y figures that looked as if cut out of wood, very bony of build,
and seemingly painted with mud. But close by they admired a very fine
study of a woman, seen from behind, with her head turned sideways. The
whole show was a mixture of the best and the worst, all styles were
mingled together, the drivellers of the historical school elbowed the
young lunatics of realism, the pure simpletons were lumped together with
those who bragged about their originality. A dead Jezabel, that seemed
to have rotted in the cellars of the School of Arts, was exhibited near
a lady in white, the very curious conception of a future great artist*;
then a huge shepherd looking at the sea, a weak production, faced a
little painting of some Spaniards playing at rackets, a dash of light
of splendid intensity. Nothing execrable was wanting, neither military
scenes full of little leaden soldiers, nor wan antiquity, nor the middle
ages, smeared, as it were, with bitumen. But from amidst the incoherent
ensemble, and especially from the landscapes, all of which were painted
in a sincere, correct key, and also from the portraits, most of which
were very interesting in respect to workmanship, there came a good fresh
scent of youth, bravery and passion. If there were fewer bad pictures in
the official Salon, the average there was assuredly more commonplace and
mediocre. Here one found the smell of battle, of cheerful battle, given
jauntily at daybreak, when the bugle sounds, and when one marches to
meet the enemy with the certainty of beating him before sunset.

* Edouard Manet.--ED.

Claude, whose spirits had revived amidst that martial odour, grew
animated and pugnacious as he listened to the laughter of the public. He
looked as defiant, indeed, as if he had heard bullets whizzing past him.
Sufficiently discreet at the entrance of the galleries, the laughter
became more boisterous, more unrestrained, as they advanced. In the
third room the women ceased concealing their smiles behind their
handkerchiefs, while the men openly held their sides the better to ease
themselves. It was the contagious hilarity of people who had come to
amuse themselves, and who were growing gradually excited, bursting out
at a mere trifle, diverted as much by the good things as by the bad.
Folks laughed less before Chaine's Christ than before the back view of
the nude woman, who seemed to them very comical indeed. The 'Lady in
White' also stupefied people and drew them togethe