years exhibits the freshness and other
qualities of that of her youth. Thus, her art has gained by her
experience, even though her best work was done between about 1848 and
1860, and is especially marked by its excellence in composition,
the anatomy, the breadth of touch, the harmony of coloring, and the
action, although it is said to lack the spontaneity, the originality,
and the highly imaginative quality which are at their best in _The
Horse Fair_; the same qualities seem to have been possessed by many of
her contemporaries, such as Troyon.

Notwithstanding these apparent defects, Rosa Bonheur stands for
something higher in art than do most of her contemporaries. She was
not influenced by the skilled and often corrupt technicians; she
perfected her technique by study of the old masters and learned her
art from Nature; wisely keeping free from the ornamental, gorgeous,
and highly imaginative and exaggerated historical Romantic school, in
French art she stands out almost alone with Millet. Whatever may
be said of the more virile and masculine art of other great animal
painters, Rosa Bonheur, by her truthfulness, her science, her close
association and intimate communion with her animal world, by the glad
and healthy vigor which her paintings breathe, has taught the world
the great lesson that there are intelligence, will, love, and even
soul, in animals.

Her art and life inspired respect and admiration; we have nothing to
regret, nothing to conceal; we desire to love her for her animals, and
we must esteem her for her grand devotion to her art and family, for
her purity and charity, for her kindness to and love for those in the
lower walks of life, for her goodness and honesty. An illustration of
the last quality may be taken from her dealings with art collectors.
After having offered her _Horse Fair_, which she desired should remain
in France, to her own town for twelve thousand francs, she sold it for
forty thousand francs to Mr. Gambert, but with the condition which she
thus expressed: "I am grateful for your giving me such a noble
price, but I do not like to feel that I have taken advantage of your
liberality. Let us see how we can combine matters. You will not be
able to have an engraving made from so large a canvas; suppose I
paint you a small one of the same subject, of which I will make you a
present." Naturally, the gift was accepted, and the smaller canvas now
hangs in the National Gallery of London.

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