d by her was bequeathed to the Louvre in
1872.]

Gericault received a recompense of the fourth class, and, disgusted
with his lot, took the immense canvas to London, where it was
exhibited with success. During his sojourn in England he executed a
number of pictures in oil and water color, and many lithographs, which
are to-day eagerly sought by collectors. Returning to France full of
projects for work, his health began to give way, and on the 18th of
January, 1824, he died. The influence which he exercised had, however,
borne its fruits. Already in the Salon of 1822 Ferdinand Victor Eugene
Delacroix, born at Charenton, near Paris, April 26, 1799, had shown
his "Dante and Virgil."

Before considering Delacroix, however, it is best to return to the
earlier years of the century, and give J. Dominique Auguste Ingres,
whose stern face confronts Delacroix's portrait, the precedence to
which his age entitles him.

"Monsieur" Ingres, as the iconoclastic leaders of the romantic school
called him in mock deference, was born at Montauban, August 29, 1780.
His life was fortunate, and his history, which is chiefly that of his
works, can be told in few words. A pupil of David, he received
the Prix de Rome in 1801. He remained in Rome much longer than the
allotted four years to which his prize entitled him, and returned
there often during his life as to the source of all art. By
portraiture and the constant patronage of the government, the material
conditions of his life, which was of a simple character, befitting
a man who viewed his mission as that of an apostle preaching the
doctrine of pure classicism, were made easy; and the official titles
of Member of the Institute, Grand Officer of the Legion of Honor, and
Senator of the Empire all came to him with the lapse of years.

More royalist than the king, and the last of David's disciples, Ingres
pursued throughout his life the even tenor of a man convinced that
the source of all inspiration in art was Greek sculpture as amplified,
transmuted, and translated to the realm of painting by Raphael.
Painting in his hands became almost purely a matter of form. The
element of color was virtually ignored, and form, chastened in contour
and modelling, became through the magic of his genius the almost
sufficient quality. The qualification is necessary. For though too
great a man to lose, as too many of his master's pupils did, the grasp
on nature; and while, therefore, his works, seen as t