the Grand
Opera. French sentiment regarding it was doubtless accurately expressed
by the fanatic who tried to ink it indelibly after it was first exposed.
This vandal was right from his point of view--the point of view of
style. Almost the one work of absolute spontaneity among the hundreds
which without and within decorate M. Garnier's edifice, it is thus a
distinct jar in the general harmony; it distinctly mars the "order and
movement" of M. Garnier's thought, which is fundamentally opposed to
spontaneity. But imagine the devotion to style of a _milieu_ in which a
person who would throw ink on a confessedly fine work of art is
actuated by an impersonal dislike of incongruity! Dislike of the
incongruous is almost a French passion, and, like all qualities, it has
its defect, the defect of tolerating the conventional. It is through
this tolerance, for example, that one of the freest of French critics of
art, a true Voltairian, Stendhal, was led actually to find Guido's ideal
of beauty higher than Raphael's, and to miss entirely the grandeur of
Tintoretto. Critical opinion in France has not changed radically since
Stendhal's day.

VI

The French sculptor may draw his inspiration from the sources of
originality itself, his audience will measure the result by conventions.
It is this fact undoubtedly that is largely responsible for the
over-carefulness for style already remarked. Hence the work of M.
Aime-Millet and of Professors Guillaume and Cavelier, and the fact that
they are professors. Hence also the election of M. Falguiere to succeed
to the chair of the Beaux-Arts left vacant by the death of Jouffroy some
years ago. All of these have done admirable work. Professor Guillaume's
Gracchi group at the Luxembourg is alone enough to atone for a mass of
productions of which the "Castalian Fount" of a recent Salon is the
cold and correct representative. Cavalier's "Gluck," destined for the
Opera, is spirited, even if a trifle galvanic. Millet's "Apollo," which
crowns the main gable of the Opera, stands out among its author's other
works as a miracle of grace and rhythmic movement. M. Falguiere's
admirers, and they are numerous, will object to the association here