sympathetic feeling more than make up the difference?

However this question may be answered, some of his drawings belong to
the class of the unforgetable. It may be a perversity of prejudice,
but even the little cut of the "Connoisseurs," the group of gentlemen
collected round a picture and criticising it in various attitudes
of sapience and sufficiency, appears to me to have the strength that
abides. The criminal in the dock, the flat-headed murderer, bending over
to speak to his advocate, who turns a whiskered, professional, anxious
head to caution and remind him. tells a large, terrible story and awakes
a recurrent shudder. We see the gray court-room, we feel the personal
suspense and the immensity of justice. The "Saltimbanques," reproduced
in _L'Art_ for 1878, is a page of tragedy, the finest of a cruel
series. M. Eugene Montrosier says of it that "The drawing is masterly,
incomparably firm, the composition superb, the general impression quite
of the first order." It exhibits a pair of lean, hungry mountebanks, a
clown and a harlequin beating the drum and trying a comic attitude
to attract the crowd, at a fair, to a poor booth in front of which a
painted canvas, offering to view a simpering fat woman, is suspended.
But the crowd doesn't come, and the battered tumblers, with their
furrowed cheeks, go through their pranks in the void. The whole thing
is symbolic and full of grim-ness, imagination and pity. It is the sense
that we shall find in him, mixed with his homelier extravagances, an
element prolific in indications of this order that draws us back to
Daumier.

AFTER THE PLAY

The play was not over when the curtain fell, four months ago; it
was continued in a supplementary act or epilogue which took place
immediately afterwards. "Come home to tea," Florentia said to certain
friends who had stopped to speak to her in the lobby of the little
theatre in Soho--they had been present at a day performance by the
company of the Theatre Libre, transferred for a week from Paris; and
three of these--Auberon and Dorriforth, accompanying Amicia--turned up
so expeditiously that the change of scene had the effect of being neatly
executed. The short afterpiece--it was in truth very slight--began with
Amicia's entrance and her declaration that she would never again go to
an afternoon performance: it was such a horrid relapse into the real to
find it staring at you through the ugly daylight on coming out of the
blessed