Meissonier, his life and his art . This is how oneshould talk, even if one has little hope of working upon the youngvictors we crown at the Institute. There is nothing pleasanter thanthe utterance of what is right and true, even when we know our utter-ances fall on deaf ears, as is generally the case at our solemnities underthe cupola. There are painters who go to the East, steeping themselves per-petually in its brilliance, and yet they can get nothing of its glow andsunshine into their work. Out of a jury of forty, only twelve assembled yesterday to judge forthe Latinville prize at the Ecole
Meissonier, his life and his art . This is how oneshould talk, even if one has little hope of working upon the youngvictors we crown at the Institute. There is nothing pleasanter thanthe utterance of what is right and true, even when we know our utter-ances fall on deaf ears, as is generally the case at our solemnities underthe cupola. There are painters who go to the East, steeping themselves per-petually in its brilliance, and yet they can get nothing of its glow andsunshine into their work. Out of a jury of forty, only twelve assembled yesterday to judge forthe Latinville prize at the Ecole des Beaux Arts. 172 IMEISSOXIER light night ! The Death of NeiO. . Thefamous and thrilling story ofNeros flight, as given by Sue-tonius, is entirely falsified. Thechief actor, Nero, is barely visiblein the shadow. A little way offone sees only a staircase, dimlylighted by moonbeams, and bya gleam from the banquet-hallabove, shining through an open-ing in the curtains. A moon-When Nero fled by the glare of lightning, his face. —Jj:,^ ^f^y- PEN- SKETCH, veiled, on the horse of the freedman in whose house he killed himself, bewailingf the death of an artist! The Evening of Lifeis very hastily treated ;but the idea is touchingand profound. Modernsentiment is most happilymarried to antique senti-ment, and the whole con-ception is noble and sim-ple—in a word, young woman andthe child are Raphael-esque, and the old couple,weary with the burden ofyears, who watch thekindling stars, are pathe-tic in their sad stirs the heart. ®The S. Louis is de-picted as a erdtin. Yet
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